Olga and Jane.
By Smac.
Mother and daughter boxing.

Corrected 29/06/2001 

Richard and his German wife had taken time off from their two weeks of 
spartan 'holiday-making' to buy in some food to supplement their frugal 
diet. Today was their wedding anniversary and they planned a quiet, 
simple meal that evening to celebrate.  Both believed in keeping 
superbly fit and spent several weeks each year at the villa with their 
children Adrian, 15 and Jane 18.  The children had been born in England 
before their parents moved to West Germany where they now owned chain of 
sports shops.  As they entered the villa Olga called out to them.  
"Perhaps they are in the pool", suggested Richard.
 It was a scorching afternoon so Olga turned out through the patio door 
towards the pool and gymnasium.  After several moments Richard heard his 
wife summon him.  
Her shouts came from the gym where he could see what the trouble was.  
At some time during the afternoon the children had quarrelled and must 
have decided to settle it with the gloves on.  This was not as unlikely 
as it may seem for their father and mother often sparred together and 
boxed other male and female opponents respectively.  Jane and Adrian 
also received boxing lessons as well as taking part in many other 
sporting and physical training activities, as did their parents.  There 
was an almost full-size ring permanently set up in the large gym for 
wrestling and boxing and now Adrian sat on the canvas clad in swimming 
trunks and black boxing gloves.  He looked a sorry sight, with one eye 
closing, a bloody nose and mouth and an air of utter defeat. 

Jane was in one corner tugging off the brown 6 oz. gloves she had worn to 
bring about the defeat.  The children had sparred before many times, but 
it was obvious that on this occasion tempers had been frayed.  Anyway 
Adrian had come off worst as Jane was hardly marked, just glowing with 
perspiration and breathing heavily;  not surprisingly because she was 
wearing T-shirt, jeans and plimsolls and Olga knew that she would also 
have underwear on too.  Richard went instantly to his son and left his 
wife to deal with the petulant Jane. 
"Why couldn't you have picked on someone your own size", snapped Olga.
"He scratched all the LP's I bought last week", replied Jane through 
pouting lips. She said they had chosen to fight and some blows to her 
chest had caused her to lose her cool, then she had punched Adrian to 
a standstill.  
Her mother told her to get out of her sweat-sodden clothes and get
cleaned up.  
"When you're more presentable your father and I will have something to 
say to you about this". Olga motioned to leave, then paused and said, 
"on second thoughts you're to strip, get a shower and change into your 
old bikini, I'm going to teach you a lesson." 

First Jane found her bikini, it was last year's model, originally light 
blue, it was now faded by sun and water and would be a size or so too 
small by virtue of her development and it's having shrunk.  She held it 
up against her before the mirror and wondered if her mother knew how it 
would look on her.  By now she had a good idea what her mother might 
have in mind and wondered too if she was aware how much weight training 
etc. she had been doing lately and how her body had filled out, not just 
with puppy fat, but with hard, firm muscle.  Wistfully she got out of 
her damp things and got under the shower, first hot and then letting 
ice-cold needles of water jet onto her body.  Her usually large, flat 
nipples stiffened and bunched up under the onslaught;  she pressed her 
plump breasts up with both hands till the nipples were under her chin 
then slid her hands down over her flat belly to massage her powerful 
thighs.  She was struggling into the bikini top having wriggled her way 
into the pants when, from her bedroom door Olga shouted, "get a move on, 
or are you too frightened to come out?"  
"You'll have to come in and help me with this bra". When Olga caught
 sight of her daughter she drew in her breath, the panties just covered
 her mound of Venus at the front, though many stray hairs curled out over
 the flimsy material whilst behind they cut into her buttocks about half-way 
up. The bra hung from her shoulders and flapped uselessly over her white 
breasts. She couldn't go back on anything now so she tugged the two ends 
together and fastened the straining material between Jane's shoulder blades.  
The straps bit into her flesh under her arms and her breasts spilt out of
 the bra cups.  
Her mother said, "while we're here I'll tie your hair back", and taking 
an elastic band she pulled Jane's hair back and fastened it at the nape 
of her neck. "Right, let's go." 

