Bareknuckle boxing

"You re pretty good but you ve always fought with gloves you d be easy pickings without them I could take you, easy." This comment was coming from a friend at the gym I go to, the only woman to box bareknuckle in some of the underground fight clubs around the city.

 

I looked at her, saying, "Think so? I m bigger, about as strong, and have a longer reach. You d have a lot of trouble getting close enough to do much." I knew better to mention that being a guy would be to my advantage I knew well that it was muscle and skill, and of course spirit, that made a fighter, and it made no difference what sex someone was.

 

"I ve had 24 bareknuckle fights," she declared, "got knocked out once, but knocked out all nine women and fourteen of the men, most of them bigger. I m used to getting hit with bare fists, too and you aren t bigger, just taller and I d argue about stronger."

 

"If you think so, care to prove it?" I thought that would end the conversation, but quite the opposite was true, as she replied, "Name the time and place bare fists until one of is knocked out or you give "

 

I'm never one to refuse a challenge, and I smiled and mentioned the one thing she d overlooked, "Deal or, of course, or until you give"

 

"I won t be giving that I promise. You ll have to knock me out to beat me and this chin s made of granite." As she spoke, she thrust her chin out as if daring me to take a punch as she looked to see how I'd react.

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"I don t give up, either you ll have to knock me cold for the win."

 

She grinned, her perfect white teeth gleaming as she said, "Sounds like one of us is getting knocked out win or loose, I like that."

 

Three days later, we met in her backyard. We d agreed on the rules by email the rules she boxes under. They were pretty much standard pro boxing rules, with a few changes the underground circuit used. There would be no ten count the looser would either have to admit defeat, or be knocked clean out. Also, punching in the clinch was allowed.

 

It was a warm, sunny day, and we both dressed accordingly. I was wearing cut-off jeans, comfortable sneakers, and a white tank top I work hard, and I m proud of my body and like to show it off, especially to a strong, good looking woman.

 

She was dressed in black lycra leotard and white Reebok freestyle sneakers. Her black hair was tied in a ponytail, and her brown eyes sparkled. As she flexed, my eyes were drawn from her firm breasts to her biceps both biceps had barbed-wire tattoos around them, and they had to be at least 16." I also noticed that where most women were fairly narrow at the waist, she wasn t years of crunches had built a wall of muscular armor. 

I smiled, flexing my own biceps arms that had left many people flat on the canvas. I towered over her my 5 9 frame had to be at least 4" taller more likely 5, I thought. My thoughts were interrupted as she asked, "What's your weight?"

 

"About 150," I replied, at which she smiled.

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"Fair fight, then, I'm 151," she said, reaching out to lay a hand on my bicep. "Good and solid I like that, you should be able to hit me pretty good " With that, she flexed her right bicep, her eyes a silent invitation. I set my left hand on the bulging muscles; she looked me in the eye and said, "Like  em? I m going to knock you out with  em."

 

"Like  em," I thought, trying not to make a fool out of myself in front of this lovely lady. "Nice," I said but we ll see who knocks who out. I can hit hard myself, you know. You still want to do this?" I asked, giving her one last chance to call it all off.

 

She rested her hand on my left arm, whispering, "I m counting on you hitting hard no fun if I don t get hurt some let s party!" With that, she stepped back and fired a 1-2 punch combo into the air to give weight to her sentence.

 

I pulled off my tank top, nodding at her as I brought my fists up, assuming a boxing stance and saying, "Ready whenever you are."

 

The courtesies over, she brought her hands up and started to circle. I stayed out of her reach, and it dawned on me just how tough she looked. That 150 pounds was almost all muscle, and when I d felt her biceps, there was no give at all in the bulging muscle. I resolved to stay out of her reach, hit her from the outside I knew she could hit hard.

 

I flicked out a few jabs, testing her the first two, she slipped effortlessly then I tagged her twice, once on the cheek, once in the lips. Her head didn t even move, and she said, "Nice...got anything with power UGNNNN!"

