Post by oddmanout on Dec 31, 2020 17:57:47 GMT -6
Caylee Cowan vs
Samara Weaving
Before: “You know, I’m not a jealous woman.” Caylee muses. “I mean, why would I be? Look at me. But I’ll confess, there’s a tiny part of me that jealous that Samara and Sydney have already gotten their mitts on a couple of certain someones, and did a fair bit to expose them for the fraud in the ring that they are. That was MY job, and it’s a job that I will finish. So it looks like I have to show the blondes who’s boss first. And we start by exposing Weaving as the overhyped tramp that she is. Cay-Oh Caylee is about to go 2 and 0 tonight.”
“Anybody who thinks Kira or I are over hyped is doing their best to keep up the dumb blonde stereotype alive.” Samara retorts. “She’s not the first big-boobed blonde I’ve beaten. She’s not even the first one I’ve beaten this year. Once she realizes she’s nothing special, she’ll be a lot happier!”
Caylee sports a black two piece, the waistband of the bottoms in white. There’s a rectangle at the center of the waistband, like a faux belt buckle, within which are three golden C’s, the second curving within the confines of the first, and the third within the second. Her gloves are gold. Samara in a red demi-cup bikini, black gloves, hair loose but pulled back
R1: Samara working her way in close, crisscrossing straight punches to Caylee's rack and snuggling up mouth on shoulder. Cowan pushes-in, willing to try Weaving in the trenches: curvy little legs, backsides strain for position on the inside. Girls working to worm their hands in over the opponent's hands, wriggling for position, then pumping into trim tummies and bulging jugs. Plenty of shoulder-bumping as both girls show themselves to be well-trained in-fighters, jostling each other for room. Laying in, girls take turns pounding three punch bursts off each other's tummies - big, chugging blasts, arms thrashing back and forth. Bit by bit, it's Samara: Caylee outslugged, outbumped, outworked, outmuscled by slender margins. At the bell, Cowan brightens, jogs back to her corner: she's convinced she got the better of Weaving, it's so close.
R2: Girls hop-to - right hands back, left hands forward for pawing/measuring. Trade in right hands - big, sloppy roundhouses thrown lustily into one another's flank or hip - real crowd pleasing bump-up as the girls beat each other with a series of swinging rights to the body. Caylee landing several nice right hands to Samara’s rack and face, punching the shoulder the shorter blonde off balance and getting the better of wild exchanges in a free-for-all first minute. Blazing eyes, bared teeth; girls quickly abandoning themselves to free-swinging JMD-style melees. After a half-minute of crazy bumper-car slugging, Weaving’s able to jam several hard rights to Cowan’s face, driving her ropeside: Aussie's bodying up hard, pushing her left elbow into Caylee's face to set her up for a busting right forearm to jug. Dissolves into pushing/punching mayhem as girls stumble about, taking turns coming forward, body&breasts coming under heavy fire as they square away toe-to-toe.
R3: More torrid toe-to-toe midring, Samara backing Caylee up early with thudding rights and lefts to rack. Minute mark: Cowan rings Weaving up a stupendous right cross, then another straight right to chin and a swinging hook to jug to put her Aussie wobbly butt. Samara stumbling forward, stooping behind her gloves, Cowan baring her teeth REEFS punches up into Weaving's torso as Aussie vixen staggers into leather. Caylee embracing Samara, then spinning her into ropes and COWAN GOES RACK! Crowd roaring as Caylee squares up, gets to shruggin' - Samara's bra jumps up and down under thudding bombardment. Weaving's head lolling, lips parting - she's badly stunned, but gathers herself long enough to pull a swinging right into Cowan's shorts. Caylee shouting in pain, doubling up with her head on Samara’s shoulder, Weaving lolling on the ropes, gasping - easiest break of the night for ref to manage suddenly crippled blondes.
