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General Discussion about Catfights / Re: Who do you find sexier....The Winner or Loser
« Last post by Horny-Jew on Today at 06:33:46 AM »Depends on who's clothes are ripped more. 
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Series / Re: The Ultimate Claim
« Last post by MissHomewrecker on Today at 06:02:37 AM »Part two
As the six circle Alex, introductions wrapped, Elena Vargas steps back into frame, her dress hugging her curves as she flashes a knowing smile at the camera.
"There you have it, viewers, the battle lines are drawn! In this mansion of luxury and lust, these women will seduce, scheme, and scrap for Alex's heart. Catfights by the pool? Sexfights in the shadows? Group tangles where bodies clash and passions ignite? Stay tuned, it's all live, unfiltered, and unavoidable in a world where every glance at a man sparks a war."
The sun is bleeding out over the Pacific, painting the terrace in hot gold, and every screen in the world is locked on the feed.
Elena has disappeared with one last wicked smile, leaving Alex alone at the head of the table with six women who already look ready to kill for the seat closest to him.
Lana takes the chair on his right first, thigh pressing his under the table, claiming territory without a word. Sophia slides in on his left a heartbeat later, heavy breast brushing his arm as she reaches for the wine, scent of coconut oil and warm skin flooding his head.
Across the table Mia’s green eyes flash trouble. She reaches for the appetizers and “accidentally” knocks over her glass. Red wine splashes across Sophia’s black bikini top, soaking the fabric until her dark nipples show clear.
“Oops,” Mia says, “Clumsy me.”
Sophia dabs at the spill slow, never breaking eye contact. “Careful, ginger. Next time it’ll be your face.”
The table goes dead quiet except for the waves crashing below.
Lana laughs low. “She’s not wrong. Some of us know how to keep a man’s attention without making a mess.”
Sophia turns her head, slow, like a queen noticing dirt on her shoe. “And some of us don’t need to flex every muscle to keep his eyes where they belong. He’s already staring at my tits, gym bunny. Deal with it.”
Lana’s chair scrapes. She stands, red bikini straining against her muscular body. “Say that again.”
Sophia rises too, slower, letting everyone watch her curves shift. “I said he’s staring at my tits. Because they’re bigger. Softer. And he’s already thinking about coming all over them while you’re busy flexing alone in the mirror.”
Alex opens his mouth, probably something useless, but Lana is already moving. Three long strides and she’s got a fistful of Sophia’s curls, yanking her head back hard.
The wine glass in Sophia’s hand explodes on the tiles.
Sophia snarls, swings, nails raking three bloody lines across Lana’s cheek. Lana hisses and shoves her. Sophia stumbles, catches herself on the table, and comes back swinging.
They crash together in the center of the terrace, bodies slamming, bikinis twisting, heavy breasts crushing with a thick, meaty thud that makes every viewer lean in. Lana locks her arms around Sophia’s waist, lifts her clean off the ground, and slams her down onto the teak table. Plates and glasses shatter around them.
Sophia bucks like a wildcat, legs snapping around Lana’s waist, heels digging into the blonde’s ass as she fights to flip her. They roll, chairs toppling, red wine splashing across slick skin like war paint.
Mia is on her feet, laughing, goading them. “Rip her top off, Soph! Show him those big fucking udders!”
Victoria watches with a cool smile, sipping champagne like she’s at the opera.
Jade and Isabella haven’t moved. They sit side by side, calm, eyes flicking between the fight and the unmistakable bulge in Alex’s trunks.
Lana pins Sophia face-down now, grinding her cheek into the wood, wrenching one arm up behind her back. Sophia screams rage, twists enough to sink her teeth into Lana’s forearm.
Lana roars, yanks her up by the hair, spins her. They slam together again, breasts flattening, bellies slapping, hands in hair, nails carving red lines down backs, mouths hunting skin to bite.
The fight is raw, filthy, exactly what the world wants to see.
Elena’s voice slides in over the speakers,
“Well, darlings… dinner is officially over.
Let the real feast begin.”
The terrace has turned into a battlefield and the only thing still intact is Alex’s hard-on.
Lana and Sophia are locked together like they were born for this, sweat flying, curses spitting, bodies slapping wet and hard. Lana has Sophia bent backwards over the table now, one hand twisted deep in those black curls, the other ripping at the black bikini top. The fabric stretches, strains, then tears with a sharp rip that echoes off the waves below.
Sophia’s heavy breasts spill free, dark nipples hard as bullets, bouncing with every furious breath. The sight makes half the world groan out loud.
Sophia answers by driving her nails straight into Lana’s red top. Four quick claws and the bikini explodes off, Lana’s firm tits bouncing out, tan lines perfect, nipples thick and pink. They slam together again, bare chest to bare chest, breasts mushrooming against each other with a sound like meat hitting marble.
