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Helen vs Melanie: Quick scuffle at a restaurant

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Offline sinclairfan

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Helen vs Melanie: Quick scuffle at a restaurant
« on: February 27, 2022, 09:22:52 PM »
My name is Helen.  I'm 51 years old and young enough to still be foolish but old enough to be self-reflective and self-aware about it.  I did the whole stay-married-until-the-kid-finishes high school thing, and with the 529 funded, I can do some guilt-free live-for-me things, as long as my body cooperates.

The pandemic put an end to dating for me, at first just out of fear of the virus, but now because I don't know how to flirt with men without feeling awkward and needy.  Feeling needy kind of undermines the whole live-for-me theme, and so I'm on a break from even trying to meet a man.  Some good quality time with my girlfriends will do just fine.  Bringing a man into the picture.... well, he'd just be a third wheel.

I still get frisky, though.  When my marriage was falling apart, I learned how to satisfy myself, so please don't think I'm pathetic or desperate.  And if something naturally happens with a man someday, so be it.  I haven't closed the door to that possibility.

Ok, enough about me and men.  Now it seems like I obsess over the topic.  Trust me, I don't.  Really.  Honestly.

Here's why I'm writing this.  Last night, a gorgeous February Saturday night in the Sunshine State, my girlfriend Sandra and I were sitting outside, eating dinner and watching the sun set.  It was meant to be a mellow night, followed by drinks, and reading an Edwardian novel I was finally getting around to at night.  Early bedtime, get in an early Sunday morning walk.  Ash Wednesday services three days after that.

All very boring.  Just the way I like it.

As Sandra and I ate our appetizers (and, for her, a salad), our eyes were drawn to the couple in the table just ahead of us.  A 40-something couple, the guy with a spare tire waist and greasy hair, her with Botox'd face and teased hair.  Sitting on the same side of the table, and kissing as they ate.  Obviously a new couple.

Now, to each their own is my motto.  I wasn't jealous-- the guy was every tick mark I've come to find a sexual turnoff in middle-aged men--losing a step physically and stature-wise, but winning the male-female numbers game as his male competition succombed to Father Time and Mother Nature.  He had his pick of women for the first time of decades, and knew it.

I guess maybe I was a little jealous of HIM.  But not of HER.  My problem with her was simpler.

She was ruining my dinner and Sandra's.  It was hard to avoid their gross, and inappropriate, tongue-kissing.

I raised to topic with Sandra.

> Look at Romeo and Juliet.  Can't ghey wait till after dinner?

> Thwy ARE being pretty obvious about it.  But what are ya gonna do?  Part of the price we pay for going out, I guess.

> Or, .... what if ....

> Uh oh.  What are you thinking Helen?

> She's almost exactly my size and weight .  5'4"  110.  36c or so.  What if I told her to stop ruining my dinner, please.

> Well, what?  In front of the guy?  He's as much at fault.

> True.  But women are supposed to put yhe brakes on guys when they're getting carried away.

> Helen!!  That's old-fashioned thinking!!

> Maybe.  But women not holding each other accountable is old-fasioned, too.

> Well, you're a big girl.  You decide. 

> Oh, I've decided.  I'm gonna ask her for a word in the bathroom.

> Helen!  You sly dog.  I'll hold our table.

> Thank you.

I get up and scooch over to their table.  I insert myself between the couple, hold out my hand to her and shake it.  "Helen", I say.  "Would you accompany me to the wash room for a minute.  I have a question for you."

Without saying a word, she gets up and proceeds to the Ladies' Room.  I follow her.  I look back at Sandra.

"YOU ROCK," she mouths to me.

My hands are shaking.

To be continued.....

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Helen vs Melanie: Quick scuffle at a restaurant
« Reply #1 on: February 28, 2022, 01:53:32 PM »
At this point, you women out there, especially those who are GenXers who grew up and matured in the years I did (the carefree and optimistic 1980s and 1990s, the lowered expectations of the 2000s, the tech-heavy/online 2010s) might be saying, "Wait, .... Helen, ..... you walked up to a strange woman, in public with her date, and asked to have a word with her .... in private.  You realize you were instigating shit between herself and yourself, right?  Right?!?  Like, .... have you ever BEEN IN a catfight?".

