FreeCatFights
General Category => Catfight , Boxing & Wrestling Stories => Boxing and fistfight => Topic started by: sinclairfan on May 17, 2015, 01:47:17 PM
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(Full disclosure: story below is part true and part fiction. You'll need to figure out which is which.)
Have you ever voted on a FCF poll fight, commented with your reasons why you voted that way, and had one of the women contact you to thank you? I have, and am here to tell you what happened.
You can call me sinclairfan. A few months ago, I voted for Kristen_spoiled in a FCF poll vs bobby1. I then wrote a gushing note, explaining my reasons why Kristen_spoiled was the better woman in every way. Well, wouldn't you know, my comments carried Kristen_spoiled to a come-from-behind victory in the poll by a single vote, 109-108. Kristen_spoiled must have had some IRL animosity with bobby1, because she emailed me a gushing thank you note. After 2-3 weeks of some flirtatious email and YIM exchanges, we flew to meet each other IRL.
Now, a gentleman doesn't kiss-and-tell, so don't expect any details of our meetup. But, suffice to say, within a month I had arranged for a job transfer to Kristen_spoiled's city, and we were quite the item.
About a month after that, Kristen_spoiled started receiving some, shall we say, stalker-ish emails from bobby1. Seems bobby1 had experienced the mirror-image experience to Kristen_spoiled. After bobby1's close poll defeat, her longtime partner had seen her in a new light, the thrill was gone, and he moved out in a trial separation. He told bobby1 that only an IRL avenging of her loss would allow him to feel the way he had before about bobby1.
(I'll let everyone know what happened next, but only if there's interest.)
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These are two very, very hot women, and just my opinion, but I think this is going to be a really good fight.
I don't think either woman will submit unless really hurt and in danger of some very severe damage. I would love to see the loser have every last drop of her dignity drained out of her in front of a crowd. Thanks, please continue this hot, hot, hot story.
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I have been awaiting the story, what happened?
But, babe, you already know what happened. ;-)
Everyone else: I'll post in the next 24 hours.
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I have been awaiting the story, what happened?
But, babe, you already know what happened. ;-)
Everyone else: I'll post in the next 24 hours.
Finally, after one particularly creepy email from bobby1, Kristen and I discussed what we were going "to do about this" situation. We could go to the cops, but explaining to them "Honest, Officer, we only know the woman from an FCF poll seemed a difficult "sell". So the only out seemed to be to confront bobby1, and to meet her challenge to an IRL fight.
Telling bobby1 where we lived was out of the question, so we told bobby1, "Meet us halfway, in Dallas, TX, and you've got yourself a physical fight." Calendars were coordinated, and Kristen and I began training for a NHB fight 5 weeks hence.
This is probably too much information, but here's a tip for the guys reading this. A woman's libido increases 40-fold when she's training for a fight. Kristen and I were sleeping together 3 times a day, 2 hours at a time, for the 35 days leading up to the fight. And I don't think it was enough for her--we would stop only because we had a fight training/diet regimen to stick to.
But all good things must come to an end, and the day for the fight finally arrived.
More to come shortly.....
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Fight night had arrived. It was July in Dallas, and it was hot as heck out. I encouraged Kristen to stay hydrated by drinking water, but there was to be an ancillary benefit to this action, which I'll describe later.
Bobbi and Kristen would be fighting in a no-tell motel we found at ad for on Craigslist in a seedy section of the outskirts of the city. Each room was spread out enough to maximize privacy from any noise. Additionally, since Bobbi didn't have an escort, she would be spending the night (or 2 or 3 or 4) there recuperating from the no doubt brutal encounter.
When Kristen and I arrived, Bobbi was already settled in to the motel--couple of days of food, clothes, first aid paraphanalia, etc. She gave Kristen a glare, and said that before the night was over, she was going to get a cellphone-full of pictures of herself humiliating Kristen, send them to her (tempoarily-, she hoped) estranged boyfriend, and live happily ever after. Kristen, she predicted, would have nightmares about tonight the rest of her life. Kristen just said, "Why hasn't this fight started yet?", her top already off, her skin sweaty from the brutal Texas heat.
To be continued...
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Bobbi removed her skimpy top, and was sweating just as or even more profusely--the climate control in this motel was barely effective. The two women wasted no time in throwing jabs first, graduating to full haymakers, some to the jaw, but most to their chests. I was praying that my best-girlfriend-ever would be undamaged, as I had become quite accustomed to holding her often and frequently.
Kristen and Bobbi we're swinging as an unsustainable pace, and after a few minutes locked together in a stand up clinch. But rather than resting or breaking apart, they pulled closet together and began testing the relative strength and stamina of their breasts. Eyes locked together in hate, they wrapped their hands tightly around each others' shoulders, then transitioning to full handfuls of hair, and began squashing tightly. Each was in painful agony, but each was also determined to make the other give first.
Sweat began to run in streamlets down each others' sides. Gradually, after several minutes' struggle, Bobbi was clearly ceding real estate, and barely holding her emotions together. Kristen's workman-like preparation for the bout was paying dividends, as well as, I'd like to think, my presence and encouragement.
To be continued.
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Down goes Bobbi!! Down goes Bobbi. That happened a lot during the course of the next 20 minutes. Kristen is a masterful counterpuncher. She would let Bobbi take a swing, block or sidestep it, and the aim a right-left combo to Bobbi's tits. Bobbi started by grunting. Then wimpering. Then falling. She knew if roles were reversed, she would give no mercy to Kristen, so she expected none back. But what a price she was paying. With worse to come. Much worse.