R4: HAMMER AND TONGS! Samara scores with a series of right hands by hopping in, tagging Caylee's chin, bouncing back outside. Cowan rocked, but storming forward, finds Weaving's face with an intercepting jab, puts a stubby right hand behind it. Samara stops bouncing, sets feet wide, claps another right across Caylee's jaw: both girls trade hooks, sending shivers down both sets of legs. Toe-to-toe, they THRASH away - vicious, kamikaze lefts and rights in side to side sweeps: Weaving just a little brisker, beating Cowan to either hand, pasting pretty blonde American. Caylee starts to waver, facing into blows, getting a little sloppy with her punches and GOES DOWN! Cowan sprawled to her back, groaning: Weaving quick to her knees off left side, reaching across to stabilize with left mitt on canvas off Caylee's right flank: POUNDS AWAY RIGHTY TO RACK! Ref moves in, walks Samara to her corner and reads riot act to both fighter and corner. Cowan up, eyes darting - she gets up on her toes after 8 count, circling perimeter clockwise. Rest of the way Weaving stalking, making faces, taunting: "C'mon big girl - get big on me - you know you want to. What's the matter? You're not hurt are you? You think you're hurt? Baby, just wait!" All while pouncing in with lead rights - Samara bouncing on her left foot to follow-through, both blondes’ jugs a-jumpin' as badly spooked Caylee scampers away.
R5: Samara pushing in again, Caylee competing, squirreling away tight punches in close confines, but it's the Aussie blonde coming forward. After a minute and a half, Weaving's able to walk Cowan to ropes and force a tumbling brawl along the ropes as girls take turns on top. Left hands round behind heads as right hands dig and stuff underneath: wrapping, tousle-scrubbing, bodying up - doing whatever's necessary to keep the other girl pinned down. Samara snuggled-in, smothering Cowan when not punching, then Aussie will shove a sudden right into wriggling ‘Merican goodness. Tummy and jug, tummy and jug - Weaving just working the meat, staying on top, making Cowan take weight and punishment in equal measure. Bell: Samara keeps at it, tucking in a couple of cheapshots to jug before ref can pull her away. Both fighters woozy, mouthbreathing, staggering home after another tuff round.
R6: Samara back on top—landing a spate of swinging right hands midring to bash Caylee upside her head and get her staggering backwards. Weaving in tuff to the body—pushing her head in between Cowan’s mitts and chugging at that firm midriff. Caylee’s back hits the ropes, Samara scouring, drawing warnings as undisciplined lefts and rights take her prey heavily in her thighs and trunks. Cowan wincing, cringing up, but very brave—she’s holding herself together, keeping a rigid guard in place to help block the incoming. Spanking leather sounding out, Weaving really committed when she twists and drags beef onto Caylee’s flanks, shoulders and skull via freeswinging lefts and rights. Down the stretch, Cowan VERY composed with back to ropes starts answering back, Girls trade tidy hooks in close: Weaving steps back, momentarily frazzled, Caylee leans in a chopping right tight and DROPS SAMARA TO HER BACKSIDE! Tic-toc, Weaving staring up in wonder, sitting with hands out behind her on canvas, hair in eyes, lips parted: Cowan bleating down, batting mitts together, cheeks rosy with defiance. Whole new fight as Caylee steals a Samara Weaving round, gets the knockdown back, sends the Aussie back to her corner with a furious scowl.
R7: Caylee hopping forward, just tossing out the jab to measure, not really snapping it, giving up her height as Samara steps back into the pocket. RIGHT HAND SMASH WEAVING! Cowan caught and clocked--back leg nearly collapsing under her--she rights herself on tottering pins and LANDS THE HOOK! Both fighters unleashed, smashing back and forth: gobsmacking swings, every one a fight-winner, blondes just facing into it and getting to the clobbering--RIGHT HAND! LEFT HOOK! RIGHT HAND! SAMARA GIES DOWN! Weaving lays out stretched on her back, face twisted in pain. Cowan taking the opportunity to “stumble” forward, trampling inner thigh and bicep under stomping feet--she leaves Samara in a crumpled ball on her side, trying to get up. IT’S NO GOOD! Weaving rocking from one hip to the other, trying to shake off those haymakers, but she just can’t get off her back--WILD KO7 for Caylee Cowan!
After: Caylee snarling at her crew to get her gloves off, grabs a hold of Samara’s arm, roughly drags her up onto her knees. Gathering a swaying Weaving into her bosom, Cowan begins to bear down on her prey. As the oxygen debt mounts, Samara drops further and further back onto her haunches, pooling limply against Caylee’s punch-pinked torso in a vanquished slumber.
