I used to live in a converted Victorian house that featured 5 self-contained apartments; my was on the ground floor, which looking back, was a god-send when it came to hosting private apartment fights. Discrete, my opponents could arrive at my apartment relatively quietly. Next door to me, lived an old woman (Edith – name changed) who loved her Gin; she could be easily categorised as Gin-soaked and really good fun (she was around mid-70s, had 5 heart attacks and smoked like a trooper). Normally, she would knock on my door and invite herself in for a drink (gin of course). One night I was preparing for a fight the following evening, working out in the living room with weights. With mental preparations in mind, I was exercising naked, like I normally do; then I heard Edith knock at the door; bugger I thought that was bad timing, but being a gentleman, I put a robe on and let her in. Cheerfully, the old dear came in and I poured her a large gin (the usual). We sat down and enjoyed a good conversation about ‘stuff’ as we normally do. After a while, she did notice that she had interrupted my workout session, suggesting that I resume my workout and she would happily watch me. Being slightly gin-soaked myself, I thought why not. I slipped off the robe, and continued with my weight training, completely nude of course. She sat back, and said, carry on, the results are very impressive, as she glanced at my semi-erect cock. Over the next 60minutes, she sat in silence inventively watching me workout; which I tried to make as interesting for her as possible. She enjoyed me heaving and groaning as I worked out, always trying to use as many different exercises as possible so she could see a male physique in action. The conversation turned to fighting, mainly as to the reason why I was working out. I invited her to attend my fight the following evening, which she duly obliged. She was such good sport watching my fights, always with a cigarette in one hand and a gin in the other. Sadly, we parted company when I moved, but hopefully left her with some good violent memories of my apartment fights all those years ago.
Friday-Homes (1)
7/06/2023 11:52 AMI used to live in a converted Victorian house that featured 5 self-contained apartments; my was on the ground floor, which looking back, was a god-send when it came to hosting private apartment fights. Discrete, my opponents could arrive at my apartment relatively quietly. Next door to me, lived an old woman (Edith – name changed) who loved her Gin; she could be easily categorised as Gin-soaked and really good fun (she was around mid-70s, had 5 heart attacks and smoked like a trooper). Normally, she would knock on my door and invite herself in for a drink (gin of course). One night I was preparing for a fight the following evening, working out in the living room with weights. With mental preparations in mind, I was exercising naked, like I normally do; then I heard Edith knock at the door; bugger I thought that was bad timing, but being a gentleman, I put a robe on and let her in. Cheerfully, the old dear came in and I poured her a large gin (the usual). We sat down and enjoyed a good conversation about ‘stuff’ as we normally do. After a while, she did notice that she had interrupted my workout session, suggesting that I resume my workout and she would happily watch me. Being slightly gin-soaked myself, I thought why not. I slipped off the robe, and continued with my weight training, completely nude of course. She sat back, and said, carry on, the results are very impressive, as she glanced at my semi-erect cock. Over the next 60minutes, she sat in silence inventively watching me workout; which I tried to make as interesting for her as possible. She enjoyed me heaving and groaning as I worked out, always trying to use as many different exercises as possible so she could see a male physique in action. The conversation turned to fighting, mainly as to the reason why I was working out. I invited her to attend my fight the following evening, which she duly obliged. She was such good sport watching my fights, always with a cigarette in one hand and a gin in the other. Sadly, we parted company when I moved, but hopefully left her with some good violent memories of my apartment fights all those years ago.