As Olga turned Jane noticed she was barefoot and wearing a white satin 
robe draped over her shoulders, her long fair hair hung down her back, 
but was also tied at the neck.  She walked towards the gym with a 
determined stride that Jane recognised and which brought butterflies to 
her stomach.  When they reached the gym Richard and Adrian were already 
there, Olga having told her husband what she proposed to do.  In spite 
of the fact that his mother and sister were going to hammer the 
daylights out of each other and one or both might end up humiliated, 
Richard thought his son should be there to witness the fight, whichever 
way it went.  When Richard saw his daughter approaching, bulging out of 
her costume, while his wife was demurely covered by her pristine white 
gown, he began to doubt his prior assertion that she would walk it. He 
hadn't noticed how his daughter had filled out in the last few months 
either, her confident though sullen bearing bothered him somewhat.  
However, it had been agreed that he should referee, so he got into the 
ring with the two women who were sitting in opposite corners waiting to 
be gloved up.  He began to mull over what he and his wife had decided 
earlier.  That this was to be a short, sharp shock for their daughter, 
the fight wouldn't last long with them wearing 6 oz. gloves and with 
Olga's experience being brought to bear, she would pull no punches.  
By the time he snapped out of his reverie he found he'd laced the small 
black gloves onto his wife's fists and was halfway over to see to his 
daughter.  She looked fairly relaxed under the circumstances, her hands 
between her knees, head back with her large half-exposed breasts rising 
and falling slowly.  As she held out her hands ready for the gloves he 
drank in her youthful body fragrance and noted how strangely it contrasted 
with the sharp smell of the new leather gloves.  He stood back and 
looked her over again, proud of what he saw, but slightly afraid for 
his wife.  After calling them to the centre of the ring to touch gloves, 
he glanced at his watch then cried "FIGHT ON." 


As his wife let the gown slide from her shoulders to drop into her 
corner he gazed at her familiar body, now barely covered by a shiny 
white bikini, her tense, hard muscles rippled under her deep year-round 
tan as she slapped her gloves together in front of her hips.  She came 
out to meet her daughter for the first round.  They circled, Jane 
slightly the shorter, but heavier, her mother looking every inch the 
athlete she was.  The only sound was their breathing and the squeak of 
their bare rosined feet on the canvas.  Almost simultaneously each threw 
a hook to the head, Olga confidently rode the punch while Jane's face 
was whipped to the right by the blow.  
"Pull no punches", she said to herself and forced Jane into a corner.  
She felt the coarse ropes bite into her back as she raised her guard 
and covered her chest with her elbows. 
Olga's experience suggested punches to the belly and sides, 
rewarding to the dispatcher but very weakening for the recipient.  One 
after another she swung long, thudding blows into her crouching 
daughter.  At last, by bending her knees and ducking even lower Jane 
managed to side-step and throw a straight right into her mother's 
exposed face.  There was no follow-up though, she needed the break 
desperately.  Olga had taken the punch on her temple and had to back off 
and shake her head to recover also.  That punch worried Olga, if this 
was what she could deliver from a defensive position then the fight 
wasn't going to be plain sailing.  Jane's lower torso was already 
flaming scarlet where she had soaked up the heavy body blows.  There was 
no lack of spring in her footwork thought as she stalked her mother 
across the ring.  They began exchanging left jabs, keeping a respectful 
distance from each other, most of these punches were blocked or ridden 
but each woman was caught with some crisp blows.  Richard called time 
and they turned smartly for their corners.  Both remained standing for 
the minute and went straight into action at the start of round two.  A 
fierce left uppercut to Jane's chest brought her left tit bobbing out of 
the inadequate halter top.  Obviously the punch didn't catch her breast 
bang in the middle and she wasn't really hurt, but Richard's eyes were 
rivetted on the large mass of white flesh which was made to look even 
bigger by the bra supporting it, now from below.  Meanwhile the boxers 
had clinched and swapped some cruel clubbing blows to the kidney region.  
As they voluntarily backed away from each other Olga let fly with a long 
right, smack into the nipple of her daughter's exposed breast.  This 
time it did hurt, her right glove came up to cup her tit whilst she 
collected a straight right into the middle of her face which brought a 
trickle of blood from her nose, then a swinging left hook which snapped 
her head round.  The punch caught her off-balance and she was dumped, 
unceremoniously, onto the canvas.  She sat, still cupping her injured 
breast, gulping in air whilst her mother stood off, fists held low ready 
for her to rise.  Jane wasn't that inexperienced and took advantage of a 
rest before getting to her feet.  Her left tit was almost scarlet too 
now and some of the blood from her damaged nose had speckled it.  She 
was far from finished though and when her mother came for her with a 
straight right she rode it and countered with a cross which squashed 
Olga's nose and started a dribble of blood.  Tears welled up in her eyes 
but more than anything she was mad.    The two stood off and traded crisp 
correct left leads.  By the time Richard stepped between them for the 
end of the round both their faces were marked and the blood from their 
noses had been spread around by the relentless gloves. As they turned to 
their corners Richard moved towards Jane to try to cover her bare tit.  
She snapped "I don't need a bra, its too small anyway.  You can take the 
thing off completely."  
He glanced at Adrian who was obviously already enjoying the spectacle of 
his half-naked sister,  then went over to Olga.  

