Black vs. White II
By Smac
Diane and her workmate decide to box again.

Corrected 10/6/2001

Diane closed the door quietly and leant back against it, eyes 
closed.
"Thank goodness that's over," she sighed to herself.
She'd spent the last half an hour ploughing through a boring, 
repetitious bedtime story for the ten year old.
Janet smiled gratefully, after all they were her children.
"Here, I'll help you to tidy up."
They both knelt on the carpet, to clear away the debris left by 
Janet's two boys. Amongst the detritus were two shoddy pairs of bag 
gloves. Janet picked up of the thin leather gloves, bringing them 
up to her cheek.
Their eyes met.
"What about it?" asked Janet huskily.
"If we do," said Di looking serious, "I'm not using those damn bag 
gloves again, our faces were cut to pieces last time."
"How could I forget," blushed Janet, "but it has been a long time.
"I wouldn't mind," mused Di aloud, "but we seem to get so carried 
away.
"It's good for us, all the aggression coming out and that. Look 
it's May the twenty fourth next Friday, we've got all the 
following week off, why not then?"
The flame had been lit when their eyes had met.
"Yes, damn good idea," grinned Di.
Diane was thirty five years old and a friend and work colleague of 
Janet's. She was prematurely white haired, but it suited her and 
she kept it short and beautifully shiny. She was a fairly tall 
woman at five ten, but perfectly proportioned, with long, strong
arms and legs, wide hips and a very big bosom.
Janet was petite, attractive and had a mane of thick blonde hair. 
She had a terrific figure, emphasised by her thirty nine inch bust. 
Diane's tits, at forty two, sagged a little but, when supported by 
a bra, looked good enough to eat. They were both very fit, swimming, 
cycling and jogging. 
Diane was particularly strong, mentally and physically. Her 
husband, a long distance lorry driver, was more often than not, out 
of the way. 
Janet was, and had been for some time, going through a particularly 
messy, second divorce. The two boys, ten and twelve, were from her first 
marriage, her second husband didn't seem able to get anything 
right.
"What about a helper?" asked the older woman, "Marlene again?"
"I suppose so, but she's such a worry ass, nagging all the time. 
You've got a bruise, your nose is bleeding, proper bleeding 
nuisance ."
"Can you think of an alternative?"
"Not really," sighed Janet.
"Right then I'll see you on Friday if not before, and I'll try to 
get hold of some decent boxing gloves."
They'd boxed one another several times now, each fight fiercer and 
more brutal than the last. Diane's large house boasted a huge 
basement utility room. Sensibly she'd cleared out all the washers, 
driers and so on and had installed a full sized boxing ring. It was 
rather cold and bleak but then if you were getting your face and 
tits bashed in, that was the last thing you tended to worry about. 
The ring's canvas covering had been reasonably clean when she'd 
acquired it, second hand, but now it was splashed and spotted with 
dark brown bloodstains.
Marlene shuddered when she noticed it for the second time, she had 
seconded their last punch up when they'd stupidly worn the rough, 
seamed bag gloves.
Diane tried to mollify her by showing her the boxing gloves she'd 
bought during the past week. They were little more than boys' toy 
gloves and couldn't weigh more than a few ounces a piece. But the 
red haired Marlene knew no better and Diane wasn't about to explain 
the significance of the weight of boxing gloves. They looked a lot 
better than what they'd worn last time and that was good enough for 
her.
"Come on," goaded Diane, "let's get ready."
As usual she and Janet had come to the fight room wearing the 
panties they intended to box in. It was a simple and quick matter 
for the two of them to strip off, ready for the gloves and the 
punch up. They climbed into the ring first. Di in a white blouse 
and navy blue cotton trousers, Janet in a short black skirt and 
white blouse. Both had kicked their shoes off before squeezing 
through the rough ring ropes. Diane, as usual, seized the 
initiative and, pulling the several rings from her strong fingers, 
shoved them deep into her trouser pockets. Then her, now trembling,
fingers began on the tiny buttons of her straining, white blouse.
Janet was busy examining, for the first time, the little boxing 
gloves. Sensibly, one pair was red, the other black. That's as far 
as discretion went for the gloves themselves, well she thought, 
they may as well box bare fisted. They weren't even four ounces. 
But at least they didn't have those wicked seams that had shredded 
her face last time, but they were going to sting, she was sure of 
that. She glanced across the scruffy ring in time to see her 
opponent reach behind her to undo the catch of her capacious white 
bra. The great, white familiar breasts bounced into the open.
The long, dark brown teats were already hard in anticipation of
action. The tits seemed to increase in size as Di drew her tummy
in order to undo her leather belt. Having carefully slid the
trousers off she straightened and stood magnificently erect,
her huge, veined breasts thrust forwards, her little white
cotton panties barely covering the huge bulge of her pubis
whilst stretching tautly across her large, firm buttocks.
She gave the wide eyed Marlene the come on and she meandered
over, clutching the two pairs of boxing gloves to her bosom.
"I'll have the red pair," she demanded.
Marlene dropped the black gloves on the ring floor and began to 
fasten the red gloves to her friend's trembling hands. 
Di had a pair of hands of which many a man would have been proud. 
She was a country girl at heart, used to heaving and carrying, no 
stranger to the pick and shovel. Her biceps bulged significantly as 
she held her fists out to receive the thin leathers.
Janet gave a slight shrug and began on her own white silk blouse.
Marlene could never come to terms with her boxing. With Diane it 
was not quite so remarkable, she was a big, forceful woman who 
brooked no nonsense from anyone, but Janet she was so pretty, so 
demure and she always presented herself with such meticulous care. 
