Hey, I'm not one of life's nice guys. I've been called 'perv', 'sicko', 'jerk' and many other things, but what can I say? Fact is I get my kicks from girl fights and that's it. I defend myself by claiming that it is the ultimate form of female emancipation, but then I wouldn't want to fight a woman, and if I did I certainly wouldn't want to lose! So, yeah. I'm a jerk. Deal with it.
I'm not married – surprised? When I was young I got with women who were easily led, and now I'm older I get with women who are... well desperate for a man, and easily led. I have to say I haven't found any who have confessed to me up front that they're into fighting, so I've always had to persuade them, tease out that competitive spirit or get them to confess their 'dirty little secret'. I always treat such confidences with respect'. I do. Really, I do. Maybe there are some out there who are happy to be up front about it and who even come with ready made opponents, but I've never found them. Maybe I've just been unlucky.
Enough about me. Let's cut to the chase. My current 'squeeze' is a woman called Joanne. She's a great cook, good in bed... yadayada.... and one of my greatest pleasures is arranging fights for her. This isn't easy to do. I have a mate, Mike, who is married to a great girl called Helen. Helen has that look about her. You know, you'd pass a woman in the street and think nothing of her, then some you'd think of straight away, half naked in a fighting pit... well I would. Helen is one of those. She has hard eyes and lips that look as if they could curl into a snarl at a moment's notice
Anyway, I'm like a pig in shit nowadays because I've got it organised so that Helen and Joanne have little tussles for me and Mike on fairly regular occasions. How we got to this point is another story, as it had never occurred to Mike that Helen might be up for fighting, or that he might enjoy it. Aren't some guys odd!
Normally we have little get-togethers where we might have a drink, a girl fight, and then order in an Indian or something. All very cosy, except I have to cross my legs.
A couple of nights ago, though, things turned out a little different. We had arranged something with Mike and Helen – or thought we had, and had everything ready, furniture pushed back, mats on the floor, a few bottles in... but no Mike and Helen. We waited. I drank more of the booze than perhaps I should have while Joanne fretted and also drank. Still no Mike and Helen. Eventually, I called Mike. Major cock-up. He had got the date wrong and was out on an office do, or some bollocks, but Helen was still at home and he was sure she'd be more than happy to come round.
It's always been an unwritten rule that all four of us had to be present in case of any 'funny business' I guess Mike felt guilty enough to trust us on this occasion. (Actually the two girls have tussled on their own, but they had they never told us. That was where my hidden cameras came in, but again that's another story).
I had Joanne call Helen, and she was round like a shot.
Now the buzz for me is the idea that these two women were fighting for my benefit, but I suspect that the main reason for Helen's keenness was that Joanne had beaten her the last couple of times, and she was anxious for a win. She turned up with a big friendly smile and her sports bag and threw her arms around me, kissing me on the cheek with those snarly lips.
“This will be good for me,” she purred, “beating Joanne on her own territory in front of her guy.” She gave me a wink and pushed past me, giving Joanne just as extravagant a hug. I would have offered her a drink, but she seemed anxious to get on and it was getting late, so she went into the downstairs loo with her bag where she normally changed. Joanne shrugged and went upstairs to the bedroom, leaving me to wait and fantasize about the fun to come... oh, and have another drink.
Helen emerged wearing an orange one-piece. Nothing special, she often wore it, but there was something about the way it caught the light that highlighted every bump on her body in a way that always made the guy living in my underpants shift a little. The points of her nipples always showed through the suit and from a certain angle I could swear the domes of her areolas were discernible. Her tits were average size, but they clearly needed support. One thing you could say about Joanne was that despite her age, her breasts were still reasonably firm. I guess that was something to do with not having kids, but then with respect to women's bodies that level of analysis is too much detail.
Her hazel eyes showed a narrow 'killer' gaze that got me thinking 'pit-fighter' again and I knew she meant to give Joanne a hard time (another twitch from down below), but it was also her posture, the way her shoulders pushed forward and the strong thighs that descended from wide hips. If it wasn't for Mike... but that's another story. I never quite knew what the true colour of her hair was. To me it seemed like kind of sandy, but Joanne told me it was dark with blonde highlights. Again too much detail.
Joanne was wearing a sky blue swimsuit, and as she descended the stairs it seemed wonderfully pointless, in a sense. Her breasts moved as if she was naked, and it dipped into her navel and even, right at the base of her crotch, into her 'crevasse of delight'. She did nothing to make 'he who must be obeyed' any less restless. Joanne's hair was dark and bobbed about her shoulders, at that length always a problem for fighting when girls seem to love yanking each other locks. Helen kept hers shortish, adding to the ferocity of her image.
