Backwoods fist fight between BustyBrawlerBethany and Brittany Busty

[RowdyOldMan]

Bethany has just finished leaving Lucy in a heap after their brawl and has been recovering at the estate. Brittany  arrives at the estate for a party and sees Bethany and starts to taunt and threaten her. Bethany is still bruised from her last fight but her pride won't let her back down and I have my security corral them and take them out to the woods where there is a a clearing they can fight and no one will bother them.

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[BrittanyBusty]

I hear her boots in the leaves before I see her, and I am already moving. Bethany comes down the bank like the clearing is hers, platinum hair loose, black bikini top fighting those 34MMMs, daisy dukes cut so high the pockets hang out, low hiking boots planted in the dirt. I am in the gray tank, thin enough that one deep breath would spill me, shorts just as short, laces tight. Same age. Same size. Same record. I do not care.

She opens her mouth. I do not let her finish.

I step in and I crack her with a straight right, the heavy one I throw on the bag when I am mad, flush on the cheek. Her head snaps. I do not admire it. I hook the body, short and mean, right up under the tit, and I feel the air leave her. She reaches for my hair. I rake first. Nails from her collarbone up the side of her neck, four lines that open and bead, then I get a fistful of that platinum at the roots and I yank. She comes forward whether she wants to or not. I drive my knee up into her face. Once. Hard. Her lip splits on it. Blood hits my leg. A clump of hair stays in my hand when I shove her off.

She stumbles toward the stream and I am on her before she sets her feet. I punch her in the mouth on the way in. She eats it and answers with a hook that thuds into my ribs under the tank. Air leaves me. I do not give her the clinch she wants. I claw across her chest, nails catching the edge of the bikini, and I rip sideways. The cup twists. She snarls and grabs my tank with both hands and tries to sling me. I let the fabric go tight, then I uppercut her while she is holding it. Her teeth click. I get the neckline in my own fist and I tear down. The tank splits straight through the middle. My chest spills out into the open, heavy, scratched, and I use the torn half still in my hand to slap her across the face before I throw it in the leaves.

Now I can swing free.

I walk her backward into the mud at the edge of the water. She tries to boot me. I catch the low hiking boot on my thigh, eat the bruise, and I punish her for it. Right hand, cheek. Right hand, the soft spot under the eye. Left hook downstairs that folds her over those tits. She covers and I switch to the chest, mean short shots that make them jump and her breath catch. She rakes my face. Four lines open on my cheek. Hot. I taste blood from my nose and I smile through it, because she is already bleeding worse. I grab the tie of that bikini top at her neck and I yank until the knot gives. It snaps. I tear the rest of it down off her. She is bare from the waist up in the creek light, same as me now, and I do not give her a second to cover.

I punch her in the mouth again. The lip opens wider. Blood strings into the shallows when I shove her.

She bulls me. I will give her that. Shoulder in my gut, both of us going down in the wet leaves, her knee trying to find my ribs. I roll with it, get a boot under me, and I come up with both hands in her hair. I do not punch yet. I hold her head and I walk her, stumbling, half-blind, straight into the nearest tree. Her back hits bark. I keep the hair with my left, cranked down so she cannot stand tall, and I go to work with my right. Cheek. Cheek. Nose. The hinge of her jaw. She covers her face and I hammer the body, then the chest, then the face again when her elbows drop. A fistful of blonde comes away when she tries to twist out. I slam the side of her head into the bark. Once. Again. She screams and claws my ribs, nails digging, trying to find an eye. I jerk back just enough and I knee her in the gut until she folds.

We break because she fires a wild elbow that clips my ear and the world tilts. I let her go on purpose. I want to see her stand.

She does. Topless, shorts soaked, one boot caked in mud, face already a mess, chest scratched raw, hair half out of whatever it was. She spits a red string into the leaves and raises her hands. I spit blood of my own and I raise mine. My tank is a rag somewhere behind me. My knuckles are split. My nose is leaking down my lip. I do not wipe it.

"Come on," I tell her.

I do not wait for her to decide. I charge. We clinch and it is ugly, the way I like it. Elbows inside. Knees. I stomp her boot and feel her buckle. She rakes my thigh and tries to rip the button off my shorts. I let her have the button. I get both hands back in her hair, crank her head down, and I drive a knee up into her face. Once. Twice. Something in her nose gives on the second one. She sags and still swings, a hook that catches me on the ear I already hate. I shove her off, two steps, and we are in the open again with the stream loud beside us.

She is hurt. She is not done. Neither am I.

