PARTIAL REPORT

Posted by Simguy on 12/1/2006, 7:00 am

Liz in lime green swimsuit (Hurley Swim Line), messy ponytail with bangs
Sharon in black lace push up, leopard print bikini bottoms, sexy fighting tousle from “Sphere”

Small black workout gloves, both vixens

KO7 Stone

Hurley’s been one of the rare graceful retirements from active FCBA competition--wrestling the odd dates against hand-picked competition; promoting her swimsuit line with well-chosen showcases--but against Ms. Stone, the British bikini tycoon finally mis-stepped. Big time.

Both women elected to initiate rounds in identical upright stances, pumping jabs and thoughtfully circling I conventional fashion; right away it was apparent that Hurley’s defensive suppleness and timing were not what they had been in her prime. When distance had been negotiated, the women would fall in and dig downstairs--stuffing home leather to long, lean bodies until ref’s breaks restarted the action. Stone was clearly the aggressor inside. Scrubbing her short tousle against Hurley’s face and outworking Liz to the breadbasket, backing the Brit up step by step as the minutes ground on.

By the fifth round, a discouraged and roughed up Hurley sought to redress the balance with swinging haymakers, clouting Sharon’s face side to side as the blonde faced into punches with her hands low. Stone was hurt by British shellack, but responded in kind, treating the audience to a clouting display of throw-back, walking-barrage brawling that saw both women wobbly butt, staggering and hollow-eyed as class degenerated into last woman standing desperation.

The final minutes were ragged, open-mouthed, exhausted, and ultimately decisive as Stone pressed the brutal assault against a wilting Hurley to the ropes. Liz slugged and dug--her forehead grinding against Sharon’s--long-armed punching slopped and plugged into flat, cougar tummies, drawing cries and pouts of protest that would not have been out of place blurting from the mouths of ingénues. At the minute mark of the seventh round, a scowling Stone walked a stumbling Hurley down and took Liz out with a spearing right cross to drop Liz to her back near the ropes. Hurley lay in rubble, eyes d frowned shut, lips mumbling bitter-nothings, right hand up at her elbow planted into canvas at her hip--though awake, the British beauty elected to take the 10-count rather than continue what had become a one-sided American thumping.

Reposted by Archer 12/26/10.