“Fucking try-hard cxnt,” Sophia snarls, face inches from Lana’s throat.
Lana laughs in her face, scratches stinging on her cheek from the earlier rakes. “Soft, spoiled bitch. I’m gonna make you cry for him.”
They hit the ground hard, rolling across broken glass and spilled wine, legs tangling, hips grinding in pure hate. Lana ends up on top, pinning Sophia’s wrists above her head, grinding her thigh between Sophia’s legs just to make her feel who’s stronger.
Sophia bridges hard, flips her, and now she’s the one on top, plush ass smothering Lana’s abs, hands going straight for the blonde’s throat.
That’s when Mia decides the night needs more fire.
She launches across the table like a red-haired missile and crashes into Victoria. Champagne flutes go flying. Victoria’s gold bikini top snaps at the strap from the impact, one perfect breast popping free before she even hits the tiles.
“You boring fucking Barbie,” Mia spits, grabbing two fistfuls of platinum hair. “Always acting like you’re above this. Let’s fix that.”
Victoria’s eyes go wide for half a second, then narrow into blue ice. She grabs Mia’s wrists, twists hard, and suddenly the little redhead is the one getting slammed down onto a lounger.
“You want to play rough, baby dyke?” Victoria hisses, voice pure venom. “I invented rough.”
She rips Mia’s green string bikini clean off in one violent yank. Mia shrieks, half rage, half thrill, and answers by raking her nails down Victoria’s thigh.
Victoria screams, beautiful and furious, and slaps Mia so hard the crack cuts through the other fight. They roll off the lounger, naked now, bodies thrashing, nails carving fresh lines down ribs and thighs.
Four women. Two wars. One terrace turning into a slaughterhouse of broken furniture and shredded swimsuits.
Alex stands frozen at the head of the table, cock straining against his trunks so hard it hurts, eyes bouncing from fight to fight like he’s watching two different apocalypses at once.
Jade and Isabella haven’t twitched.
They sit exactly where they were, wine glasses in hand, legs crossed, watching the chaos like it’s a mildly interesting documentary.
Jade leans toward Isabella just enough to murmur, “They’re going to be too bruised to fuck tomorrow.”
Isabella’s lips curve. “Good. Less competition.”
Their eyes meet, cold, respectful, already planning.
On the ground, Lana has Sophia in a schoolgirl pin, grinding her pussy down onto Sophia’s face through what’s left of both their bottoms, smothering her while she screams into wet fabric.
Sophia’s legs kick wildly, heels scraping tiles, until she manages to buck Lana off and they crash together again, tits smashing, mouths hunting necks to mark, hands clawing for hair, for leverage.
Next to them, Victoria has Mia face-down on the lounger, one knee planted between her shoulder blades, yanking her head back by the red hair while her free hand slaps that pale ass red.
Mia spits through the pain, voice raw and vicious. “That all you got, you plastic whore? I’ve had better from a fucking pillow.”
The air smells like wine, sweat, pussy, and rage.
And every screen in the world is drinking it in.
Elena’s voice drifts over the speakers again, low and filthy with satisfaction.
“Two fights, darlings. Four perfect bodies trying to destroy each other for one man who can’t even speak right now.
Enjoy the show.”
The terrace is pure carnage now, four women trying to tear each other into pieces while the world watch excitedly.
Lana has Sophia face-down across a lounger, grinding her cheek into the cushion, fist buried in those black curls. Sophia’s nails scrape for anything, legs kicking, screams muffled and wet.
By the pool Victoria has Mia in a vicious headlock, both soaked, bikinis gone, pale freckled skin and platinum hair flashing as they claw and slap like they want to die on these tiles.
Alex can only stare, cock throbbing so hard his vision pulses.
That’s when Jade and Isabella move.
They stand at the same time, no hesitation, and close in on him from both sides.
Jade slides in on his right, sleek body pressing tight. Isabella takes the left a second later, warm curves molding to him, slow and certain.
Two hands land on his thighs at the exact same moment.
Jade leans in, lips at his ear, voice low and venom. “Look at them wasting all there energy. I’d rather use every drop on you.”
Isabella’s nails drag higher, tracing the outline of his cock through the fabric with perfect precision. She kisses the corner of his mouth, slow and claiming, then murmurs, “Smart girls don’t fight in public, Alex. We fight in bed. On you. Under you. Until the only name you know is the one making you come.”
Alex’s breath stops.
They kiss him at the same time, Jade deep and ruthless, Isabella hot and open on his neck, tongues and teeth working together while their eyes stay locked over his shoulder, pure hate in the shared air.
Zero warmth. Only cold, lethal calculation.
