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The whole islands population seems to have gathered watching these cats go at each other from a far distance.

Everyone in shock seeing young Erin getting more and more dominant while humilating her tatooed badass rival, walking her around like a dog and flattening her tits with her ass. It's also impressive seeing Erins tits shake on her chest while she takes the seat, seems Erins firm boobs were also softened during the fight.
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Fictional Catfight Polls! / Catfight at a party
« Last post by Links9911 on Today at 01:16:57 PM »
Who wins this catfight at a party?
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Live Action Clips / Re: Another mature ladies battle
« Last post by Amy-n-Mark on Today at 12:30:52 PM »
LUV that one!  The intensity grew quickly.  The knees earlier on were getting to her.  Some good slaps landed throughout the struggle.  And she kept going after her boobs any chance she had.  The mount....the scissors...the hair grab to control her.  All soooo sexy.  Thanks for posting.
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Catfighting / My boyfriend's cousin
« Last post by EllenShaw on Today at 10:14:18 AM »
This is the second of two stories I’m posting about Shannon Ryan’s exploits away from the NBFC. You’ll find the first one, “My first fight by Shannon Ryan” in the wrestling stories section.

This story is set at a Christmas family gathering. I know it’s not Christmas but the inspiration came to me on January 9thand I didn’t want to wait a year before sharing it. What this story is about is me introducing a new and exciting character based on FCF member NiamhEire. I hope you enjoy it Niamh.


Niamh O’Malley was a feisty 26-year-old from County Wicklow who didn’t suffer fools gladly and would let you know in no uncertain terms if she thought you’d crossed her. She had flaming red hair and big green eyes and her figure could best be described as curvy (don’t say cuddly near her if you want to live) with a shapely backside and a beautiful pair of 36DD breasts. You could say she was a bit of a babe, albeit one with attitude.

In late 2022 she moved to Londonderry to live with her boyfriend, Jack Morgan. Jack came from farming stock, the second son of dairy farmers, but worked in Londonderry for a technology company. The pair lived together in an apartment in the city and were considering the next steps in the relationship. There was still some stigma about a catholic girl marrying a protestant boy, particularly in this part of the country, but it was generally accepted these days.

For Christmas Niamh and Jack would be heading to Jack’s family home to spend a few days with his parents and brother, Tom. This would be the first time she would meet her potentially in-laws and she was, understandably nervous. They would also be joined by Jack’s aunt, Sian, and her daughter, Shannon, who were visiting from England.

Although Jack’s father, Jack senior, ran the farm it technically belonged to his mother. Siobhan Ryan had been the eldest of three daughters and, as such, the heir to her father’s farm. She had married Jack Morgan in the early 1980s and they had lived on the farm with her parents, raising two sons, Tom and Jack, ever since. When her father passed away in 2019 the farm became hers and her husband took over the day to day running of the place.

Both Siobhan and Jack senior were traditional Ulster protestants, farming land that had been passed down through the generations. Jack warned Niamh that she might find them a bit formal at first but they’d be fine once they got to know her. If it was meant to reassure her it did the exact opposite and part of her was dreading the first meeting as they drove out of the city on Christmas Eve afternoon.

On the drive to the farm Niamh quizzed Jack about his aunt and cousin but he seemed reluctant to talk about them. All he would say is:

“They live in England. On a farm in the Pennine hills. They’re a bit...different.”

How different and in what way Jack wouldn’t say but Niamh would find out soon enough. By pure coincidence they arrived at the farm just as Sian and Shannon were getting out of their taxi. Siobhan came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, before welcoming her guests.

She welcomed her sister and niece with those hugs and kisses that people reserve for guests they’re obliged to hug and kiss on arrival but would prefer not to. The body language wasn’t lost on Niamh, who also noted that cousin Shannon was an attractive brunette, with a slim, shapely figure. Her mother wasn’t bad looking either, certainly more attractive than her sister.

Siobhan’s welcome hug for Jack was far more genuine, proof that she was a doting mother, even if her son was pushing 30. Finally, the older woman’s steely gaze focussed on Niamh herself. No hug was offered but a hand was extended:

“And you must be Niamh, welcome to our humble home. Let me show you to your rooms. Now Jack and Niamh, I don’t care what you two get up to in the city but I want to make it clear that there will be no unmarried couples sleeping together under my roof. Jack, you’re sharing with your brother. Niamh, you’ll be sharing with Shannon. Sian, you’re in the box room.”

