Heather wants the gloves

“That won’t do, Billy,” Heather shook her head. “If we aren’t boxing with the gloves on, what’s the point of training in the first place?”

Shit! Billy hadn’t thought this through. How was he supposed to back out of training her after his mother insisted on using those gloves?

“A-Alright…” Billy gulped. “You can go get them then…”

Fuck. This was bad. He didn’t want to get knocked out again. Not now that he was seeing what the victories were doing to his mom’s ego. How KO’ing her son had given her a special sense of prestige, power, and badassery. Her strong, undefeated champion, suffering his only ever losses to his own mother - and all of them by total knockout. His cock was getting hard just thinking about it.

Heather returned with the loaded gloves on, turning her delicate female fists into lethal weapons of champion-destruction. Billy could barely take his eyes off of them. That was until his mother took her top off, exposing her plump chest and that tight pink sports bra which struggled to keep those boobs contained.

Heather smirked. “I’m ready to earn my black belt, sensei.”

“There’s no belts in boxing, mom…” Billy stammered.

She barely knew anything about the sport. Yet still, this gorgeous milf goddess had put the champ all the way out to sleep. And it was all because of those dangerous gloves she was wearing.

“We won’t fight this time, it’ll just be training techniques.” Billy said, to protect himself from another loss to mom.

“If you say so~”

Billy began teaching his mother some more strikes. Her clumsy breasts swayed like a pendulum with each punch she threw at the air. Billy stared at them bobbing and bouncing, those boobs that had nursed him as a baby, and cringed as he saw his mother’s punching power and accuracy improving. Every single one of those shots would have been a knockout, if only they’d landed on his chin instead of the open air.

Every. Single. One.

His mom didn’t even know it, but every time she followed his instructions and threw a punch, her “coach” was just picturing himself getting chinsmashed by it. Imagining himself in front of her, just falling, just defeated. Just knocked out.

God, his mom was an amazing woman.

Next, not wanting to improve his mother’s offensive boxing skills any more than he already had, Billy taught her how to clinch. It may have seemed foolish of him to be as scared of her as he was, but the truth was, that milf had put him out cold too many times for him to take risks with her training. She could already beat him in a fight when she had those gloves on. He didn’t want her to get better than him without them on too.

“You can use clinches when you’re in trouble, to get your opponent’s fists away from your face or to catch your breath,” Billy explained. “Some of those short hook punches I taught you earlier are useful for when you break out of a clinch, if you land them before your opponent can get my- can get HIS hands up.”

Their sweaty bodies were pressed together, arms around each other in a sort of hug very few mothers and sons ever engaged in. Billy’s strong chest was rubbing up against Heather’s soft tits through that overflowing sports bra. Her hefty bosom was making his heart pound like crazy, and his dick was already getting hard in his boxer shorts even as he explained.

“If you’re strong enough you can even… Ummm… You can even use a clinch to push your opponent back, and… and… and get yourself out of a corner…”

Heather giggled, and rubbed her boobs up against her son. His cock beat like a drum.

“Do you think /I’m/ strong enough?” she asked playfully. “Maybe you could try put me in a corner and we’ll find out…”

“F-Fuck…” he whispered, mouth growing dry as he gazed down at her sweaty breasts. They gleamed and shimmered under the living room lights. They were perfect. Just like the rest of her, they were perfect.

Heather beamed down at her son, enjoying the close contact of the hug-like clinch.

“I’m waiting,” she said pleasantly.

She was gorgeous. A goddess. A stacked milf, with generous helpings of beauty and genetics. Even without any athletic background, she had knocked out a champion. Sure, the gloves had played a big part - but did that really matter when her son was facedown on the carpet, snoring?

“Three…”

Her voice was soft. Melodic. Beautiful. She swayed side to side with her arms still wrapped around Billy, as if dancing with him… Or rocking him to sleep.

“Two…”

Heather kept slowly rocking her son in the clinch. Billy recognised this voice she was using. Somewhere deep within his subconscious, he recognized it. It was the same voice she had used while tucking him into bed as a kid. While reading him stories as he drifted off. Loving, gentle, sweet, soft. It was the voice she had put him to sleep with.