I measure her. She is breathing through her mouth. One eye is puffing. The bikini is gone. The daisy dukes are twisted. The low boot on her left is loose from the stomp. I am cut, topless, shorts hanging open on one side, and my hands want the bag. She is the bag now. I step in to crack her again, right down the pipe, and I am not finished with her. Not even close. Yt

[BustyBrawlerBethany]

She tells me to come on like she already has me folded. She does not.

I eat the step-in. I have to. That right is heavy and it lands on the cheek she already split, and my head rings, but I am still on my feet in these low boots and I am not the bag. I get inside the next one. My forehead hits her broken nose and I feel it give again. She roars. I rake. Nails down the cut on her cheek, then across her chest, deep enough that she jerks and those 34MMMs jump. While she is busy with the pain I grab the open waistband of her daisy dukes with both hands and I rip. The button is already gone. The zipper screams. I yank them down off her hips to mid-thigh and I shove her backward so she has to fight her own shorts.

She stumbles. I do not let her fix them.
I boot her in the thigh, the meat of it, hard enough that her knee dips, and I follow her down toward the mud. She tries to claw my eyes on the way. I turn my face, take the nails on the scalp instead, and I drive her into the wet leaves with my shoulder in her gut. We hit. I come up straddling her, shorts trapped around her legs, chest bare, face a mess, and I punch down. Right on the mouth. Left on the swelling eye. Right again on the hinge of her jaw. Each one knocks her head into the dirt. Blood from her nose smears my knuckles. She bucks. I stay heavy on her and I hit her in the chest, mean and flat, until her breath breaks.

She gets a hand in my hair. Good. I want her hands busy.

I pin that wrist with my knee, lean down, and I bite her shoulder until she screams and lets go. Then I grab a fistful of her blonde at the roots and I slam the side of her head into the ground. Once. Again. Leaves stick to the blood on her cheek. She claws my ribs, finds the waist of my own shorts, tries to roll me. I allow half the roll so I can knee her in the body on the way through, then I take the top again and I yank her head up by the hair so I can speak into her wrecked face.

"Fourteen and oh," I tell her. "Not anymore."

I drop her head and I hammer. She covers. I punch through the cover, into the forearms, into the cut eye when it peeks out. She bridges hard and almost throws me. I catch myself on a hand in the mud, and she gets a knee up into my gut that folds me for a second. I pay her for it. I grab her ankle, the loose boot, and I twist until she has to turn with it or lose the knee. She turns. I drag her two feet toward the stream by that boot, her shorts still tangled, her back scraping roots, and when she kicks free I am already there.

I catch her by the hair as she tries to stand and I walk her into the shallows. Cold water to our knees. She swings wild and clips my ear. I eat it. I answer with an elbow across her mouth that splits the lip wider, then another, then I hold the back of her neck and I punch her in the body until she doubles over my arm. Her tits press into me, slick with creek water and blood. I do not care. I knee up into them. She gags on it. I yank her head back up and I look at her. One eye half shut. Nose crooked. Mouth red. Still snarling.
Good.

I want the snarl gone.

I shove her at the bank and she catches herself on the same stump she put me into earlier. Mistake. I am on her back before she can turn all the way around. I get an arm around her throat, not clean, just muscle and hate, and I punch the side of her head with the free hand. Knuckles on skull. Again. She claws my forearm, nails digging trenches, and she stomps my boot. I tighten and I keep hitting. She slams an elbow into my ribs and the hold breaks. I let it break. I want my hands.

She spins. We are chest to chest against the wood, both topless, both wrecked, her shorts still halfway down, mine soaked and twisted. She fires a right. I slip just enough that it scrapes my swollen lip instead of sitting on the chin, and I answer with a hook that lands on the point of her jaw. Her eyes glass. Just for a second. I see it. I do not let her have the second back.

I grab her hair with both hands and I pull her off the stump and I throw her. She hits the leaves on her side, hard, the breath barking out of her. I drop with her so she cannot roll to her knees clean. I pin one arm under my shin. I measure the cut eye. I punch it. She tries to bite my wrist and I slam her head down before the teeth set. Another punch. Another. Her free hand rakes my thigh and finds nothing that stops me. The stream keeps running like the clearing does not care which one of us is ruining the other.

