Ok, without further ado, here's the conclusion of this fantasy catfight tale ...
(
Note that we let the AI software decide the winners ... 
)
Sonny & I would appreciate your comments!
- Sonja Sin
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But wrestling instincts kicked in. Janelle twisted like an eel, rolling them both into the wet sand. Suddenly, Sonny was beneath her, legs pinned under Janelle’s meaty thighs. "Not so tough now?" Janelle spat, grinding her fist into Sonny’s clit through the soaked fabric, making her buck violently.
Beth, meanwhile, used her free hand to snake my own neon thong up my asscrack in a wedgie so savage I felt the fabric dig into my pussy lips. "Look who’s mooning the crowd, slut!" she crowed.
I arched, trying to knee Beth in the tits, but she countered by wrenching my arm behind my back in a hammerlock. Pain shot through my shoulder—and worse, humiliation burned my cheeks as she pressed her sweaty cleavage against my face. "Smell that? That’s loser," Beth hissed. Behind us, Sonny shrieked as Janelle grapevined her legs and yanked her white thong sideways, exposing her waxed pussy to the gawking crowd. "Say 'cheese,' bitch!" Janelle laughed, holding Sonny’s hips down while someone’s phone flash went off.
Unfortunately for us, technique trumped brute strength. Janelle’s thighs clamped around Sonny’s waist like hydraulic presses, her collegiate wrestling drills turning Sonny’s attempted reversal into a one-way trip to Faceplant City. Sand coated Sonny’s lips as Janelle ground her forehead into the shore, crowing, "Who’s the queen of this beach now?"
Beth, meanwhile, exploited every opening—her knee found my solar plexus, knocking the wind out of me as she wrenched my neon bikini top up into a makeshift garrote. "Choke on your own tits," she growled, twisting the fabric until stars exploded behind my eyelids.
But desperation breeds innovation. Gasping, I hooked a foot behind Beth’s knee and yanked — her grip faltered just long enough for me to sink my teeth into her inner arm (no breaking skin, just *pain*). She recoiled, and I rolled, straddling her thighs before she could reset. "Payback’s *bitch*," I spat, driving my elbow into her left tit with a satisfying *thunk*. Beth howled, but her wrestling reflexes saved her — she bucked her hips, flipping us again, her fingers scrabbling at my thong. The crowd roared as the floss-width fabric snapped, leaving me bare-assed and furious.
Sonny wasn’t faring better. Janelle had her in a modified camel clutch, arching Sonny’s spine until her abs quivered, her small 36A tits jiggling underneath her top. “Beg, bitch!” Janelle taunted, her thumbs digging into Sonny’s lower back.
But Sonny had trained for this — she went limp suddenly, sliding out of Janelle’s grip like oil, then *lunged*, driving her knee square into Janelle’s cxnt. The wet *smack* echoed. Janelle doubled over, and Sonny seized her hair, yanking her face-first into the tide. "Drink up, hog," Sonny snarled, grinding Janelle’s mouth into the sand.
I, meanwhile, had Beth in a makeshift rear naked choke—my neon bikini top now twisted around her throat, my thighs locked around her waist. Beth gagged, her fingers clawing at my bare thighs, but I just tightened the hold.
"Tap or nap," I hissed—until Beth *rolled*, using my momentum against me. Suddenly *I* was choking, her floral cover-up cinched around my neck like a noose.
The crowd roared as Beth straddled my chest, her soft belly pressing into my face. "Smells like *defeat*," she sneered, lifting her hips just enough to slam them down—*whump!*—onto my ribs.
I wheezed, but desperation sparked inspiration. My hand shot between her thighs, fingers *digging* into her pussy through her swimsuit. Beth shrieked, her grip loosening — just enough for me to flip her onto her back.
Sand sprayed as we rolled, Beth’s floral cover-up tearing loose under my nails. The crowd whooped as her tits bounced free, pale and soft compared to my bronzed tightness.