Jade’s hand slips under the waistband first, fingers wrapping him cool and sure. Isabella’s joins immediately, overlapping, squeezing just enough to say I’m still here, bitch.
Breasts crush in from both sides, Jade’s high and hard, Isabella’s heavy and soft, nipples stiff against his arms.
“Let them bruise each other,” Isabella breathes, stroking slow while staring Jade down. “We’ll be the ones you’re still think about tomorrow.”
Jade guides his hand between her thighs, already drenched, cool and controlled, and lets him feel it.
“And when they limp in sore and sorry,” she says, thumb circling the head of his cock, “you’ll know exactly which women in this house actually win.”
Alex is leaking into their joined grip, hips jerking uselessly.
Elena’s voice slides in over the speakers, velvet and delighted.
“Well darlings… while four of our beauties are turning the terrace into a slaughterhouse, Jade and Isabella have picked a much smarter battlefield.
Cool. Controlled. Already halfway to owning the night.
I do love a woman who knows the real fight isn’t on the floor.
It’s on his cock.”
On the terrace Sophia finally flips Lana; both crash to the tiles in screaming fury.
On the bench Jade and Isabella stand together, pulling Alex up with them.
Hands still linked around his cock like a leash.
Isabella glances back once, lip curling. “Let them tear each other apart. We’ll be upstairs screaming your name.”
Jade tightens her grip. “And tomorrow, when they can’t walk straight… we’ll still be riding you raw.”
They steer him inside.
Trunks left behind.
Cock hard and wet in their hands, bobbing with every step.
Behind them Mia’s shriek cuts the night as Victoria dunks her head-first into the pool.
The master-bedroom door shuts with a soft, heavy click that cuts the chaos outside dead.
Moonlight pours in through the wall of glass. The bed is massive, built for nights exactly like this.
Jade and Isabella don’t waste breath on words.
They turn him, push him down until his knees buckle, and drop him flat on his back.
Cock straight up, already wet from the walk upstairs.
Jade moves first, always the planner. She climbs on, straddles his thighs but doesn’t sit yet. Looks at him, then at Isabella.
“Slow,” she says, voice flat. “We make him beg.”
Isabella’s smile is slow and sharp. “Or we break him so hard he never wants another woman again.”
Alex opens his mouth. “Ladies—”
“Shut up,” they say together, annoyed they agreed on anything.
Jade drops forward, black hair curtaining his face, and kisses him deep and merciless, tongue taking what she wants. Isabella goes low at the same time, mouth closing on his nipple, teeth scraping hard enough to make him jerk.
They work him like they’ve done this a hundred times, except they hate each other.
Jade’s hand wraps his cock, long, perfect strokes. Isabella’s joins half a second later, fingers overlapping, grip tightening in turns, always fighting for control, always reminding the other she’s still in the game.
Every twist Jade gives, Isabella counters. Every time Isabella slows to torture the head, Jade speeds up just to steal his moan.
They hate each other so cleanly it almost feels coordinated.
Isabella breaks first.
She slides down, tongue tracing his abs until she can lick the underside of his cock on Jade’s upstroke. Jade’s eyes flick down, narrow. She leans in too, tongue hitting the same spot on the downstroke.
Their tongues brush, once, twice, deliberate now. A third time. Fourth.
Alex groans hard, hips trying to thrust and getting nowhere.
They don’t stop. They start dueling with their mouths, tongues battling over the head, lips sealing opposite sides, cheeks hollowing in turns. One takes him deep, the other fights to take him deeper.
Elena’s voice drifts in over the live show
“Perfection, darlings. Downstairs they’re still clawing each other to pieces. Up here Jade and Isabella are sharing his cock like a hostile takeover in progress.
Place your bets on how long the truce lasts. My money’s on under ten minutes.”
Jade yanks off with a wet pop, climbs higher, straddles his chest, pins his arms under her knees.
She looks straight at Isabella.
“You want his mouth?” Sure. “Take it. But I ride his cock first.”
Isabella’s eyes blaze.
For a heartbeat it looks like she’s going to launch across him and start the real fight right there.
Instead she smiles, lethal and sweet, and crawls up to straddle his face, facing Jade.
“Deal,” she says. “But when he’s screaming into my pussy, remember you handed me that.”
Jade sinks down onto him in one ruthless drop, taking every inch like it belongs to her.
Both women hiss out sharp, filthy breaths.
Then they lock eyes and start riding, opposite rhythms on purpose: Jade rising as Isabella grinds down, Isabella circling hips while Jade slams home. Breasts swaying close, nipples almost brushing, almost weapons.
The truce is already cracking.
Alex’s muffled moans vibrate straight into Isabella’s clit.
Jade’s nails rake his thighs.
Sweat rolls, catches moonlight.
Downstairs, glass shatters again, followed by a splash and a scream.