Samara Weaving
Before: “You know, I’m not a jealous woman.” Caylee muses. “I mean, why would I be? Look at me. But I’ll confess, there’s a tiny part of me that jealous that Samara and Sydney have already gotten their mitts on a couple of certain someones, and did a fair bit to expose them for the fraud in the ring that they are. That was MY job, and it’s a job that I will finish. So it looks like I have to show the blondes who’s boss first. And we start by exposing Weaving as the overhyped tramp that she is. Cay-Oh Caylee is about to go 2 and 0 tonight.”
“Anybody who thinks Kira or I are over hyped is doing their best to keep up the dumb blonde stereotype alive.” Samara retorts. “She’s not the first big-boobed blonde I’ve beaten. She’s not even the first one I’ve beaten this year. Once she realizes she’s nothing special, she’ll be a lot happier!”
Caylee sports a black two piece, the waistband of the bottoms in white. There’s a rectangle at the center of the waistband, like a faux belt buckle, within which are three golden C’s, the second curving within the confines of the first, and the third within the second. Her gloves are gold. Samara in a red demi-cup bikini, black gloves, hair loose but pulled back
R1: Samara working her way in close, crisscrossing straight punches to Caylee's rack and snuggling up mouth on shoulder. Cowan pushes-in, willing to try Weaving in the trenches: curvy little legs, backsides strain for position on the inside. Girls working to worm their hands in over the opponent's hands, wriggling for position, then pumping into trim tummies and bulging jugs. Plenty of shoulder-bumping as both girls show themselves to be well-trained in-fighters, jostling each other for room. Laying in, girls take turns pounding three punch bursts off each other's tummies - big, chugging blasts, arms thrashing back and forth. Bit by bit, it's Samara: Caylee outslugged, outbumped, outworked, outmuscled by slender margins. At the bell, Cowan brightens, jogs back to her corner: she's convinced she got the better of Weaving, it's so close.
R2: Girls hop-to - right hands back, left hands forward for pawing/measuring. Trade in right hands - big, sloppy roundhouses thrown lustily into one another's flank or hip - real crowd pleasing bump-up as the girls beat each other with a series of swinging rights to the body. Caylee landing several nice right hands to Samara’s rack and face, punching the shoulder the shorter blonde off balance and getting the better of wild exchanges in a free-for-all first minute. Blazing eyes, bared teeth; girls quickly abandoning themselves to free-swinging JMD-style melees. After a half-minute of crazy bumper-car slugging, Weaving’s able to jam several hard rights to Cowan’s face, driving her ropeside: Aussie's bodying up hard, pushing her left elbow into Caylee's face to set her up for a busting right forearm to jug. Dissolves into pushing/punching mayhem as girls stumble about, taking turns coming forward, body&breasts coming under heavy fire as they square away toe-to-toe.
R3: More torrid toe-to-toe midring, Samara backing Caylee up early with thudding rights and lefts to rack. Minute mark: Cowan rings Weaving up a stupendous right cross, then another straight right to chin and a swinging hook to jug to put her Aussie wobbly butt. Samara stumbling forward, stooping behind her gloves, Cowan baring her teeth REEFS punches up into Weaving's torso as Aussie vixen staggers into leather. Caylee embracing Samara, then spinning her into ropes and COWAN GOES RACK! Crowd roaring as Caylee squares up, gets to shruggin' - Samara's bra jumps up and down under thudding bombardment. Weaving's head lolling, lips parting - she's badly stunned, but gathers herself long enough to pull a swinging right into Cowan's shorts. Caylee shouting in pain, doubling up with her head on Samara’s shoulder, Weaving lolling on the ropes, gasping - easiest break of the night for ref to manage suddenly crippled blondes.
