HAIR POOL 5 in Twos.

Fighting in conveniently loose clothing by competing ladies like Carmen and Faith, screams into excitement as they are totally committed in a grudge fight. They are not wearing bras so you wouldn't think the seriousness and the sight of breasts partially revealed in the struggle blended but of course it worked and added hugely, making the fight totally sexciting - from my point of view.

Carmen made it plain she was angry with Faith's attitude and Faith made it plain she could deal with Carmen's anger.

Carmen gets inside Sahara's arms in this hair-pull action, A1 for a normal cat-fight but....in oil? The slippery foothold insecure and tricky. 

The slaps were landed and skin reddened by the time Carmen sat on Sahara's face to finally put an end to a long run of wins by Sahara.

I think the girls and I have taken to oil fights because the three elements of basic BFuk cat-fights are present in the fights and have turned out seriously competitive.

Carmen's body forced into muscular display, terrified to lose contact with Sahara, which of course is by the hair and Sahara ain't too happy..but slappy. 

The cute bodies becoming red raw with slaps but one hand is always available for pressure on the hair, so a tug one way releases the slap or, you never know, even the start of a take-down.

A marathon fight for Sahara and Justice, they've learned each other's strengths and like boxers, suffer the hard slapping blows, so tired but they stubbornly look for the hair-pull and shift, to try and find the final take-down or to target with their free hand, a slap on injured skin: a strength-sapping fight.

Hard to tell if Amy hands have a tight hold on Lottie's hair but the pain is showing on Lottie's face just the same. ( above pic from the rematch )

No doubt about the assault on Amy's hair, Lottie is making Amy squirm in their first match.

It must be a fierce hair attack, Portia ( left ) attempts to ease the grip with her hand on Mandy's wrist in their excellent stand-up brawl.

 They are prepared to pull hair in a stand-off in between the heavy slapping attacks; when they went to the floor, they were equals. 

I'm not good on seeing the women suffer while they are fighting but in my opinion these two took me to just beyond the limits of punishing each other in a fight. Awesome viewing but I did cringe at times.

The Pub Fight Stories 3 - Sahara Sacks Her Manager.

                                                       ( Female Lightweight Titles )

                              The Women's South England Pub Fight Champion.

                                                                    SAHARA
  

  
                 Sahara poses for photographs at the weigh-in.                                              

                                                                          VERSUS


                                                                          PORTIA
  
                                                           The Midlands Pub Fight Champion

                                                                

For real, Sahara and Portia already had a topless, slapping BFuk fight. It turned out a draw and a wicked fight at that.

In a previous pub fight story, Portia lost to Mandy but according to Portia she didn't beat her fair and square. It was a friendly, so Portia's title was not on the line.

Mandy wouldn't give her a rematch, so the ambitious Portia texted Sahara and challenged her to fight at her  pub ' The Cat and Fiddle ' with a date, offering £300 of extra sponsorship money on top of the £600 fight purse, with £500 to the winner plus their titles.

Sahara's manager had refused to agree the fight but Sahara was fed up, she hadn't had a fight for a month, after her win on home turf against Mandy. 

Besides, the purse offered was substantial; not only that, but Portia was the Midlands champion, which was a title Sahara needed, to further her ambition to become the UK pub champion, so she sacked her manager and took the fight.

Always confident, Sahara haggled the purse and narrowed it to ' winner takes all.' 

Only twenty deep-pocket sponsors were permitted to view the fight, ten from each pub, because of increasing popularity and there had been crowd trouble from previous fights.

The press gathering and the weigh-in was to take place on the night, the fight to kick off at mid-night.


Sahara and her sponsors arrived at the Cat and Fiddle where the atmosphere was tense, though the supporters were confident in their own girl; the weigh-in, though under the broader weight limits, was without incident: after all, it was a title fight.

The friendly discussions over the ale about the fight were the weight difference and the punching power and both these stats favoured Portia.

While Sahara's sponsors insist her staying power was by far the most telling factor and that she would prevail.