Up here the only sounds are wet skin, ragged breathing, and two women riding him like they’re trying to hurt each other through his body.
The night is young.
And the alliance is already hanging by a thread.
They last longer than anyone downstairs would ever believe.
For forty-six minutes the master suite is pure, vicious cooperation. Jade and Isabella trade places like they’re trying to prove who can use him more thoroughly.
Isabella on his face, hips rolling slow and heavy while Jade rides him reverse, black hair loose and wild, whipping across her back with every drop. Then they switch: Jade grinding cool and merciless on his tongue while Isabella takes him deep, breasts bouncing hard enough to shake the bed.
They make him come twice: once down Jade’s throat while Isabella smothers every sound, once buried inside Isabella while Jade’s fingers work her clit like she’s trying to force an extra scream out of her rival.
It’s perfect, filthy, and completely silent except for wet skin and ragged breathing.
Then, at minute forty-seven, the crack.
Isabella reaches back to steady herself on a hard downstroke.
Her hand lands on Jade’s thigh.
Jade’s fingers snap around Isabella’s wrist like a cuff.
Everything stops.
Isabella looks back, eyes narrowing. “Problem?”
Jade’s voice is flat ice. “You’re taking too much.”
Isabella tries to laugh it off. “We’re both taking. That was the deal.”
Jade yanks.
Isabella topples sideways with a sharp hiss, cock slipping free.
Before she can roll away, Jade is on her.
Full, naked war.
They crash together on the mattress: hands ripping into hair, bodies slamming, legs tangling as they roll. Isabella snarls and slaps Jade hard across the face. Jade answers by digging nails into Isabella’s shoulder and flipping her onto her back, mounting her chest in one smooth, furious motion.
Alex scrambles up, stunned, cock still slick and aching, watching the two women who were just using him now try to tear each other apart on the same sheets.
“Get the fuck off me, you cold bitch,” Isabella spits, bucking hard, tits bouncing with every twist.
Jade leans down, hair spilling over both of them. “You don’t get him anymore to night. He’s mine!"
Isabella bridges, throws Jade off, and they roll again: breasts crushing, hips slamming in hate now. Nails rake down backs. Hair comes out in fistfuls.
They tumble off the bed, hit the carpet with a heavy thud, and the fight changes.
Legs scissor tight.
Clits find clits.
What started as a catfight turns into something wetter, meaner.
They grind hard, hips rolling in brutal circles, trying to force the other to come first, to break first, to lose first. Breath hisses through teeth. Sweat flies. Every thrust is a threat.
Isabella grabs Jade’s ass with both hands, pulling her in deeper, grinding faster. “Come for me, you frigid cxnt. Show him how weak you are.”
Jade’s answer is to slam her pussy down harder, clit dragging clit, nails digging into Isabella’s thighs. “I’ll make you scream my name before I’m done.”
They fuck like they’re trying to kill each other with pleasure.
Alex watches from the bed, cock throbbing untouched, afraid to move, afraid to breathe.
They keep going, slower and slower, hips rolling in exhausted, hateful waves, until neither can lift anymore.
Until the only motion left is the weak, involuntary twitch of overworked clits still pressed together.
They end up side by side on the carpet, legs tangled, chests heaving, slick thighs trembling.
Eyes locked wirh hate and respect.
Jade’s voice is cracked raw. “Tomorrow… I end you.”
Isabella’s answer is a weak laugh. “Looking forward to it.”
Alex collapses back on the bed, completely spent, staring at the ceiling while the two of them lie scattered on the floor.
The truce lasted forty-seven minutes.
Downstairs, the screams and crashes slowly fade into exhausted groans and the scrape of furniture being shoved back into place; four wrecked women too sore and spent to keep swinging, left only with glares and the promise of round two tomorrow.
"There you have it, viewers, the battle lines are drawn! In this mansion of luxury and lust, these women will seduce, scheme, and scrap for Alex's heart. Catfights by the pool? Sexfights in the shadows? Group tangles where bodies clash and passions ignite? Stay tuned, it's all live, unfiltered, and unavoidable in a world where every glance at a man sparks a war."
The sun is bleeding out over the Pacific, painting the terrace in hot gold, and every screen in the world is locked on the feed.
Elena has disappeared with one last wicked smile, leaving Alex alone at the head of the table with six women who already look ready to kill for the seat closest to him.
Lana takes the chair on his right first, thigh pressing his under the table, claiming territory without a word. Sophia slides in on his left a heartbeat later, heavy breast brushing his arm as she reaches for the wine, scent of coconut oil and warm skin flooding his head.
Across the table Mia’s green eyes flash trouble. She reaches for the appetizers and “accidentally” knocks over her glass. Red wine splashes across Sophia’s black bikini top, soaking the fabric until her dark nipples show clear.