"That’s right," Sonny snarled nearby, mounting Janelle’s back in a brutal reverse cowgirl, grinding her bare ass into Janelle’s face. "Lick it, wrestle-twat!”
Beth bucked beneath me, her thighs slick with sweat. My knee found her cxnt—*thud*—and she gasped, her fingers scrambling for purchase in the sand. "Fucking *cheap shot*," she wheezed, but I just grinned, twisting her nipple hard between my fingers. "Should’ve stayed in your league, buttercup," I spat, slamming my elbow into her other tit. The wet *smack* drew cheers from the gathering frat boys, their phones flashing.
Beside us, Sonny had Janelle’s face mashed into the tide, her white thong now a frayed strap dangling from one hip. "How’s that sand taste, wrestle-bitch?" Sonny taunted, grinding her knee into Janelle’s spine.
But Janelle was *fast* — she hooked a leg around Sonny’s ankle and *yanked*, flipping them both into the shallows. Saltwater sprayed as Janelle straddled Sonny’s chest, her meaty thighs pinning Sonny’s arms. "Should’ve stuck to Instagram," Janelle sneered, ripping Sonny’s ruined top clean off. The crowd whooped as Sonny’s small, perky tits bounced free.
I couldn’t help her — Beth had me in a brutal headscissor, her thick thighs squeezing my temples until my vision pulsed red. "Gonna pop that pretty little head," she hissed, her damp legs reeking of sunscreen and victory.
But I wasn’t done. With a guttural snarl, I drove my thumb *hard* into Beth’s inner thigh — the one spot I knew would make her scream. Her legs spasmed, and I *lunged*, my nails raking down her belly to snag the waistband of her swimsuit. Fabric tore, and suddenly Beth’s soft, pale pussy was on display, her strip of pubic hair glistening under the sun. "Oops," I spat, kneeing her exposed cxnt *hard*. The wet *thwack* drew cheers from the frat boys circling us.
"Flip her, flip her!" Mike’s voice cut through the chaos. Janelle grinned, using Sonny’s own momentum against her — wrestling *drills*, goddamn it—twisting Sonny’s arm behind her back until she shrieked.
The wet sand clung to Sonny’s bare chest as Janelle mounted her from behind, grinding her tits into Sonny’s spine. "Bet you wish you’d stayed on the fucking treadmill," Janelle panted, yanking Sonny’s head back by her buzzcut. The crowd roared as Sonny’s face flushed crimson, her abs flexing desperately to buck Janelle off.
Beth wasn’t playing fair either. Her knee found my ribs—*crack*—knocking the wind out of me just as I tried to scramble up. "Should’ve stuck to yoga, Barbie," she sneered, grabbing my sandy bottom. A frat boy whistled. "Show us that pink, baby!" I snarled, twisting to rake my nails down Beth’s thigh—but she countered with a brutal tit-twist, making me yelp.
Janelle had Sonny in a textbook Boston Crab, wrenching her spine backward until her abs trembled. "Tap or I’ll *pop* you like a glowstick," Janelle growled, grinding her knee into Sonny’s lower back. Sonny’s face contorted, but she managed to spit sand into Janelle’s eyes. Sonny’s face contorted, but she managed to spit sand into Janelle’s eyes.
"Fuck your — *ugh!* — wrestling scholarship," Sonny gasped, bucking wildly. The momentary distraction was all she needed — Sonny flipped them, landing a knee *right* into Janelle’s exposed cxnt. A wet *thud* echoed, and Janelle’s scream mingled with the crowd’s cheers.
Meanwhile, I had Beth’s torn swimsuit wrapped around her throat like a leash, my bare ass grinding into her face as I wrenched backward. "Sniff it, pig," I hissed, feeling her hot breath against my moistening, aroused pussy. Beth gagged, her fingers clawing at my thighs, but I just tightened the makeshift garrote, watching her face flush purple.