“Just like old times.” Said Sian with a chuckle. Her light hearted attempt to diffuse the tension was completely lost on her austere elder sister as she led them upstairs and pointed Niamh and Shannon to their room.

Niamh’s face said it all. Shocked, disappointed and slightly scared. She had been looking forward to cuddling up with Jack in unfamiliar surroundings. Now it looked like she’d be having a girlie night with her boyfriend’s cousin. Niamh wasn’t the girlie type and sincerely hoped Shannon wasn’t either. Talk to her too long about hair and makeup and she’d tell you to fuck off. She just prayed Shannon wouldn’t driver her nuts.

“There you go girls,” said Siobhan, ushering them into a decent sized bedroom with a wardrobe, dresser, a full-length mirror and two single beds. “The bathroom is across the hall, I expect you’d both like to freshen up. Dinner will be at 6pm”.

Left on their own the two women exchanged pleasantries, agreed on who would have which bed and unpacked. Niamh was pleased to discover that Shannon wasn’t the chatty type, in fact she seemed quite shy and subdued for a woman of her age. (Niamh hadn’t asked but put her at about 5-6 years older than herself.)

Niamh told Shannon a bit about herself and established that the brunette lived with her mother on a farm (these days more of a small holding, she said) in the Pennine Hills east of Manchester. She worked as a ranger for the National Parks Authority and, with her mother, ran the farm as a guest house for hikers and an events venue hosting wedding receptions and parties.

“I’m going to take a shower,” announced Shannon, “it’s been a long journey and I want to be fresh for aunt Siobhan and the boys.”

“Me too.” Replied Niamh.

“Do you mind if I go first?”

“Not at all.”

Shannon stripped off, wrapped herself in the towel Siobhan had left for her and headed across the hall to the bathroom. As she watched her go, Niamh remember the words “aunt Siobhan and the boys” and suddenly wondered if the brunette also had designs on her boyfriend?

She put the thought out her mind, finished unpacking, stripped off, neatly laying her clothes, including a lacey red bra and thong set and a red Santa hat she’d bought with her to get her in a festive mood, on the bed and wrapped a towel around herself.

A few minutes later Shannon reappeared with a cheery cry of “Bathroom’s free” and it was Niamh’s turn to cross the hall and enjoy a refreshing shower. 

Ablutions over, Niamh wrapped a towel around herself and made her way back to the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar and she could hear Shannon, singing softly to herself, inside. She gently pushed open the door, stepped into the room and stopped dead in shock. Standing in the middle of the room, admiring herself in the mirror, was Shannon wearing nothing but Niamh’s Santa hat and her lacey red thong.

“Oh, hi Niamh,” said Shannon, surprised, “I hope you don’t mind me…”

“You fucking cow!” screamed Niamh, dropping the towel launching herself at the brunette. “What the fuck are you doing wearing my fucking knickers.”

“I didn’t realise you wore them for fucking.” Said Shannon as Niamh clattered into her, knocking her back against the wardrobe. As she spoke Shannon drove a knee between the redhead’s legs.

Niamh groaned but then slapped Shannon’s face and punched her in the belly. The brunette doubled up as Niamh stepped back and retorted:

“Whether I fuck in them or not is none of your business, I don’t want your smelly arse in my pants.”

Shannon swung a right hook that connected with Niamh’s jaw and sent her staggering into the dresser.

“My arse isn’t smelly, I just washed it, remember? Although I admit my pussy might have been a bit wet, I get off on wearing other girls’ knickers.”

That earner her another slap as the redhead steadied herself and attacked again, grabbing the brunette and wrestling her down onto her bed.

“Bitch! I suppose you’d like to try my bra on as well?”

“No thanks, there’s no way I’d fit into that melon basket – how big are your tits?”

“Big enough to smother you with, you flat  chested cxnt!”

For the next few minutes, they fought like tigers for domination. Niamh on top, gripping Shannon’s wrists, pressing her body down on the smaller woman and pushing her big breasts into her face, trying to force her to submit. Shannon bucking, thrusting and twisting her hips, trying with all her might to topple the auburn-haired beauty off her.