I am not done. Her hands are still moving. Her mouth is still trying to work. I shift my weight so she cannot bridge, I crank a fresh handful of blonde until her neck arches, and I draw my right hand back for the one I have been saving. She is under me in the dirt, shorts trapped, face open, and I am about to take the rest of her. Yt

[BrittanyBusty]

Her weight is the first thing that is real. Bethany has me in the leaves with a shin across my arm, my shorts tangled at mid-thigh, my nose already crooked from the headbutt, my mouth split wider from the punches she dropped on me while I was down. The slam into the dirt is still in my skull. The bite on my shoulder burns. My ribs are hot where she hammered them in the shallows, and the elbow across my mouth left a loose tooth I can feel with my tongue. She has my hair cranked, my neck arched, that right hand drawn back. I am cut, topless, half-stripped, and under her.

I do not wait for the punch.

I get my free hand up into her face and I dig. Nails into the cheek she already has open, then higher, toward the eye, hard enough to force the space I need. My pinned arm bucks under her shin. I twist my hips, the ones she thought the tangled shorts had killed, and I drive a knee up into her side from the bottom, once, then again, mean and short. The hold on my hair is still there. I reach up with the free hand, grab her wrist, and I bend it back the wrong way while I sink my teeth into the meat of her forearm. I bite until I taste her. I do not let go of the wrist.
I bridge hard, all of me, boots digging into the mud, and I roll us. I come through on top this time. I do not talk. I pin the arm I just bit by dropping my knee across it, I take a fresh handful of that platinum at the roots, and I slam the back of her head into the wet ground. Once. I shift my grip and I do it again. Then I let the hair go so I can punch. Right hand, the point of the chin. Right hand, the mouth she bloodied me with. Left, downstairs, into the gut she left open when she reared back to finish me. I hit the chest after that, flat and heavy, the same place she worked on me, and I keep my weight down so the shorts around my thighs do not cost me the position.

She had my neck. I take her hair with both hands, crank it the way she cranked mine, and I drag her two feet through the leaves toward the stump. Not a throw. A drag. Her back scrapes root the whole way. I haul her up by that hair just high enough to sit her against the wood, and I hold her there with one hand while I work with the other. A right on the cheek. A right on the swelling eye. An elbow across the mouth, the same kind she gave me in the creek. I stomp the loose boot, the one she used to drag me, and I grind it into the mud. Then I grab the waistband of her daisy dukes and I tear. Button, zipper, seam. I yank them down off her hips so she is as trapped in her own shorts as she left me.

I step back half a pace, just enough to set my feet, and I swing the heavy right from the hip, the bag hand, straight at her jaw while she is sitting at the stump with her shorts at her thighs and her face open. I am not done after it. I follow it in, get the hair again, and I keep her on that wood so I can hit her a second time, and a third, body then head, and I do not give the hair back. Yt

[BrittanyBusty]

"Come on you mouthy cxnt!! you wanted to brawl!!! Where are you?"

[BustyBrawlerBethany]

I am sitting at the stump with my own hair still cranked in her fist, and the whole last run is already on me. The nails are hot in my cheek and up by my eye. The knees from the bottom ache in my side. My forearm is bleeding where she bit down and held. My wrist is bent and screaming from the way she torqued it. The two slams into the wet ground are still ringing in the back of my skull. Chin, mouth, gut, chest, all of it landed while she had me on the bottom. The drag to the stump scraped my back raw on the roots. The elbow across my mouth split my lip wider. The stomp ground my loose boot into the mud. My daisy dukes are torn down to my thighs, same trap she put me in. The heavy right from the hip is still echoing in my jaw, and she followed it with another on the body and another on the head, and she has not given the hair back. My nose is bleeding down my lip. Nothing in it feels broken. It is just pouring.

I get my free hand up into the fist that has my hair and I dig my nails into her wrist until the grip has to fight me for it. I do not wait. I drive the heel of my other hand up under her chin and I shove her weight off my chest, then I kick the tangled shorts the rest of the way down my legs and out of the fight so my boots can actually set. I plant the one she stomped, mud and all, and I surge off the stump. Both hands go to her chest. I shove, hard, and I rake on the way through, nails across the scratches I already left there. I catch a handful of her blonde at the roots while she is coming off the shove, and I yank her head down and to the side. I hold it there. I knee up into her body, once, then again, short and mean, right where the ribs meet the gut. I do not let the hair go.

I walk her. Two steps, three, boots sliding in the wet leaves, her head cranked down by the roots, and I run her into the low bank where the stream cuts the clearing. I hold her by that hair with one hand. With the other I punch. A right on the cut cheek. A left on the mouth she bloodied me from. An open hand that slaps across the swelling eye, then a fist behind it. I grab the waist of what is left of her shorts and I tear the seam the rest of the way open. I yank them down off her hips so she is standing in the mud with nothing keeping her legs free. Then I get my second hand back in her hair, both fists full, and I shove her face-first toward the shallows. I drop my weight on her back when she hits the bank. A knee between her shoulder blades. One hand staying in the blonde. The other drawing back.