R4: HAMMER AND TONGS! Samara scores with a series of right hands by hopping in, tagging Caylee's chin, bouncing back outside. Cowan rocked, but storming forward, finds Weaving's face with an intercepting jab, puts a stubby right hand behind it. Samara stops bouncing, sets feet wide, claps another right across Caylee's jaw: both girls trade hooks, sending shivers down both sets of legs. Toe-to-toe, they THRASH away - vicious, kamikaze lefts and rights in side to side sweeps: Weaving just a little brisker, beating Cowan to either hand, pasting pretty blonde American. Caylee starts to waver, facing into blows, getting a little sloppy with her punches and GOES DOWN! Cowan sprawled to her back, groaning: Weaving quick to her knees off left side, reaching across to stabilize with left mitt on canvas off Caylee's right flank: POUNDS AWAY RIGHTY TO RACK! Ref moves in, walks Samara to her corner and reads riot act to both fighter and corner. Cowan up, eyes darting - she gets up on her toes after 8 count, circling perimeter clockwise. Rest of the way Weaving stalking, making faces, taunting: "C'mon big girl - get big on me - you know you want to. What's the matter? You're not hurt are you? You think you're hurt? Baby, just wait!" All while pouncing in with lead rights - Samara bouncing on her left foot to follow-through, both blondes’ jugs a-jumpin' as badly spooked Caylee scampers away.
R5: Samara pushing in again, Caylee competing, squirreling away tight punches in close confines, but it's the Aussie blonde coming forward. After a minute and a half, Weaving's able to walk Cowan to ropes and force a tumbling brawl along the ropes as girls take turns on top. Left hands round behind heads as right hands dig and stuff underneath: wrapping, tousle-scrubbing, bodying up - doing whatever's necessary to keep the other girl pinned down. Samara snuggled-in, smothering Cowan when not punching, then Aussie will shove a sudden right into wriggling ‘Merican goodness. Tummy and jug, tummy and jug - Weaving just working the meat, staying on top, making Cowan take weight and punishment in equal measure. Bell: Samara keeps at it, tucking in a couple of cheapshots to jug before ref can pull her away. Both fighters woozy, mouthbreathing, staggering home after another tuff round.
R6: Samara back on top—landing a spate of swinging right hands midring to bash Caylee upside her head and get her staggering backwards. Weaving in tuff to the body—pushing her head in between Cowan’s mitts and chugging at that firm midriff. Caylee’s back hits the ropes, Samara scouring, drawing warnings as undisciplined lefts and rights take her prey heavily in her thighs and trunks. Cowan wincing, cringing up, but very brave—she’s holding herself together, keeping a rigid guard in place to help block the incoming. Spanking leather sounding out, Weaving really committed when she twists and drags beef onto Caylee’s flanks, shoulders and skull via freeswinging lefts and rights. Down the stretch, Cowan VERY composed with back to ropes starts answering back, Girls trade tidy hooks in close: Weaving steps back, momentarily frazzled, Caylee leans in a chopping right tight and DROPS SAMARA TO HER BACKSIDE! Tic-toc, Weaving staring up in wonder, sitting with hands out behind her on canvas, hair in eyes, lips parted: Cowan bleating down, batting mitts together, cheeks rosy with defiance. Whole new fight as Caylee steals a Samara Weaving round, gets the knockdown back, sends the Aussie back to her corner with a furious scowl.
R7: Caylee hopping forward, just tossing out the jab to measure, not really snapping it, giving up her height as Samara steps back into the pocket. RIGHT HAND SMASH WEAVING! Cowan caught and clocked--back leg nearly collapsing under her--she rights herself on tottering pins and LANDS THE HOOK! Both fighters unleashed, smashing back and forth: gobsmacking swings, every one a fight-winner, blondes just facing into it and getting to the clobbering--RIGHT HAND! LEFT HOOK! RIGHT HAND! SAMARA GIES DOWN! Weaving lays out stretched on her back, face twisted in pain. Cowan taking the opportunity to “stumble” forward, trampling inner thigh and bicep under stomping feet--she leaves Samara in a crumpled ball on her side, trying to get up. IT’S NO GOOD! Weaving rocking from one hip to the other, trying to shake off those haymakers, but she just can’t get off her back--WILD KO7 for Caylee Cowan!
After: Caylee snarling at her crew to get her gloves off, grabs a hold of Samara’s arm, roughly drags her up onto her knees. Gathering a swaying Weaving into her bosom, Cowan begins to bear down on her prey. As the oxygen debt mounts, Samara drops further and further back onto her haunches, pooling limply against Caylee’s punch-pinked torso in a vanquished slumber.