Eventually Shannon succeeded, tipping them sideways so that they fell to the floor between the two beds. Now it was Shannon on top straddling Niamh’s belly with redhead lying on her back on the carpet. Shannon buried her hands in Niamh’s hair and began banging her head on the floor.

Niamh reached up and grabbed hold of Shannon’s breasts. Squeezing them until the brunette stopped banging her head. Shannon screamed. Her hands went from Niamh’s auburn tresses to her wrists, frantically trying to remove the younger woman’s claws from her tits.

If anyone heard the commotion, they chose to ignore it. Niamh later reasoned that Siobhan was probably catching up with her sister over a cup of tea at the other end of the house while Jack was out in the barn helping is father and brother with the milking.

Unable to prise Niamh’s hands from her tits, Shannon bounced her bum repeatedly on the redhead’s belly, driving the wind out of her until she released her grip. Shannon came to a crouch and stepped back; her breasts reddening and her body poised for action. Niamh shook her head to clear the cobwebs and pulled herself into a sitting position between the beds. She stated at Shannon for a moment, placed a hand on each bed and pushed herself up to standing, her eyes never leaving the brunette, crouched at the other end of the bed.

Shannon launched herself at the redhead, intent on slamming her back against the wall, but Niamh had anticipated the move and, although she had nowhere to go, she was prepared. As the brunette lunged forward, she raised her right knee slightly.

Shannon slammed into Niamh, shoving her back against the wall and cracking the back of her head. At the same time Niamh’s knee came up and impacted with Shannon’s pubic bone. Shannon gasped and staggered backwards. Niamh charged forward, clattering the brunette back into the door, driving a fist into her belly for good measure.

As Shannon folded forward Niamh stepped to one side, grabbed her arm and spun her face first into the wardrobe. Shannon staggered back, dazed from the impact but, mercifully, unbloodied. Niamh caught her, lifted her in the air and slammed her down on a bed before jumping on top of her.

Niamh pushed the brunette back on the bed, straddled her and pressed her big boobs into Shannon’s face. Shannon slapped frantically at Niamh’s shoulders as she felt her air supply being cut off. The redhead pushed herself up slightly. Shannon voice sounded faintly, muffled by the 36DDs in her face. Niamh pushed up a bit more:

“What did you say, bitch.”

“I’m sorry Niamh,” sobbed Shannon, “please let me up. I promise I’ll wash your pants for you.”

“You damned well better,” replied Niamh, “Now get them off.”

She sat back on her haunches, straddling the brunette’s legs, as a tearful and dishevelled Shannon frantically shimmied the thong down her thighs. She lifted her bum and rocked forward onto her hands and knees, dangling her tits in Shannon’s face, as the brunette kicked the offending garment to the floor. Sweat dripped from her nipples onto Shannon’s cheeks, mingling with her own tears.

“Thanks to you I’m going to need another shower. But first I think we both need a rest.”

With that she rolled off the brunette and laid down next to her.

“You know, Shannon, you’re not a bad fighter.”

“You’re no slouch yourself.” The brunette replied.

“What would you know about it?”

“More than you can imagine.”

For a moment they lay next to each other, chests heaving and soaked in the sweat of battle and then Niamh asked the question that had been burning in her mind since she arrived at the farm.

“Shannon, why do I feel like I’ve gone back half a century in time? Why do I feel like I’m not wanted here?”

“Aunt Siobhan is rather old school I’m afraid. She grew up during the troubles and she’s spent her whole life on this farm, living in the shadow of her parents.”

“And what about you and your mum?”

“We’re a lot more liberally minded, me in particular. Mum left Ireland in the early 80s and I’ve never lived here. It’s only in the last few years, since my grandparents died, that we’ve started coming back. I grew up English, without the influences of the past. Whatever aunt Siobhan thinks, I really like you, and your knickers.”

As she spoke Shannon lifted her right hand and placed it gently on Niamh’s left breast. The redhead didn’t protest. For a moment more they lay silent and then Shannon spoke:

“Niamh,” She said as she slowly walked her fingers off Niamh’s breast and down the redhead’s belly to her pubic thatch, “I’m a lesbian and so is my mum.”

“What the fuck! Where did you come from? Are you an immaculate fucking conception?”

“No silly, mum had a one-night stand once and I was the result.”