“Oops,” Mia says, “Clumsy me.”
Sophia dabs at the spill slow, never breaking eye contact. “Careful, ginger. Next time it’ll be your face.”
The table goes dead quiet except for the waves crashing below.
Lana laughs low. “She’s not wrong. Some of us know how to keep a man’s attention without making a mess.”
Sophia turns her head, slow, like a queen noticing dirt on her shoe. “And some of us don’t need to flex every muscle to keep his eyes where they belong. He’s already staring at my tits, gym bunny. Deal with it.”
Lana’s chair scrapes. She stands, red bikini straining against her muscular body. “Say that again.”
Sophia rises too, slower, letting everyone watch her curves shift. “I said he’s staring at my tits. Because they’re bigger. Softer. And he’s already thinking about coming all over them while you’re busy flexing alone in the mirror.”
Alex opens his mouth, probably something useless, but Lana is already moving. Three long strides and she’s got a fistful of Sophia’s curls, yanking her head back hard.
The wine glass in Sophia’s hand explodes on the tiles.
Sophia snarls, swings, nails raking three bloody lines across Lana’s cheek. Lana hisses and shoves her. Sophia stumbles, catches herself on the table, and comes back swinging.
They crash together in the center of the terrace, bodies slamming, bikinis twisting, heavy breasts crushing with a thick, meaty thud that makes every viewer lean in. Lana locks her arms around Sophia’s waist, lifts her clean off the ground, and slams her down onto the teak table. Plates and glasses shatter around them.
Sophia bucks like a wildcat, legs snapping around Lana’s waist, heels digging into the blonde’s ass as she fights to flip her. They roll, chairs toppling, red wine splashing across slick skin like war paint.
Mia is on her feet, laughing, goading them. “Rip her top off, Soph! Show him those big fucking udders!”
Victoria watches with a cool smile, sipping champagne like she’s at the opera.
Jade and Isabella haven’t moved. They sit side by side, calm, eyes flicking between the fight and the unmistakable bulge in Alex’s trunks.
Lana pins Sophia face-down now, grinding her cheek into the wood, wrenching one arm up behind her back. Sophia screams rage, twists enough to sink her teeth into Lana’s forearm.
Lana roars, yanks her up by the hair, spins her. They slam together again, breasts flattening, bellies slapping, hands in hair, nails carving red lines down backs, mouths hunting skin to bite.
The fight is raw, filthy, exactly what the world wants to see.
Elena’s voice slides in over the speakers,
“Well, darlings… dinner is officially over.
Let the real feast begin.”
The terrace has turned into a battlefield and the only thing still intact is Alex’s hard-on.
Lana and Sophia are locked together like they were born for this, sweat flying, curses spitting, bodies slapping wet and hard. Lana has Sophia bent backwards over the table now, one hand twisted deep in those black curls, the other ripping at the black bikini top. The fabric stretches, strains, then tears with a sharp rip that echoes off the waves below.
Sophia’s heavy breasts spill free, dark nipples hard as bullets, bouncing with every furious breath. The sight makes half the world groan out loud.
Sophia answers by driving her nails straight into Lana’s red top. Four quick claws and the bikini explodes off, Lana’s firm tits bouncing out, tan lines perfect, nipples thick and pink. They slam together again, bare chest to bare chest, breasts mushrooming against each other with a sound like meat hitting marble.
“Fucking try-hard cxnt,” Sophia snarls, face inches from Lana’s throat.
Lana laughs in her face, scratches stinging on her cheek from the earlier rakes. “Soft, spoiled bitch. I’m gonna make you cry for him.”
They hit the ground hard, rolling across broken glass and spilled wine, legs tangling, hips grinding in pure hate. Lana ends up on top, pinning Sophia’s wrists above her head, grinding her thigh between Sophia’s legs just to make her feel who’s stronger.
Sophia bridges hard, flips her, and now she’s the one on top, plush ass smothering Lana’s abs, hands going straight for the blonde’s throat.
That’s when Mia decides the night needs more fire.
She launches across the table like a red-haired missile and crashes into Victoria. Champagne flutes go flying. Victoria’s gold bikini top snaps at the strap from the impact, one perfect breast popping free before she even hits the tiles.
“You boring fucking Barbie,” Mia spits, grabbing two fistfuls of platinum hair. “Always acting like you’re above this. Let’s fix that.”
Victoria’s eyes go wide for half a second, then narrow into blue ice. She grabs Mia’s wrists, twists hard, and suddenly the little redhead is the one getting slammed down onto a lounger.
“You want to play rough, baby dyke?” Victoria hisses, voice pure venom. “I invented rough.”
She rips Mia’s green string bikini clean off in one violent yank. Mia shrieks, half rage, half thrill, and answers by raking her nails down Victoria’s thigh.