The answers to all of your questions, whether you mean them rhetorically, are:  Yes.

Yes, I really did approach a woman, in public, in front of her date.
Yes, I knew I was provoking her.
And, Yes.  Yes, I've been in catfights.

My catfighting experience, before Saturday night at least, was standard boilerplate privileged White Girl fare:

<1> Hairpulling drama at high school dances and sleepovers, which were quickly broken up by responsible adults.

<2> More serious face-offs with ex's and hometown girlfriends of college boyfriends, some of which involved actual fists flying.

<3> Jockeying for social standing with PTA MILFs as our children mingled inside and outside of pre-school, elementary school, and middle school.  (By high school, I required my only child, a daughter, to fight her own battles--not that she needed much coaxing; my daughter wanted 'out of the nest' as quickly as she could, sensing--correctly-- that her father and I were headed to separation and divorce.)

<4> In 'blowback' from <2>, late night searching and drunk-texting old rivals on Facebook and Instagram as we all changed and re-changes last names from marriage and divorce, moved back and forth across the country, and watched the explosive growth of our alma mater, University of Central Florida in Orlando, into the largest ungraduate enrollment of any college in the country.  Usually this late night activity resulted in little more than snarky trash-talk by email or text.  But sometimes, it escalated into a phone call/video chat/in person meeting/all of the above.  And, yes .... someimes I 'scored' a IRL middle-aged catfight out of the above. 

I'll keep the particulars private, both to protect the innocent, since I've already disclosed my UCF connection. 

But suffice to say .... I kinda enjoyed pulling hair and slapping with a woman my size and age.  It got my blood running.  It kept my young.  And as my sex drive and sexual opportunities waned, my catfighting habits helped fill the 'hole'. 

It gave me a reason to get up in the morning.

And judging by Melanie's rapid taking up of the 'Might I have a word with you in private?' gauntlet, perhaps she and I were of like mind.

It was like being at UCF at a 1989 college party and a boy asking you your major.

If you laughed it off, he got the message and moved on to a more willing girl.
If you said, 'I'm studying Economics, what are you?', the flirtation was 'on'.

It was like swiping right or left in 2019.

Well, Saturday night, I had messaged Melanie.  (by approaching her)

She swiped right.  (by heading to the Ladies' Room)

This battle was off to a promising start.

That must be why my hands were shaking.

To be continued.....

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Helen vs Melanie: Quick scuffle at a restaurant
« Reply #2 on: February 28, 2022, 08:51:19 PM »
Melanie was walking so deliberately and directly to the rest room, I was curious if a case of mistaken identity was in progress.  Was Melanie EXPECTING to be confronted at the restaurant tonight?  Perhaps by a rival for the greasy-haired man's affections?  Was that why Melanie was so enthusiastically making out with him?  To provoke a reaction from a mystery woman?

I replayed my brief introduction to her in my head, over and over.  My first word to her, I swore, was mu name:  "Helen".  As in, 'Nice to meet you, my name is Helen'.  Now I was kicking myself for not being more clear.  In my brevity and quickness, had Melanie mis-heard me?  Had she thought I said, 'Melanie', as I rudely and brusquely extended my hand, as in, 'I know who YOU are, and I'm here to confront you in the rest room.  Which you were expecting.'

Now, I wasn't going to crack the facade of confidence I was being sure to project by asking Melanie if our encounter had begun with a mutual mis-understanding.  The big picture was unchanged:  I still wanted to give her a piece of my mind, that her Public Dispay of Affection at the dinner table was turning the stomach of my friend and me, and I needed her to stop.  But Melanie's response to my demand would surely vary, depending on who exactly SHE thought I was.  Which I had no way of knowing for sure.

Unless I asked her.

Which I wasn't going to do.

I follow her about 5 to 6 paces behind as the strides thru the bar.  The male drinkers at the bar eye both of us as we pass.

They appear to prefer HER hair, which is slightly longer, and is flowing and bouncing more as she walks.

But they also appear to prefer MY legs and ass, which I work hard on at weekly yoga and aerobics.

Good.  Melanie and I are worthy competitors in the looks department.