Across from us, Sonny had finally turned the tide — literally. With Janelle’s face buried in the wet sand, Sonny straddled her back, using the remnants of her own ruined thong to bind Janelle’s wrists behind her.
"Who’s rolling now, wrestle-whore?" Sonny spat, yanking the knot tight enough to make Janelle whimper. The crowd erupted as Sonny flipped Janelle onto her back and—*smack!*—delivered a stinging spank to Janelle’s already-reddened ass cheek.
Beth bucked beneath me, her thighs slick with sweat and seawater, but I had leverage now. Twisting the torn fabric of her swimsuit tighter around her throat, I leaned down to hiss in her ear: "Should’ve stuck to baking cookies, butterball." With a vicious jerk, I hauled her upright just in time to see Sonny straddle Janelle’s face, grinding her bare, sand-crusted pussy into Janelle’s mouth. "Lick it clean, loser," Sonny commanded, fingers tangled in Janelle’s matted hair.
The crowd’s cheers crescendoed as Beth’s resistance faltered. I took advantage, flipping her onto her belly and kneeing between her shoulder blades. "Hold still," I snarled, yanking her arms back to cinch her own floral cover-up around her wrists. The fabric bit into her skin as I knotted it tight, then rolled her onto her back to admire my handiwork — Beth, flushed and heaving, her soft tits rising with each ragged breath, her thighs glistening with a mix of sweat and seawater.
Sonny wasn’t done with Janelle either. With a wicked grin, she peeled off the remnants of her own thong—now just a frayed strap—and looped it around Janelle’s throat like a collar. "Beg," she ordered, tugging the makeshift leash. Janelle coughed, her lips smeared with sand and Sonny’s arousal, but defiance still burned in her eyes.
Sonny’s response was swift—she grabbed Janelle’s torn bikini top and wrenched it down, exposing her full, heavy tits to the jeering crowd. "Say *thank you*," Sonny purred, delivering a stinging slap to Janelle’s left nipple. The sharp *crack* drew whistles from the frat boys.
I seized Beth’s moment of hesitation, flipping her onto her stomach and dragging her toward Sonny. "Time for a family photo," I announced, ripping Beth’s remaining swimsuit scraps off with one brutal tug. The crowd roared as I forced her face-first into Janelle’s lap, their bare asses gleaming under the sun. "Smile for the cameras, pigs," I sneered, kneeing Beth’s pussy from behind — *thwack!* — making her shriek into Janelle’s thigh.
Sonny, meanwhile, had dug into our beach bag, emerging with a tube of waterproof eyeliner. "Let’s make it *official*," she purred, crouching to scrawl "BEACH WHORE" across Janelle’s forehead in jagged letters. Janelle thrashed, but Sonny just yanked her collar-leash tighter, grinding her knee into the small of Janelle’s back. "Hold still unless you want ‘CUM DUMPSTER’ on your tits next.”
I seized Beth’s trembling thighs, flipping her onto her back and pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. With the other, I traced lazy circles around her dripping cxnt with my fingernail. "Look at you," I cooed, watching her hips jerk involuntarily. "All that wrestling training, and you still can’t stop your body from *begging*." The crowd howled as I suddenly sank two fingers inside her, curling them sharply — Beth’s back arched off the sand, her scream dissolving into a choked whimper.
Sonny, meanwhile, had Janelle bent over a cooler, her ass reddened from a series of sharp spanks. "Count ‘em, bitch," Sonny ordered, delivering another stinging slap. "*Four,*" Janelle gasped, her thighs quivering. Sonny grinned, yanking Janelle’s head back by the hair to face the leering crowd.
"Who wants to sign her ass next?" A frat boy immediately lunged forward, uncapping a Sharpie to scrawl "SPANK BANK" across Janelle’s left butt cheek.