The press interview was under-way where Portia insisted she would win the fight, no matter the rules, and Sahara was not interested in speculation, saying it was business and she would do the business.

The committee discussed the rules of the fight until all seemed satisfied -  a fight to the finish with taped fists , wearing only briefs and no biting.  ( I like that committee.)

The girls stripped down there and then, entering the area in the pub cleared of tables with the crowd around them on three sides and sawdust on the floor.

   
Not much room to fight so it had to be a close encounter and for the first time I saw Sahara doubtful, arguing with the officials and I reckon she was not so happy at the disorganised space, losing the advantage of speed while Portia could plod and punch to her heart's content: Sahara's complaint was met with a shrug of the shoulders.

Sahara's supporters shout ' Fix.' They understood her dilemma.

Undaunted, Sahara took off her top, flexing herself ready, her slim muscles rippling on her thin, shapely frame, her supporters ecstatic at her attitude.

Popping in their mouth-guards, the girls shake hands before their hands are quickly taped: the crowd growing excited from murmuring to increasing shouts of support.

 Closing in, Portia's hopeful right misses while Sahara's delicate fists bang quickly into Portia's taut belly with little effect. Before Portia can reply, Sahara is out of her reach.

Using her speed, Sahara repeats the tactic after another wild swing from Portia but this time after two swift punches to Portia's belly, a vicious little uppercut to Portia's jaw has her fans roaring, as she again dances out of reach, but with so little room, bangs into hostile supporters who push her into the path of Portia.

 
Off balance, Sahara is stunned by a left and right to her head and face. Portia's fans are cheering as Sahara shakes her head to clear her dizzyness. 

Seeing the effect of her punches, Portia's fists move like pistons as she circles Sahara but her timing is not that good, missing more than she connects, allowing Sahara to recover.

Slip-sliding, darting in again, the swashbuckling Sahara grips Portia's short hair keeping close in to her side, ramming the heel of her hand upward forcing Portia's head up whilst kneeing her lower abdomen and thigh.

 

Portia loses her temper, swinging wildly as Sahara's fists beat a tattoo on her ribs, breasts and belly.

Portia angrily grabs hold of Sahara's flowing hair, pulling her close and cruelly breast punches her several times. ' How do you like it ' she screams. 

Sahara squirms out of reach, obviously hurt, massaging her breasts but Portia crowds her, landing several half-decent face shots. 

They exchange a barrage of punches, neither giving way as the skin reddens until Sahara releases a kick to to the inside of Portia's thigh.

Sahara is looking for a rest as Portia plods after her throwing punches and kicks.

Sahara looks for her rest, unbelievably hanging from Portia's neck, both feet off the floor, Portia takes the strain as Sahara encircles her waist with her legs. 

Obeying shouts from her supporters, Portia's fists beat against Sahara's ribs, and continues to stand. 

Sahara loosens her hold to escape the punches. Not a successful rest-break.

Testosterone levels increasing, the strained voices from the crowd on the verge of losing control in support of their girl.

Circling each other, looking for an opening, Portia lunges for the hair and Sahara bangs her forehead into Portia's face. Sahara uppercuts furiously, Portia's head bobbing up and down from the hits but she hangs on to Sahara's hair, unleashing a powerful front knee strike into Sahara's midriff.

Sahara is bent over and tries to back off but Portia, still gripping Sahara's hair, brings her head down against her rising left knee. Sahara reels back, her hands over her face, sinking to her knees as Portia follows through, swinging her leg to take a mount.

Twisting and turning frantically, ( knowing full well the danger from Portia astride and dominating her) Sahara releases herself from Portia's grip, in a panic, scrabbling to her feet out of Portia's reach.

 

Portia, her face now badly bruised and bleeding, stands more slowly, raising her arms at the success of the take-down with what seems to be a smile on her face: her supporters raise their arms and chant her name.