Maybe after I rough her up in the rest room, I'll let her man kiss me on the mouth.

He seems like a good tongue kisser.

To be continued.....

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Helen vs Melanie: Quick scuffle at a restaurant
« Reply #3 on: March 01, 2022, 01:41:37 PM »
Melanie and I enter the semi-crowded, but surpringly large, rest room, which consists of an early Saturday evening mix women of women of all ages, half standing in front of the mirror, fixing their hair and makeup, and the other half soaping up at a low row of sinks after making use of the lavarotories.  Since nearly all the women have entered in groups of 2 to 4, the steady drone of conversation and laughter drowns out the conversation Melanie and I are about to engage in, giving us privacy as long as we don't speak too loudly (or otherwise make a spectacle of ourselves by getting physical--I have a strong urge to slap her face, but I suppress it).

We stand adjacent, our shoulders touching, at the long makeup shelf, eyeing each others' faces through the long mirror in front of us.  Melanie speaks first.

> What's the matter, tough girl?  Out with your girlfriend because neither of you had Saturday night dates?  [Why did she call me 'tough girl'?  More mistaken identity?  Was the mystery woman she was expecting to confront her a catfighter?  Or .... does she realize via my challenging her to this conversation that I'm a catfighter, even tho she knows little else about me?]

> Not that it's any of your business, but just enjoying food and conversation with a friend.  Or, I was .... until your throwing yourself at your cute man ruined the scenery.  Could you please keep your tongue in your own mouth?  [I actually find her man greasy and undesirable.  But I'm not going to tell her that.  Let her think that I'm after him.]

> [Melanie turns away from the mirror and spins 90 degrees to face me directly.  Her eyes burn with pure anger.  Good.  I've made my point.  She lifts her left hand and places it in my blonde hair and tugs.  Not enough to tilt my head, but enough to feel a pinching sensation in my scalp.]  Or what?  What wiill you do about it if I don't?  .....  Bitch?

> [An attractive young 20something girl standing close to us gets uncomfortable at the confrontational turn our conversation has taken, and departs.  But she is replaced by 4 or 5 tipsy women who appear to be part of a bridal party--today is the last Saturday before Lent, the final available weekend until late April to hold Catholic weddings--who are too into their partying to notice Melanie and my showdown mere feet from them.]  I know what YOU'll do.  You'll pull my hair and call me a bitch.  Like we're a pair of fucking teenagers.

> [Melanie sticks her nose in my face.]  Oh, you'd prefer to go woman to woman with me??  Because we can do that, too, honey.  I'm game.

> [I sink both of my hands in Melanie's long mane of curly auburn hair flowing down her shoulders.  I've wanted to tug on it since I sat at my table with Sandra and saw Melanie slobbering all over her date.]  You can't go woman with me, slut.  I'm twice the woman you'll ever be.

> Oh, is that a fact, you fucking whore?

I feel dripping down my inner thighs.  I thrust my hips into Melanie's.  I can feel her erect clit our mini-skirts.  Is it erect because she's been making out with her date?  Or because I've confronted her?

I hope it's the latter.

To be continued.....

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Helen vs Melanie: Quick scuffle at a restaurant
« Reply #4 on: March 03, 2022, 01:53:43 PM »
As Melanie and I struggle against the bathroom makeup shelf and mirror, hissing insults at each other, the tipsy bridal party girls start to notice our standoff, first surreptitiously, then out loud.

> Oh my Gawd, are those two women fighting?

> No way.  They can't be fighting, can they?

> Look, tho.  I think they are.  They're pulling hair.

> Oh my Gawd, I think you're right.  They're .... catfighting.

I think back to UCF on-campus parties in the late 1980s.  The school was transitiong from being a commuter school to a residential campus, and the administration was loosening up on allowing weekend on-campus parties, and allowing off-campus guests to drive in and join.  College girlfriends and hometown high school girlfriends would mix, and inevitably collide, at these parties.

I recalled one particular run in I had with the ex for a boy I was slerping with.  We were curious about who each other were (and what each other looked like), and at one Saturday night party found out.

And wasted no time getting in each others' face, arguing and threatening.

> Look at those two bitches in the hallway.