I punch the side of her head. Once. I punch it again. I rake my nails down her bare back, shoulder to waist, deep enough to furrow. I grab her ear and the hair above it and I twist, holding her cheek toward the wet leaves, and I hit her a third time, lower, into the body she left open when she dragged me. My nose drips on her shoulder. I wipe nothing. I keep the hair, I keep the knee in her back, and I measure the next one for the side of her jaw. Yt

[BruisyLucy]

What the fuck is this?? Fuck both you blonde bitches!!

[BrittanyBusty]

Her nails are still in my wrist from when she dug them into the hand that had her hair. The heel of her palm under my chin shoved my head back and took my weight off her. Both of her hands hit my chest and raked the scratches already there, hot lines across skin that was bare because she tore my tank off a long time ago. She got my blonde at the roots and yanked my head down and sideways, and the two knees landed right where my ribs meet my gut. I can still feel them. She walked me those steps to the low bank with my head cranked, and the punches landed: right on the cut cheek, left on the mouth, the slap and then the fist on the eye that is already swelling. She tore what was left of my shorts and yanked them off my hips. Both fists in my hair, and she shoved me face-first toward the shallows. Her weight is on my back. Her knee is between my shoulder blades. The two punches to the side of my head are ringing. The rake down my bare back, shoulder to waist, is burning. She has my ear and the hair above it twisted, my cheek held toward the wet leaves, and the body shot she threw while she had me like that is still sitting in my side. My nose is bleeding into the mud. It is not broken. It is just running. She still has the hair. She still has the knee in my back.

I get the hand she does not have trapped and I reach back over my own shoulder. I dig my nails into the wrist that is twisting my ear, and I claw down her forearm until I can get a grip of my own. I buck hard, boots driving into the bank, and I twist onto my side under her so the knee leaves my spine. I do not let go of that forearm. I sink my teeth into it, above the bite I already left, and I hold. My other hand comes free in the roll and I grab a fistful of platinum at the roots. I yank downward, mean, toward the wet leaves, and I use that pull to finish the roll. I come through on top of her at the edge of the water.

I pin the arm I just bit by dropping my shin across it. I keep the hair. I slam the side of her head toward the mud, once, not letting the handful go. Then I punch. A right on the mouth that has been splitting all fight. A left on the cheek I already opened with my nails. I shift and I hit her chest, flat and heavy, twice, the same place she shoved me. I rake my free hand down her side, ribs to hip, and I grab the waistband of nothing because her shorts are already gone, so I take the hip itself and I shove her more onto her back. Both hands go back to the hair. I crank her face toward the stream and I knee into her gut from on top, once, then again. I let one hand go so I can swing. The heavy right, bag hand, at the side of her jaw she was measuring on me. I follow it with a left on the swelling eye. I keep the other fist in that platinum. I drop my weight on her chest, I hold her head in the muddy leaves, and I draw the next one back for her mouth. Yt

[BustyBrawlerBethany]

The nails are the first thing still burning. She dug them into the wrist I had on her ear and clawed down my forearm until she could hold it, and that arm is hot from wrist to elbow. The buck and the twist took my knee out of her back. Then she bit. Above the bite she already left, she sank her teeth in and held, and I can still feel the mark throbbing. She got my platinum at the roots and yanked my head down toward the wet leaves, and the roll finished with her on top of me at the edge of the water. Her shin is across the arm she bit. She kept the hair and slammed the side of my head toward the mud, and that one is still ringing behind my eye. The right landed on my mouth. The left landed on the cheek she opened earlier. Two flat heavy shots on my chest. The rake down my side, ribs to hip, is a hot line I can trace with every breath. She shoved me onto my back. Both hands went into my hair and she cranked my face toward the stream, and the two knees from on top sat right in my gut. The heavy right caught the side of my jaw. The left found the eye that is already swelling. Her weight is on my chest. One fist is still in my hair. My head is held in the muddy leaves. She has the next one drawn back for my mouth. My nose is bleeding into the mud under me. It is not broken. It is just running, same as hers has been all fight. My lip is split wider. My shorts are gone. My boots are still on, caked, one of them still loose from the stomp.