Blood running from her nose and mouth, Sahara groggily keeps her fists up, going through her boxing motion and Portia, feeling confident, closes in, throwing punches The crowd erupts as a solid right hand into Sahara's face knocks her to the floor.

Sahara is up after a few moments to her fans relief but blood is escaping from a cut above her eye .

Sahara ducks and throws herself into a sticky, wet clinch, her right hand finds Portia's short blond hair, a fierce, powerful tug shifts Portia's equilibrium, a further tug with both hands brings her to her knees.

Two fast elbow shots to cheek and nose leaves Portia looking helpless, her knuckles trailing the floor. The immediate turnaround appreciated by Sahara's relieved supporters.

Sahara backs away, looking for a brief rest from a dazed Portia, now bleeding from cuts to her eye, nose and lip.

Portia has half risen but Sahara doesn't waste a second, a right foot kick to her head, drops Portia to the floor.



Is it over?

The minute is being counted, Portia's crowd urging her furiously, to get up.

Portia  desperately grabs Sahara's legs, bringing her down, where their sweating bodies tangle and writhe in the sawdust

Pulling hair, twisting heads they punch breasts, stomach and thighs, frantically.

Portia grips and squeezes the inside flesh of Sahara's thigh: Sahara yelps from the pain and furiously escapes to get to her feet, massaging her thigh. 

A little slower, Portia rises.

Sahara yells " Is that how you want it ? " 

A tired looking Portia beckons Sahara in.

Sahara's wild charge is met with a head punch and an uppercut. Sahara wobbles as Portia  drives another solid right into her stomach. 

The fist fight is clearly working well for Portia and Sahara seems determined to suffer and have it out with her. 

Portia does not appear to have the knockout punch and some of her zing has now gone.

Sahara cannot resist, she feints and two wicked little knuckle shots to the ribs, force Portia into retreat, followed closely by a couple of face punches. 

Backed up, weakly kicking out at Sahara's legs, Portia falls among the onlookers but willing hands pushes her back into the arena where the girls clinch. 

Leaning against each other, their bodies bathed in sweat, mouths wide open sucking in air, while taking a breather. The crowd urges them on, hoarse with excitement.

Portia's head butt is avoided by a now confident and galvanized Sahara as they exchange short punches to the lower body and breasts mixed in with sneaky uppercuts: Portia finds difficulty keeping up. 

The watching crowd in a frenzy, Portia grips Sahara's breast and squeezes hard forcing Sahara, in obvious pain, to knee upwards: hard.

The blunt knee to Portia's lower abdomen is powerful and too much, she folds over, her hair gripped and twisted by Sahara forcing her to the sawdust.

Gripping her hair, Sahara knees and kicks her furiously, her elbows slice wickedly into Portia's upturned, already bloodied face. 

Sahara is on a roll, her supporters roaring her on and Portia is on both knees now: her supporters subdued.

Another vicious knee strike to the head and Portia is on her back: the minute count begins, her chest heaving to take in much needed oxygen. Her head moves from side to side, as if not understanding what has happened. Her supporters scream in agony for her to rise and fight.

Sahara looks shattered, the last frenzy of energy has taken it's toll.

Portia seems to realise where she is, hears her fans and struggles to her hands and knees, her face a mask of blood, her almost naked and bruised body looking so vulnerable but Sahara ( within the rules ) kicks Portia's ribs twice, grips her shoulders and knees her chin. 

The tired-out Portia has had it, she is down again and looks beaten.


Breathing hard, Sahara waits, rocking on her feet, bloody and bruised, so tired, her fists on automatic attention and still at the ready but Portia is not going to move: she is counted out. 

Sahara is announced the winner in the 13th minute of the fight.  

Her minder hurriedly escorts the exhausted champion from the fight arena, though she manages a quick wave, she will take time to recover, Portia was a tough fight.

Never under-estimate Sahara's stamina, she proved again she can undo the hopes of women bigger than her; mind you, she does take a lot of punishment to get her wins but it's her belief we follow and support, her will to deny her opponent victory, so far, unshakeable.