> Oh my God, are they going to fight?

> I think they're going to fight.

> Should we tell someone??

> No way!  Let them finish.

> Yeah, let's watch.

> I got blondie.  Who do you got?

> Neither of them look like they can fight.

> I disagree.  Blondie looks hard.

> I think they're both fucking that guy in 404A.

I would thrill, and get an adrenaline rush, as much at discovery of our confrontation as at the standoff with my rival itself.

I enjoyed be seen as a capable fighter.  I found it flattering.

I enjoyed, tonight, being discovered fighting Melanie.

My clit was now as hard as hers.

I wonder if she can feel it.

I wonder if the girl spectators can see it thru my skirt.

To be continued ......

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Helen vs Melanie: Quick scuffle at a restaurant
« Reply #5 on: March 04, 2022, 01:48:54 PM »
One of the tipsy bridesmaids, a tall brunette, finally steps forward and walks us to Melanie and me, still locked in a catball against a mirror. 

> Are you 2 .... ladies ..   fighting?  Like, catfighting?

Melanie doesn't hesitate to answer.

> Yes, we're fighting over a man.  [We are?  Ok, this is definitely a mistaken identity situation.  But I'll play along.  Having 4 sexy women witness our battle is a bonus I don't mind receiving.]  Why, are yiu going to report us to the manager?

> No, no.  Please, continue.  Don't mind us.  You two bitches are putting on an awesome show.

> [A shorter firend of the brunette's, a darker girl, now speaks up.]  Or .... I have an even better idea.  Ladies .... we have a stretch limo outside.  You two can ..... finish ...  there if you'd like.

> [The tall brunette interrupts her.]  As long as we all get to watch!!  I wanna see the fur fly!!

The tall brunette is really into catfights.

Not that I'm one to talk.  I've never turned down a chance to witness a good catfight.  At UCF weekend parties, when the word "Catfight!!", whether it was shouted or whispered or stated matter-of-fact-ly, I went running to the scene as fast as any other girl.  If any girlfriend of mine needed to be accompanied to a UCF party where an ex or a rival might be attending, I'd eagerly assent to her request to 'watch her back', but secretly hoping to watch her catfight--and sometimes getting my wish.  And as my marriage feel apart and my newly-rebellious college-age daughter started hanging out with the Florida 'bad girls' in our declining neighborhood, I'd peak thru the window as they'd engage in bored-with-nothing-better-to-do bare knuckle fistfights of varying intensity in our backyard.

I'd masturbate for weeks afterwards to each fight that came to fruition.

The young attractive tall brunette will be masturbating to Melanie and me for weeks after tonight.

If I win the fight, she'll be masturbating mostly to me.

I find that flattering as fuck.

> What are we waiting for, Melanie?  Let's go to these ladies' limo.  And fuck each other up.

> Let's do it.  Let's kick the shit out of each other.

I brush up against the tall brunette's hips so she can feel my erect clit thru our skirts.

She lets me know she can feel it by winking at me.

This night just got sexier.

To be continued....

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Helen vs Melanie: Quick scuffle at a restaurant
« Reply #6 on: March 06, 2022, 03:13:03 PM »
In my UCF weekend party fight days, both as a combatant and as a spectator, I quickly learned how to "read" a girl who was squaring up for a catfight.

A type to not worry so much about was a hormonally-excited ex- or side chick who was under the influence of, and acting on, her feminine jealousy.  The reason this was a secondary concern for her opponent was that she would come out full throttle the first 10 seconds of the fight, flailing and pulling hair and scratching at 160 miles an hour, and leave nothing in the tank for the middlegame and endgame portions of the battle.  It was like playing a chess opponent who brings out their queen early, who who exchanges all sorts of pawns and pieces in the first eight moves, and then is sitting there with the board wide open having lost the right to castle.  If you could avoid a lucky fist to the mouth to a catfighter like that, you could be pretty confident in them being gassed pretty quickly.

No, the opponent to fear was the girl that told you by her posture and demeanor that she hated YOU-but loved the idea of FIGHTING YOU.  These girls would stand up to you toe to toe, nose to nose, and meet your stare with an icy gaze.

These were the girls, .....the women, really, ..... to worry about.

