Man that's awesome you are a genius, plz we need the blonde husband POV to know who is telling the truth
Thank yx56 and The Arabian!
I'm not going to make a video on the husband's POV since I'd rather use my limited credits to have women talk about their catfights... However, I spent an hour (or two?) coming up with the husband's POV just for you - hope you enjoy it. You can use the workflow I've detailed in the 3rd post to create your own video of the husband - and if you do - please do share it here.
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Cassie's Husband - Richard (?) is narrating it:
“I wasn’t even in the room when it started. I was in the study, scrolling emails, when I heard it — shouting. Sharp, cutting. My wife’s voice clashing with Sophie’s. Not unusual. They’ve sniped at each other before. But then I heard it — the slap. That distinct, skin-on-skin crack that makes the hairs stand on your neck.
I froze for a second, listening. Then came the thud, the crash of something tipping over, followed by screaming. Not arguing — screaming. My gut knew exactly what was happening. Cassie and Sophie weren’t just yelling this time. They were fighting.
I crept out of the study, quiet, heart pounding. Through the crack of the foyer door, I saw them — two women I’d secretly imagined tearing into each other for months, finally doing it for real. Cassie in her yoga pants, Sophie in that tight blouse, fighting like hellcats. Cassie had Sophie’s hair in both hands, yanking her head back like a whip. Sophie’s face was twisted with rage as she screamed, ‘Jealous flat-ass cxnt!’ before she sank her nails into Cassie’s tits. My wife howled, but didn’t let go — she jerked Sophie down with her, and they crashed onto the floor in a tangle of limbs and hair.
And Jesus Christ, my cock swelled the second I saw this.
Cassie’s got the bigger tits, no question. Full, round, always bouncing under her sports bras. But Sophie? There’s something about her. That sharp tongue, her bitchy pride, those smaller but perfect little handfuls she hides under her dresses. Hell, I’d fantasized about what it’d be like if the two of them finally went at it. And here it was — my fantasy come alive on the damn foyer floor.
It wasn’t a fight. It was a fucking war.
They rolled, hair yanked in bloody fistfuls. Sophie ripped a clump of Cassie’s blonde curls right out, holding it like a trophy before Cassie shrieked and slammed Sophie's head into the floor. Cassie screamed, ‘I’ll scalp you, bitch!’ and tore at Sophie’s dark locks until strands snapped between her fingers. Sophie spat in her face, warm and glistening — Cassie responded by clawing her nails down Sophie’s face, leaving angry red welts that made Sophie scream.
Clothes tore within seconds. Cassie’s sports bra was yanked halfway down, her tits spilling out, nipples hard from the adrenaline. Sophie’s blouse split open at the buttons, baring her smaller breasts, pale and trembling as Cassie’s claws raked across them. The sounds — nails scratching flesh, fabric ripping, both of them snarling ‘Bitch!’ and ‘Slut!’ with spit flying — it was pure, animalistic.
Every sound, every insult made me harder. My breathing was ragged, shallow, like I’d just sprinted a mile.
I should’ve stepped in. But instead, I stayed hidden, frozen in the doorway, my cock pressing so hard against my pants it hurt. I’ve fantasized about this for months. Every time I saw Sophie toss Cassie a dirty look, every time I ogled at Sophie bending in her garden while Cassie glared… I imagined them tearing each other apart. And now? It was happening.
They weren’t holding back. Cassie’s nails were sunk deep into Sophie’s tits, twisting and pulling. Sophie was clawing back, ripping Cassie’s bra down, mauling her breasts like she wanted to tear them off at the root. They were shrieking threats — ‘I’ll rip your fucking tits off!’ — hair flying, teeth flashing, clothes shredding. I should’ve stepped in, but instead? I leaned against the doorway, hard as a rock, just watching.
It was primal, violent, and erotic all at once. I’d never seen a catfight before, not like this, and it was… let's just say I couldn’t ignore the way my cock pulsed, straining my zipper.. I told myself I’d step in after a few seconds, but I couldn’t. My eyes were glued. Every time Cassie bucked her hips to flip Sophie, every time Sophie sank her nails deeper into my wife’s chest, my cock throbbed harder.
Sophie surprised me — she wasn’t backing down. Smaller tits or not, she fought like a demon. Cassie screamed, but came back twice as hard. Both of them, tits out, locked in a savage maul, breasts mashed together as they rolled. I swear, it was like watching porn shot in my own house.