Beth writhed under my fingers, her hips bucking despite herself. "As we thought ... wrestling’s just rolling around, isn't it?" I taunted, twisting my fingers deeper. Her thighs clamped around my wrist, but I just laughed, using my free hand to pinch her nipple hard. "Bet your boyfriend’s never made you clench like this," I hissed, feeling her inner walls flutter. The crowd’s jeers crescendoed as Beth’s breath hitched — then shattered into a broken moan, her back arching violently as she came against my hand.
Sonny, meanwhile, had Janelle bent double over the cooler, her ass now a canvas of Sharpie insults and handprints. With a savage yank, Sonny ripped Janelle’s remaining bikini scrap away, exposing her dripping cxnt to the whistling frat boys.
"Someone get me a beer," Sonny commanded, and Mike—Janelle’s own lumpy boyfriend—obediently handed her a half-finished Corona. Sonny upended it over Janelle’s upturned ass, watching the liquid trickle down her trembling thighs. "Open wide," she purred, shoving the bottleneck between Janelle’s cheeks—*pop!*—making her gasp as the cold glass pressed against her puckered hole.
Beth, still shuddering from my fingers, tried to crawl away—until I planted a bare foot between her shoulder blades. "Uh-uh," I tutted, dragging her back by her tangled hair. The crowd whooped as I forced her face-first into Janelle’s glistening cxnt. "Clean her up, bitch," I ordered, grinding Beth’s nose into Janelle’s folds. Beth gagged, but Sonny just laughed, twisting Janelle’s nipple hard enough to make her jerk—which only smeared Beth’s face deeper into Janelle’s arousal.
Mike, cheeks flushed, fumbled with his phone. "Say 'cheese,' baby," he croaked, zooming in on Janelle’s tear-streaked face. Sonny snatched the phone mid-record, angling it down to capture Beth’s tongue flicking weakly at Janelle’s clit — forced or not, Janelle’s hips twitched. “Fuck — *stop* — " Janelle panted, but Sonny just yanked her head back further. "Louder," she demanded, spanking Janelle’s ass with the phone. "*Make* him watch.”
The frat boys formed a tighter circle, someone tossing Sonny a fresh Sharpie. "Property of..." she scrawled across Janelle’s heaving stomach, then paused, grinning up at Mike. "Wanna finish the sentence?" Mike hesitated—until I knee-walked Beth forward, forcing her lips onto his limp cock through his trunks. "Or should your girlfriend?" I purred, pinching Beth’s nipple hard enough to make her moan around the fabric. Mike’s resolve crumbled. "*Property of Sonny*," he squeaked.
Sonny laughed, capping the Sharpie with her teeth before flipping Janelle onto her back. "Hold her legs," she ordered Mike, who obeyed like a kicked puppy. Janelle thrashed, but Sonny just smirked, spreading Janelle’s sticky thighs wide for the crowd.
"Let’s see what a wrestler’s really made of," Sonny taunted, sinking two fingers knuckle-deep into Janelle’s cxnt with a wet *schlick*. Janelle’s back arched off the cooler — *"Fuck you!”* —but Sonny twisted her wrist, curling her fingers up hard. Janelle’s next curse dissolved into a gasp.
I hauled Beth up by her hair, forcing her onto all fours. "Your turn, buttercup," I hissed, kneeing between her thighs to spread them wider. The crowd whooped as I snatched a discarded Corona bottle, pressing the chilled glass against Beth’s swollen clit. She shuddered, her ass jiggling as she tried to scoot away—until I spanked her hard with the bottle. *”Stay."*
Sonny, meanwhile, had Janelle’s legs hooked over Mike’s shoulders, her fingers pistoning in and out of Janelle’s cxnt with brutal precision. "Bet your coach never drilled you like this," Sonny taunted, twisting her wrist to rub Janelle’s g-spot raw. Janelle’s thighs trembled, her toes curling against Mike’s back as she bit her lip — hard — to stifle a moan.