Victoria screams, beautiful and furious, and slaps Mia so hard the crack cuts through the other fight. They roll off the lounger, naked now, bodies thrashing, nails carving fresh lines down ribs and thighs.
Four women. Two wars. One terrace turning into a slaughterhouse of broken furniture and shredded swimsuits.
Alex stands frozen at the head of the table, cock straining against his trunks so hard it hurts, eyes bouncing from fight to fight like he’s watching two different apocalypses at once.
Jade and Isabella haven’t twitched.
They sit exactly where they were, wine glasses in hand, legs crossed, watching the chaos like it’s a mildly interesting documentary.
Jade leans toward Isabella just enough to murmur, “They’re going to be too bruised to fuck tomorrow.”
Isabella’s lips curve. “Good. Less competition.”
Their eyes meet, cold, respectful, already planning.
On the ground, Lana has Sophia in a schoolgirl pin, grinding her pussy down onto Sophia’s face through what’s left of both their bottoms, smothering her while she screams into wet fabric.
Sophia’s legs kick wildly, heels scraping tiles, until she manages to buck Lana off and they crash together again, tits smashing, mouths hunting necks to mark, hands clawing for hair, for leverage.
Next to them, Victoria has Mia face-down on the lounger, one knee planted between her shoulder blades, yanking her head back by the red hair while her free hand slaps that pale ass red.
Mia spits through the pain, voice raw and vicious. “That all you got, you plastic whore? I’ve had better from a fucking pillow.”
The air smells like wine, sweat, pussy, and rage.
And every screen in the world is drinking it in.
Elena’s voice drifts over the speakers again, low and filthy with satisfaction.
“Two fights, darlings. Four perfect bodies trying to destroy each other for one man who can’t even speak right now.
Enjoy the show.”
The terrace is pure carnage now, four women trying to tear each other into pieces while the world watch excitedly.
Lana has Sophia face-down across a lounger, grinding her cheek into the cushion, fist buried in those black curls. Sophia’s nails scrape for anything, legs kicking, screams muffled and wet.
By the pool Victoria has Mia in a vicious headlock, both soaked, bikinis gone, pale freckled skin and platinum hair flashing as they claw and slap like they want to die on these tiles.
Alex can only stare, cock throbbing so hard his vision pulses.
That’s when Jade and Isabella move.
They stand at the same time, no hesitation, and close in on him from both sides.
Jade slides in on his right, sleek body pressing tight. Isabella takes the left a second later, warm curves molding to him, slow and certain.
Two hands land on his thighs at the exact same moment.
Jade leans in, lips at his ear, voice low and venom. “Look at them wasting all there energy. I’d rather use every drop on you.”
Isabella’s nails drag higher, tracing the outline of his cock through the fabric with perfect precision. She kisses the corner of his mouth, slow and claiming, then murmurs, “Smart girls don’t fight in public, Alex. We fight in bed. On you. Under you. Until the only name you know is the one making you come.”
Alex’s breath stops.
They kiss him at the same time, Jade deep and ruthless, Isabella hot and open on his neck, tongues and teeth working together while their eyes stay locked over his shoulder, pure hate in the shared air.
Zero warmth. Only cold, lethal calculation.
Jade’s hand slips under the waistband first, fingers wrapping him cool and sure. Isabella’s joins immediately, overlapping, squeezing just enough to say I’m still here, bitch.
Breasts crush in from both sides, Jade’s high and hard, Isabella’s heavy and soft, nipples stiff against his arms.
“Let them bruise each other,” Isabella breathes, stroking slow while staring Jade down. “We’ll be the ones you’re still think about tomorrow.”
Jade guides his hand between her thighs, already drenched, cool and controlled, and lets him feel it.
“And when they limp in sore and sorry,” she says, thumb circling the head of his cock, “you’ll know exactly which women in this house actually win.”
Alex is leaking into their joined grip, hips jerking uselessly.
Elena’s voice slides in over the speakers, velvet and delighted.
“Well darlings… while four of our beauties are turning the terrace into a slaughterhouse, Jade and Isabella have picked a much smarter battlefield.
Cool. Controlled. Already halfway to owning the night.
I do love a woman who knows the real fight isn’t on the floor.
It’s on his cock.”
On the terrace Sophia finally flips Lana; both crash to the tiles in screaming fury.
On the bench Jade and Isabella stand together, pulling Alex up with them.
Hands still linked around his cock like a leash.
Isabella glances back once, lip curling. “Let them tear each other apart. We’ll be upstairs screaming your name.”
Jade tightens her grip. “And tomorrow, when they can’t walk straight… we’ll still be riding you raw.”
They steer him inside.
Trunks left behind.
