CATHY VS STEF, THE FIGHT
Cathy and I arrive at the fight address, a posh-looking McMansion on a Jacksonville golf resort. A nerdy-looking military retiree, male, tells us we're at the right place and waves us in. I breathe a sigh of relief that Stef's corner person is a male--if it was a female, I might be tempted to tangle with her. And I want today to be about me watching, not me fighting.
We are led downstairs into a finished basement bar with shag-type plush carpeting in a cleared out 30 ft x 30 ft fight area. The host tells us to get ready while he gets Stef.
With Cathy and I now alone, we proceed to get Cathy stripped. I take her clothes with me and sit on a nearby couch. Cathy drinks from the water bottles we've brought, fluffing out her hair. I sit on a nearby couch, telling Cathy I love how sharp her nails are. She says matter-of-factly that she hopes they don't break "right away." Smart.
I notice stripper poles at the other end of the basement. Some crazy shit obviously goes on at this place. I admire Cathy's perfect nude figure. I could cum right now to the sight of her on the stripper poles, doing a little dance for me. I spread my legs on the couch in an unladylike posture. Not one square inch of Cathy's body has a hint of sagging. Her 36c tits stand erect. Her butt is firm and flat. Her legs are muscular but all woman. Cathy catches me checking her out.
Stef comes down the stairs, buck naked. Her sandy blonde hair is blow dried and teased out, long and wavy. Her bush, normally untamed, is long, but trimmed into a perfect rectangle, begging to be grabbed. Did she do this on purpose, I wonder. Cathy's eyes seem to notice. Cathy's bush is also long, but with whispy hair rather than Stef's tight curls. Stef's tits look larger than I remember--she's clearly aroused.
Cathy drops her water bottle, and the staredown is on.
Stef: A woman comes to a catfight with her hair like that is asking for it to get pulled out.
Cathy: Whatever floats your boat, Stef. I heard you think you won the last fight.
<<<<<closing, now eye to eye>>>>>
Stef: Well, let's make sure this time we leave no room for doubt.
Cathy: Fine by me.
Stef has not so much as glanced my way on the couch, for which I am now grateful, as I cum, already, for the first time on my hand inside my shorts to the sight of Stef and Cathy in a double headlock. Our military host, preparing to enjoy the point event himself, has prepared me a pair of Grey Goose vodka shots, which I gratefully accept. I feel the buzz almost immediate. Watching a catfight beats being in one any day of the week, I decide. I accept 2 more shots. That's 4 I've had now. Or is it 6? Or 8? Whatever.
Cathy and Stef stumble around the room, pulling hair, but otherwise doing little damage. I want to shout out ideas to Cathy, but since Stef's corner man is not doing so for her, I decide that must be against house rules. I will reserve my instructions for Cathy for between rounds, if they make it that far. The intensity is genuine, as time has apparently not healed the wounds in Stef and Cathy's love triangle, even though the man is long gone. They are giving their all in this fight, slamming each other into the wall everytime their stumbling brings them close.
I continue fingering myself, cumming several times to the view. The vodka makes me cum more times, but less intensely. How many have I had? I take 2 more shots.
If I was yelling what I'm thinking to Cathy, I'd be telling her to yank the vulnerable rectangle between Stef's legs. But then again, I don't want Stef to defend herself there, so I hope for a break to whisper the plan into Cathy's ear.
The pace of the fight slows, as Cathy and Stef begin to breathe heavier. It hasn't gone to the ground yet, which I take to be a good sign for my girl--she must be feeling confident that Stef will wear down first in a long fight. I begin to resume pleasuring myself to the view, when both women simultaneously begin using their nails.
Releasing each others long hair, Cathy digs her nails into Stef's breasts, and Stef rakes Cathy's sides and back repeatedly. Cathy shouts in distress, as Stef's swipes immediately start to mark up Cathy's skin. Cathy holds and twists Stef's chests in increasing fear and desperation, her eyes tearing.
I begin to regret the Grey Goose, especially on an empty stomach, as the fight seems to flow in slow motion to me, and my eyes are slow to make sense of the sights they are witnessing. Stef's and Cathy's long blonde hair is disheveled and sticking to each others sweaty bodies, and it's harder for me to see what their hands are doing. I sense fear and pain in Cathy's cries, and sadistic pleasure in Stef's. The fight drifts to the corner of the room furthest from me, and I have difficulty perceiving what is happening. Why hasn't Cathy grabbed Stef's pussy hair?
Minutes pass, the room spinning more and more. Stef is winning this damn fight. Cathy should have brought it to the ground by now. Why isn't she kicking Stef?
Stef, meanwhile, is doing everything she saw me do to Vanessa. Cathy's twists of Stef's breasts pale in comparison to the fist-full kneading Stef is applying to Cathy's. Stef stole that move from me.
I can't get the thought of Stef's vulnerable bush out of my head. Why isn't Cathy tearing at it?
Stef tortures Cathy for minutes with her tit kneading. Cathy's nails last out at Stef and buy her a few minutes respite, but this is rapidly ceasing to be a fight. It's a beatdown.
Military guy has jerked off to the fight a couple times and now is passed out at the bar. Figures. Guys always finish and pass out. I remember that yesterday was the last day for the summer interns. There was a 20 year old boy from Princeton who was hung. And rich. And he was crushing on me. He texted me at how disappointed he was that my vacation hadn't ended before he had to return to school, including a dick pic to leave no doubt what he meant. I missed out on him for this crap fight. I've still got it, but i don't get offered 20 year old dick everyday. I get angrier at Stef.
Why isn't Cathy tearing Stef's bush off? I'm cranky from being hungry. I'm embarrassed for backing the losing catfighter. The buzz is turning into a hangover. I'm sexually frustrated. This is a bad combination.
Stef's and Cathy's fight drags on. Cathy's not giving, I'll admit. But the scratches on her sides look horrible, and her breasts are bruising. Long swaths of her curly bleach blonde hair cover the carpeting. That should be Stef's pussy hair on the floor, not Cathy's.
I decide I've had enough. Or, should I say, Grey Goose decides I've had enough. I stand up and march over to Stef, whose back is to me while she tortures Cathy's tits. I headlock Stef with my left hand, while my right hand reaches down and around and grabs Stef's trimmed and shaped bush.
Me: "Girl shows up at a catfight with her hair cut like that is begging to get it pulled."
Stef gives a primal scream.
The rest is a drunken, hazy scrum. Cathy recovers seemingly instantly and goes barbarian on Stef with fists. Stef's nose gets opened. The three of us hit the carpeting in an angry scrum. I work Stef's crotch, Cathy works Stef's face and tits. I feel no pain, the vodka having taken its toll. The beatdown which was in progress just moments ago is reversed. Clumps of Stef's bush are in my hand, under my nails. Now it's Stef that's crying. And, Cathy and I notice minutes later, not fighting back.
Military guy is starting to come out of his siesta.
Cathy and I panic.
"Shit, we gotta get out of here."
We dress hastily. We run out to the car. Blood from Stef's nose is all over both of us. We pray nobody sees us.
We drive as far away from Jacksonville as we can.
We stop at a hotel. Cathy is in no shape to show her face in public, so I check in.
We go into the room and the shower, together. To clean up.
And to have sex. Intense, passionate, make-me-forget sex.
For three days and nights.
We drive back to Cathy's place.
More sex.
I haft a get back to work, I tell Cathy. She does to.
We'll talk soon, we promise each other.
I get home.
I have one message.
"This is Vanessa. That wasn't cool what you did to Stef. Watch your back."