Sahara doubled her fan support and her championship belts that night.

Some questions remain: who's next?

And will the lovely Portia, stripped of her title, ever fight again? After that beating, I doubt it.

The Pub Fight Stories 1 - A Dream Photoshopped.

MANDY V PORTIA

I did post that I'd like to imagine and feature Mandy against Portia in a gloved fight, so this post will take time to create and requires returning for updates in the future. I start with the stare-downs to inspire me: the dark look helps. I have no idea if they actually would box but after their stand-up cat-fight, maybe.


The dream began:-

Portia is the English Midlands Light-weight Pub Champion but she refused to put her title on the line simply because she didn't think Mandy was deserving enough, having beaten her in a previous fight.

( Lean, angular Mandy ( right ), her cat-fight performances have inspired me and I just became a fan of hers without second thoughts while curvy Portia would just have to bat her eyes at me and I'd be enslaved.)

The stare-downs fierce before they make ready to don the gloves. 

Whirling from reality these two got into these stare-downs as they were in the dressing room to get ready. What you can't tell from the pics is- were they totally naked? Of course they were, it was a dream: while I can't show you that, they were getting in the mood for the fight.

These two posed in boxing gloves before their cat-fight. I think they liked the feel of the gloves so perhaps I imagined the words. Some of you won't believe it: see if I care.

That was a challenge, wasn't it? By hook or by uppercut let the leather fly.

Interviewed before touching gloves, Portia was full of confidence answering questions from the sponsors and her answer was ' I know I can beat her, the skills I've got will be too much for her. She has zero chance.'

Mandy didn't duck the questions and her answers were, indignantly ' I'm not too old to take her on ' and with a smile ' I don't really know but when I slip these gloves on I feel a huge buzz. Is that baaaad? ' When pressed about Portia's title...' Not a problem she'll have to put it up next time, after I beat her.'

The ladies are almost ready to embark on the big fight. The pub is packed with bodies and the bets are being screamed between the punters with most of the money going on Portia who, it appears from her statements apparently has previous training, although some thought this was rumoured deliberately by Mandy's supporters.

BFuk has the contract for the fight and are all set to record but they had to set up a live feed to the bar from the fight room where the girls and their seconds were readying. 

Speculation has it that there is an ongoing feud between the girls after a cat-fight and since Portia had beaten Mandy in a close slugging slap-fight she had been boasting of her success and Mandy had, after a public argument in this very pub, challenged Portia to a fight of any kind. Portia suggested wearing fighting gloves and the only rule was ' no biting.'

No bigger than fifteen feet by twelve the fight room had little room for running - roped off at one end while the referee and the seconds are not allowed beyond.

A deathly hush descends over the pub as Mandy is seen punching air in practice as the bell sounds for the first round.

Mandy cagily shuffles to the centre of the room, Portia is already three quarters way going for left and right body shots into Mandy's ribs.

Defensively Mandi covers up as Portia aims kicks into her thighs and calves, her attention downstairs while Mandy siezes her opening with a magnificent chin shot.


 

The sweat sprays from Portia's hair: the fight room is like a sauna and the girls are already sweating buckets. Mandy is about to follow through but is warned off by the official and a count is begun while the seething pub erupts.

Portia shakes her head and beckons Mandy into her range before the mandatory count ends.

Photo shot taken from TV screen in pub because my finger wasn't ready. Thank goodness somebody was on the ball. Thank you... whoever.

Mandy weaves her way forward and it looks to me as if Portia is wobbling.

She goes in high with her right foot and catches a sluggish Portia deep in the belly, forcing her backwards. She covers up as Mandy looks for a telling punch past Portia's defence with some success as the bell sounds.

Portia returns to her corner, her left eye smarting and discoloured

while Mandy smiles broadly as her second congratulates her for her able performance. It looks as if Mandi has the punch to make a difference.

