Cock hard and wet in their hands, bobbing with every step.
Behind them Mia’s shriek cuts the night as Victoria dunks her head-first into the pool.
The master-bedroom door shuts with a soft, heavy click that cuts the chaos outside dead.
Moonlight pours in through the wall of glass. The bed is massive, built for nights exactly like this.
Jade and Isabella don’t waste breath on words.
They turn him, push him down until his knees buckle, and drop him flat on his back.
Cock straight up, already wet from the walk upstairs.
Jade moves first, always the planner. She climbs on, straddles his thighs but doesn’t sit yet. Looks at him, then at Isabella.
“Slow,” she says, voice flat. “We make him beg.”
Isabella’s smile is slow and sharp. “Or we break him so hard he never wants another woman again.”
Alex opens his mouth. “Ladies—”
“Shut up,” they say together, annoyed they agreed on anything.
Jade drops forward, black hair curtaining his face, and kisses him deep and merciless, tongue taking what she wants. Isabella goes low at the same time, mouth closing on his nipple, teeth scraping hard enough to make him jerk.
They work him like they’ve done this a hundred times, except they hate each other.
Jade’s hand wraps his cock, long, perfect strokes. Isabella’s joins half a second later, fingers overlapping, grip tightening in turns, always fighting for control, always reminding the other she’s still in the game.
Every twist Jade gives, Isabella counters. Every time Isabella slows to torture the head, Jade speeds up just to steal his moan.
They hate each other so cleanly it almost feels coordinated.
Isabella breaks first.
She slides down, tongue tracing his abs until she can lick the underside of his cock on Jade’s upstroke. Jade’s eyes flick down, narrow. She leans in too, tongue hitting the same spot on the downstroke.
Their tongues brush, once, twice, deliberate now. A third time. Fourth.
Alex groans hard, hips trying to thrust and getting nowhere.
They don’t stop. They start dueling with their mouths, tongues battling over the head, lips sealing opposite sides, cheeks hollowing in turns. One takes him deep, the other fights to take him deeper.
Elena’s voice drifts in over the live show
“Perfection, darlings. Downstairs they’re still clawing each other to pieces. Up here Jade and Isabella are sharing his cock like a hostile takeover in progress.
Place your bets on how long the truce lasts. My money’s on under ten minutes.”
Jade yanks off with a wet pop, climbs higher, straddles his chest, pins his arms under her knees.
She looks straight at Isabella.
“You want his mouth?” Sure. “Take it. But I ride his cock first.”
Isabella’s eyes blaze.
For a heartbeat it looks like she’s going to launch across him and start the real fight right there.
Instead she smiles, lethal and sweet, and crawls up to straddle his face, facing Jade.
“Deal,” she says. “But when he’s screaming into my pussy, remember you handed me that.”
Jade sinks down onto him in one ruthless drop, taking every inch like it belongs to her.
Both women hiss out sharp, filthy breaths.
Then they lock eyes and start riding, opposite rhythms on purpose: Jade rising as Isabella grinds down, Isabella circling hips while Jade slams home. Breasts swaying close, nipples almost brushing, almost weapons.
The truce is already cracking.
Alex’s muffled moans vibrate straight into Isabella’s clit.
Jade’s nails rake his thighs.
Sweat rolls, catches moonlight.
Downstairs, glass shatters again, followed by a splash and a scream.
Up here the only sounds are wet skin, ragged breathing, and two women riding him like they’re trying to hurt each other through his body.
The night is young.
And the alliance is already hanging by a thread.
They last longer than anyone downstairs would ever believe.
For forty-six minutes the master suite is pure, vicious cooperation. Jade and Isabella trade places like they’re trying to prove who can use him more thoroughly.
Isabella on his face, hips rolling slow and heavy while Jade rides him reverse, black hair loose and wild, whipping across her back with every drop. Then they switch: Jade grinding cool and merciless on his tongue while Isabella takes him deep, breasts bouncing hard enough to shake the bed.
They make him come twice: once down Jade’s throat while Isabella smothers every sound, once buried inside Isabella while Jade’s fingers work her clit like she’s trying to force an extra scream out of her rival.
It’s perfect, filthy, and completely silent except for wet skin and ragged breathing.
Then, at minute forty-seven, the crack.
Isabella reaches back to steady herself on a hard downstroke.
Her hand lands on Jade’s thigh.
Jade’s fingers snap around Isabella’s wrist like a cuff.
Everything stops.
Isabella looks back, eyes narrowing. “Problem?”
Jade’s voice is flat ice. “You’re taking too much.”
Isabella tries to laugh it off. “We’re both taking. That was the deal.”
Jade yanks.
Isabella topples sideways with a sharp hiss, cock slipping free.
Before she can roll away, Jade is on her.
Full, naked war.
