All characters portrayed in this story are 18 years or older, any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental and in the mind of the author. I wish this had happened to me but it is just a story that I felt you might enjoy.
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Pulling the scarf from her hair she allowed it to fall around her shoulders. It had been keeping her hair out of her eyes as she worked the heavy bag. She was sweating hard from the workout but a shower would certainly take care of that. She blew a stray hair out of her eyes as she moved to the large studio window and looked out onto the street below.
It was late afternoon and the sun was streaming into the studio, warming her skin.
The small studio apartment was on the third floor and she had an excellent view as she leaned against the sill of the floor to ceiling window and took a drink from a bottle of water. She moved across the floor to the short hallway that leads to the office and her bedroom.
The studio had been an excellent investment and it allowed her to practice without having to leave her house to go to a gym.
She pulled her t-shirt off over her head as she passed the heavy punching bag, her bare feet moving easily along the sun-warmed hard wood floor. Turning on the light in the bathroom she began to unwrap the tape from her fists. She sat down on the edge of the tub and she turned on the tap with her foot letting the water get hot. The last of the knuckle tape ended up on the ground next to her hakima-style pants, as she undid the drawstring and let them slide to the floor. She was lean but not stick thin and proud of her body.
She piled her hair up on her head with an expert twist and a hair clip was about to step into the shower when she heard her studio's buzzer. Cursing, she quickly pulled on her pants and quickly wrapped a towel around her breasts. Leaving the water running she trotted to the door and looked through the peephole. She smiled.
Opening the door a crack, she smiled again. The man outside the door was wearing a dark button down collar dress shirt with a white tee underneath and a pair of khakis.
"Can I help you?" she asked, looking out, the security chain holding the door closed.
"Hi, just moved into the building and I was wondering if I could borrow your phone? I am supposed to be meeting the super today. He has my keys but he hasn't shown up yet." he said.
"Sure. Help yourself." she said, unloosing the chain. He entered the room and she directed him to the phone on the counter across the room. She watched him move across the room, his balance was good and he moved easily. He was in pretty good shape. As he made his call, he smiled at her, almost shyly. She could tell he wanted to stare but seemed to be trying to play the gentleman. She found herself imagining what it would be like to fuck him. She resolved to give herself an orgasm in the shower when...
"Shit!" she exclaimed, realizing she had left the water on in the bathroom. She ran down the hall.
She turned off the water and then put on her t-shirt for good measure. No sense tempting the boy too much. She almost giggled.
Going back out into the studio space she saw he had completed his call and had moved over to the punching bag and was half-heartedly poking at it with his fists.
"Go ahead..." she said. He grinned and nodded at her. He undid the buttons on his dress shirt and shrugging out of it draped it over the counter next to the phone. Moving back to the bag he moved up to the balls of his feet and faded in and back a few times before hitting the bag once. He was slightly off target and the bag spun helplessly in place. He sheepishly looked at her.
"I'm out of practice. Haven't done any training in quite some time." He launched into a series of much faster strikes. Moving easily from upper to lower targets his blows moved the bag and his footwork allowed him to follow its movements with ease. He obviously had some training but she noticed a hitch to his swing. He was allowing the strikes to flutter a bit at the end of each extension. He was throwing punches but if he just reined them in a bit using the bicep more he could bring his hips to bear gaining more power.
She moved up close to him, intensely conscious that with his shirt off he was in pretty good shape. Not big, just muscular. The tee was cotton and off the rack, it stretched nicely across his back and arms. She was actually getting aroused. She barely knew this man but watching him she was thinking some pretty impure thoughts. She definitely was going to take care of herself when he left.
"You have good balance but your swing is like a run-on sentence, it lacks a period." she said haughtily, moving to hold the bag for him. "When you hit try to use the bicep and turn into the strike more."