 

Mandy comes out for the second round confident but again she is flat-foot caught, Portia swings a heavy kick into her stomach. 

Mandy covers up, bent over while Portia lands heavy kicks to her lower legs and abdomen.

The kicks are hurting and Mandy doesn't seem able to cover up effectively as an excited Portia switches and lands punch after punch to Mandi's head.

Mandy is down for a count, blood dripping from her nose, pooling on the canvas floor, while Portia kisses her glove and raises her arms.

Mandy raises her head and stares at her corner in disbelief, her second gets next to her ' You'll never live it down ' he screams in her ear making sure he is heard over the tumult from the bar.

She slowly rises and an eager Portia goes for the finish but Mandy gets close and ties Portia in a strong clinch. The girls do the clinch dance with Portia trying to bang in the punches and Mandy trying to get her bearings.

End of the round with Portia eagerly listening to her second, Mandy, in a daze needs attention to her bleeding nose. Her second tries to lift her spirits with encouraging words.


 

Portia gets right into Mandy's body at the bell with glove and foot but Mandi's flat firm stomach holds steady. She retaliates with a kick as Portia bangs in a hard right catching her forehead.

Mandy goes on the attack looking for revenge with rights and lefts, close in, to prevent Portia from kicking.

Cleverly, Portia siezes the back of Mandy's neck pulls her close and knees her stomach and ribs repeatedly.

Mandy's hands now low and without cover, her face gets two wicked elbow shots from Portia forcing Mandy to break away, she is injured as Portia sets for another onslaught.

 

The clinch is a must for Mandy as she grabs Portia's waist and the slow dance begins to wait for the end of the round.

In frustration, Portia head butts Mandy on the side of the head and she staggers away at the sound of the bell. Almost unrecognisable: Portia now cut on the lip and a bruised eye and Mandy's nosebleed has restarted, both eyes bruised and her nose looks a bit crooked. 

I hear Mandy's second tell her 'She's using everything in the book of no rules. You ain't.' ( He's a Yank? ) ' You cannot win unless you use your head to find everything you've got. Find a pattern. You hear me? ' He yells.

Mandy resignedly hauls herself up to get the fourth round underway.

Seeing Portia approach firms up Mandy's attention; she starts with a definite pattern, kicking low, solid firm punches to the body, shifting to the head with superb combinations, while a puzzled Portia needs all her effort to defend but that's a slippery slope, when Mandy crowns her effort with a knee to the crotch.

Would you believe it, I'm sure Mandy apologises as Portia staggers, almost going down.


 

Mandy's focus is on a railway track until a desperate Portia clinches, gripping the back of her head to bring Mandy's face to a raised knee. Spludge! That was wet. Adrenalin streaks into Portia who is about to vent her aching spleen but she's overshot the bell as Mandy's second ducks the rope and pulls Portia away.

Both seconds are arguing as the girls are led back to their respective corners.

Mandy does not want to sit, she is so mad; after the briefest of attention from her second she waits for the bell mouthing words at Portia: despite a good knee to the face Portia lost that round to Mandy who wants more payback.

Portia's second tells her to keep cool, that she'll have a good round because Mandy is mad angry. 

Mandy's intuitive second indicates a problem to the officials and the bar crowd go mental, the howls and fighting breaking out, heard in the adjacent fight room. I figure he wants extra time-out so Mandy cools. He points out a problem with the girls shorts, that the colours are running. Both girls agree to remove their shorts to get on with the fight.

Having to strip down weakens Portia's attention and she takes a solid uppercut to the chin which is the best punch ever, Mandy could bring; Portia wavers, her eyes look puzzled, sinking to her knees, trying to focus on Mandy's face. Mandy is ecstatic, the fight looks over as the count begins. If a pin were dropped in the bar it would be heard.

Would you believe it, in the middle of the count Mandy, in a rush of desperation, punches and kicks Portia while her bum is touching floor. ' Get right down, bitch ' she shouts.

The seconds are in there quickly pulling Mandy off while the official suspends the fight and the bedlam reaches riotous proportions in the bar.

