Authors Note: the following story is a 100% true account of a real fight that I personally witnessed. Enjoy!
“Oh yeah, baby, fuck me harder,” gasped Scarlett Vixen as she rode the man beneath her, fully taking in his 12 ¾” dick. She was a bombshell strawberry blonde, with a Z cup bra and a 1” waist, a gravity defying combination that caused physicists heads to explode.
“Oh yeah baby, you’re amazing,” John gasped back. “I just hope my girlfriend doesn’t catch us.”
“Ha!” Laughed Scarlett. “I’d kick her ass if she did! In fact, I hope she walks through that door right now!”
Poppy Fantasia walked through the door right then, gasping in surprise and anger. Poppy looked like a copy/paste version of Scarlett, but with olive skin and chocolate brown hair.
“What the fuck!” She shouted. John sprang up.
“Babe, it’s not what it looks like!” He shouted, somehow thinking this would work.
“You shut up!” Poppy shouted. “You may have cheated on me, but instead of breaking up with you, I’m going to destroy this bitch then have sex with you!”
“Wrong, bitch,” purred Scarlett, “I’m going to destroy you, then I’m going to have sex with John. Again!” Then the two women charged each other, Scarlett in the nude, Poppy dressed as a cheerleader for no apparent reason. They each grabbed each others hair and began to spin around the room in a whirlwind of claws, hair, sweat, hair, blood, hair, tears, skin, cloth, shrieks, squeals, grunts, growls, and hair. Their shrieks reached such a girlishly high pitch that the windows all shattered and dogs down the street started howling. Then they broke apart to slow down the story.
Scarlett thought of the wittiest, cattiest insult she could. “Bitch,” she hissed.
“Bitch,” growled Poppy.
“Slut.”
“Whore.”
“Shrew.”
“Cow.”
“Floozy.”
“Harlot.”
“Hussy.”
“Tart.”
“Tramp.”
“Witch.”
“Bitch!” They both shouted together.
“If you were a real woman,” taunted Scarlett “you would strip and fight me naked.”
“I will!” Shouted Poppy, and she ripped off her tattered cheerleader outfit to reveal her proud nubile form. The two harridans charged forwards a second time, this time assaulting each other with their entire bodies. Claws scratched, teeth bit, feet kicked, tits slammed, bodies rubbed. At one point they kissed, which is a thing people do when they’re angry. John was still watching from the bed.
The fight had been going on for thirteen hours straight, so they took a quick break. John prepared a light snack of wine and cheese, then Poppy took a bathroom break. While she was out John and Scarlett started fucking again. Poppy walked back in, gasping in surprise and anger.
“What the fuck!” She shouted.
“Babe, it’s not what it looks like!” John still had not come up with a good excuse.
Poppy tackled Scarlett and the two of them rolled around on the bed, screeching and scratching. This was a full blown fight to the finish. Only one woman would walk away with her pride intact.
After another five hours of rolling back and forth, Scarlett pinned Poppy down under her heavy tits. “Time to go to sleep,” she taunted, “bitch. She dropped her Z cup tits onto Poppy’s face, smothering her. Poppy thrashed about, desperate for air, but it was no good. Her muffled sobs were the only sound in the room as she passed out beneath the better woman.
Scarlett sat up and smiled at John, her sweaty blonde hair clinging to her feminine frame. She invited him over with a crook of her finger. John had almost passed out from the effort of maintaining a 12 ¾” erection for 18 hours straight, but the sight of the conquering Vixen reinvigorated him and he ran to her side, pushing Poppy away. Scarlett stopped him. “No,” she said with an evil smile, “fuck me on top of her.” Then she lay down on top of Poppy and John mounted her, the ultimate humiliation to Poppy. His thrusts were so passionate and powerful that they shook Poppy awake. Her eyelids slowly flickered open, then she gasped in shock and anger.
“What the fuck!”
And the fight started up again.