To look for a de-escalation with, if at all possible.

Melanie was the second type of woman.  I sensed it in my gut from the soul-less, clammy handshake she gave me at the dinnertable.

Hopefully, she sensed it right back from me.  The way I didn't give an inch in the bathroom.

The bridesmaids were in for a real treat.

To be continued.....

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Helen vs Melanie: Quick scuffle at a restaurant
« Reply #7 on: March 17, 2022, 11:49:17 AM »
As I got older, and my Fight Life transitioned from UCF party fights in front of other girls to more private and intimate PTA and then Facebook "blowback" fights, I realized I had missed the adrenaline rush of fighting in front of a crowd of attractive girls.  Don't get me wrong--nothing beats the raw primal-ness of "two women enter, one woman exits (and, the better one)".

But when you fight in front of a crowd, the crowd is doing two things simultaneously.  First, their checking out the faces and hair and tits and ass and waist of ghe 2 opponents and comparing them.  And then, during the fight, they're measuring the performance of each fighter against their own expectation.

And, if the girls watching are anything like me ..... they're crushing on the girl winning the fight.  Especially if it's a really competitive fight.

I want the brunette braidsmaid to be crushing on me in the next 5 to minutes.  Maybe I'll get a kiss from her.

At UCF, there would be lots of post-fight contact between the fighters and the girls in the crowd.  The girls in the crowd would be pretending to check the scratches and bruises on the fighters.  But there was a flirtiness to it.  An aroused desire for body contact and touchy-feely, to see if the fighters' breasts were still hard, their nipples still pointy, from the catfight.  Or from having confronted a sexual rival.  Or from having just beaten one.

The most attractive girls in the UCF crowds always gravitated to the winning girl in the fight afterwards.

Melanie and I are almost in the limo.  The tittering and chirping of the bridesmaids arouses me.  Melanie's harsh voice cuts thru their chatter.

> You'll be to bruised to fuck any man tonight slut.

> [Aren't YOU the one on the date with the man, slut??  This is definitely mistaken identity.  WHICH man did she think I'm fucking tonight.  Hers?  Or a different one.  I don't care at this point.  I just want to fight.]  You lips with me to fat to go back to the dinner table to kiss.

> Oh, is that a fact??  [Melanie whips around and gets face to face with me.]  So we're doing more than pulling hair now??

> [I suddenly realize that in the bathroom, Melanie and I had done lityle more than pull hair.  I'm excited to do more.  So much more.]  Yes, bitch.  We're going to fight.  All out.  Fight me bitch.  [My pussy is oozing down my legs as I say this out loud.  I ssooo want to fight this bitch.  Ironically, in the heat of the moment, we just resume hairpulling, my hands irresistably drawn to further destroying and mangling Melanie's auburn 'do.  The bridesmaids jump in.]

"Ladies, ladies.  Not out here!!!  They have security all over here.  Get inside the limo.  The windows are tinted."

The bridesmaids open the door and practically shove Melanie and me inside.

The doors close in an airtight seal.

"Go, bitches!!!  Catfight!!!!"

Melanie needs no prompting.  She's already punching my boobs.

> So that's the way you want this, huh?  Bitch?

To be continued.....

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Helen vs Melanie: Quick scuffle at a restaurant
« Reply #8 on: March 18, 2022, 07:46:40 AM »
When I was at UCF, when I would fight a romantic rival, or when I would watch two romantic rivals fight, once the fists were clenched and flying, they were aimed no lower than an opponent's chin.  To aim a fist at an enemy's chest?  It was a breech of girlcode was what it was.  Mind you, another breech of girlcode--dating another girl's man--was the underlying cause of 99% of UCF girlfights.  But it was a rule never broken--aim for your rival's face and head, nor her chest.

