Red Lightning, Green Fire
By American Boxer  RJMH2002@aol.com
A hard-fought mixed boxing match, evenly matched to a KO  revised 


Selene caused my heart to race as she climbed into the ring—five and a half
feet tall, fair skin with freckles, sparkling green eyes, and a nice even tan.
Her long wavy red hair was worn loose, most flowing down her back, but a small
bunch of it draped over her left shoulder and brushing against her firm, full
36 c chest. She was wearing red satin boxing trunks with a white stripe, white
hi—top sneakers and gleaming black gloves. As she shadowboxed in the ring, her
long, muscular arms, taut abs, long, toned legs and determined look seemed to
promise devastation to her opponent, while her large, firm breasts bounced
around, drawing the attention of every male in the room. Their envy for me was
almost tangible—they weren't paying as much attention to the black 8-ounce
gloves as I was—but then they weren't going to have to face them, either, and
I was.

How I ended up facing this lovely young lady is a story for another day, but
as I climbed into the ring, I knew this was going to be a tough fight. I had
seen her fight, and knew that she packed a vicious wallop in either hand, and
could take punches that would lay out fighters 30 pounds heavier. In addition,
she was very fast, and had a real killer instinct. Win or lose, I would be
hurting by the time the evening was over.

As we moved to the center of the ring to touch gloves, I gazed at her hard
body. Her confident walk caused her bare breasts to bounce slightly, while her
pink nipples betrayed her excitement at the imminent fight. Her green eyes
sparkled, and she smiled as we approached. She had caught my gaze drifting
down to her chest and smiled, smacking her gloves together, saying, "You'd be
better off keeping you eyes on these, or its going to be a very short fight."
Up close, her taught abs and well muscled arms contrasted greatly with those
lush tits, and I forced my attention upwards, meeting her gaze as we touched
gloves. She met my gaze directly, and neither of us could stare down the
other. Win or loose, this was going to be interesting-painful, but
interesting.

We both took a step back, raised our guards, and—DING—the fight was on. Unlike
some mixed bouts, neither of us had any doubts—this was in earnest. I circled
cautiously to my right, and snapped out a jab, prepared to follow it with a
fast right, but she nimbly slipped it and came back with a long right hook,
which landed solidly on my ribs— that girl could PUNCH! She stepped forward,
trying to follow up with a left uppercut to my chin, but I was able to block
it, allowing me to slam a left hook of my own to her ribcage, then to throw a
bone-jarring right into her face. Amazingly, she didn't even blink, instead
coming in with a hard right to my side, just under the ribcage. The solid
right stopped me in my tracks, allowing her to snap a solid left hook to my
eye, twisting her little black glove as the blow landed. I've been hit with
some solid shots in my time, but this one hurt! I rapidly backed away, using a
pair of jabs to keep her from following up on her momentary advantage. Once
again she slipped my jab, and she tagged me in the nose with a stiff jab of
her own. No blood, but it stung, and gave her a chance to slam a right cross
to my chin. That blow rang my bell, and I stepped back go get out of range
before she could do any more damage.

This was going to be even tougher than I thought. Already she had hit me with
some solid shots—I could feel my eye starting to swell, and I had only hit her
with two solid punches. She was definitely quicker than I was, and well
matched for power, despite my 20-pound advantage. I resolved to stick with my
fight plan—use my weight advantage to force her against the ropes, and wear
her down with body punches.

We circled each other, slowly closing the distance as we looked for openings,
until I tried another jab—this one a feint. As she slipped to the side to
avoid it, I stepped forward, digging a hard right uppercut to her undefended
ribs, then hitting her with a left hook, also in the ribs. It felt like
hitting a brick wall, but I knew that enough body punching could weaken even
abs like hers. She was more than willing to fight inside, and we both got to
feel the power of each other's fists. She proved to be an exceedingly good
infighter, hitting me in the ribs and stomach with some very hard shots. I was
shocked by her power, but I thought I was gaining a slight advantage. Her abs
were red from my driving punches, and she was breathing hard, but so was I.
After a minute or so of this, she tried to open the distance. As we separated,
I was able to get in a hard right, and slammed my fist into her left eye. She
didn't even blink as my punch landed, instead pivoting and smacking her right
into my nose. Before I could react, she drove another blow into my right eye.
As it landed, I could feel her black glove twisting again, doing even more
damage than a punch this hard normally would. I could feel my eye start to
swell, and my nose didn't feel to great, either. As she was trying to
rearrange my face, I snapped her head back with an uppercut into her chin. For
the first time, my blow seemed to hurt her—her head snapped back, and she
backed up a step before coming right back at me. I moved into her, hoping to
exploit my momentary advantage, only to discover that I hadn't gained one. She
caught me with a stiff jab in the nose, then followed it with a right cross. I
managed to slip that one, and then the bell rang, forcing me to pull the left
hook I was about to land to her jaw.