I get the arm she does not have pinned under her shin and I drive it up between us. Heel of my hand under her chin again, then my nails, raking from her jaw down the side of her throat and across the chest I already marked. I do not stop at the rake. I grab a handful of her blonde, low near the scalp, and I yank sideways, hard, toward the water, while I bridge my hips off the mud with everything I have left in the boots. The shin across my arm slips as I twist. I keep the hair. I roll us toward the shallows and I come through with my shoulder on her chest and my knee driving for the bank beside her hip. Cold water hits my leg. I do not care. I take a second handful, both fists in that blonde now, and I shove her head down toward the creek so her cheek goes to the wet stones at the edge. I hold it there. I punch the side of her head with the hand I free for it, once, knuckles on the cut cheek, then I put the hand back in the hair because I am not giving it up.

I knee into her side from the angle I have, short and mean, right under the ribs she has been hitting on me. Once. Again. I let one hand go only long enough to claw down her bare back, the same path she raked on me, shoulder to waist, and I dig in at the hip. Then the hand returns to the hair. I haul her up off the stones by those roots, not all the way, just enough to get her face out of the leaves, and I swing the right I have been saving. It goes to the mouth she was aiming at on me. I follow with the left, downstairs, into the gut. I shove her backward into the low bank so the mud takes her shoulders, and I drop my weight across her hips so she cannot buck me the way she just bucked me. One boot plants in the shallows. The other stays on the bank. I grab her ear and the hair above it, the same hold she broke on me, and I twist her face toward the stream. My free hand draws back. I slap the swelling eye, open-palmed, then I close the fist. I am not done. I keep the ear, I keep the hair, and I measure the next one for the point of her chin while my blood drips off my lip onto her chest. Yt

[BrittanyBusty]

Her palm is still under my chin from the shove, and the rake is hot from my jaw down the side of my throat and across my chest, fresh lines over the ones she already left. She grabbed my blonde low at the scalp and yanked me sideways toward the water, and the roll took me with it. Her shoulder drove into my chest. Her knee drove for the bank at my hip. Both of her fists ended up in my hair, and she shoved my head down until my cut cheek hit the wet stones at the edge of the creek. The punch landed right there, knuckles on the same cheek. She put the hand back in my hair and the two knees found the side under my ribs. The claw down my bare back is burning from shoulder to waist, and she dug in at the hip before she hauled me up by the roots. The right she saved caught my mouth. The left went downstairs into my gut. She shoved me back into the low bank so the mud took my shoulders, and her weight is across my hips. One of her boots is in the shallows. The other is on the bank. She has my ear and the hair above it, my face twisted toward the stream, and the slap on my swelling eye is still stinging under the fist she closed after it. She is measuring the next one for the point of my chin. Her blood is on my chest. My nose is bleeding into the corner of my mouth. It is not broken. It is just running. I am topless, shorts gone, boots still on, and she still has the ear.

I get both hands up into the grip on my ear. I dig my nails into her wrist and the back of her hand, deep, and I twist that hold off me. I do not let the wrist go once I have it. I yank her arm across her own body and I bite the forearm again, lower than the last mark, and I hold the bite while I bridge. Boots in the mud, hips up, hard. Her weight across me shifts. I keep the teeth in her and I roll us off the bank toward the leaves, away from the stones. I come through on top. The bite lets go only so I can use the mouth for air and the hands for her hair. Both fists fill with platinum at the roots. I slam her head into the dirt, once, side of the skull, and I do not give the hair back.

I drop a knee across the arm I just bit. I punch with the free hand. Right on the mouth that has been split all afternoon. Right again, same place. Left on the cheek I opened with my nails at the start. I shift my hips so she cannot bridge me the way I just bridged her, and I hammer the chest, flat, heavy, twice, right where she raked me. Then lower. A short shot into the gut she has been kneeing on me. Another. I let one hand out of the hair only long enough to claw her side, ribs to the hip she grabbed on me, and I dig my nails in and drag. The hand goes back to the blonde. I haul her head up off the leaves by those roots and I swing the bag-hand right at the side of her jaw. I follow it with an elbow across the swelling eye. I shove her onto her side so the scratched back is there for me, and I rake it again, shoulder to waist, deeper. I grab the back of her neck and the hair at the nape and I drive her face toward the mud. My other fist draws back. I am not finished. I keep the neck, I keep the hair, and I throw the next one into the side of her head, then another into the body, and I stay on her so the boots and the weight do the holding while I measure one more for her mouth. Yt

[BustyBrawlerBethany]