They crash together on the mattress: hands ripping into hair, bodies slamming, legs tangling as they roll. Isabella snarls and slaps Jade hard across the face. Jade answers by digging nails into Isabella’s shoulder and flipping her onto her back, mounting her chest in one smooth, furious motion.
Alex scrambles up, stunned, cock still slick and aching, watching the two women who were just using him now try to tear each other apart on the same sheets.
“Get the fuck off me, you cold bitch,” Isabella spits, bucking hard, tits bouncing with every twist.
Jade leans down, hair spilling over both of them. “You don’t get him anymore to night. He’s mine!"
Isabella bridges, throws Jade off, and they roll again: breasts crushing, hips slamming in hate now. Nails rake down backs. Hair comes out in fistfuls.
They tumble off the bed, hit the carpet with a heavy thud, and the fight changes.
Legs scissor tight.
Clits find clits.
What started as a catfight turns into something wetter, meaner.
They grind hard, hips rolling in brutal circles, trying to force the other to come first, to break first, to lose first. Breath hisses through teeth. Sweat flies. Every thrust is a threat.
Isabella grabs Jade’s ass with both hands, pulling her in deeper, grinding faster. “Come for me, you frigid cxnt. Show him how weak you are.”
Jade’s answer is to slam her pussy down harder, clit dragging clit, nails digging into Isabella’s thighs. “I’ll make you scream my name before I’m done.”
They fuck like they’re trying to kill each other with pleasure.
Alex watches from the bed, cock throbbing untouched, afraid to move, afraid to breathe.
They keep going, slower and slower, hips rolling in exhausted, hateful waves, until neither can lift anymore.
Until the only motion left is the weak, involuntary twitch of overworked clits still pressed together.
They end up side by side on the carpet, legs tangled, chests heaving, slick thighs trembling.
Eyes locked wirh hate and respect.
Jade’s voice is cracked raw. “Tomorrow… I end you.”
Isabella’s answer is a weak laugh. “Looking forward to it.”
Alex collapses back on the bed, completely spent, staring at the ceiling while the two of them lie scattered on the floor.
The truce lasted forty-seven minutes.
Downstairs, the screams and crashes slowly fade into exhausted groans and the scrape of furniture being shoved back into place; four wrecked women too sore and spent to keep swinging, left only with glares and the promise of round two tomorrow.
3
Members Catfight Polls! / Re: Busty Showdown BustyWhitney vs Heavytitfighting
« Last post by Heavytitfighting on Today at 04:13:43 AM »mines are fuller,firmer,with thicker bigger nipsI actually think Whitney owns this! Almost double the sizemines are fuller,firmer and with thicker bigger nips. No way to yours whore
Finally, someone with common sense x
4
Members Catfight Polls! / Re: Nasty Brawl - Mia Vs Viktoria
« Last post by Melinda (Mia) Isabella on Today at 02:11:35 AM »"Where are you, you fucking Swedish Slut??"
5
General Discussion about Catfights / Who do you find sexier....The Winner or Loser
« Last post by fighttime67 on Today at 01:59:25 AM »Who do you find the sexier woman after a vicious catfight is over? The woman laying on the ground sobbing or the woman standing over her victoriously gloating? Why?
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Catfight Web Sites & Sources / Re: Sounds like Suitefights had ANOTHER match fall through.
« Last post by Flamingo on Today at 01:46:22 AM »Add the clips for sale platform threatening to censor the genre and its a sad future for the industry.
Wish he put all the catfights on a dvd but its 2025, not 2000
Wish he put all the catfights on a dvd but its 2025, not 2000
7
Celebrity Fights- Polls / Re: Elle Fanning vs Bryce Dallas Howard: assfight
« Last post by Jen_assfighter on Today at 01:40:04 AM »I’d love to see these 2 asses doing battle. Not sure whose ass is better or who will win……I do think that Bryce Dallas will have a surprised look that her dump truck ass isn’t able to dominate.I can imagine both trying to use their asses to bulldoze the other and being shocked at the resistance they would find
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Celebrity Fights- Polls / Re: Elle Fanning vs Bryce Dallas Howard: assfight
« Last post by Jen_assfighter on Today at 01:38:54 AM »
another comparison
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Sexfighting and Titfighting / Re: If you won't
« Last post by HumanPerson on Today at 01:25:59 AM »Wow, a Fanman story in 2025.
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Catfight Art / Re: Wild West Catfight 2
« Last post by maturecatfan on Today at 12:43:05 AM »Your work is stunning the renders are amazing, skin tones are so real and the action is just epic
You made my day seeing those shots of Clara riding the back of her rival yanking her near back by her hair so damn sexy
You made my day seeing those shots of Clara riding the back of her rival yanking her near back by her hair so damn sexy