He bent   over his wife and she whispered in his ear that he should go 
ahead and take both their bras off as hers was new and she didn't want 
it to get bloodstained.  Looking down he could see where a few drops of 
blood had spattered from her nose, down into her cleavage.  She stood up 
and turned round for him to release the catch then turned round again as 
he drew the straps down over her arms and gloves.  Adrian's gaze moved 
from his sister's to his mother's breasts.  Olga's tits were the size of 
grapefruits, firm and evenly tanned. Jane smiled with satisfaction as 
Richard bent her forward on her stool to undo her top, he disentangled 
it from her breasts and jerked it over her shoulders. Both women stood 
and massaged their breasts with their gloved hands as they waited for 
Richard to give the signal to start.  There were deep weals in Jane's 
back and sides where her small bra had cut into her flesh so she must 
have been pleased to be rid of it.  As they closed in on each other Olga 
flicked out a couple of jabs and Richard observed how little  her firm 
breasts moved around as she threw the punches.  Her left breast 
certainly moved though as Jane countered with a sweeping right uppercut 
which lifted it and crushed it against her shoulder.  Her mouth pursed 
as she sucked in air, her two jabs had raised a bump under Jane's eye 
but the response had hurt her badly.  Again her experience came to her 
rescue as she told herself she must come up onto her toes and box on, 
in spite of her pain, "if she wants a slugging match to the tits, the 
size of hers makes the job easier for me".  Indeed Jane's tits bobbed 
around freely as she circled her mother.  Olga kept her left jab going 
in classic style while Jane threw the occasional wild, heavy punch aimed 
at her breasts and face.  She dodged or rode all of Jane's punches to 
her chest, but did catch a couple to the head.  
When Richard called for the end of the round Jane, with blood now streaming 
from her nose and mouth, flopped down onto her stool while Olga, 
her face marked but the nose bleed stopped, stood in her corner awaiting 
round four.  Richard stood leaning on the ropes glancing at his watch while 
his daughter almost laid out on her stool, head back, the blood from her 
battered face still splashing onto her heaving breasts.  Her already 
indecently brief panties were now drawn up into her crotch and her 
thick, powerful thighs were shiny with sweat.  
In contrast her mother, though she looked as if she had taken some 
punishment, was relaxed and in control of herself as she slapped her 
gloved fists together in front of her flat brown belly.  The white 
panties were almost transparent with perspiration, her long shapely legs 
were also wet with sweat, the hank of hair hanging down her back was 
damp and darkened too.  They came out again to begin dishing out 
punishment to each others bodies.  For a time all that could be heard 
was the smack of leather hitting damp flesh and the grunts as the 
punches were delivered and received.  They stood toe-to-toe swinging the 
sweat-sodden gloves into each other faces, breasts and bellies.  Both 
their faces and the fronts of their bodies were badly marked now, Jane's 
damaged eye was beginning to swell badly and the flow of blood from her 
face went on unabated.  Her upper-arms, shoulders and the tops of her 
breasts were liberally spattered with her blood.  Olga's face was bloody 
and she had taken several heavy blows to the tits, but she looked good 
compared to Jane.  Olga crouched over her knees apart after she 
delivered a right uppercut to Jane's face which, had it connected would 
certainly have floored her.  Desperate, Jane bunched her right fist, 
pulled it back and let fly a vicious uppercut square into the triangle 
of thin white material covering her mother's vagina.  The blow seemed to 
travel from the floor, Olga dropped her guard to try to alleviate the 
terrible pain between her legs and Jane whipped a right-left-right into 
her mother's face.  Olga tipped forward onto the floor, gloves still 
over her crotch, her forehead smacked into the canvas then she stayed 
there on her knees in the centre of the ring.  Her arse was in the air, 
buttocks on full view as her panties had all but disappeared into the 
cleft of her behind.  The blood dripping from her face formed a small 
puddle on the canvas under her head.  Jane took full advantage of the 
break, leaning in a corner, as her mother struggled to get to her feet. 
Richard hadn't started counting so Jane assumed that is was indeed to be 
a fight to the finish.  She had a different manner about her now, a spark 
of hope had been lit and she was looking forward to going back into action 
against Olga... if she made it up.  Olga had no choice but to stay down 
for the half minute or so, she had experienced heavy blows to the face 
and even tits, but had never taken a punch square into her fanny before.  