Her nails are still in the wrist and the back of the hand that had her ear. She twisted that hold off, yanked my arm across my own body, and bit the forearm lower than the last mark, and she held the bite while she bridged. The roll took us off the bank into the leaves, and she came through on top. Both fists filled with my hair at the roots. The slam into the dirt is still in the side of my skull. Her knee is across the arm she bit. The first right landed on my mouth. The second right landed on the same split. The left found the cheek she opened at the start. Two flat heavy shots on my chest. Two short ones in the gut. The claw down my side, ribs to hip, dragged and burned. She hauled my head up by the roots and the bag-hand right caught the side of my jaw. The elbow crossed the eye that is already swelling shut on one side. She shoved me onto my side and raked my back again, shoulder to waist, deeper than the last pass. Her hand is on the back of my neck. The other is in the hair at my nape. My face is driven toward the mud. The punch to the side of my head is ringing, and the one in the body is sitting under my ribs. She is still on me. She is measuring one more for my mouth. My nose is bleeding into the leaves. It is not broken. It is just running. Lip split. Chest scratched. Shorts long gone. Boots still on. She has the neck and the hair, and I am done being the one in the dirt.

I get the free arm under me and I drive an elbow back into her ribs, hard, right where she has been living all fight. The same elbow comes back a second time, meaner, and I twist my hips into the leaves so the knee across my arm has to fight the turn. My pinned hand claws whatever skin it can reach on her thigh. I do not stop there. I reach up with the free hand, grab the wrist on the back of my neck, and I dig my nails in until I have that grip for myself. I yank it off. Both of my hands go to her blonde. I take it at the roots, low and tight, and I haul downward as I buck, all boot and hip, rolling us toward the stream again. I come through with my shoulder on her chest and my weight following. Cold mud hits my knee. I do not care. I keep both fists in that hair.

I slam her head toward the wet ground, side of the skull, once, and I hold the handful so it does not get away from me. My shin drops across the arm closest to me. I punch with the free hand. Right on the mouth I have been splitting. Right again. Left on the cut cheek. I shift up her body and I hammer the chest, flat and heavy, twice, then a third that I aim lower, into the gut she just punched on me. I let one hand out of the hair only long enough to rake her from collarbone to navel, nails deep, and I dig in at the hip the way she dug into mine. The hand goes back to the blonde. I haul her face up out of the leaves and I swing an elbow across the swelling eye. I follow it with the heavy right, hip behind it, at the point of the chin she thought she was measuring on me. I shove her onto her back so the scratched chest is open, and I drop my weight across her hips. One boot plants by her ribs. I grab her ear and the hair above it. I twist her face toward the mud. My free fist draws back. I slap the cut cheek, open hand, then I close it. I am not finished. I keep the ear, I keep the hair, and I throw the next one into her mouth, then another into the side of her head, and I stay heavy on her while I measure one more for the body. Yt

[BrittanyBusty]

The first elbow is still in my ribs. The second one landed meaner, same place, and I can feel both of them every time I try to pull air. She twisted under me until the knee I had across her arm had to fight the turn, and the hand I thought I had pinned clawed my thigh on the way out. She got the wrist on the back of her neck, dug her nails in, and yanked that grip off. Both of her hands took my blonde at the roots. She hauled downward while she bucked, and the roll carried us toward the stream. Her shoulder drove into my chest. Her weight followed. She kept both fists in my hair. The slam toward the wet ground is still ringing in the side of my skull. Her shin is across the arm closest to her. The first right landed on my mouth. The second right split it wider. The left found the cut cheek. Two flat heavy shots on my chest, then a third lower, into the gut. The rake from collarbone to navel is a hot line, and she dug in at the hip. She hauled my face up and the elbow crossed the eye that is swelling shut. The heavy right caught the point of my chin. She shoved me onto my back, dropped her weight across my hips, planted a boot by my ribs. She has my ear and the hair above it. My face is twisted toward the mud. The open-hand slap on the cut cheek is still stinging under the fist she closed after it. She threw one into my mouth and another into the side of my head, and she is still heavy on me, measuring one more for the body. My nose is bleeding into the leaves. It is not broken. It is just running. Lip split. Chest and back clawed. Shorts gone. Boots still on. She has the ear, and I am done letting her hold it.
I get the free hand up into the wrist that has my ear. I dig my nails in, deep, and I twist that hold until I own the arm. I do not let it go. I yank it across her body and I sink my teeth into the forearm, fresh spot, and I hold the bite while I bridge with both boots driving into the mud. Hips up. Hard. Her weight across me shifts. I keep the teeth in her and I roll us, shoulder first, away from the boot she planted by my ribs. I come through on top in the wet leaves. The bite lets go only so both hands can fill with that platinum. I take it at the roots. I slam the side of her head into the dirt, once, and I do not give the hair back.