“So Carl, you're here to see fair play,” said Helen. “Not too much favouritism please!” She winked at me and moved out onto the mat to face Joanne, while I sat to watch, hoping my blood pressure wouldn't burst my eyeballs.
They locked up quickly and Helen swept Joanne's legs from under her sending her crashing to the mat with a whumph of expelled air, the quivering flesh a true delight. But Joanne had kept her grip on Helen and brought her down too, Helen landing on her knees beside Joanne. I had no idea where to look. That first move must have taken less than a second to execute, and the struggling flexing muscles on both women as they fought for supremacy had my little sentry stood to so much attention, in that second, that he all but tore through my pants, staying that way for the remainder of the fight.
Joanne rolled to her back, pulling Helen into her and spreading her legs in a way that left me gasping as she tried to trap Helen between them, but Helen was too quick, rolling over her and away, snagging one of her ankles as she went and twisting to drive her foot into Joanne's side.
With a grip on Joanne's arm and leg, Helen pulled and Joanne shrieked as her body bent sideways like a bow, stretching her in a way that the flimsy suit was barely able to contain. In fact I could see tufts of hair at the crotch and that, combined with the pain she was clearly suffering, forced a groan of pleasure from my lips.
Yes, yes I know – the woman I'm supposed to love etc.
Joanne bucked and Helens foot slipped, allowing her to twist free. She got to her knees, and pulled the suit out from where the sun don't shine, arms up to face Helen.
Helen glanced across at me and I swear her eyes settled for a moment on my ill-disciplined 'lunchbox', before launching herself back at Joanne who ended up on her back, and I caught a glimpse of their breasts mashed together for an instant, Helen's almost pushef out of her suit, the white flesh stretched by the pressure, blue veins showing.
Aren't tits wonderful things?
Neither woman is that young, so it wasn't long before they showed signs of tiredness; sluggish movement, heavy breathing and sweat, which began to mark their suits. It also struck me that Joanne had been drinking, while Helen hadn't, at least not as far as I know, and I realised that Helen would probably wear down Joanne quicker, and secure her needed victory.
But then Joanne caught Helen in a full nelson, stretching her arms out, while she locked her hands behind her head. Helen bucked and twisted, grunting, but as her struggles weakened I realised that her energy levels were dropping fast and Joanne was not about to let go. I just loved the way, her tits swayed this way and that inside her suit, but I loved more the angry helplessness in her reddening face, the chin crunched into her chest.
Joanne finally lay on her back, her legs spread to stop Helen rolling her over, while Helen did everything she could to break free, even thrusting her hips up and down like a demented lover... uhh need I say more. That in turn was punishing Joanne as on each downward thrust Helens full weight would slam into her belly forcing grunts of delightful pain from her, and so Joanne took action.
As Helen dropped for the second time, she snapped her legs outwards, looping her ankles round Helen's, and neatly trapping her legs in a reverse grapevine.
I mean, just imagine that. You have a good looking woman lying before you, her legs spread wide... what would you do? What would any man do? OK, probably not the same as me. I got up from my chair, unclipping my belt and dropping my shorts and pants, letting my rock hard cock give the world a wave.
For a moment everything froze. Joanne stared wide eyed at me from beneath Helen, while I grasped my shaft, and Helen, with her face crunched forward looked horrified. For a moment I thought Joanne would let Helen go and both women would give me the sharp edge of their tongues... or worse, but to my amazement she suddenly jerked Helens arms back, stretching her body before me.
It was too much. Helen squeaked and her orange suit, pulled tight against her, beneath it her belly moved like a pulsating creature as she sucked in air, her abs flexing sweeping down to the swell of her mound. And below that I saw how the suit had twisted slightly cutting across a puffy lip... I could see the razor burns where she'd worked on her bikini line...
My first 'rope' arched across her, splattering a line across her right tit and her face, while the second spattered against her belly. Her body twitched as she felt my jizz hit her, then she was still as it oozed and spread, making the suit see-through...
Then the moment was gone. Joanne let go and Helen rolled off her, going straight for the loo. She came out a moment later wearing her coat and left without a word.
So there it is. I don't know if we'll ever see Helen and Mike again, or if we did whether harsh words, or even fists, might be involved. I like to think that Mike and I could still be mates and that Helen would have even more reason to want revenge on Joanne, but that might be just fantasy. It might also be fantasy that just before she rolled off Joanne, a dark stain had spread across the gusset of her suit that was nothing to do with me. I expect it was. What do you think?