As I got older, and UCF party fights morphed into PTA staus fights and then Facebook reunion blowback fights, the chest evolved from being out of bounds to, well, the end zone itself, to use a football analogy.  The first time I got punched in my breast was as much an eye opener as, well, getting punched in the face for the first time had been a decade earlier.  It was an attractive, impeccably groomed Florida school mom named Taylor, who thought I was insufficiently decerential to her seniority in signing up for Teacher Appreciation duties.  She cornered me at the school dumpster after cleanup, lined me up and squared my shoulders to force me to face her and listen to her irrational ranting (I was trying to be the bigger woman and de-escalate the confrontation), and wound up and thumped me so hard that my bra nearly broke flesh on my underboob (my husband asked me in bed that night, after we did it, why there was a groove there--typical of him to be attentative to me after his needs were satisfied, but that's a different story than this one).  I stared at her in shocked disbelief, and she smirked in comprehension that I had never been in a fight with Women's Tactics,  not Girls' or Marquess of Queensbury.  But I realiated in kind, and the smirk on Taylor's face was gone.  And I loved the rush it gave me, to fight another woman that way.

Melanie and I were brawling that way right now in the limo.  The bridemaids were young enough to still be familiar with UCF-style fights:  hairpulling and punching strictly chin-height or above.  But Melanie and I were filling their heads with new ideas and tactical options when in the midst of a pugilistic contest.

I hoped when the pretty brunette attacked an enemy that way someday, for the first time, she'd be letting me watch.

Now the my hands were released from Melanie long curly auburn mane, I could see for the first time how thick and long it was.  I hated how other women my age could always grow their hair so much longer than mine and it not become stringy.  One of the indignities of middle age.  Is the what attracted her greasy, spare-tire'd date to her?

Was the brunette bridesmaid attracted to her now?  Is that why she wanted to watch Melanie and I fight?

Is that why her fingers were between her legs?

To be continued......

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Helen vs Melanie: Quick scuffle at a restaurant
« Reply #9 on: March 20, 2022, 02:58:47 PM »
My boobs are taking a vicious pounding from Melanie's fists.  I'm still confident in my ability to "take" Melanie--to wear her down by hitting hers harder and more frequently.

But is it worth it?  Is SHE worth it??

I've already accomplished what I wanted this morning with her.  I called her out for her disgusting dinner display with her disgusting boyfriend. 

I "held her accountable".

Now, in my mind, she's and afterthought.  My objective has moved on to the young brunette bridesmaid.  I think I have a chance to sleep with her tonight.

Which, normally, I would have long odds on.  Impossibly long, really. 

To start with, she's about 20 years younger than me.  Young enough to be my daughter, if I had been a Teen Mom.

Second, she's beautiful.  Way out of my league.  I'm a 7 to 8, but she's a 9.  A solid 9.  And 9's don't sleep with 7's.

Unless.

9's loosen up their standards if they've just been to a wedding.  Weddings make women uncontrollably horny.  It's maybe envy of the bride.  Maybe of the awareness that there's way way more eligible women out there than eligible men.  That the pool of eligible men is just way too thin, the bench way way too short.

That the competition is too tough.

UCF weekend parties gave an early window into this grim picture.  Why did every damn guy have three bitches in his room?  His college girl, his high school ex from back home, and then a new party girl lurking for when the college girl and high school girl fucked each other up in a catfight over him?

That's what Melanie and I were doing right now.  Senseless beating each others' tits for the enjoyment of the 4 spoiled bridesmaids.  We had each proved our point.  We had made out stand, and showed each other we don't tolerate bull crap.

Now it was time to get back to our own lives.

Her with her greasy spare-tire man.

And me with the brunette bridesmaid.

Neither of us was going to quit our catfight and give (although, if we continued punching, I had ever confidence that Melanie would get exhausted first).  But I rembered an old trick from UCF fights.

"First blood", it was called.

If you bloodied your opponent first--by getting her on the nose or the lip and getting a noticable trickle for the audience to see--you could claim "First Blood".  It was like winning a boxing match on a TKO.  Like Joe Frazier not answering the bell for the 15th round in Manila.

And the girl having blood drawn seldom protested, even if she had been winning the fight.  She would instictually want to run to a mirror to assess damages.  Were stiches required?  A visit to a dentist?  Had $5,000 of orthodontia, and three humiliating months of headgear, just be wasted.

Melanie's face and mine are crushed together.  We can smell each others' sweat and breath.  She really is a sick pig.  Low life slut.  I tell her that.

And I tell her something else.

> I'm going to make you bleed, bitch.