ROUND 2

This was shaping up to be one tough fight, I thought as I returned to my
corner and settled onto my stool. I had hit her with some hard shots, but she
seemed to be hurting me more than I was hurting her. My abs were feeling the
effects of her powerful blows—especially my left side from her thunderous
right hooks to my ribs. My right eye was definitely starting to swell—there
was no danger of its closing yet, but she could certainly see the swelling,
and I expected that she would work on it. Looking across at my red—haired
opponent, I could see that her solid abs were pink from the punches I had
delivered, and that she was breathing hard. As I tried to asses her condition,
her firm round breasts and erect, pink nipples drew my attention, jiggling
slightly with each breath she drew. Perhaps a few good shots to those
beautiful breasts might bring down her guard, allowing me to nail her in the
head.

As I was assessing her condition, I could see that she was doing the same. Our
gazes met, and locked up, neither if us being willing to show any sign of
weakness by looking away. There was a fire in her bright green eyes like no
other woman I've met, a determination to knock me out or go down trying. No
way was this fight going to end with both of us conscious, and we were both
determined that it would be the other one lying on the canvas. It was with
this in mind that I answered the bell for the second round, moving out
cautiously to meet her.

She came out confidently, on her toes, moving gracefully, not at all tired
from the first round. She shot a crisp jab at my face. I slipped the blow,
feeling smooth leather brush against my right cheek. At the same time, I
stepped forwards, driving a solid left hook into her ribs. She grunted as it
hit, but it still felt like hitting a wall, not flesh. She blocked my next
blow, and slammed her left into my right eye. I blinked, stepping back, and
just barely avoided the uppercut she fired at my jaw. For a split second, she
was out of position, and her firm, sweat slicked breasts were invitingly
exposed. I took advantage of the opportunity, stepping forwards and slamming a
wicked right cross into her left nipple. Things almost seemed in slow motion
as I felt her tit pancake under my blow—a feeling quite unlike hitting her
abs. As her breast snapped back into place, she winced from the pain, bringing
her gloves down for the split second I needed. Her face was completely open,
the pain and shock visible, and I drove a vicious left hook into her jaw,
knocking her back a step. Her long red hair flew in all directions as her head
whipped around from the force of the punch. Finally! She could be hurt, I
thought as I followed up, driving an overhand right into her cute nose before
she could react. She blinked—the punches had obviously hurt—but she snarled at
me and came back punching, trying to nail me with a right cross. She paid for
her courage, though—I slipped the right and slid inside, digging solid
uppercuts to her ribs with each hand. I must have been doing some
damage—hitting her no longer felt like hitting a brick wall, but it would take
a lot more pounding to really weaken them. She refused to give ground, and
slammed another hard left hook into my right eye. As she connected, I dug
another left into her side, bringing my right up to protect my face,
especially my tender right eye.

Once again she was willing to mix it up with me inside, and I was certainly
going to take advantage of it. I smashed my left into her chin, snapping her
head back, but it didn't slow her down, and I felt her hard fists slam into my
abs even as I connected with a right uppercut to her left breast. This time it
didn't faze her, although I enjoyed seeing her bare breast fly upward from the
blow. I could feel my stomach muscles weakening under her continued assault,
her fists pounding like pistons, but I knew that hers were starting to weaken,
too. My next blow, a hard left hook, found her nose and drove her back a step.
She came back at me hard, blood flowing from her nose. I avoided her left as
she came in, and her momentum carried her right into a perfect right cross,
which caught her squarely on the jaw. I felt the shock travel up my arm, and
knew right away that I had hurt her. I moved in quickly, hoping to put her
down before she could recover. I was able to land another good shot to her
chin, but she quickly tied me up. As we were face to face, her tits pressed
into my chest, I tried to dig at her side, but she blocked me with her elbow.
Looking into her eyes, I could see that I had hurt her, but that green fire
was still blazing fiercely. I shoved her back, freeing myself from her clinch.