With that her fingers found what they were looking for and slipped into a warm, wet, inviting snatch.
Niamh gasped but, before she could cry out, Shannon kissed her full on the lips.

When she could breathe again Niamh gently pulled Shannon’s fingers out of her pussy and rolled back on top of her. This time breast to breast and pussy to pussy. She looked the brunette in the eye and said:

“So, what about your dad?”

“I never knew him. The person I think of as dad is a woman.”

“What!”

“The night I was born there was a blizzard. Mum was at our farm in the hills. She went into labour but the ambulance couldn’t get through. I was delivered by a 21-year-old girl who had walked into mum’s farm three months earlier looking to stay one night and never left. Mum said Terri was a lost angel who found her true home and purpose with us. I owe Terri my very existence and I love her so much.”

Shannon started sobbing uncontrollably, Niamh rolled off her and hugged her close, mumbling soothing words until the older woman sniffed back her tears.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do,” replied Niamh, “love.”

With that she kissed Shannon and her hands began to explore the brunette’s body. Shannon responded in kind. Fingers caressed breasts and found their way into wet, inviting pussies. Nipples were licked and ears nibbled. After a few moments both women climaxed and lay, exhausted again, in post-coital bliss.

“Shannon?”

“Yes, Niamh.”

“That was my first time with a woman.”

“I hope you enjoyed it, I’d like to think it’s not our last.”

They lapsed into silence again for a while until Shannon spoke again:

“I should warn you, Niamh, Aunt Siobhan doesn’t like you very much.”

“I got that impression, but why not?”

“Old habits die hard, I guess. You’re a catholic, you’re a southerner and you’re sleeping with her son when you’re not married to him.”

“Fuck’s sake! What would she make of us if she walked in now?”

“Niamh! Don’t tempt fate. Aunt Siobhan doesn’t even know mum’s gay, let alone her only niece.”

“Okay, but can we do it again?”

“Yes, but not now. Later, after everyone’s gone to bed. Right now, let’s get a shower before they start looking for us.”

With that Shannon grabbed her towel and flounced out the room and across the corridor to the bathroom. Naimh lay back on the bed, the sense of a warm glowing filling her body. Whatever the weekend threw at her she knew she now had a friend to turn to.

Over the next few days Naimh and Shannon became firm friends and, while they didn’t fight again, they did enjoy some clandestine exploration of each other’s bodies. 

On Tuesday morning they lay together in one of the single beds enjoying a final cuddle. Niamh and Jack would be returning to the city in a few hours as they both had work the next day. Shannon and her mother would be heading to Armagh to visit her other aunt before flying back to Manchester. For Niamh it was time to ask the question that had been bothering her since they had arrived at the farm.

“Shannon, when Jack said you and your mum were ‘different’ is this what he meant? Just that you were gay? Or is there more to it than that?  Jack’s a fairly broadminded guy, why didn’t he just say you were gay?”

“Maybe. Maybe it was just that we’re more English than Irish. But he’s right, we are different, in ways that he wouldn’t dream of.”

“Ooh, pray tell, what makes you different? It’s not your body, is it? I mean that’s perfect but it’s not different, is it?”

“It’s more what I do with it…”

“Are you lap dancer or something?”

“No! Don’t be silly!”

“What then?”

“Niamh – the other day you said I wasn’t a bad fighter. Do you fight a lot?”

“Well, I’ve had a fair few fights in my time. I’m hot tempered, I guess. I tend to lose my rag a lot.”

“I know, you got pretty mad about me trying on your knickers.”

“Well, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know, no one’s ever tried my knickers on. Apart from mum obviously, and Terri, oh, and Carole and Helen, and Paige, and Jade, and Katie, and…”

“Uncle Tom Cobbly and all?” For fuck’s sake Shannon, do you share your underwear with everyone?”

“No, only the women I fight with.”

“WHAT!!!!”

“Niamh, have you ever fought for pleasure? Just for the hell of it? To show you’re a better woman? Against someone who asked you or challenged you?”

“A few times when I was younger. School friends when we were teenagers, a couple of girls at college, that sort of thing – where is this going Shannon?”

“Mum and I fight other women. Naked. In a barn at our farm. Mum’s been doing it for years. Ever since I can remember. Not always at the barn, other places as well. I’ve been fighting other women regularly since I was 18 – mum wouldn’t let me fight before that.”