I twisted the Corona bottle inside Beth, watching her hips jerk involuntarily. "Aw, does the little wrestler *like* being humiliated?" I cooed, dragging the glass up to circle her clit. Beth’s breath hitched, her forehead pressing into the sand as her body betrayed her. The crowd’s laughter crescendoed when her hips bucked back onto the bottle, a strangled whimper escaping her throat.
Sonny, meanwhile, had Janelle teetering on the edge—her fingers working relentlessly while Mike, red-faced, held Janelle’s thighs apart. "Come for the cameras, pig," Sonny snarled, sinking her teeth into Janelle’s inner thigh. Janelle’s back arched violently, her cxnt clenching around Sonny’s fingers as a ragged scream tore from her lips. The frat boys cheered, phones flashing, as wetness gushed over Sonny’s wrist.
Beth, writhing beneath me, let out a shuddering moan as the Corona bottle finally pushed her over — her pussy pulsing around the glass, her thighs trembling. "Pathetic," I sneered, twisting the bottle cruelly before pulling it free with a wet *pop*. Her hips jerked involuntarily, chasing the sensation even as tears streaked her flushed cheeks.
Sonny, meanwhile, wiped Janelle's arousal off her fingers onto Mike's gaping mouth. "Clean up your girlfriend," she ordered, shoving his face between Janelle's still-quivering thighs. The crowd erupted into cheers as Mike obeyed, his tongue lapping feebly at Janelle's swollen cxnt. Janelle's breath hitched—whether from humiliation or residual pleasure, it didn't matter. She'd *broken*, and everyone had seen it.
Beth, still shuddering from her forced orgasm, made the mistake of lifting her head. I seized her by the hair, dragging her face toward my glistening folds. "You wanted to wrestle?" I purred, grinding my wetness against her trembling lips. "Then *pin* me."
Beth's whimper was muffled as I lowered myself onto her face, my thighs clamping around her head like a vise. The salt-and-sweat tang of my arousal flooded her senses as I rocked forward, ensuring every inch of her tongue flattened against my swollen clit.
"Wrestling technique?" I sneered, grinding down hard enough to make her choke. The crowd's laughter surged as Beth's fingers clawed impotently at my thighs—her wrestler's reflexes useless against the raw, wet weight of my humiliation. "This is *biology*, bitch.”
Sonny mirrored me, her bare ass rising and falling rhythmically over Janelle's contorted face. "Mmm, taste that?" She rocked forward, smearing Janelle's lips with a fresh wave of arousal. "That's what *victory* feels like.”
Beth's muffled sobs vibrated against my throbbing clit, her tongue moving in weak, involuntary laps—untrained, desperate. No textbook wrestling drills could save her now. I leaned back on my elbows, watching Beth's nostrils flare as she fought for air between suffocating presses of my pussy. "You wanted to roll around?" I cooed, flexing my thighs tighter around her skull. "Here's your *gold medal*.”
Sonny braced one hand against the cooler, the other twisting Janelle's nipple as she ground her slick folds over Janelle's sand-crusted lips. "Technique’s cute," Sonny mocked, punctuating each word with a sharp downward grind. "But dirty wins *every* time." The crowd howled as Janelle's throat bulged — whether gagging or swallowing, it didn’t matter. Their humiliation was *complete*.
Beth’s muffled whimpers vibrated against my clit when I arched my back one final time, my thighs trembling as I came hard across her swollen tongue. The salty tang of victory dripped down her chin, mingling with her tears. Sonny followed seconds later, bucking violently against Janelle’s trapped face, her thighs shaking as she smeared her release across Janelle’s forehead like war paint.
We rose together, slick and gleaming under the afternoon sun, while Beth and Janelle collapsed onto their sides, coughing and spitting sand. The crowd’s laughter crescendoed as Beth wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist — only to freeze when she realized her own arousal streaked her skin. Janelle’s chest heaved, her mascara running in black rivulets past the Sharpie insults scrawled across her stomach.