I tried to stay close enough to hammer her abs some more, but she blocked a
right with her forearm, and snapped a jab at my nose. She was backing away,
trying to gain a moment to recover, but I was determined not to give her that
time. As I tried to corner her, there was that jab of hers, flicking into my
face as she retreated. They didn't have a lot of force, but two of them
smacked into my sore right eye, increasing the swelling. I finally managed to
slip one of her jabs, and stepped forwards, digging a hard left hook into her
side, then slamming a right uppercut into her chin. Her head snapped back
again, but she seemed to have recovered from my earlier stunning right, and
she stood her ground, slamming a left hook to my jaw—her punches hadn't lost
any power at all. She knocked me back a step, and came at me again. I managed
to slip the right she threw at me, and met her as she was coming forwards with
a solid left hook, flattening her nose. The shock stopped in her tracks as the
red flow increased, and gave me a split second opening. My right fist slammed
into her jaw, snapping her head back again. Feeling the shock run up my arm as
my small glove distorted her face gave me the feeling that I was starting to
take control. She glared at me, obviously hurt, her eyes starting to glaze
over, but still eager to fight. Her hook for my chin was badly aimed—I pulled
back, feeling the rush of air as her glove just barely missed my jaw, then I
flattened her left tit with a good right cross. Her guard came down as her
breast flattened under my hard punch, and I smashed her nose with a short,
hard left hook. The blood started to flow more freely, but the pain from the
breast punch shocked her into action. As I tried to come around with right, I
saw stars as she creamed me with a hard right to my jaw. It staggered me, and
she followed with a left hook to my abused eye. I could feel my skin tear as
she twisted the glove, and quickly backed away. She followed, and it was my
turn to hold, trying to clear my head. She worked her left free, and dug a
hook into my bruised side before we broke free of each other. I was hurt, but
so was she. I slammed an uppercut to her left tit, just as the bell rang to
end the round. She grimaced at the pain, but pulled her counterpunch and we
both went willingly back to our corners.

ROUND 3

I settled wearily onto my stool, my abs on fire, a bit unsteady on my feet,
glad of a chance to rest and clear my head. I looked across to assess her
condition, and compare it to the brutal pounding that I had taken. She was
breathing hard, but so was I. Her nose was bleeding freely, the blood running
down her face, mingling with sweat as it ran down her lovely breasts. Those
breasts were maddening, heaving up and down as she took in deep breaths, red
and swollen, the nipples erect from the pain—they would be black and blue
soon, as would her stomach. Her second was icing her nose, while mine was
trying to stop the flow of blood from my right eye, and bring the swelling
down. He was having some success, but the swelling was pretty bad--if this
kept up, she could close it, leaving me vulnerable to her left hooks. I knew I
had won the round, but I expected someone in her shape to recover fast--she
was too experienced a fighter to fold after one bad round.

Too soon, the bell rang. I had stopped bleeding, but the swelling was still
quite severe, and it wouldn't take much to reopen the cut, allowing the blood
to drip into my eye. If I could keep up the pressure, I might be able to
weaken her, keep her fist out of my eye, and knock her out . We both came
warily towards the center of the ring, each mindful of the other's power. As I
met her fiery green eyes, I could see the same determination there, as well as
an anger that wasn't there when the fight started.