“But she let you watch her fight?”

“Yes, ever since I was kid, we used to go to this place down in Gorton. There was a room where we took our clothes off and another with a ring where the ladies used to fight. The place closed down so now we hold the fights at the farm.”

“Sorry, let me get this straight. You and your mum are gay, you fight other women, naked and for fun, in a barn on your mum’s farm. Are all the other women gay?”

“No, some are gay but most are bi-sexual – like you, my darling.”

“I’m not bi-sexual!”

“No? So why have you got your fingers in my snatch? No, don’t stop. You’re rubbing me just the right way.”

They lapsed into silence, punctuated by moans and groans, as their fingers worked their magic on each other’s most sensitive parts. They climaxed simultaneously and lay on the bed slowly coming down from that natural high. Eventually Shannon spoke:

“Niamh? Have you ever fought in a ring?”

Niamh murmured her reply: “No, never.”

“Would you like to? Would you like to come to our farm and fight in our barn?”

Niamh kissed her full on the lips and replied:

“Shannon, I thought you’d never ask.”

To be continued…

If you enjoyed this story check out my other stories about Shannon, her mum, myself and many others. You’ll find them all over the stories section of FCF (I think there are around 100 now).

Please remember to like my stories if you enjoy them – it makes me feel wanted.

Love,

Ellen xxx

5
Wrestling / My first fight - by Shannon Ryan
« Last post by EllenShaw on Today at 10:10:36 AM »
I’m taking a break from my chronology while I wrestle with another bout of writer’s block and have turned to Shannon Ryan for inspiration. This is the first of two Shannon stories and tells of her first proper fight as a teenager.

You’ll find the second story, a more recent adventure, in the catfight section with the title “My boyfriend’s cousin”.

If you enjoy these stories leave a like and a comment. It’s not much to ask and it keeps me going.

Love to all,

Ellen xxx


I was raised to be a fighter. My mum was a fighter. She wrestled other women naked in a ring and, for as long as I can remember, she took me along to watch. I always knew I’d be in the ring one day and that I would love it.

I was the daughter of a lesbian, surrounded by women and, at mum’s wrestling club (the Naked Bitches Fighting Club or NBFC), naked women at that. Unsurprisingly I grew up a lesbian myself. It’s not that I don’t like guys, it’s just that they don’t turn me on like girls do.

When I was fourteen, mum started teaching me some of her wrestling moves. We practiced at home in the snug of our farm house. We always wrestled naked. I love my mum and she loves me and I’m not ashamed to admit that, sometimes, our little sparring sessions got a bit intimate – but that’s another story. By the time I’d turned sixteen I was openly gay and desperate to get into the ring to fight (and fornicate) with other women.

The only problem was that mum wouldn’t let me fight at her club until I was eighteen. I begged and pleaded with her but she wouldn’t be swayed. I was a typical moody teenager: mum hates me, the world hates me, well I’ll show her, I’ll show them, I’ll find someone to fight and make love to, you see if I don’t.

Sandy was a young wrestler at mum’s club. At the time she would have been 21 or 22. She had black hair, cut short in a pageboy style and beautiful, full, C cup breasts (mine were still forming at that stage and I was barely an A cup). As a fighter she was competent but not brilliant, she probably lost more fights than she won, and she was openly gay. When she wrestled, she did her best to turn her opponents on. One night I actually watched her make another woman, an older blonde called Angie, cum in the ring. She seemed an ideal first opponent for a rookie like me.

I’ll admit that I had a crush on Sandy, I thought she was incredibly sexy. I didn’t just want to fight her; I wanted to fuck her as well. But, like most teenage girls, I was shy and it took me ages to pluck up the courage to speak to her. When I finally did, one night at the club while mum was chatting to some of the other women, the conversation went something like this:

Me: “Sandy…um…I think you’re beautiful and a great wrestler…I love watching you fight.”

Sandy: “Why thank you Shannon, I do love fighting the girls here.”

Me: “Sandy…”

Sandy: “Yes, Shannon?”

Me: “Would you fight me?”

Sandy: “Of course I would, but you don’t fight, do you?”

Me: “Mum won’t let me. She says I have to be eighteen to fight here.”

Sandy: “Oh! That’s a bit harsh. I started fighting when I was sixteen. How old are you, Shannon?”