 

One more jab had been blocked, but I nailed her with a right overhand, which crashed into her cheek. I blinked as pain shot through my hand, thin fingers crushed against her hard cheekbone. I m used to pain but the sheer surprise left me open for her counter. She sprung forwards, lashing out with a left jab. The bare fist landed right on my lips, her hard knuckles spreading my lips across my face as I tasted hot, coppery blood. Before I could react, she snapped another jab this one cracking into my nose. I felt my nostrils filling right away this girl could HIT no surprise when she weighed the same as I, on 5" less height.

 

I got my right back up in time to block another jab, only to have her crack a left hook around my raised right. Bare knuckles tore into my eye socket she must have twisted her fist to make the pain that intense.

 

I backpedaled fighting this bruiser in close was no way to stay conscious and the right cross she d intended to spread my nose across my face only cracked into my cheek. It rocked me, and I slipped off to the side before she could hit me again, poking a jab at her face to keep her back. She smiled as my jab smacked into the palm of her hand and then just let me back away. "Still think bareknuckle s as easy as gloves?" 

 

"Nice punch bring it on," I replied. I could see a trickle of red where my jab had tagged her lips, but my nose was already bleeding, and that right eye that one punch was enough that I could feel it swelling. The first exchange of pleasantries had clearly favored Kelly.

 

Her hit on cheeks and lip, nothing showing yet. Him black eye on right, slight bloody nose, fat lip. I resolved to remember that hitting her hard could hurt if I wasn t careful; whereas she d clearly toughened her knuckles enough to hit me with impunity. On my toes, I snapped my jab out, popping my fist at her face again and again. At a distance, she could avoid them, but when she tried to get inside to punch me, I could catch her coming in. Even the ones she blocked kept her outside, and the ones she didn t landed with the meaty smack of bare knuckles on flesh. I think I landed about a dozen clean jabs; her right eye was swelling, the blood from her lip had been joined by more from her nose, her black sports leotard plastered to her chest and speckled with red.

 

Her own counters fell short then she timed one of my jabs perfectly, brushing it aside as she came at me with a powerful strait right. The punch caught me right on the mouth. An inch or two lower, and the fight might well have ended right then. As it was, the blow slammed my head back, ripping my already sore and bleeding lips apart the flow of blood from my face must have been spectacular.

 

My head was ringing, and I could see two of her two stocky, blood spattered fighters that were going to take my head off if they could. Before I could react, she bounced a left hook off my jaw, and I spun around, landing on my hands and knees.

 

I stayed there for a moment, looking up at my opponents. As the two bruisers slowly became one, she said, "Had enough?"

 

I shook my head a few things rattled, but I wasn t going to let her know that and stood up, bringing my hands up. I deliberately staggered a bit as I said, "Hell, no bring it on "

 

Her fairly bloody nose, fat lip, minor swelling right eye. Him Spectacular fat lip, quite bloody nose, black right eye, minor sore jaw. To a short, stocky brawler, that little stagger was like blood in the water to a shark and the sudden glint in her eyes told me she d taken the bait. As she tried to move in, I drove a left jab-strait right at her nose this time careful not to hit her head harder than my fingers could take. Both punches landed squarely, a pained blinking accompanying the gushing fountain of red that erupted from her nose. As she reeled back, surprised more than seriously hurt, I stepped forwards with her hands up, I bent my knees, whipping a vicious left hook into her obliques. Even with all my weight behind it, she barely grunted no surprise, it takes a lot of body blows to wear someone down especially someone with a body like hers. A right hook follow up into her other side elicited another grunt, but that was all.

 

Her gusher of a nose, fat lip, minor swelling right eye, hit on both sides hard, but not showing Him Spectacular fat lip, quite bloody nose, black right eye, minor sore jaw. Even as my knuckles were digging into her tough side, she cracked a good left hook off my cheek, and a short, chopping right that she clearly meant to spread my nose across my face. Only a sudden slip to my right let it miss, and I put the momentum into a left hook of my own, catching her again in her right eye. I caught her good, slamming her head back as my hard knuckles crushed the thin flesh but in my eagerness to punch her, I d forgot that my knuckles were unprotected, and once again pain shot through my already bruised right hand.