I don’t know how long I watched. A minute? Two? Long enough that I was throbbing in my pants, one hand pressed against the doorframe to keep myself from stepping in and ruining it.
The trigger that broke me? When Cassie’s hand slid down between Sophie’s legs. I saw her claws hook into Sophie’s panties, yanking, scratching, raking right at her pussy. The sound Sophie made — half scream, half sob — was so raw I felt it in my spine. For a second I thought Cassie might actually… ruin her.
I shoved the door open, stormed in, and both their eyes flicked to me — wild, furious, tits exposed, chests heaving. But what they both saw instantly was my erection. No hiding it. My cock was a tentpole in my pants, throbbing, obvious. Cassie’s eyes darted down, Sophie’s too, and for a moment both of them just froze, snarling, panting, their claws still sunk into each other’s flesh while they registered how fucking hard it made me.
I pulled Cassie off Sophie not because I wanted to, but because I honestly thought Cassie might tear Sophie’s pussy open if I didn’t. I pulled her off, Sophie collapsing onto her side, hair in clumps, tits scratched purple, panties shredded. Cassie wasn’t much better — blood streaking her chest, hair torn, sports bra dangling off one tit, her face flushed with fury and triumph. Both of them glared at each other over my shoulder, still snarling, still wanting more. I was the one who asked Sophie to leave.
So who won? Truth is… there wasn’t a winner. Not yet. Sure - Cassie had the upper hand when I stepped in, but Sophie wasn’t finished. It was a draw because I made it one.
But here’s the truth I’ll never admit to them: I didn’t want to stop it. Not really. I wanted to keep watching. To see them rip each other raw, tits shredded, hair gone, biting, writhing on the foyer floor, one finally broken under the other. I still jerk off to the thought of it — my wife and my neighbor, clawing, spitting, screaming ‘Bitch!’ with their tits and pussies torn open. That day, I lived every man’s dirtiest fantasy.
I should’ve been ashamed, but fuck that. I loved it.
I’ll be honest. The only reason I stopped that fight was the door.
The goddamn front door was wide open, Sophie’s shrieks echoing through the cul-de-sac. Neighbors peek out quick when they hear something like that. One phone call and we’d have cops in the driveway, two half-naked women clawing each other like animals on my foyer floor. Assault charges, restraining orders, lawsuits — it would’ve been a nightmare.
So yeah, I stepped in. I broke it up.
I’ve thought about it every day since. How to make it happen again. How to get Cassie and Sophie in the same space, no interruptions, no open doors, no chance of cops. Just the two of them, stripped down, nowhere to run, forced to fight until one is broken under the other.
And here’s the thing: I know they want it too. The way Cassie still mutters ‘flat-chested whore’ every time Sophie’s name comes up. The way Sophie sneers ‘big-titted cow’ under her breath when she sees Cassie outside. Neither of them feels finished. They’ve got unfinished business simmering just under the surface, and I’m the only one who can bring it to a boil.
I imagine it all the time. I ‘forget’ to lock the basement door, casually mention to Sophie that Cassie’s been trash-talking her again. Or maybe I plan a barbecue, plenty of booze, let them needle each other until it explodes. Except this time, I lead them into the garage or basement — door shut, no windows, no neighbors to hear. When the claws come out, I let it ride. No stopping, no breaking it up.
I’ll sit back in the shadows, cock in my hand, watching them rip at tits and hair, spitting in each other’s faces, rolling in sweat and blood until one of them finally quits.
And I’ll make it clear: I won’t interfere. I won’t play referee. I’ll let them fight until it’s undeniable who the queen of this cul-de-sac really is.
Cassie thinks she’s already proven herself. Sophie thinks Cassie’s tits are nothing but targets. They both hate each other enough to go the distance. And I need to see it — the finish, the true end.
Because Round 1 was foreplay. Next time? I’ll make sure there’s a Round 2. Door shut. No interruptions. No cops. Just two enraged women tearing each other apart until one is left sobbing on the floor, tits shredded, pussy mauled, begging the other to stop.
And me? I won’t be conflicted this time. I’ll be stroking, watching, memorizing every second. Because I’m done with draws. I want a winner. And I’ll make damn sure I get one.
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Hope that was good for you.