Me: “I was seventeen last month. I’m desperate to fight someone. I think it’s in my genes. I can’t wait another year. I need to fight someone now.”

Sandy: “Well, if your mum says ‘no’ we obviously can’t fight here, but maybe we can work something out. Leave it with me, I’ll give it some though and let you know when see you next month.”

I didn’t say I wanted to fuck her there and then but I later discovered that she’d been watching me and had decided she wanted to fuck me as well.

True to her word, as we changed back into our street clothes after the next NBFC meeting she took me to one side, pressed a piece of paper in my hand and said:

“Come round after college next Thursday, we can fight at my flat.”

If you’re looking forward to an account of some sexy teen stripping off her school uniform in an older woman’s living room then I’m sorry to disappoint you. At seventeen I was already something of an independent woman. I was a student at Buxton college. I had a small motorbike to get me there and back and, at mum’s insistence, a full set of motorcycle leathers.

On Thursday morning in late May I told mum I’d be staying later at college and would be home around 7:30. She was fine with that; I was involved in a couple of student clubs so it happened from time to time. What she didn’t know was that on this particular May evening I was looking to join a different sort of club.

I wanted to make an impression with Sandy so, after college finished, I went to the ladies to change before getting on the bike and heading down the A6. The girl who knocked on the door of Sandy’s ground floor flat in an old Victorian house in Chapel-en-le -Frith was wearing motorcycle leathers – and nothing else.

Sandy met me at the front door in a bathrobe and quickly ushered me into her living room. She closed the door behind us and, before I had a chance to do anything, knelt before me, allowing her robe to fall open exposing her naked body, and unzipped my leathers.

Whether she had anticipated my nakedness I can’t say but she murmured “sweet”, pushed the leather aside and began kissing and caressing my tiny tits. I gasped as my nipples went hard. Her right hand pulled the zip of my leathers down and slipped inside to caress my pussy. The sensation was electric. Before we got too carried away, I reminded myself why we were here. Cupping her chin in my hands I guided Sandy’s mouth away from my right nipple and gently tilted her face up to look at me.

“Are we fighting or fucking?” I asked.

“Both, I hope,” she replied, “which would you like to do first?”

“Let’s fight! It’ll make fucking nicer after I beat you.”

“You wish, you’ll be eating my pussy before you know it.”

With that she got to her feet and shrugged off her robe, revealing her shapely, tanned body. I took my boots off and slipped out of my leathers. She’d already moved the furniture back and put down a few mats for us to grapple on. The room wasn’t exactly large and, with the furniture pushed back, we probably had a space about 7 or 8 feet square to wrestle in. Not the amount of space you’d get in a ring but enough for a close quarters struggle.

I noticed she had a camcorder set up on a tripod in the corner of the room.

“Are you going to film us fighting?” I asked.

“Only if you want me to and only for us to watch.”

“Oh, yes please, I’d love to watch our fight with you.”

She walked over to the camcorder and switched it on. Then we stood on opposite corners of the mats she’d laid out; both slightly crouched with arms wide ready to grapple. Sandy laid out the rules:

“As this is your first fight we’ll make it a single fall, five count pin or submission. No biting, choking or gouging and no punches or ripping each other’s hair out. Okay? Are you ready?”

I nodded and she said: “Go!”

We stepped towards each other and locked up, shoulder and elbow, pro-style but for our nudity. For a few seconds we struggled for supremacy, breast to breast, nipple to nipple – God, she was even sexier than I had imagined. But then mum’s training kicked in, I hooked my right foot behind her left ankle and took us to the mat with me on top. She tried to twist out from under me and I quickly switched my hold to a side headlock, still lying on top of her, my pussy rubbing her thigh.

I wrapped my left arm around her throat. She tried it away but then snaked her own left hand down my body and stuck two fingers into my pussy. Shocked by the move I relaxed my hold and she rolled us both over, twisting her body as she did so, so that she ended on top of me, pinning me down with our hands interlocked.

We were definitely fighting now. She tried apply a grapevine but I got my left leg free, bought my knee up and drove it into her pussy. She groaned and I rolled us both over again. I was now on top, staring down at her and pinning her arms to the mat while my left knee pressed down on her pussy.

Panting for breath I counted: “One!...Two!...Three!...Fuck!”

