Les Club  Part One 
By Smac
Boxing at a lesbian nudist camp.


Way back in the nineteen thirties, when English morays were even more stifling
than they are now, a small group of enlightened women of lesbian leanings
formed, what was then known as a nudist colony based around a large, but
secluded, estate in part of Devonshire. In those early days it had been
informally referred to as le club. More recently most of the members had taken
to calling it 'Les Club' and the name had stuck.

Les Club, whilst essentially still catering to naturists, had evolved into a
health and fitness centre, focussing on sports. In the last few years, in
common with the upsurge generally, kick boxing and straight boxing found their
way onto the menu. This greatly suited some of the bigger and more butch
women, but also some of the more feminine ones found that they enjoyed a scrap
too. Many of the younger women held down very stressful jobs and a fortnight
at Les Club, with a few boxing matches for good measure gave their
frustrations an outlet. One of the few rules of the club were, that if a woman
intended to box she must book a fortnight's stay at least and her boxing match
should be in her first week's stay. In the early days the state of some of the
women leaving after their holidays had caused a few local eyebrow to be
raised. So if a woman got her nose broken in the first week, and many did, she
had at least a week before any appearance in public, usually enough time to
allow the judicious use of make up to cover the cuts and bruises she'd
sustained in the ring. One of the other few rules was, you guessed it, no
clothing. This proved fine for the early games, like tennis and badminton, but
the use of soft balls was opted for when sports like cricket and hockey began
to be played. Obviously they mostly wore boxing gloves in the ring too, but
very occasionally a couple of the die hards would go in completely naked, even
sans gloves. There'd only been two or three bare knuckle fights at the club
and they'd been all blood and snot. The women had been give much longer than a
week to convalesce, at the club's expense, because one word had got round the
lesbian community that such a fight was to take place, the booking rate
soared.

It was the last week in June, so the club was very busy anyway. There were PE
an other teachers swelling the normal clientele. There were two boxing matches
planned, one on the Wednesday evening and one on Friday evening. The four
boxers had all arrived on change over day, Saturday to prepare for their
fights. The first two were Lisa and Helen.

7.30 pm. Saturday 26th. July 2003.

A familiar hush settled over the hall. The changing room door creaked opwn and
two figures emerged, naked, save for the large, white towels draped over their
shoulders. Hand in hand they walked, barefoot up to the little boxing ring.
They hugged before clambering in at opposite corners. The two women who had
boxed one another on the previous Wednesday rose slowly from their seats and
walked wearily and nakedly to the ring and took up station near the frightened
looking women. Both the young seconds looked awful, not just about their faces
but their bodies too, especially their once proud breasts were all the colours
of the rainbow, one mass of bruising.

As with their previous four fights the 54 year olds had selected each other's
boxing gloves from the club's stock, kept in the changing rooms. Their first
act when the seconds arrived was to exchange the leathers.

Caroline, the blonde, peered into her bag. Pamela had chosen a beautiful light
pink pair of boxing gloves for her, but her heart skipped a beat when she
noticed the '4 oz.' picked out on the cuff.

Pamela, the dark haired woman, seated on her stool, tipped her gloves out into
her generous lap.

Caroline had picked out pure white ones for her, the gold lettering on the
cuffs also said '4 oz'

They had agreed during the week that this, their last boxing match at the
club, would go out with a bang.

Caroline turned the little pink boxing gloves over and over, marvelling at the
compactness of them.

"4 oz." she sighed, "these are going to sting like hell."

Helen, her second, gently took the pink gloves from her trembling hands.

Tiny little gloves," she said, awkwardly through her swollen and cut lips,
"you two mean business tonight don't you?"

Caroline's pelvis spasmed and she hugged herself.

"This is going to be our swansong," she mumbled, "we've decided not to box
next year," she said prophetically.

She stood Helen took the large towel from her shoulders and draped it over the
ropes. She stood back a step and looked Caroline up and down.

She was naked, of course, from her gaily painted toe nails to her crown of
blonde hair. She, like her opponent, was a substantial woman. Sturdy calves
and thighs, wide hips and a vast, matronly busom. Indeed, for her age, her
breasts were remarkably firm.

Helen looked down at her own ravaged chest. Her once proud breasts were blue
black and still swollen to bursting point.

"Why do we do this?" she thought blackly.

But the warm glow already beginning in her vitals told her the real answer.
She still came everytime she thought about Wednesday and how it felt to be in
this very boxing ring.