The official finally gets the crowd's attention and asks the committee members to meet in the fight room to make a decision regarding the rules infringement by Mandy.

Mandy waits patiently for the committee's decision while Portia gets treatment from her second. The committee reaches a democratic decision and explains the options to Mandy.

Disqualification or retribution. She agrees on retribution from Portia rather than disqualification which is a brave move and indicates her determination to close the fight win or lose.

It's a 20 second penalty as Mandy's second leads her aching body to the centre of the room and tells her to kneel. ' You listening ' She nods. ' She gets free kicks and punches at you for 20 seconds, you gotta take a few but take a count to get rid of the penalty,' he wisely suggests.

Portia looks suitably indignant and recharged at the thought of finishing the fight at the penalty stage. 

Portia rushes at Mandy when the bell is sounded aiming punches....one... as Mandy ducks and sways...two...getting hit but not badly...three...Portia realises her mistake and uses her legs...four...a knee to the head...five...a kick to ribs...six...a big kick to the belly...seven...a brutal back elbow swipe to the face...eight...Mandy sags to the floor as a frustrated Portia is halted.

The count continues, at ...15...unbelievably Mandy struggles ...16...to rise and gets...17... to her ...18...knees...19...again. Portia tries to land a final kick at the uncomprehending Mandy ...20...but loses her balance, falling against Mandi bringing both to the floor.

The bell sounds but they lie there,  breasts to breasts, thighs to thighs, sweat and blood mingling from tired bodies. I hear Portia exclaim,' Hey: this is weird ! ' but a dazed Mandy holds on to Portia, grateful for the welcome break. Their seconds help them to their feet and to their corners.

Portia is now favourite to win and her supporters are rubbing their hands with glee. Mandy's second is effusive in congratulating her for her stoic handling of the penalty infringement but looking at her, he sees, like I do, a wreck: not that Portia looks much better but she still seems to have a good round left in her while Mandy, I fear, does not, I'll be very surprised if she lasts the next round.

And that's how it seems, Mandy trying to wrap her arms around Portia in a clinch and Portia using her knees to destroy the muscle protection of Mandy's belly: Mandy's feet unhinging at times, clinging tightly on to Portia's neck, in fact the weight of Mandy hanging on is draining Portia's energy: Portia weakly tries to dislodge Mandy but she's too tired and both fall to the floor.

Now a writhing heap of sweaty limbs and bodies the ladies tangle on the floor. Looking at the official's face it occurs to me he had done nothing about Mandy hanging on to Portia the way she had, presumably he thought her unable to fight so he had not asked for a separation.

I had other thoughts on the matter because Mandy was giving as good as she was getting on the floor, including a head butt on Portia.

The bell sounds to end the fourth round and Mandy surprisingly up first, leaves Portia on her knees. The bar crowd, for the first time actually applaud the two girls after the round and taking into consideration they had gone a distance in fight terms not previously achieved in female pub fights, as I was later informed, had elicited their praise.

I found it difficult to look at the girls as they were in such a mess but it did look as if Mandy had perked up a little just as Portia was struggling to breathe, looking distressed, her second trying valiantly to convince her the fight was hers.

Looking exhausted, Portia, her eyes half-shut from punching, maybe didn't hear her second's words ' Finish her off ' made the effort to raise her gloves and Mandy, one eye completely shut, keeping her gloves low, circling Portia who kicked out at Mandy's leg. Head down, Mandi went in low driving Portia against the wall with a jarring thump.

She stood back and let go a long straight left catching a rebounding Portia, whose defence was a fraction too slow, on the face.

Portia, on her way to the floor scrabbling to hold on to Mandy's waist, her head now vulnerable.

Seizing her chance Mandy holds Portia's head steady,  the hard vicious right and a knee strike into Portia's face lay her flat on the floor: a knockout.

Declared the winner after the count, Mandy was hustled out of the arena quickly while Portia was carried out.