“Sanguinary feast in lavish surroundings” – two matures in an all out carnage to the finish
PART 1
I couldn’t believe my eyes. I’d always known my sisters-in-law despised each other, but ever since they both became widows, their simmering dislike had boiled over into seething hatred. Both of my beloved older brothers were no longer around to defuse the tension, and this tension was fueled even further by desperation. Their lavish lifestyles were rapidly draining the funds left by my brothers, and they consider each other as rivals in the search for a new patron.
When our wealthy cousin Harry returned from abroad, and both Nadia and Maria started vying for his attention, the venomous tension between them crackled like static in the air. It was only a matter of time before these two mature widows clashed openly.
And now, here I was, staring in a mix of horror and primal fascination, speechless, in my fancy opulent dining room. The other guests were equally stunned, and at the center of the large long table, amid the crash of shattering porcelain and breaking glass, the massive tangled bodies of my sisters-in-law thrashed on the tablecloth, screaming and howling with rage.
Both in their mid-fifties, they’d dressed provocatively for the occasion, but now their elegant gowns were tattered rags, and they fought topless like barroom harlots, spitting and hissing. Kneeling with legs spread wide, they yanked at each other’s hair—once meticulously styled, now a tangled, filthy mess—and clawed at their heavy breasts, raking nails across swollen nipples and digging deep into flesh.
“Holy shit,” muttered someone from the staff, while Marco, seated beside me, swallowed hard as Maria jerked her head forward, smashing it into Nadia’s face, crushing their noses in mad frenzy. The blonde howled and, blinded by fury, returned the blow, their faces colliding again, smashing lips and noses. They wailed like rabid dogs.
The chaos in the dining room escalated, and I stood frozen, unable to tear my eyes away from the spectacle. Porcelain shattered under their weight, spilled wine stained the tablecloth crimson. The guests, rather than intervening, gaped in a mix of horror and fascination. Only Harry, the supposedly charming cousin, was sitting calmly at the end of the table, as if watching a play rather than a brawl between two widows who’d been flirting with him over dessert just yesterday.
Nadia, her lipstick smeared and blood trickling from her nose, shrieked, “You bitch… I will ruin you!” Maria, hair in disarray and her torn dress revealing far too much, snapped back, “Bring it, whore… I will fuck you up!” They lunged again, toppling a vase of roses that shattered with a crash. Water and petals flooded the floor, but they kept clawing, their nails leaving red welts on each other’s skin. The guests began to whisper in ave. “We need to stop this,” Marco hissed, but none of us moved, too shocked to act.
Now bare from the waist up, their sweaty, scratched bodies—smeared with food, porcelain shards, and glass—jiggled like jelly. With furious grunts, they grabbed each other’s hair and slammed their sagging breasts together, the wet slaps echoing as they collided. Kneeling more firmly, they locked arms around each other’s waists, crushing their battered chests together, foreheads touching as they tried to overpower each other’s ravaged flesh. “You fat whore…” “Fuck you, slut,” they hissed into each other’s faces, their heavy bodies trembling with effort. Glancing at their thick crotches, I noticed their twitching buttocks beneath the shredded remains of their skirts. Neither wore underwear, and I can see their big fat labias dangling between their trembling thighs.
Their howls turned higher, more primal, blending rage, determination, and fear. They weren’t just crushing each other in their grip now—they were raking their backs and buttocks with broken nails. Their faces were locked together, and only up close did I realize they were biting each other’s lips—Maria clamped onto Nadia’s upper lip, while the blonde sank her teeth into Maria’s lower one. They were in a deranged stalemate; one wrong move, and they’d maim each other for life. Panting heavily, clawing at each other’s fleshy, quivering buttocks and smashing their battered breasts and groins, they squealed like wild sows, bloody saliva dripping from their locked faces onto their chests. Suddenly, as if on cue, their howls hit an even higher pitch, and they yanked their heads back. Their lips stretched grotesquely and tore like rags.
The scream that erupted from their throats froze everyone in the room. Blood gushed from their ripped lips, mingling with sweat and food scraps on their bodies. Nadia and Maria, still entwined, staggered but refused to let go. Their wild, glassy eyes burned with fury, as if they’d forgotten who they were or why they were fighting.
The guests finally stirred—someone yelled to break them up, and two men from the staff rushed forward, grabbing at their arms. “Let go, you bitch!” Maria rasped, her voice barely audible through the blood flooding her mouth. Harry stood, knocking over his chair, and roared, “Wait, take them apart, but keep them like this!” His voice cut through the chaos, but the widows, as if deaf, kept clawing at each other’s hair and backs, leaving bloody streaks. Finally, with Marco’s help, the staff managed to pull them apart, but the dining room was a battlefield—shattered porcelain and glass, food leftovers all over, tablecloth soaked with blood and wine. And aside, held by the stuff, two naked, mature women – covered in blood, panting hard, and with hatred boiling in their eyes.