I determined to take the offensive, and snapped out a jab. She once again
slipped it, coming in with a hook to my left side. This time, I blocked it,
and slammed my right into her nose. I twisted the glove as it connected—she
grimaced in pain as the blood started to flow again. She backed off, jabbing
at my face, connecting with my left eye and my nose. I replied with a jab to
her right eye, then stepped forwards, aiming a hard right cross at her chin.
She stepped to her right, and met me coming in with a wicked left hook. It
stopped me in my tracks, stunning me with its force, snapping my head back,
and leaving me an easy target. She snarled at me as she stepped forwards,
snapping my head back again with a right uppercut, then reopening my cut with
a hard left before I could clinch. Even as we clinched, she dug another
uppercut to my right side, and I could feel the muscles starting to give from
the beating she had inflicted. As I was holding on, she snarled, "Punch my
tits, will ya?" I didn't waste the breath I'd need for an answer, and held
tight, leaning my head on her shoulder, feeling her chest pressed into mine,
and trying to prevent her from hitting my side again. I was reeling, seeing
stars, my side on fire, just looking to hold on long enough to catch my
breath.

As the ref moved in to separate us, she shoved me backwards. I kept moving,
looking through my black gloves, as she stalked me. I was in trouble, and we
both knew it. She snapped her jab into my eye again—the pain was intense as
she worked on closing it. I kept retreating as she pursued, blocking some of
her punches, but others got through. After a few moments of this, my eye was
completely closed. She faked a right to my face—I discovered that it was a
feint too late, as her left hook came from my blind side, the small black
glove crashing into my jaw. Her punch snapped my head around violently—I had
no idea the left was coming, and sweat and blood flew everywhere, spattering
her and the people at ringside. I somehow managed to stay on my feet, reeling
across the ring. I came to a stop with my back against the ropes. Everything
was blurry, and I could barely get my gloves up. She came at me, and I could
see through my good eye as she measured me for her next blow. She flicked out
another jab, smacking it into my right eye, then pivoted, slamming a
tremendous overhand right into my exposed jaw. I felt the blow land, and then
the next thing I saw were the ring lights—her punch had put me flat on my
back. The world was spinning as I picked up the count at four—I hurt all over,
and felt weak from the pounding she had given me. Despite this, I pulled
myself to my feet using the ropes to help me.

As soon as I was on my feet, she came at me again, looking to finish me off
before I could clear my head. I slid to the left, trying to keep out of reach
of her black gloves, but I was still dazed, and she drove me back into the
ropes. Then she caught me with a vicious left hook right in the jaw, and
followed it with a hard right, both of which snapped my head around,
spattering my beautiful opponent with blood and sweat. Just then the bell
rang, saving me from being knocked out right then and there—one more punch
probably would have been enough.

ROUND 4

I staggered to my corner, barely able to stand, and slumped onto my stool. I
looked over at her through my good eye, knowing that I had to turn the tables
on her right away, or she would finish me off in a matter of moments. Her
fists had taken a terrible toll on me—I felt that I was a solid mass of
bruises from the waist up, breathing was very hard due to my broken nose and
all the body blows I'd absorbed, and I couldn't see anything coming from my
right side. She was also a mess, but I'd done very little damage this round,
the blood had almost stopped flowing from her nose, and she looked confident,
smiling at me as her corner worked. The minute between rounds was all too
short, although my second had done some good work. My eye was still shut, but
the swelling in my right eye was down some, and I was no longer bleeding. My
head was clearer, but I still hadn't fully recovered from the last few punches
when the bell rang.

I answered the bell nervously, knowing that I was only a few punches away from
being decked again, but needing to do some damage quickly. She was ready, and
slipped my first punch, and caught me on the jaw with a hard right cross,
staggering me yet again. I was hurt, but not as badly as I wanted her to
think—I dropped my guard and swayed back and forth, waiting for her to come
in. That was when she made her only mistake of the evening—she came at me
carelessly, looking to finish me off. I was ready for her, and ducked under
the first left, responding with a right uppercut. I had put everything I had
into the punch, and it landed squarely on her jaw, catching her by surprise as
she was coming forwards. Her head flew backwards, and she staggered back, her
eyes crossing as she tried to keep her balance. I followed closely, smashing
her chin with a solid left hook. This punch caught her before she could catch
her balance, snapping her head back and sending her long red hair everywhere
as sweat and blood spattered me. She fell back into the ropes, then to the
canvas. I also staggered back, leaning against the ropes, gasping for breath
and looking down in down in surprise—after last round, I hadn't expected to
see her on the canvas tonight. As she lay on her back, bruised tits jiggling
from the fall, I was hoping that she wouldn't be getting up—I doubted that I
could take much more from her. I leaned against the ropes, gasping for breath,
my ribs feeling like they were on fire from the pounding she'd given me. She
slowly pulled herself to her feet, then turned to face me, glaring at me
through swollen eyes as she wiped some blood from her face with the back of
her small black glove.

