Billy’s plan started to backfire

Billy had gotten everything he wanted. Laid out by his busty MILF of a mom in boxing, given sultry superior glances and teasing comments. He was in heaven. A living heaven of constantly having prime fap material. But after a few days of this, he realised that there was some bad that came along with the good as well. At first he was able to accept it. The way his mom started acting all superior around the house, giving him triumphant glances over her shoulder, it was sexy as fuck. But unfortunately, her confidence only grew from there.

In a matter of days, his sweet, caring mother had transformed into a powerful figure of confident control, as expected after knocking out her own son, and was entirely acing upon it. Making him do more housework, refusing to drive him places or let him stay out as late as he used to… any time he argued, her response would be some variation of the same thing:

“You'll do it if you don't want your mother to put you on your ass again.”

He gritted his teeth. When nobody was looking he’d still jerk to it, but she was really getting on his nerves now. He wasn’t sure if his orgasms were worth this hassle.

It was after being told to clean the dishes on a late night one time to many that he finally snapped back at her.

“It was just a fluke!” He said. “You wouldn’t win if we were going for real. I was just… taking it easy on you.”

Billy’s mom laughed elegantly, her full chest bouncing with her shoulders.

“Sure thing, Billy~”

“I mean it!”

Arrogant posture melting into a more neutral stance, Heather’s teasing smile morphed into a warmer, **** one, and she gave a single nod.

“Oh, you’re probably right, I’m just teasing. You do have much more experience than me,” Billy’s mother admitted graciously.

“Y-yeah, that’s right! It wouldn’t even be close. I’d beat you from pillar to post!”

Heather scowled.

“Now, Billy, there’s no need to be like that. I admit that you’re probably a better boxer than me.”

“PROBABLY? Try DEFINITELY.” Billy blurted out, getting a bit too caught up in the moment. “In fact, I’ll prove it - let’s have another bout, right now. That’ll put you in your place!”

There was a pause. Billy smirked. There was no way his mom accepted another spar with him, and he knew it. He was only trying to prove that they both knew her win was a fluke - even if she thought it was a lucky punch, or a lazy defence, while he knew the truth. Which is why he was so shocked when she finally laughed, and agreed.

“Alright then honey, if you want your momma to knock your socks off again, it sounds like fun.”

Billy gritted his teeth. Was she playing this like a game of chicken? He didn’t really want to beat his own mother up… but he wouldn’t be the one to back out. She’d never let him off the hook if he did that. So, Billy shouted a response he would soon come to regret:

“Fine!”

He didn't like how his mother was acting like her victory was certain. It might’ve made his dick throb, but it wasn’t working for his ego. His mother’s tenacity and confidence has been passed down to him, and as much as he liked being looked down upon by his mother in theory, in practice it was much more irritating.

It was later that same night that an aggravated Billy pushed the furniture out of the way to clear a space for the match again. Standing up and wiping his brow, he turned to find his mother looking down her nose as him with a smug smirk, having changed into her tight, totally-filled sports bra and boxing gloves again. Billy froze up for a second as his eyes stuck on those gloves, posed arrogantly on her wide hips. He had meant to take out their loading after clearing the space - he hadn’t realised she’d already gotten changed. She must’ve been eager to start… Seeing his powerful mother in those loaded gloves again made his dick lurch, and his mouth go dry…

“M-mom, you can't-“ Billy stammered, trying desperately to come up with a reason that she couldn’t wear the loaded gloves again.

“What? Chickening out, sweetheart?” Heather smiled, then did some fast shadowboxing in her “corner” that made her boobs bounce. Billy gulped as her tightly-contained tits shifted right in front of his gaze…

“Just- nevermind!”

Billy angrily pulled his own normal gloves on and stomped to his corner. Even with those things on, she wouldn't stand a chance against him when he was actually trying. She’d only got to his chin last time because he opened up for it. This time, she wouldn’t be able to touch him, let alone **** him to rest under her glorious body.

Unfortunately, that’s not how it went. Billy was a bit too caught up in his own head, standing in his corner with his gloves on and facing her, to realise that from Heather’s end it looked like her son was ready for a scrap. It’s not like there was any bell or referee to signal a start, after all - and Billy had said fine before pulling his gloves on, so it was fair game.

Billy snapped out of his mental hype-job to see his mother already standing over him, arm cocked back, with a wide, almost crazy grin and an evil glint in her eye. Billy’s eyes went wide as he narrowly ducked her barely-trained swipe, sailing over where his chin had used to be.

Geez… that was too close! With those things on her fists, it was like swinging hammers. One good connection, and he’d be toast. Billy raised his gloves and backed off, not wanting to get caught early and starched so soon. How embarrassing it would have been to get knocked out by the first punch his sexy mother had thrown, after talking so much shit to her about his skills… dumped on his ass at her feet, out like a light. Snoozing openly, a line of drool from his lazily hanging-open mouth, courtesy of his own mother’s jaw-slackening lullaby.

From there, the match was a game of cat and mouse - with Billy’s mom as the grinning Cheshire cat, playing with the mouse. Billy used all of his boxing know-how - he was in and out, snapping punches to her hot body, pulling them slightly since he didn’t really want to hurt her so much as he wanted to prove a point. He had to be quick, because one shot from her would easily send his ass to sleep and make it game over, 0-2. Luckily Billy was mostly able to rely on his boxing experience against far more accurate strikers to evade his mother’s shots, and a few minutes in, she was noticeably tiring out and looking less sure of herself.

