Keisha

Keisha was searching for a new man. The last boyfriend and Keisha were together for a long time, but when she caught him cheating, Keisha threw him out.

What made that idiot screw up a good thing with Keisha still baffles me. Keisha is a tall, sleek and trim African-American woman, with the frizzy-curly hair that still drives me crazy. Outside the ring, I never met a sweeter, kinder, more intelligent woman. Inside the boxing ring, Keisha was blood-thirsty. Almost every challenger, male or female, had to be helped (or carried) off the canvas after a few rounds of pummeling from Keisha.

And it was in the boxing ring that Keisha launched all her romantic relationships. A guy got three matches in which to defeat her. If he hadn’t won by the third, he was out of contention. Keisha reserved the ring for our matches when the gym would be almost empty, which meant she wanted privacy. Usually she trounced her suitors in full public view. I felt pretty confident (and horny) when we faced each other just before the first match.

“You ready Max?” Keisha asked. I drank in the shape of the curvy figure that strode into the ring, long, smooth legs and a flat tummy that creased perfectly into an ample chest. But Keisha’s luscious red lips and shimmering brown eyes, liquid with the desire to fight, transfixed me.

“Sure I am!” I answered happily. Keisha ran her eyes over me, her lips cracking a gentle smile. “You know Max, I never considered you as boyfriend material…” Keisha’s grin widened. “But now….”

The buzzer squawked.

WAP!!!

Keisha pitilessly socked me on the chin, violently rocking my head backward and forward. Even as I wondered what just happened, my vision blurred. My legs collapsed under me and I dropped like a rock to the canvas, slumped against the ropes. I heard myself sigh and my chin lolled to my chest. Keisha had punched me out.

With leisurely pleasure, Keisha administered the ten count. Through the darkness that smothered my being, I felt the enticing pressure of Keisha’s lips against mine.

I came around few minutes later and Keisha was gone. A small note was wedged in my left glove, which read: “Next week, same time!” I stumbled to my feet and went home, certain I was not in love.


Boxing and sex with Keisha occupied my daydreams, until our second match.

“Sorry about the sucker punch, Max,” apologized Keisha and then kissed me. “It just came over me. I’m ready for a real fight when you are!”

If honey could speak it would have Keisha’s voice. I watched Keisha saunter back to her corner, that cute ass of hers swaying invitingly in her skimpy bikini bottoms.

Keisha and I circled each other warily when the buzzer sounded. I popped a few good jabs to her face and stomach and Keisha praised my punching power.

Then we clobbered each other.

Keisha’s punches were pin point accurate and brutal, punishing my gut and head. I countered, trying to force Keisha into a corner, so I could work her body. When I did manage to trap her, my fists turned into pistons, pumping away at Keisha’s mid section, making her groan with each blow. Then Keisha would fall back, always when I was about to finish her. She’d peddle out from the range of my fists and return to the offense.

Then a phantom right tagged my jaw, followed by an upper cut and the ring spun in my mental chaos. There was a falling sensation and then my face slapping to a halt on Keisha’s thighs. It felt nice there, soft and comforting. My eyes closed as Keisha separated her legs and I slammed to the canvas.

Keisha was looking down at me when I woke in the dressing room. “You okay Max?”

“Yeah…sort of…” Keisha helped me sit up. “That was better than last time, but I still knocked you out, Max!”

I heard actual distress in Keisha’s voice; like she was worried I’d lose the next match and be lost to her forever. “Are you some kind of reincarnated Amazon princess, Keisha? You can only be with the man who defeats you, what’s that about?”

Keisha laughed. “I like beating up guys, it feels good. I want my man to be strong enough to control me! One more try, Max!”

Keisha turned to walk out and grabbed her arm, turning her forcefully back to the rub down table. “Strong enough to control you…” I said as we kissed. I reached down and undid the knot on her shorts that laced up the side.

“I should knock you out for that!” scolded Keisha. I gently pressed her on the table.


“Why are fighting a third time? Didn’t we already…”

“Sex has nothing to do with it!” Keisha told me, slightly peeved. “It’s about how I feel and you feel! Even a guy should figure that out!”

Keisha forcibly banged her gloves against mine and went to her corner. I stood there baffled. Keisha and I had spent the night together after our second match and I was certain it was love. But she insisted we decide things with our last fight. If I felt strongly enough about her, Keisha argued, I’d put her down for the count. I had learned long ago that once a woman made up her mind about something, arguing was wasted air.

I went after Keisha immediately. My punches landed everywhere, rights and lefts detonating all over her. I never gave her a moment to breath. I have to admit, it felt good to vent my frustration while I gave Keisha what she apparently wanted.

My left put her on the ropes and I slugged her twice in the belly, making Keisha squeal. I followed through with a left-right combo to her head which put Keisha on the canvas flat on her back; eyes shut and mouth hanging partially open. I had floored her.

I panicked. “Christ Keisha, wake up! I’m sorry!” I yelled as I sat up her limp body.

“I know you’re sorry!” Keisha said, her eyes still closed. Her left came up and hit me square on the chin. I was out before I landed face first on Keisha’s stomach.

When I woke, I was on the canvas, my head on her lap. “You sneak!” I groaned.

“I know!” Keisha answered, giving me the first of many kisses.