Richard in their proper bouts had punished her often, but would never 
consider hitting her there and in her fights with other women they 
always had a tacit understanding that this target was taboo.  Her face 
was white as she finally got to her feet, Jane swung straight in 
catching her with some good blows to the head but as Olga's almost 
paralysed legs began to buckle, Richard stepped between for the end of 
the round.  He caught his wife and helped her back to her stool while 
Jane, for whom the tide had turned, sat down quickly to take full 
advantage of the rest.  Her bloody and battered body and face were 
covered with sweat, her hair was darkened with moisture but she wasn't 
in the same kind of pain that her mother was.  Olga slumped over both 
gloved hands massaging between her legs, Richard pulled her sweat-soaked 
hair forward over her head and began to rub down her back with a towel.  
Her back seemed to be the only large area that wasn't spattered with 
blood or otherwise marked.  So much for the short, sharp lesson he 
thought as he looked across to his daughter who was by now ready again, 
flexing her powerful shoulders and slapping her damp gloves together.  
He pushed Olga back onto the ropes, her face was still white, but she 
nodded reassuredly at him, a drop of blood splashed from the point of 
her chin onto her breasts and he felt deeply for his wife.  Only a sense 
of fair play forced him to go to the centre of the ring, where Jane 
stood ready, and call Olga out for the next round.  Still unsteady on 
her feet she came out slowly but then lowered her head and bull-dozed 
Jane into a clinch on the ropes.  Jane felt the ropes at her back but at 
her front Olga was digging short vicious punches into her tits.  She had 
her arms on the outside so all she could do was to arc blows into Olga's 
kidneys.  Jane's breasts were being lifted, squashed and generally 
spread all over her chest.  All the blows were hard and cruel, after 
several seconds her gloves dropped to her sides as Olga stood off and 
slammed a left and right uppercut from the shoulder into the centre of 
her daughter's hanging face.  There was a distinct crack as her nostrils 
gushed fresh blood to cascade over her tortured breasts.  Jane pitched 
forward, gloves cupping her tits, onto the canvas, her back heaving with 
great sobs as she endured the same level of pain she had bestowed on her 
mother only minutes before.  Again, about half a minute elapsed while 
Olga glanced, first at her daughter then at Richard, finally Jane turned 
her head towards her father and said through her split lips that she was 
going to continue.  Far from being appalled by the decision Olga came 
quickly from the neutral corner to stand over her daughter.  As Jane 
curled her bare feet under her sparsely covered buttocks and made to 
rise Richard noticed with concern that there was a bubble of dark red 
blood on the end of her left nipple.  The whole of her cleavage, belly 
and even the waistband of her panties were crimson with blood, even the 
off-white canvas white she had lain was badly blood-stained.  He took 
his daughter's arm to lead her back to her corner but she shook him off 
crossly and came forward towards her mother again. Olga obliged by 
whipping crisp punches into her face, even though she too knew that 
Jane's nose was broken.  She could pick her punches now, seeming sense 
this she put her shoulder into a straight right to Jane's damaged left 
breast then took a step back.  She crouched down and dropping her blood-
sodden right glove almost to the floor, sent a vicious uppercut into her 
daughter's crotch.  The blow seemed to lift her in the air and she arced 
over onto her back, one knee raised with her gloved hands on the canvas 
at her sides.  Fortunately she must have passed clean out with the pain 
and both Richard and Olga ignored her as they, realising there would be 
no more from Jane, looked at each other and moved towards Olga's stool.  
He moved to unlace her gloves but Olga said, "just get a damp towel and 
clean me up a little before our daughter regains consciousness." He 
dipped a clean towel in the bowl of water she had placed by the ring 
earlier and began to dab the spots and smears of blood from her belly 
and tits.  She said "you'll have to rub harder than that, you can save 
the dabbing for my face when you get to it."  After several rinses the 
water in the bowl was crimson but Olga looked much more presentable.  
Meanwhile Jane was stirring on the floor so he went over to help her 
back to her corner.  He began to clean her face blood off but Olga 
strode over and said "just take her gloves off... she's not fit to wear 
them yet ... she can clean herself up."  Adrian acted as catalyst and 
climbed  in to help his sister from the ring and up to her room.  
Richard now removed Olga's gloves too and helped her to their bedroom 
suite.  The family quarrel had gone full circle but Olga knew she hadn't 
seen the last of Jane the challenger.