 

The moment s shock must have been clear on my face, because she jumped right on me. Despite what had to be a nasty throbbing from my punch, she wasn t slowed in the least from the pain, and her right fist exploded on my jaw. Two more hard punches, and I was reeling, wondering if my jaw was even still attached. Desperate, I tried to clinch, wrapping my arms around her and leaning my head on her right shoulder. For an instant, blessed relief was mine then she wrenched her left arm free of my grip. 

 

The first punch in my side hurt it was just an arm punch but with those arms, she had real power in it. As I tried to smother her arms, she kept punching, each blow more painful than the last as she started getting her magnificent legs into the punches, pummeling my hard obliques with short uppercuts and hooks. The shock of the blows on my already bruised side was enough to keep me from getting a grip on her arm, my body shaking with each cruel blow. I tried to back away but she wrapped her left arm around my waist; I wasn t going anywhere without outmuscleing her, and that wasn t going to happen.

 

Still, I wasn t going to let her just beat on me without response. I couldn t get my left into reach, but I could punch with my right. The angle was bad compared to the way she could really dig into my side, my long arms and height meaning that I couldn t get good leverage, or get my legs behind the blows. Still, driving my bare knuckles into her hard, tanned flesh felt good for a split second, until her next blow landed. 

 

I grabbed at her strong right arm with my left, trying to pull it back. Toe to toe, her firm breasts pressed against my chest, our muscles strained as I tried to pry her arm off of my waist, and she matched my strength, keeping it there. My strong fingers dug into her right bicep, but I just couldn t get her arm off of me. Meanwhile, our fists were flying, her left digging up into my obliques as I tried to work her side with my right. Here, too, it was going all her way. Her blows were almost hard enough to lift me off the ground, the deep, meaty thuds telling me that my twisting only spread the pain around instead of a bruise as big as her fist, I could feel that my whole side was turning black and blue. My punches, in contrast, were hitting her cleanly, but without the force to seriously hurt those ripped muscled.

 

Desperate, I brought my right hand higher, though it left nothing to protect my abused side, and drove me fist at her eye. That, at least, got a sharp grunt out of her, though nothing to match the deep, pained gasps each of her blows was bringing from me. Two more sharp punches in her eye, and she abruptly let go. The bulging muscles of her right arm rippled as she slammed her right fist into my mouth. My lips spread under her rough knuckles, and the pain and taste of hot coppery blood spoke of a badly torn lip. Still, the blood was a fair price to pay for getting free of her embrace, and I danced back, popping a long left jab to try and keep her back; I needed a breather--badly.

 

She didn t pursue, just giving me a big grin as she said, "Bareknuckle s different...still think you can take me?"

 

Trying not to let her see how bad my side was hurting even one or two power punches there might well put me down I said, "I do you re looking pretty banged up yourself " Inside, I knew that it was merely superficial the split lip right from the start, some red on her left side had been the best I could do in the clinch, and her left eye was swelling. Still, I might be able to turn things around with my reach and if not, I would see it through to the end.

 

"Well, then, let s see," she grinned at me, starting to circle to my left the brief respite was over. As she moved, I pivoted to keep facing her, every breath sending pain through my savagely mauled right side. Once again, I went to work with my jab, trying to pop her in her battered face, and landing a few punches before she slipped one of them as she stepped forwards, grinning. 

 

Before I could react, she whipped a long left hook at my side. Every ounce of power in those awesome arms was behind the blow as it slipped around my elbow, and her fist crashed right into the center of the mass of welts she d left on my side.

 

The pain was indescribable as her hard knuckles slammed into my side, the ravaged muscles unable to keep her solid fist from sinking deep into my body, blasting the air from my lungs. Even as I was folding over her fist, she was throwing another punch her powerful right sunk deep into my other side my muscles no longer tensed, the effect was devastating. 