She was a mess, but I knew she wasn't through. In fact, I had to hope that I
could finish her off right now. As soon as the ref stepped aside, I came right
at her, aiming to hit her in the jaw again and finish the fight. The beating
she'd given me was slowing me down, and she managed to block the first couple
of punches I threw. She faked with a right, then slammed a left hook into my
jaw. She was also weakened, but it was a hard punch, coming from my blind
side, and it shook me. I was too badly hurt to try finesse, so I stayed in
close and we laid into each other. Both of us landed some decent punches, the
thud of leather on flesh echoing through the gym, but neither of us could
manage to catch the other with a finishing blow. I could feel myself weakening
as we pounded each other's battered bodies—then I got a clean shot at her
chest, and sunk a short, hard right into her left breast. I could see the
pained expression on her face as my black glove sunk into her soft breast, but
it didn't slow her in the least. I followed it with a left hook aimed for her
jaw, trying to knock her out while I still could. She pulled back as my glove
came in, and I overbalanced as my fist caught nothing but air. She was quick
to take advantage of my error—she fired a short, hard right at my exposed jaw.
I staggered back from the punch—it felt as hard as the ones that she had hit
me with at the beginning of the fight, although I knew this wasn't possible.
She stayed close, crashing a left hook into my jaw and stunning me before I
could recover from the last punch. I fell into the ropes just as another right
caught me squarely in my sore nose—I could feel her knuckles smashing it flat
into my face, and the blood started flowing in torrents. As I bounced off the
ropes, stunned from the vicious punch, she was ready. I could see the right
coming through my swollen left eye, but couldn't react in time. Her swollen
face showed her determination as she pivoted about her waist, her chest
swaying as the blow came at me, muscles rippling as the sweat sodden right
glove crashed into my exposed jaw, slamming my head back again, spraying sweat
and blood everywhere. My knees buckled, and my sweat slicked gloves slid off
her shoulders as I tried to clinch. She was having no part of that, and the
gym echoed with the thuds as she slammed a pair of vicious hooks into my
abused ribs. Her next blow, a hard left uppercut, sunk into my stomach, my
ruined abs offering little protection as the black glove blasted the breath
from my lungs, doubling me over as I tried to get my wind back and cover
against her onslaught. Even as I tried to cover, I knew that it would take a
near miracle for me to survive the round—I couldn't even get my gloves up. I'd
known that she's vicious when she has someone hurt, and she displayed it now,
following with a right uppercut, biceps bulging as she slammed her fist into
my jaw again. I was barely aware of what was happening, the previous punches
had done their job well—then I was standing there, dazed and confused, gasping
for breath as she returned to her corner—I hadn't even heard the bell. It took
me several seconds to recover enough from the punishment to stagger back to my
corner and collapse on my stool. If I'd had any sense, I wouldn't have even
considered going back out there, but several things were in my punch-addled
mind. I knew that she was hurt, too, and that I recovered fast, but more
important was my pride. We had agreed to fight to a knock out, and giving up
in my corner would cheapen the fight for both of us. If I couldn't recover
from this round, she deserved to knock me out, not just see me give up after
such an intense fight—and I thought that it would be the same way if I did
manage to turn things around.

ROUND 5

As I sat there, these thoughts racing through my mind, I looked across at
Selene, trying to judge her condition. I knew I was in rough shape—my right
eye was completely shut, my left badly swollen, my nose was swollen and
bloody. Her relentless body punching had taken a lot out of me—my ribs felt
like they were on fire, and I was gasping for air. She didn't look much
better—she too had a bloody nose, and a mouse under each eye, although she
could see from both of them. Her hard abs were red from my continuous punches,
and her magnificent breasts were swollen and covered with sweat and blood. I
had to hope she had punched herself out last round—that would give me a chance
to survive long enough to launch a counterattack.