Sweat beaded her tightly-bound cleavage, her exposed collarbone, her smooth legs and fit tummy. Her eyes were looking a bit more ****, and Billy could hear her panting. She wasn’t built for drawn-out fights like this, not without any training - though she certainly seemed to have more stamina than even many who did train regularly, it wasn’t developed to its fullest yet. Billy grinned as her punches grew slower and slower, less and less frequent, easier and easier to evade. He could feel his victory coming.

“Want to give up, mom?” he asked, bouncing back and forth on his toes to show off how much energy he still had left. “There’s no shame in throwing in the towel when you’re beaten.”

Oohh… he shouldn’t have said that. Tired, panting face shifting into an angry glare, Heather pulled back her left hand, giving off the body language that she was about to put all of her energy into this one last punch.

Billy smirked and stepped to the side, evading it before it was even thrown.

“Really, mom, is that all you’ve-“

Billy was shut up by a hard uppercut from his mother’s right hand, taking him totally by surprise and rattling his brain.

“Gurk!”

Instantly his legs turned to jelly, and he was stumbling around the living room again - he wasn’t quite out yet, but he was fucking close.

N-Nooo, not- not again… was all he could think, as his mother’s grin found its way back onto her face and she lifted her hair out of her eyes with one glove.

“Phew… Billy, you don’t look so good,” Heather smirked, that evil glint coming back to her eyes. “That was some workout you were giving me, just to get toppled from one hit~ what a shame~”

“G-guhhh… n-nooo, mom, d-don’t…” Billy stammered, stumbling all over the place on wobbly sea legs and holding out his gloved hands in an almost surrender, as if begging her to stay away from him.

Heather bit her lip as she watched her son stumbling around their living room, out on his feet. She slapped a gloved hand to her firm, round booty.

“Mmmn…” she moaned, drinking the sight of her loser son in. “What a fucking shame indeed…~”

Arrogant aura fully restored, she walked up to poor Billy like a temptress, swaying her hips seductively, relishing in the feelings of power.

“Geez, you’re helpless~” she giggled. “Your momma must pack a real mean punch, huh Billy?”

Heather reached out and held her bumbling son in place by his shoulders. Arms down at his sides and legs too weak to listen to his jostled brain, he couldn’t fight it as she smiled down at him. He was so close to her sweaty breasts, her hot body… he couldn’t stop his dick from rising and pulsing as she slowly closed her eyes and leaned in for a deep, long kiss on the lips, pressing her soft and firm lips over his quivering ones in yet another show of dominance.

“Ahhh…” she said, pulling back and giving him a sweet, warm smile. “It’s about time for your knockout, sweetheart. Mommy’s getting tired. Just one last punch…”

Biting her lip in anticipation again, and watching his reaction closely, she continued holding him in place with one glove on his broad shoulder, while her other glove came back cocked as far back as it would go. She licked her lips, watching his face like a cat watches a mouse.

“Sweet dreams, Billy.”

With that, she drove her fist forward, making her dopey punch-drunk son eat heavy leather.

“GUHH!” was all Billy could muster in response as momma punched him hard and he went down, legs giving out beneath him and dropping his ass to the canvas where he landed fast asleep. His arms were out wide, still wearing those sad little gloves of his, as his toes curled up tight and his rolled-up eyes’ lids closed to deposit him into a deep sleep. He was not getting back up.

“Knocked stiff~! Knocked stiff~!” Heather’s melodic voice sang, as she danced in celebration. “You lose again, Billy~ Mommy’s just too good…~”

She paused to stare down at him, hands going to her arrogantly-cocked hips and a cocky expression on her face. Her breasts heaved with breath. She’d done it. She’d knocked Billy out cold, for real this time. No teacher/student easy mode. He fucking lost. He was fucking sleeping. Sleeping like a baby.

Heather felt a bit bad for taking away his mind like this, along with his boxing pride, but he’d been so cocky recently that it was the only logical punishment for such a naughty boy. And she had to admit it was fun. She was even getting a bit wet down there, from proving her physical prowess over her poor son after such a long chase.

“Chirp chirp! Chirp chirp chirp!” She giggled, bending down to imitate cartoon birds flying circles around his sore head, tweeting their songs. Then she straightened back up with a big victory stretch, arching her back and slowly swaying side to side a bit like a stripper might, except that she was doing it over the knocked-out sleeping form of her boxing champion son.

Her sweaty breasts, packed tight into that sports bra, swayed along with her, bouncing to and fro, left to right. There was so much visible cleavage it would be considered indecent, and her abundant chest bulged out slightly around the seams, spilling over the edge of the fabric slightly. The jiggling, bouncing movement of her firm tits was shaking the droplets off as she moved and celebrated her second win. If poor Billy was awake to see the glorious view, he would’ve been totally hypnotized… what a goddess…

Bringing her swaying to a stop, Heather smirked to herselfz

“Poor billy…” she stood over him once more, hands on her voluptuous hips, staring down at her clean-KO’d son. “Poor Billy indeed… but that’s what you get when you fuck with momma bear, bitch.”

She kicked his head to roll it onto one side, gloves still cockily on her hips, then used her powerful thighs and perfect booty muscles to walk off and leave him there with the most sultry hip sway you’ve ever seen. Beaten from pillar to post… and sent to bed without supper.