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Kristen now felt safe enough the drop her boxing stance. She was now using her left hand to hold Bobbi steady by her hair, while Kristen's right hand "went to town" with direct shots to Bobbi's nose. It took awhile, but Bobbi's nose finally opened up. It was hard to tell if Kristen was bleeding too, so great was the spray coming from Bobbi's nose. Every so often, a stray swing from Bobbi would connect with the jaw or chest of Kristen. But none of these did serious damage. Kristen was toying with Bobbi, like a cat with an injured mouse.
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Kristen grabbed Bobbi's face, looked her in the eyes, and said, "Make me feel good. Kiss me." She the presented her breasts to Bobbi's mouth to have them licked and sucked. Bobbi either knew the consequences of not obeying immediately, or was so relieved to get a reprieve from her beating, that she complied enthusiastically.
In no time at all, Bobbi was bringing Kristen to one orgasm after another with intense kissing of Kristen's aroused breasts. Kristen pressed closer and closet to maximize their mutual body contact. Almost involuntarily, Kristen asked, "Do I taste good?"
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Bobbi really should have thought about her answer. Instead, she unwisely responded, "Tastes like bitch." Kristen stepped back and slapped Bobbi's face hard. Four times. And remember how I told you Kristen had been drinking water all afternoon. Kristen now realized that she really, really needed to pee.
To be continued...
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I am convinced Bobbi would have put up a lot better of a fit than this.
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I am convinced Bobbi would have put up a lot better of a fit than this.
It's not over. ;-p
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Now, it was Kristen's turn to do something without thinking. Engulfed with rage at Bobbi's defiant "bitch" comment, Kristen tore off her own shorts and shoved Bobbi onto the ground. Kristen then mounted Bobbi's face and proceeded to use Bobbi's mouth as a urinal. Naturally, very little of it actually hit it's target. Most just streamed all over Bobbi's cut face, stinging her badly through her fight cuts and scratches. The effect was to snap Bobbi out of her daze, and she shoved Kristen off and stood, a sight for sore eyes.
"Round 2, you bitch." To be continued...
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For the next phase of their fight, Kristen's 35 days of conditioning would do her little good. Bobbi's pants we're still on, while Kristen's were not, and a street fighter like Bobbi knew how to exploit those circumstances. She bullrushed Kristen, and although she didn't achieve a textbook takedown, her claws made a direct hit into Kristen's exposed kitty. Bobbi scratched and dug, ignoring Kristen's vicious backscratches. Kristen could do little to break the hold, so slick from sweat, blood, and pee was Bobbi's upper torso.
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Luckily for both Kristen and me, Kristen was a woman in love, and knew to protect her kitty at all costs. She went into drop-and-roll mode, rolling over and over the floor with her adversary, noticing with each roll that Bobbi's head was sliding down Kristen's body. By roll 7 or 8, Bobbi's head was buried between Kristen's thighs. And although Bobbi's hand was still going to town inside Kristen, Kristen was able to lock her legs around Bobbi's head and face and slowly begin to suffocate her. For good measure, she was also punching Bobbi in the face.
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If this was an ordinary streetfight, Kristen would have won twice now. But this was a catfight between two bad-assed bitches, and Bobbi knew you don't let the opportunity of getting the other woman's pants off, while yours are still on, pass you by. She squirmed out of the hold, and immediately dove onto the prone Kristen, driving her knee into Kristen's exposed lady parts. And she kept driving. Kristen was in pain, but kept it together enough to continue find Bobbi's tits and begin twisting.
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Take your hand off of your cock and keep writing, I am too excited.
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Kristen was determined to inflict as much pain, or more, to Bobbi's genitals than she had received, so she had a lot of ground to make up. Her double-twisting of Bobbi's tits was merciless, and I was beginning to think I was going to witness if it was possible to remove those puppies entirely by hand. Bobbi began to shriek like a banshee.
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You know how when you're in pain you're supposed to bite down on something? Well, Bobbi did exactly that. On Kristen's shoulders. First one. Then the other. Back and forth, over and over. But that was not enough for Kristen to release her double-grip.
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Desperate times call for desperate measures, so all Bobbi could think to do was make Kristen an offer she hoped Kristen wouldn't refuse. Leaning down and putting her mouth in ear and whisper, If you let go of my titties, I'll get off of you, take my pants off, and let you have at me down there." Kristen knew the opportunity of a lifetime when she heard it, and let go of Bobbi in an instant. Both women slowly stood, squared off, and Bobbi was as good as her word. For the first time all night, her pants came off and were tossed aside.
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Kristen knew Bobbi must be at her breaking point, since no catfighter would ever voluntarily make the offer Bobbi just did. Kristen made a calculated gamble that if she and Bobbi locked into a mutual standup crotch hold, a standing catball, if you will, that Bobbi would break first. She motioned with her pointer finger for Bobbi to step forward and "present herself", gesturing with her body language that she would do the same. They came together, first chest to chest, then face to face, and slowly dug their right claws into each others' crotches. A slow but, make no mistake, high-intensity dance began. The endgame had begun.
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By now, both women were intimately familiar with the smell of each others' sweat, hair, blood, and pee. Now they learned, probably for life, the smell of each others' breath, as they were so close and locked up that they were practically inhaling each others' (deep) exhales, swapping the same air back and forth repeatedly. Both women refused to show any fear or pain, out of concern that to do so would cause the other to continue. Time lost all meaning, and both women swayed and stumbled, locked together, from wall to wall of the motel.
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Ladies, all I can say is, don't you ever mess with Kristen. Her scheme worked like a charm. It took time, but Bobbi finally collapsed on a heap in the floor, every square inch of her body having sustained catastrophic damage from Kristen's fury. The fight ended, not with a bang but with a whimper. Literally.
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I think I earned to have Bobbi eat me into ecstasy. what about it?
I thought you have a boyfriend. ;-)