You never saw her anything but immaculately turned out, even at 
work. Still she'd given a good account of herself the last time 
they'd got into this ring with the gloves on.
Marlene, still thinking about her motives, watched Janet baring her 
breasts ready for the fight. She was a thirty nine, D cup and proud 
of it. The tits rode high and firm, her nipples were like pale pink 
strawberries and the surrounding aureoles, also light pink, looked 
delicate and vulnerable. The upper slopes of the big breasts were 
lightly sprinkled with pinkie brown freckles.
Diane tested the tightly laced right boxing glove on her own chin 
and her mouth curled down at the corners. She smacked her gloved 
fists together noisily.
Marlene, jolted back to reality, picked up the black boxing gloves 
and took them over to Janet's corner where she stood, now divested 
of her expensive black skirt, in a little white silk tanga. It was 
a good job she was of lesser proportions than her opponent because 
her panties really were tiny. High cut on the hips with strings of 
material joining front and back panels. The back of the pants was 
already beginning to disappear between her firm, round bum cheeks, 
whilst it was a good job she shaved between her legs as the front 
did little more than hide her actual cunt lips. The rest of her 
smooth, bare pubis was naked.
She held her trembling hands out to Marlene.
The redhead shook her head slowly while she held on to the cuff of 
the right boxing glove, allowing Janet to force her small hand into 
it. She laced it tightly about the girl's strong wrist. Whilst she 
gloved up her left fist, Janet inexplicably massaged her jutting 
breasts with the wicked right glove. With both gloves on she rubbed 
and smoothed them all over her body, even up between her legs.
Marlene tied her shoulder length hair at the nape of her neck with 
an old shoe lace and quickly ducked out of the ring. She'd no 
intention of staying anywhere near flying leather.
She glanced at her old nurse's watch, the minute hand was almost at 
the top.  
The two almost naked women padded towards one another across the 
squalid ring floor.
"Here we go again, thought Janet before a crashing right hand 
thudded into her soft face, sending her head back almost between 
her shoulder blades. She literally saw stars.
Di pressed home her advantage, flattening her friend's tits with 
lefts and rights.
Janet could only back onto the ropes and cover up.
After clubbing at her arms and gloves for a while Di switched her 
attack to Janet's board hard belly. By the time Marlene dinged the 
bell her tummy was scarlet. As she lowered herself onto the stool 
she felt she'd already been beaten. In their previous fights she'd 
matched Di punch for punch, this time the leather had been going 
all one way, into her face, tits and belly. She nodded and Marlene 
swabbed her scalding belly with the sponge. The cool water 
soaked her little panties bringing her sex lips fully into focus. 
Then she stood, nervously tapping her black boxing gloves together, 
ready for what round two had to offer.
Di had already won really, she had Janet beaten psychologically.
She came forwards, eyes downcast, gloves up to her trembling chin. 
She mewed when Di's hard right glove crunched her nose. She 
snuffled the blood back into her throat for as long as she could 
stand it but eventually both nostrils began to run red.
Di smiled cruelly, Marlene swallowed hard.
This was the part she didn't like, all the blood.
Last time they'd boxed they both ended the fight covered in blood, 
she'd given up trying to keep them clean after a few rounds.
Janet's crashing to the canvas brought her back to the present.
She lay on her side, sobbing. Blood from her poor nose forming a 
puddle under her blonde head. Stoically she knelt up, black boxing 
gloves clamped round her soft, round thighs, already spotted with 
drops from her face. She looked up at Di, eyes misty with tears 
but, despite their softness, with a determination in them, and 
pushed off the dirty ring floor with her leathers.
Di came for her again.
Marlene cried out as Janet took a barrage of red leather in the 
face. She tore her eyes from the brutal scene to check her watch 
and thankfully rang the bell to end the round.
Janet didn't know where she was and, for the first time ever, 
Marlene climbed into the ring, to help her back to her corner.
"Pack it in," she pleaded, noting that she'd got blood all over the 
sleeve of her favourite white blouse.
"I'll give it one more round," she sobbed, "I can't let her beat me 
so easily."
Secretly she wondered, through her pain and humiliation, what Di 
had been up to since their last, more equitable, fight.
In view of her pain and the fact that she may pull out after the 
next round Marlene elected to leave her alone during the break.
She glanced across to Di. She obviously needed no help, she'd 
hardly worked up a sweat. She sat calmly contemplating her little 
red boxing gloves, probably thinking how best to use them on the 
hurting blonde.
Reluctantly Marlene swiped the bell and the women faced up.
Di keen and full of herself, Janet still bowed and bloody.
Mar half wished for a swift release for her friend.
Di sent her staggering back with a beautiful straight right to the 
face. The red glove thudded into her nose and mouth, blood streamed 
off the end of her chin, it ran down her cleavage and belly to soak 
into her little silky panties. She straightened up and, as Di came
for her again, she sagged onto her, her pulped face jammed between 
her friend's massive breasts, her own black boxing gloves
down by her sides.
Di pushed her away with a grimace, looking down at Janet's blood 
all over her own tits and belly. As if annoyed by her blooding she
began to whack Janet repeatedly in the face and breasts.
Janet was beyond retaliation anyway now, she couldn't think or see.
Di guessed right, her tummy muscles had given up too, her right 
uppercut tore into Janet's viscera, she literally pissed herself on 
the spot, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish before she went 
down, on her back in a puddle of blood and piss.
She looked beaten and pathetic. Her face bashed in, eyes puffy 
slits, her thighs streaked with blood and her piss soaked silk 
panties drawn up into her raw gash.
"All that sparring with Marie was well worth it," smiled Diane.