Without a word, Sonny and I turned toward the ocean. The waves lapped at our ankles, cool relief against the sting of scratches and the burn of exertion. We waded deeper, letting the saltwater lick away the sweat, the musk, the proof of our dominance. Behind us, muffled sobs and hissed arguments carried over the surf—Mike’s whiny "Jesus, Janelle, you *let* them—" cut short by a wet, meaty *slap* of a palm against flesh.
The water reached our hips when we dove under, surfacing to slick back our buzzcuts. Laughing, I flicked a handful of seawater at Sonny. "Told you cardio mattered," she grinned, swiping her thumb over my split lip. The metallic tang lingered, sweet as victory.
We emerged like conquering gladiators, the afternoon sun gilding our oiled skin. The crowd parted — some whistling, others hastily pocketing their phones — but all eyes tracked the exaggerated sway of our hips as we strutted up the beach. Beth and Janelle were already gathering their shredded dignity (and swimsuit scraps), limping toward the boardwalk with Mike trailing behind like a kicked terrier. Sonny blew them a mocking kiss, her fingers glistening.
Our discarded Wicked Weasels lay where we’d left them—tiny triangles of lycra trampled into the sand. I scooped mine up with a toe, flicking it high with practiced ease. The crowd whooped as I caught it midair, dangling the damp thong between two fingers like a trophy. Sonny mirrored me, shaking out her own barely-there bottoms with a smirk.
We turned our backs to the retreating losers—Janelle hobbling with her arms crossed over her ravaged tits, Beth clutching Mike’s shirt like a human shield — and let the audience savor the contrast. Our bronzed asses gleamed under the setting sun as we stepped into the scraps of fabric one leg at a time, slow as striptease in reverse. The sand gritted against our wet skin as we shimmied the straps up our thighs, pausing to adjust the dental-floss seams with exaggerated tugs. Someone wolf-whistled when Sonny arched forward, flashing the crowd a glimpse of her still-glistening pout before the fabric slid home.
The twins—*winners*—reassembled. Sonny spun on her heel first, arms raised like a prizefighter, letting the whistles roll over her. I followed, rolling my hips to the rhythm of scattered applause, my fingers trailing down my stomach to hook into the waistband of the thong with practiced insolence. A college kid dropped his phone lunging for a better angle. The thong snapped back against my skin with a wet *thwack*, drawing laughter like a shared inside joke.
We collapsed onto our towels in unison, elbows digging into the warm sand as we stretched our legs out—long, bronzed, and bare except for those precious scraps of fabric. Sonny tipped her sunglasses down, her gaze drifting lazily over the beachgoers frozen mid-gossip. The air smelled like sunscreen and salt, victory and sweat. Someone’s Bluetooth speaker still played reggaeton, the bass thumping under the sound of waves and whispered *holy shits*.
My fingers traced the scratches on my ribs — raised, stinging, but worth every drop of blood spilled. Beth’s teeth marks on my inner thigh pulsed in time with my heartbeat. Sonny flicked a grain of sand off my knee. “Front row seats to *that* meltdown,” she murmured, nodding toward the boardwalk where Janelle was shoving Mike so hard he stumbled into a trash can. Beth limped behind them, clutching her ruined cover-up around her waist like a pathetic shield.
The beach bag’s contents lay scattered between us—tampons, sunscreen, the cracked remains of Beth’s dignity. I twirled Beth’s stolen hair tie around my wrist like a victory bracelet. Sonny’s grin was all teeth as she adjusted her sunglasses, her gaze sliding past the gawkers to the new crop of potential challengers.
“You know …”, Sonny said, grinning “we should both become professional dominatrices … forcefully over-powering & dominating other women, and making them our bitches … is so fucking arousing!”
“Amen to that … sister!”, I grinned back at her.
THE END
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Ooops, before I forget ... sorry, folks, those of you who voted to see me & Sonny lose ... it didn't turn out that way!
Maybe a good thing you didn't bet any money on it?
Kinky mewr
Sonja Sin
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