“One!”

All of a sudden Heather put her gloved hands to Billy’s chest, and pushed him out of the clinch. He stumbled back, unprepared for the sudden shove with his mind elsewhere, but managed to avoid falling over. Not that it mattered. He’d be falling soon anyway.

Billy’s eyes went wide. He saw Heather’s grinning face as the fist of her glove came flying towards his face - and then, darkness.

Billy’s head was rocked backwards with the **** of the punch, then his arms went limp and swung down, and his whole body flopped over forwards. He was so shockingly limp. It was like the champ had just been switched off by his mom. Taken by surprise, and then unplugged.

It was over in an instant. One moment of hard-cocked distraction, one minute of his mother’s breasts pressed to his chest, and that was all it took to get knocked out by the very same punch he had just taught her. His dick was still beating in his boxer shorts as he fell, mind already drifted off to the land of nod.

“Oh! Oh dear…” Heather watched him drop. She watched him land. She watched him lay there, motionless. She knew what this meant.

The victorious milf couldn’t help but smile.

“I knocked you ouuuutttt~~” she grinned.

The stacked milf allowed herself a moment to bask. Smiling down at her motionless boy, listening to his slow, steady breathing. Then she shook her head.

“I realize I haven’t been doing this properly~” Heather sang to her **** son, pulling off one of her gloves. “Most boxers wouldn’t hurry to rouse you, like I did. Instead, it would be something like this…”

Standing over him, Heather stuck up one finger, beaming down at her **** son, and began a 10 count. She counted slowly, speaking each number loud and clear in a precise tone. It was a count she soon completed, with nothing more than a twitch and a snore in response from her beat-down boxing prodigy offspring. She’d really sent him packing.

Heather smiled as she reached 10, locking in her victory. Billy had just been counted out for the first time ever. She lifted a foot and placed it on her snoozing son’s defeated ass.

“Say what you will about my son, but you can’t say he isn’t well rested!” Heather boasted.

She looked so beautiful, standing there in a victory pose above the unexpecting down-and-out Billy. It was one more busty knockout added to his record of milf losses to mommy. His boxing club would be shocked to see their undefeated champ facedown and counted out by his mom like this. Sound asleep under her delicate foot.

“Boxing sure is fun, hey Billy? At least… It is when your opponent’s got a glass fucking jaw.” Heather laughed elegantly. “Maybe I should start teaching YOU!”

And over the next few days, Heather took it upon herself to make good on that promise to a knocked-out Billy.

Every Friday, she started teaching him her “techniques”, in an attempt to improve his skills as a boxer. Naturally, it was all either basics he had learned years ago, or made-up techniques of Heather’s own design which would never work in a real fight. But Billy was **** to play along with his mother’s boxing lessons, or risk his chin. So he stood in the ineffective stances, threw the unbalanced punches, and humored the cocky milf who had the power of sleep in her hands.

She had him wrapped around her finger. The big bad boxer didn’t dare put his chin on the line against mom anymore. Her female fists were far stronger than his worn-down champion chin.

Shamefully, each lesson always ended with a short sparring match, to see if he had improved. To see if he’d really taken his mother’s lessons to heart. They were always short, because Billy always got knocked out.

“What’s wrong baby boy? Has my technique got you stumped?” Heather boasted. Then, bam! One sloppy punch and Billy was out cold again, staring at the ceiling beneath her gorgeous ass. The veteran boxer had a lot to learn from mommy.

“Wait right there Billy, I need to make sure you’re really asleep,” she grinned, and began a slow ten count above his crumpled body. “One… Two…”

She was enjoying this way too much, fighting Billy. BEATING Billy. She had even started wearing a black belt around the house, one she had bought off eBay which was intended for karate.

Billy was insulted and ashamed to be gifted a similar white belt, which she made him wear each time she “trained” him. But he couldn’t deny how rock-hard he got every time he put it on. Nor how accurate it was as his mother rocked him with those black-belt-punches of hers.

Champ or not, his mother sure made him look like a white belt.