Her right knee slammed into my cxnt, pushing me forward. I let go of her hands as my tits crashed into her face. Suddenly her arms were around me with her hot breath on my nipples as she squeezed my middle.

I tried to push up but she just squeezed harder, so I rolled us both sideways. Ending up with her on top but with my legs scissoring her waist. She released the hold on my middle and knelt up, trying to prise my legs apart as I did my best to squeeze her belly.

Unable to force my legs apart she reached down between my thighs with her right hand and grabbed hold of my clit. That was enough for me to loosen my grip and, before I knew it, she’d slipped her arms under my legs and folded me up, my ankles on her shoulders as she pressed down for the pin.

Now it was her turn to count: “One!...Two!... Whoa!”

I kicked out with all of my might and she flew backward, banging her head on the floor.

I sat up and stared at her prone form, legs apart and pussy towards me, mesmerised for a moment. She pushed herself up onto her elbows and started back at me. Without a word we both came to our knees and reached for each other, locking fingers in a trial of strength. Slowly, inexorably, we shuffled forwards until our bodies were pressed together. Pussy to pussy, breast to breast and, ultimately, lips to lips as I kissed her passionately. I was breathing hard, both from the physical exertion and the sexual urges I was feeling. My pussy was soaking and I could feel my juices, and perhaps hers as well, running down my legs. To my surprise she pulled her head back and whispered:

“Fighting first, fucking later.”

I smiled and nodded, momentarily relaxing. And a moment was all it took. She pushed forward, forcing my down on my back, my knees still bent and my heels under my bum. She pressed my hands to the mat and began counting again:

“One!...Two!...Three!...Four!...Nooo!”

In the nick of time, I managed to free my legs, wrap them around her waist and roll us to one side. For a moment I held her there, trapped between my thighs. But then she rolled us back again, coming to her knees and then her feet with me still dangling from her waist. 

Unsure what she was planning to do next I decided to retreat, releasing my scissors and rolling backwards to come to my feet. I was just in time for her to grab me by the neck and stick my head between her thighs. She wrapped her arms around my waist and lifted my feet off the mats, staggering forward as she hoisted me, inverted, into the air.

Anticipating a body slam of some kind I flailed wildling and succeeded in toppling her backward. She landed on the mat with me on top of her, knocking the wind out of her. Before she had a chance to react, I got to my knees and straddled her, bum on her boobs and knees on her shoulders, pressing her down to the mat. She bucked frantically, trying to throw me off, and screamed:

“Get off me you little bitch!”

But it was no use. I was perfectly positioned for the pin. I bounced my bum on the pillows of her tits and giggled as I counted:

“One!...Two!...Three!...Four!...Five!...Yes! Pin to me!”

“Okay, Shannon,” She said, “well done, you win. That’ll teach me not to be over ambitious.”

I’d won my first fight, now it was time to claim my prize. I shuffled forward, releasing Sandy’s shoulders and grabbing a couple of handfuls of hair. I pulled her face close to my pussy and relished her hot breath on my labia.

“Lick my clit.” I commanded, and Sandy obliged, quickly bringing me to orgasm in what seemed like moment – my first time with another girl.

Still pinning her to the mat I swung around, pushing my bum into her face. Then I leaned forward as she spread her legs and returned the favour by licking her soaking pussy until she squealed her climax. She was already licking me again and I wasn’t long behind her.

We lay together for a few minutes in that sixty-nine position, me on top and her underneath, faces buried in each other’s crotches until Sandy murmured: “bedroom”

We got to our feet and Sandy turned the camcorder off. Then we retreated to her bed for a full-on fondling and feeling session. By 6 o’clock we were exhausted and lay on her bed in a state of bliss.

“Would you like to watch us fight?” She asked.

I nodded and she disappeared into the living room, returning seconds later with the camcorder, which she plugged into the AV port of the small TV at the foot of her bed. On the tiny screen we watched our struggle unfold in front of the watchful eye of Sandy’s camcorder.

By today’s standards it’s a pretty crap video we’re not always in shot and even when we are you can’t see much of the action but back then I was enthralled. I loved watching us in action and I’ll be honest; I still have a copy I occasionally watch today.

Needless to say, watching the video got us both turned on again and another round of lovemaking followed. By now it was starting to get late and I needed to be heading home.