My shin drops across the arm I just bit. I punch with the free hand. Right on the mouth. Right again, same split. Left on the cheek I opened. I shift my hips so she cannot buck me the way she just bucked me, and I hammer the chest, flat and heavy, twice, then a third into the gut where her elbows have been living. I let one hand out of the hair only long enough to rake her from the base of her throat to her navel, nails deep, and I dig in at the hip and drag. The hand goes back to the blonde. I haul her head up off the leaves and I swing the bag-hand right at the side of her jaw. I follow it with an elbow across the swelling eye. I shove her onto her side so the back I have already marked is there, and I rake it again, shoulder to waist, slower, deeper. I grab the back of her neck and the hair at the nape. I drive her face toward the mud. My other fist draws back. I throw one into the side of her head. I throw another into the body. I stay on her, boots planted, weight down, and I measure the next one for her mouth while my blood drips off my chin into her hair. Yt

[BustyBrawlerBethany]

Her nails are still in the wrist that had her ear. She twisted that hold until she owned the arm, yanked it across my body, and bit a fresh spot on the forearm, and she held the bite while she bridged with both boots in the mud. The roll took us away from the boot I had planted by her ribs, and she came through on top. Both hands filled with my hair at the roots. The slam into the dirt is still in the side of my skull. Her shin is across the arm she just bit. The first right landed on my mouth. The second right found the same split. The left hit the cheek she opened at the start. Two flat heavy shots on my chest, then a third in the gut. The rake from the base of my throat to my navel is burning, and she dug in at the hip and dragged. She hauled my head up and the bag-hand right caught the side of my jaw. The elbow crossed the eye that is swelling shut. She shoved me onto my side and raked my back again, shoulder to waist, slower and deeper. Her hand is on the back of my neck. The other is in the hair at my nape. My face is driven toward the mud. The punch to the side of my head is ringing, and the one in the body is sitting under my ribs. She is still on me, boots planted, weight down, measuring the next one for my mouth. Her blood is dripping off her chin into my hair. My nose is bleeding into the leaves. It is not broken. It is just running. Lip split wider. Chest and back clawed raw. Shorts long gone. Boots still on. She has the neck and the hair, and I am done being held in this dirt.

I drive the free elbow back into her ribs, the same place I have been hitting, hard enough to fold her over me. I do it again, meaner, and I twist my hips into the wet leaves so the shin across my arm has to fight the turn. My pinned hand claws up her thigh and digs in. I reach with the free hand, grab the wrist on the back of my neck, and I sink my nails into it until that grip is mine. I yank it off. Both of my hands go to her blonde. I take it at the roots, tight, and I haul downward as I buck, all boot and shoulder, rolling us toward the bank. I come through with my weight on her chest and both fists still in that hair. I do not give it up.
I slam the side of her head into the mud, once, and I hold the handful. My shin drops across the arm closest to me. I punch. Right on the mouth. Right again, same split. Left on the cut cheek. I shift higher and I hammer the chest, flat and heavy, twice, then a third lower into the gut. I let one hand out of the hair only long enough to rake her from collarbone to hip, nails deep, and I dig in and drag the way she dragged on me. The hand goes back to the blonde. I haul her face up out of the leaves and I swing an elbow across the swelling eye. I follow it with the heavy right, hip behind it, at the point of the chin. I shove her onto her back so the scratched chest is open, and I drop my weight across her hips. One boot plants by her head. I grab her ear and the hair above it. I twist her face toward the stream. My free fist draws back. I slap the cut cheek, open hand, hard, then I close it and I throw the next one into her mouth. Another into the side of her head. Another into the body. I stay heavy on her. I keep the ear. I keep the hair. I measure one more for the jaw while my blood runs off my lip onto her chest, and I am not letting her up. Yt

[BrittanyBusty]

The first elbow is still folded into my ribs. The second one landed meaner, same place, and both of them are sitting there every time I breathe. She twisted under me until the shin I had across her arm had to fight the turn, and the hand I thought was pinned clawed up my thigh and dug in. She got the wrist on the back of her neck, sank her nails into it, and yanked that grip off. Both of her hands took my blonde at the roots. She hauled downward while she bucked, and the roll carried us toward the bank. Her weight came through on my chest. She kept both fists in my hair. The slam into the mud is still ringing in the side of my skull. Her shin is across the arm closest to her. The first right landed on my mouth. The second right found the same split. The left hit the cut cheek. Two flat heavy shots on my chest, then a third in the gut. The rake from collarbone to hip is burning, and she dug in and dragged. She hauled my face up and the elbow crossed the eye that is swelling shut. The heavy right caught the point of my chin. She shoved me onto my back, dropped her weight across my hips, planted a boot by my head. She has my ear and the hair above it. My face is twisted toward the stream. The open-hand slap on the cut cheek is still hot under the fist she closed after it. She threw one into my mouth, another into the side of my head, another into the body, and she is still heavy on me, measuring one more for the jaw. Her blood is on my chest. My nose is bleeding into the mud. It is not broken. It is just running. Lip split. Chest and back clawed raw. Shorts gone. Boots still on. She has the ear, and I am done letting her keep it.