To be continued....




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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Helen vs Melanie: Quick scuffle at a restaurant
« Reply #10 on: March 23, 2022, 09:55:42 PM »
I begin pinching and twisting the skin on Melanie's face, hoping to induce a cut which will have enough yield to credibly claim "First blood!" and get enthusiastic affirmation from our bridesmaid witnesses.  But Melanie's skin is almost implausibly flaccid, nothing like the sunburned reptilian skin from lifelong Florida residents.  She must have moved from up north.  But not somewhere dry and sun-psrched, like Canada or New York [although she IS as skilled fighting-wise as any Canadian bitch].

No, she's a recent arrival.  From Tennessee or Virginia/DC.  She lacks the classic Georgia/Kentucky twangy accent.  I'm thinking Virginia/DC.  DC bitches were rare at UCF party fights.  But tough.

Shit, Melanie is tough.  We've been brawling for awhile now in the limo.

> Had enough, bitch?  she has the gall to ask.

> You haven't even hurt me, Melanie, I retort.  [The brunette bridesmaid looks at me admiringly.  I'm scoring points with her by the minute.]

I form a fist, and aim at Melanie's nose.  Many a UCF party fight ended with a bloodied nose and a precautionary trip to the student health center for x-rays.  They were always negative.  A nose doesn't need to break to bleed.

Why isn't Melanie's bleeding yet.

She's working my tits mercilessly.  Luckily, I have a strong threshold for pain there.  And other places.  I delivered my daughter...... AFTER my epidural wore off.

Melanie is catching on.  She changing her tactics.

She's pulling my hair again.

And slamming it against the limo window.

I need to get her off of me.  Fast.

I do a backwards summersault, throwing Melanie.  She falls into the brunette bridesmaid lap.

The two of them kiss.  The same gross makeout tongue kiss Melanie was doing with her spare-tire date at the dinner table.

I see red.

I snap.

To be continued.....

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Helen vs Melanie: Quick scuffle at a restaurant
« Reply #11 on: March 24, 2022, 07:54:18 PM »
When Melanie had been slamming my head against the limo window, the thumping and the sight, even thru the tinted, bulletproof glass, had been disruptive enough to attract the attention of exterior passersby, to whom it probably appeared that I was getting assaulted.  They were quizzically approaching the vehicle, and so the alert and discreet driver pulled away quickly, throwing me from my feet and across the limo and into the lap (literally) of a young, blonde bridesmaid.

She had apparently been eyeing me the entire fight and enjoying the show, because she grabbed my right hand and put it under her dress and rubbed it on her womanhood rhythmically and slowly, kissing and sucking on my right ear hungrily. 

(My ear, really?  was my first reaction; followed by, Wow, that's actually quite erotic--how have I not known about this yet?)

Diagonally across the limo passenger cabin, Melanie and my brunette crush were making out intensely, grinding each others' chests into each other furiously.  I was jealous and angry, but the the blonde held my head pressed to her mouth and my hand to her thighs, and the limo was winding its way thru the still-under-construction shopping plaza.

So I went with it.

I fingered the blonde, at my pace instead of hers.  A faster pace which I hoped would be even more arousing to her.

It was.  She stopped sucking my ear.  And started sucking my mouth.

We speak between our loud kissing.

> I loved you sucking my ear.

> I love you rubbing my pussy.

> Who was winning the fight.

> It was a tie.  [Shit, it was?]  Are you going to finish.

> Do you want us to finish?

> If I get to watch.

> Who do you want to win?

> I hope it's an endless tie so you fight her forever.  [Really??  You do??]

> Less talking, more kissing.

> Less kisding, more cumming.

> Kissing makes me cum.

> Then kiss me hard, babe.

To be continued.....

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Helen vs Melanie: Quick scuffle at a restaurant
« Reply #12 on: April 24, 2022, 10:10:48 PM »
The bridal party had their fun after they came.  Both my blonde make-out partner, and Melanie's brunette make-out partner who I had been crushing on all night, looked at their watches and decided it was time to return the limo.  They were of a younger generation than Melanie and me, and had little interest in continuing their evening after witnessing a fight and the two alphas getting off with the two gladiatrices. 