 

Struggling against the pain to stay on my feet, trying to get some air into my lungs as my hands dropped low, I was hideously vulnerable as she snapped a left uppercut between my hands, catching my sore jaw, snapping me upright, wide open. Even through the pain, I could see but not react to her right strait. Her fist, red with my blood, slammed into my chin yet again.

 

I went back on my heels and landed on my rear, stunned yet again by her powerful blows the whole yard seemed to be spinning. I looked up at her; she was looking at me with what appeared to be a profound respect as she said, "You gonna give?"

I looked up at her, my head spinning as I remembered what she d said, that I d have to knock her out, that she wouldn t give. I shook my head slowly a mistake, something sure felt loose up there as I replied, "No more than you would".

 

She nodded in understanding and stepped back, allowing me to struggle to my unsteady feet and get my fists up again. Was it false bravado? I don t think so we d agreed to try for a KO, and she d earned the right to knock me out if I couldn t turn this around. And much as I hate to admit it, I didn t want the fight to end even though I was loosing, I wanted to continue struggling, to take her punches and land mine.

 

The moment I was on my feet, fists up, I looked her in the eye and waved her forwards. She was hurt my fists had been doing a job on her: Her right eye was swollen badly, her nose was still pouring hot blood down her face her black leotard was plastered to her firm breasts by the mix of blood and sweat and her fill lips were torn but she still looked eager for the fray. Even so, I knew I looked worse. My right eye was almost closed from her relentless punches, both my nose and lips were bleeding freely, my jaw felt like it was barely attached and to top things off, I could barely stay upright after the way she d abused my obliques, especial on my right side.

 

As she met my gaze and moved in, the hard calluses on her fists were more apparent than ever before, the thick knuckles damp with my blood-and some of hers, to, I was sure. So, too was the definition of her hard biceps, flexed and ready to drive those fists into my battered body. I moved forwards, determined to try and hit her a few more times before she could knock me out.

 

She nimbly slipped my jab, then that left fist lashed out, her bloody knuckles crashing right into the center of the mass of red welts she s endowed my right side with. As her fist sank deep into my ravaged flesh, I doubled over in agony, loosing what breath I had as my hands instinctively fell to try to protect my sides. Too late her right was already on the way, and rock hard knuckles sunk deep, almost lifting me off my feet; I was helpless in front of her.

 

I couldn t do anything I could see her weight shift over to her right foot, the spark in her eyes as she pivoted, her breasts swaying slightly as her meaty right fist came around. Every ounce of her body was behind the right hook as it crashed into my exposed jaw, and I could feel my legs giving way. Before I could fall, she drew back her right, hitting me a second time. Pain exploded on my jaw as the punches landed, and the next thing I knew, I was on my side, my body a mass of pain. 

 

Strangely, she wasn t standing over me I was looking almost sideways at her bruised face or rather, two of her bruised faces. "Are you OK?" I heard her ask, "you were out cold."

 

I nodded weakly in response, her statement telling me why the world was both sideways and spinning.

 

As she saw that I was OK, she smiled, running a finger very lightly along my sore jaw as she said, "Never seen anyone take that much before he went down after your hands dropped, it took five punches to knock you out."

 

I only remembered 2, as I muttered, "Five? What d you hit me with?"

 

She grinned as she flexed her right arm, the sweat slick biceps dancing, her fist clenched as she said, "This".

 

I looked at her fist through slitted eyes and grinned back, saying, "You re one hell of a fighter"

 

She blushed as she answered, "You re awesome, too now lie there for a moment, neither of us should try standing just yet."

 

For a moment or two, we just sat there quietly, savoring the fresh bruises and cuts as my head cleared enough for her to help me up. Once I was ready, she stood, offering me her hand. As I took it, she hauled me to my feet almost effortlessly, then pulled me into a close embrace. Our sweat and blood mingled as our bodies molded to each other, her short, stocky frame to my taller, but still solid, one. She whispered, "You want to come inside, get cleaned up "