I get the free hand up into the wrist on my ear. I dig my nails in deep, and I twist that hold until the arm is mine. I yank it across her body. I sink my teeth into the forearm, fresh spot above the others, and I hold the bite while I bridge. Both boots drive into the bank. Hips up. Hard. Her weight across me shifts. I keep the teeth in her and I roll us, shoulder first, toward the open leaves. I come through on top. The bite lets go only so both hands can fill with that platinum. I take it at the roots. I slam the side of her head into the dirt, once, and I do not give the hair back.
My shin drops across the arm I just bit. I punch with the free hand. Right on the mouth. Right again, same split. Left on the cheek I opened. I shift my hips so she cannot buck me, and I hammer the chest, flat and heavy, twice, then a third into the gut. I let one hand out of the hair only long enough to rake her from the base of her throat down past her navel, nails deep, and I dig in at the hip and drag slow. The hand goes back to the blonde. I haul her head up off the leaves and I swing the bag-hand right at the side of her jaw. I follow it with an elbow across the swelling eye. I shove her onto her side. I rake the back again, shoulder to waist, deeper. I grab the back of her neck and the hair at the nape. I drive her face toward the mud. My other fist draws back. I throw one into the side of her head. I throw another into the body. I throw a third into the mouth she was measuring on me. I stay on her, boots planted, weight down across her ribs, and I keep the neck and the hair while I measure the next one for the point of her chin. My blood drips into her hair. I do not wipe it. I am not letting her up. Yt

[BustyBrawlerBethany]

The bag-hand right is still in the side of my jaw, and the elbow across the eye that is almost shut left that side of my face hot and tight. The third punch in the mouth is the one I keep tasting. Blood is thick on my tongue and running out of my nose into the leaves, not broken, just pouring and not stopping. Her weight is across my ribs. Her hand is on the back of my neck. The other is fisted in the hair at my nape. My face is in the mud. The body shot under my ribs has not moved. My arms are heavier than they were on the bank. My good eye is watering. The knees and the rights from the whole fight are living in my gut and my chest now, and getting my hands up takes longer than it did when we walked into this clearing. I am slower. I am still here.

I do not go for the wrist on my neck first. I plant the loose boot, the one she stomped earlier, and I drive the heel of it backward into her shin, hard, then I twist and shove my shoulder up into her chest to make space under the arm that has my neck. Mud and leaves come with me. I get a hand on the back of her thigh and I dig my nails in and pull, trying to drag that leg out from under her weight. My other hand finds her hair lower, near the ends matted with blood and creek water, and I wrap it around my fist twice and yank sideways, toward the stream, not down. I use that pull and the boot in her shin to half-roll, not clean, just enough to get my back off the ground and my knees under me in the wet leaves.

I stay low. I do not stand all the way up. From the crouch I swing an open hand into the side of her chest, then I grab whatever I can of her bare side and I rake upward, hip to ribs, opposite of the way she has been dragging down on me. I get my other hand on her bootlaces. I yank one loose and I twist the tongue of the boot so the foot inside it has to fight the shoe. Then I surge forward from the crouch, shoulder into her midsection, and I drive her two steps toward the water. Not a throw. A push with my legs, even though my legs are tired and one knee almost folds. We hit the edge. Cold water reaches my calves. I keep the fistful of hair. I hook my free arm under hers and I lift and turn, using the current and the slick stones, and I put her shoulder into the bank from the side instead of from on top.

I step through. One boot in the shallows, one on the mud. I still have the hair wrapped in my fist. I yank her head toward my hip and I fire a knee up into her body from the front, once, the thigh screaming when I do it. I let the hair go only long enough to get both hands on her shoulders and shove her chest-first toward a half-buried root. Then I take the hair again, higher this time, and I hold her there against the root while I punch with the other hand: one into the back of her shoulder, one into the side under her arm, one lower into the hip. My breathing is loud. My closed eye is useless. The arm that is punching shakes on the third shot and I throw it anyway. I keep her against that root. I am not letting her turn around clean. I draw the knee back one more time for her side, slower than I want, and I drive it in. Yt

[BustyBrawlerBethany]