As the bell rang for round five, I dragged myself up, raising my sweat—sodden
gloves to a guard position The 8-oz gloves felt like they weighed eight tons
as I moved out to meet her. She had lost the bounce she had earlier in the
fight, but still had that same determined look about her. Her first blow was a
jab, which I discovered too late was a feint, as she rammed a hard right cross
into by jaw. I staggered back, and narrowly avoided the left hook she intended
to flatten me with. As she closed in on me, I ducked low and drove a left
uppercut to her bruised side. It landed at the same time as she creamed me
with a right cross, flattening my nose and restarting the red torrent that had
been flowing for such a large portion of the bout. We both backed up under the
impact of the punches, but I knew I hadn't done a lot of damage-her body blows
had taken most of the power from my punches, whereas her punches were still
pretty strong. She looked me in the eye, and gestured at the mat with her
glove, as if to say that I was going down real soon. I looked back at here and
gestured her forward, not wanting her to realize how tired and hurt I was. As
she came at me, I stepped forward, throwing another jab to try to slow her
down—a big mistake. She slipped the jab, driving a left hook into my ribs, and
snapping my head back with a straight right to my jaw. I barely remained
standing, my vision blurring and my hands dropping to my sides from the shock
of the blow, as she pivoted and slammed a wicked left hook to my jaw. I
couldn't see the blow coming, and it impacted with a thud. My head snapped
around, spraying her with my blood and sweat. My knees buckled, and I held
onto her to try to keep my feet, but to no avail. I slid down her chest as she
dug a solid hook to my ribs, then fell on my face.

As I pulled myself up by the ropes, too stubborn to admit I was beaten, she
stood in a neutral corner, waiting to see if I would get up. I could barely
see my gorgeous opponent, but I dragged myself up, willing to see this bout to
the end, even though I had almost no chance to win.

She knew as well as I did that it was over, all that was left was for her to
make it official with her fists. As soon as the ref moved off, she moved in,
battered but determined. I was equally determined not to go down easily, and I
backed away, covering up as I tried to clear the cobwebs. She refused to give
me the time I needed, and chased me against the ropes. I threw a wild right,
which she easily avoided as she walloped me with a right cross in the jaw,
then stepped forward with a left hook to the temple. Time seemed to slow down
as she worked me over. I could see the right coming for my jaw, but my arms
wouldn't come up fast enough to block it. My head snapped back sending sweat
and blood flying, then another left crashed into my jaw. After that, I was
only aware of pain, as she dug into my stomach and snapped my head around at
will. After an eternity of this, I slumped to the canvas, landing on my side.

I picked up the count at 7, but my arms refused to obey me, and the count
reached 10 with me still on the canvas— the ref could have counted to 50 and I
wouldn't have been able to get up. Too stubborn for my own good, I waved off
help, determined to get back to my feet on my own. As I struggled to rise, I
saw a gloved hand reach down for me. I looked up at my conqueror, and accepted
her hand up. Pride or not, I couldn't refuse a hand up from a beautiful woman.
Once on my feet, I looked her over through my good eye—even after 5 rounds of
hard fighting, she looked fantastic to me now that she was no longer trying to
punch me into next week. In fact, we were both messed up. My right eye was
completely shut from her incessant punches, blood was streaming freely from my
broken nose, and my left eye was badly swollen—In another round or two she
probably would have closed it. I could taste plenty of blood from my cut lip,
and each breath was agony from the mauling she had given my ribs and stomach.
I took some consolation from seeing that she was in little better shape. Her
cute little nose was dripping blood, her entire face was swollen from our
brutal exchanges, and both shiny green eyes were endowed with mice. Her
stomach was a mass of raw, bruised flesh. She was breathing very heavily, each
breath causing her red and swollen breasts to jiggle and drawing the eye to
them. This time, when she saw my gaze drifting downwards, she smiled and
hugged me. That stunned me more than any punch she had thrown, and I
enthusiastically hugged her back. She whispered in my ear, "Good fight, big
guy. Meet me in a bit?" The events that followed shall remain between her and
I—but the story of the rematch may be told some day.

This story is a purely a work of fiction, but I would be interested in knowing
if anyone wants me to write the rematch, and what you think of this tale, and
how it could be improved.