A Boxers Perspective
by JPC 900



Each defense of my heavyweight championship had been a memorable occasion but
the loss of my title was still etched vividly in my mind. To start with my
opponent was unknown to me until seconds before the bout, shrouded in mystery
and secrecy. I had never been in better shape my form was excellent having
knocked out my previous three challengers in less than two rounds at 6ft 3 ins
and 245lbs I was fitter, faster and stronger than I had ever been.

I understand now why they dipped the lights as the challenger entered the ring
,my reaction and the gasps of surprise from ringside are still in my head ...
..my opponent was a GIRL !!!, NOT ANY GIRL BUT A STUNNING GIRL . Marilyn was
19 years old only 5ft 5 INS with a figure to die for, the announcer claimed
she was undefeated and weighed 132lbs. She was fit and lithe, long legged and
with firm breasts filling her tight vest, but she did not look strong or
muscular. I could not take my eyes off her as the seconds strapped on my
gloves , she had smiled at me as she tied her blonde hair in a pony tail she
did not seem to have any fear at all .

We met in the centre of the ring to listen to the referees instructions , she
seemed so small and fragile as I towered above her , yet as she looked up at
me fixing me with her deep blue eyes I sensed she was already draining a
little of my strength . Her feminine perfume lingered as I returned to my
corner to wait for the bell.

I cannot remember the first two rounds I know, she was too quick and avoided
me with a dancer's grace, and I was unable to lay a glove on her. I recall
images of her shapely legs and the rise and fall of her breasts as she danced
and weaved in front of me.

Whether it was her scent, her smile or her body, I will never know, but by
round three I was as stiff as a poker and my erection strained painfully
against my protection. The distraction resulted in a loss of concentration and
she had landed several blows to my solar plexus and a few to my head and for
the first time since my early career I felt light headed and remote , there
was a hint of weakness in my legs. For the first time in the fight this sexy
little girl seemed strong and dangerous.

As I sat in my corner between rounds watching water splash over her vest she
grew sexier and sexier , her hard nipples stood teasingly under her vest , her
shapely legs seemed to grow longer as they glistened with sweat ... ..it all
seemed to sap more of my strength.

In round four I hit her for the first time, to me they were good shots that
should have at least shaken her, but they lacked my normal snap and she
brushed them aside. Ignoring my jabs she went on the attack catching me with
rapid lefts and rights, it was then that I first sensed how much she had
weakened me. By the end of the round her punches grew stronger and stronger,
my legs were heavy and my arms felt like lead.

I never heard a word of the instructions and disquiet from my seconds as I
rested between rounds I was consumed by Marilyn, trembling with a mixture of
weakness and excitement.

Rounds five and six followed the same pattern she grew stronger and stronger
as I became weaker. I sensed the crowd , they went quiet as she continued to
hit me , they began to gasp, when I was staggered by a left hook ; they
started cheering her as she easily caught me , my arms dropped and I began to
slow up . By the end of round six we both knew I was almost finished, she was
toying with me. My head was buzzing and confused it was as if I was looking at
the fight as a spectator, watching as this young girl was taking me apart.
Despite all that was at stake it felt exciting, it was erotic to witness my
power being drained as she remorselessly weakened me.

I had to haul myself to my feet at the start of the eighth round; the last
ounces of my strength were being drained into my erection .Marilyn bounced out
of her corner as fresh as a daisy. I tried to raise my gloves to defend my
chin, but my arms were so weak they kept dropping, exposing my chin, she
landed a few light jabs, now she was like a matador playing with the bull,
knowing that the outcome was inevitable. I remember the first time I fell
forward and tried to clutch her to stay on my feet , the sweet mixture of
perfume and sweat and the gentle whisper in my ear," poor champ you are weaker
than a kitten now ... .but we both knew you never had a chance!!!!". Then I
sank to one knee as the referee started to count, Marilyn moved to a neutral
corner and leaned provocatively against the ropes as if to emphasise her
femininity and demonstrate it was a little girl who had knocked down the
heavyweight champion. Somehow I managed to stagger to my feet at the count of
seven but my legs felt like jelly , my arms heavy and my senses confused
except for an overpowering erotic need for her to knock me down again

She circled me twice waiting for my arms to drop then blowing a kiss tapped me
on the jaw. The crowd were roaring as my knees buckled and as if in slow
motion I slumped down on to both knees , then swayed like a falling tree
before sinking back onto my butt, I was floating and remember spotting Marilyn
hands on hips standing over me before falling back helpless onto my back ...
..9 10 out! called the referee, it was over.

To this day I cannot explain the defeat, there was not one heavy punch I, just
a series of unanswered, gentle blows that had gradually sapped my strength.
When I dream I still see the vision of this petite sexy girl standing over me
as I fall, she is smiling ... and that scent, the same erotic sensation still
makes me as weak as a baby!

Comments are always welcome

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