It was getting dark, and they wanted to get home now.  They had probably been drinking for hours.  All night even.

> Should we drop you two bitches off back at the restaurant?  [The question comes out more contemptuously than intended.  But alcohol is truth serum, and both Melanie realize we've been objects of mockery by the younger women, not mentorship.  A long ride back to the restaurant with these rich bitches will lead only to more awkwardness.]

> [Melanie and I look at each other and realize we still have unfinished business.  Our fight outcome is still undecided.  These Millennial girls don't deserve to watch the conclusion.  The limo is outside an unfinished section of the shopping center.  Lots of framed buildings, with construction materials inside.  Gritty.]  Drop us off here.  You bitches get home.

The girls stop the car, relieved to no longer need to entertain us mature ladies.

Melanie and I climb out of the limo, slamming the door to the nervous laughter of the spoiled bitches.  They're probably wondering if they should expect a lawsuit Monday morning.

Melanie surprises me by striding straight into the semi-darkened framed construction zone.  She pulls out her cellphone.  "I'm calling my date to pick me up.  We should have just enough time to finish.  If we start right away."

She wants to finish our brawl.  At UCF, sometimes the fight inside the dorm was just the undercard.  The decisive part of two girls fighting happened later that night.  Outside.  Alone.  Or with just the mutual boyfriend watching.

This fight was just like those UCF fights from thirty years ago.

I was game.

I call my friend Sandra.

> Helen, thank Gawd.  WHERE THE HELL have you been?

> It's a long story.  The Kissing Bandit Bitch and I are way at the unfinished part, near an empty gazebo with an oversized U.S. flag.  I'm finishing her off.  Come pick me ip here.

> On my way.

Melanie has just hung up the phone with her greasy boyfriend.  He must be picling her up too.

We both put our phones down and stride into each others' bodies, fingers resuming their familiar positions in each others' scalps.

> I can't wait to make your man scrape your body off this concrete floor.

> You're not capable, honey.

> Watch me, slut.

We start shredding hair in full handfuls. 

I feel 30 years younger.

To be continued.....

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Helen vs Melanie: Quick scuffle at a restaurant
« Reply #13 on: May 09, 2022, 12:58:15 AM »
Truth be told, my fight with Melanie was now at the stalemate endpoint typically reached by the majority of UCF 1980s girlfights:  our friends were on the way to break us up, saving face for both of us.

Even though we were both "done".  Spent.  Unable to finish off the other.

At UCF, it happened regularly--the stalemate ending--not because the girls weren't alpha's. 

Most of them were.

Rather, it happened because, for the first time, the girl was matched up with another alpha.  All of her high school fights, either in school or in athletics or at parties or from shopping mall trips (the 1980s version of Social Media drama), had been against girls who were Beta's. 

They acted like Alpha's.  But it was all acting.  The Beta girl knew she was a Beta, but acted like an Alpha to protect herself. 

It was all deflection.  She had learned that the best way to deflect trouble to someone else was to act like an Alpha.  Bullies sought out weakness.  Like hyenas on the African savannah circling the herd of wildebeasts, letting the elderly, the injured, the wounded, the newborns get separated from the herd. 

And then moving in on those for the kill.

An alpha hyena never met up with an alpha wildebeast.  Even though the alpha hyena would have still won 1on1.  The price, in scratches, kicks, and headbutts just wouldn't have been worth it.

So in 1980s Florida high school, alpha girls never directly confronted each other.  The alpha's honed their craft against beta's.

That all changed at UCF.  The alpha's started finding each other.  And colliding.  Hard.

I hated Melanie--I thought she was a skank bitch.  But she was an alpha.  And so was I.  This, tonight with her, reminded me of alpha-alpha draws at UCF.

The exhilaration.  The drama.  The violence.

I can hear our friends walking into the building site.  Greasy-haired, beer-belly dude leading the way.

> Ladies, ladies, break it up.  Melanie, are you ok?

> [What a hero, I think to myself.  But I need to tell Melanie something first.]  I was surprised how well you fought.  No hard feelings?

> When did I say that?

*****************************

Later then night, when I came masturbating, Melanie's voice saying that echoed in my head.

The End.