At Sandy’s suggestion I grabbed a quick shower, reluctantly washing her scent off my body, before getting dressed under her watchful eye (this time I put my jeans, t-shirt, knickers and socks on under my leathers. Then I got on the bike and rode back to the farm, just in time for supper as I’d promised mum.

We fought (and made love) twice more at Sandy’s place and then, through the assistance of another club member, Kelly, Sandy secured the use of a school gym during the school summer holidays. There we could fight on mats without restrictions. I enjoyed the sensation of being able to throw another girl around and looked forward to doing it in the ring in the near future. Each fight became longer and more intense, sometimes I won and sometimes she did but every time the sex afterwards was as intense as the fight action.

Kelly was a slightly older girl, who acted as our referee at the school gym. She fought Sandy there a couple of times but refused to fight me:

“Because your mum wouldn’t like it.”

But she later admitted she’d told her aunt Mitzi, another club fighter and a friend of mum’s, about what we were up to. Whether Mitzi told mum what I was up to I’ll never know but, inevitably, she found out and, when she did, she was livid. We had our first proper fight at home and she certainly taught me a thing or two. Then, when I finally turned eighteen, she got me in the ring in front of all our friends and did it all over again.

In between times she challenged Sandy to a fight “to protect our family honour”. Well, you certainly showed her didn’t you mum? At least you would have done if she hadn’t trapped you in a choke hold while fingering you to orgasm. Way to go mum, fucked unconscious by your daughter’s girlfriend. It certainly gave me a thrill.

My first time in the ring was, as I’ve said, against mum. I can still recall her words to the ladies of the NBFC on that evening in March 2007.

“Ladies, a few days ago my darling daughter Shannon turned 18 and she is now eligible to fight with us here at the NBFC. I raised her to be a fighter and I think it’s only fair that she loses her fighting virginity to me so, unless there are any objections, I propose that our first fight this evening is between Shannon and myself.”

I caught Sandy’s eye and gave her an expression of WTF, she smiled back sweetly. Fighting virginity be damned, I’d been fighting for almost a year. I’ll show you mum!

But, of course, I didn’t. Like most teenagers I thought I knew it all but I knew nothing about ring craft and using the ropes and corner posts. Mum was also a lot more aggressive than Sandy and used power moves like body slams and clotheslines that I simply hadn’t experienced before. She punished me in front of the whole club, although only the three of us (and possibly Kelly and Mitzi) knew why.

For 15 minutes she made me her rag doll, throwing me around the ring, until I couldn’t take any more and was counted out – not the result I wanted from my first official fight.

As you can probably guess, my relationship with Sandy didn’t last too long. She had a thing going with Kelly and she wasn’t interested in spending her time hanging out with a teenager like me. I was soon off to Uni, where my eyes were opened even wider.

Mum and I have long since made up and I love her to bits. We fought once more at the NBFC, when I was 21, and I won. Since then, we have only ever stepped into the ring as tag team partners. Kelly moved south and went to fight at mum’s old club, CLAWS. Sandy is now in her late thirties and continues to fight with us at the NBFC and, from time to time, at her place (although she’s moved and has a bigger apartment now). I still beat her more often than she beats me. She remains one of my favourite opponents and is still my occasional lover.

I’ve attached a couple of photos to this story, one of me on Sandy at the end of our first fight and one of me in the ring in our barn more recently.

If you’d like to read more about Shannon Ryan’s exploits away from the farm, check out my story “My boyfriend’s cousin” in the catfight section.

Please remember to like my stories – it makes me feel wanted.

Love,

Ellen xxx
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FFF976 - In Control - Epiphany Jones fights back against dom Gabriella Knight

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Catfighting / Re: Therapy Session (Part 11)
« Last post by Duexb1 on Today at 10:06:36 AM »
Great story. Still hoping this might get sexual...a sexfight.
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Producer Announcements / FFF976 - Melissa's Domination
« Last post by FEMMEFIGHT on Today at 10:01:58 AM »
FFF976 - Melissa's Domination

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9
APL
Hot. Intense. Uncensored.

Out Now: Peyton v. Sunni

“Take All the Frustration Out!”

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Members Catfight Polls! / Re: SexiestTeenDanielle vs. SexyKiara
« Last post by Nataliefightsyou on Today at 09:20:21 AM »
Danielle had gotten this
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