[sinclairfan]

JESSICA VS CASSIE

In my two Boca-Wellington girlfights versus Marianne, when we grabbed each other by the hair or forearms, it was with the intent of pushing the other one down onto the ground.  Cassie's intent this morning is the opposite--to hold me up, either to slam me into a wall or a doorway, or to pin me against a surface and to rain punches on my face.  Her jabs are quick and effective, and I have little choice but to match her tactics.

With my eyes upright, I become much more aware of my surroundings than I ever was in either of my Marianne fights.  I'm on the lookout for anything in the room with hard corners--the table where we each placed our purses (and the purses themselves--I'm SO stealing this bitch's wallet if I win this fight), a vanity with waxing equipment in it, a cot for the client to lay on, an adjoining room with a half-made bed in it.  Any of these may be used at any point be either Cassie or me to injure the other, by propelling our back or even our skulls into them.

But, I'm also intently aware of Cassie herself.  She stares me down with an intimidating "how dare you, who the fuck do you think you are" stare an smirk the entire duration of our brawl.  She obviously became aware of my existance and, at least, the outline of my background.  Mr Smooth divulged that information, either voluntarily or accidentally, to her at some point.

Is Cassie jealous of how young I am?  Does she think I'm pretty, like I think she is?  Do the punches I'm landing on her hurt her?  Do I fight as well as other women she's fought?

Is she as scared as I am right now?  Does she wish that fight with Katie at Kroger had happened instead of ghis one with me?  Did she know she'd be fighting me this morning when she put on that tshirt and jean shorts?

Is her clit as hard as mine?  In a clinch against the wall, my left hand reaches down into her jean shorts, pussy-grabbing her like a desperate barroom last call "move".  She isn't wearing a belt, and the jean button yields to my hand.  I tear downwards, revealing my enemy's bush.  With our upper bodies still clinching against the aging drywall, and our eyes locked, Cassie tears open my lower body nursing scrubs.

Our bushes line up against each other, and our hips ram into each other in a grinding, bucking motion.  My sensation is of intense pleasure, intermingled with equally intense pain.  My clit is so engorged it fells like it could actually snap off if bent just the right way.  If finds Cassie's--hers is hard, and oddly, cold, as steel.  I enjoy the raw feeling of our two clits touching, flesh on flesh.  When they separate, I crave renewed contact immediately.  I get lightheaded from the intensity of the pleasure and pain sensations I'm experiencing.

Cassie and I never break eye contact, our hip bucking becoming less jarring and more rhythmic.  Our clits grind into each other, getting ever harder and more sensitive to both pain and pleasure.  Cassie and I begin sweating profusely, our flesh drenched and our hair oily and slick.  Our claws penetrate each others' scalps.

Cassie's clit bends mine sideways, the pain excrutiating and then unbearable.  In desperation and anger, I lash out with a right cross to Cassie's jaw, as she lands spread eagle on her back.

Tears in my eyes, I grab wax tape.  Using three or four strips, I remove bush hair from her crotch.

I pass out in pain.

I wake up, three or four flesh paths on my bush revealing that Cassie has returned the favor on me.

My eyes go to the table.  Shit, the bitch took my purse.  My wallet and cellphone are gone.  Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

IS THIS WHAT WOMEN DO?

When Katie explained to me why she was avoiding a direct confrontation with Cassie, she had told me that a love triangle is "different" when there's a marriage and joint property involved.  Cassie's absconding with my purse, my license, my cash, my credit cards, my car keys, and my cellphone is almost the perfect symbolic expression of this--she has literally taken (at least temporary) custody of my most important tangible property--but by sharing a lover with her, wasn't I, also, helping to put into a suspended state any joint property from Cassie's current message, by throwing sand in the gears of her moving forward?  Is this what Katie was getting at?  Is this how grown women fight--with property as well as fists?

If so, I love it.  I love every second of it, even when I'm the (temporary) victim of it.  I love the short, quick punches Cassie landed to my face.  I love how Cassie and I looked each other square in the eye the entire fight.  I love how the room itself--the walls, the furniture-- became a weapon during the fight.  I love how erect our clits got, how we even fought with them, despite the unimaginable pain we were exposing ourselves to.  I love how after the fight, we each had each others' body at our mercy, and went sf each others' bushes with the body wax tape.  And I love how we took the others' personals--she took mine, and I woulda taken hers--after the fight.

If this is how women fight.....sign....me....up.

I also, in my helplessness, realize that Katie and I are no longer friends.  I can't call her to come rescue me.  How would I explain to her how Cassie and I know each other?  That BOTH Cassie and I are Katie's rivals for Mr Smooth's sexting.  That I sucked Mr Smooth's cock on Katie's couch while Katie showered?

And that I have no friends my age af all?  That I remained behind in Boca while they got on with their lives, off-line and on-.

There's only one phone number I can call.  My own cell.  And hope that Cassie answers it.  And that she hasn't chucked my stuff into thd Atlantic Ocean.

I dial.  It's ringing.  Please, somebody answer.

>  Hello?

> Katie?  <<<<<Why the fuck is Katie answering my cellphone?  How did she get it??>>>>

> Jessica?  Where ARE you?

> I'm....at.....a house in Wellington.  Katie, I'm stranded.  Where are YOU?  Why do you have my stuff??    <<<<...and why the fuck did you wait for me to call???>>>>

> I'm.....wait, I need to get away from where people can hear me....Jess--I'm at work, and I'm confused.... Cassie came here with your purse....she said she caught you sleeping with....HIM.....and took your stuff...

> <<<<Fuck, they've been looking at my text messages>>>  Katie.....slow the fuck down, you know you can't trust that bitch Cassie.....

> Jess, you fucking whore slut lying backstabber....you've been sexting with him, Cassie didn't make that part up.....I CAN SEE THE FUCKING SEXTS....I FUCKING KNEW I SAW YOUR HAIR ON THE FLOOR at my placd that day he was over.......Cassie didn't make that part up, YOU LYING FUCKING SLUT.....I should fucking kill you...

> Katie.....stop, think about it.....that's what Cassie wants....for the two of us to fucking kill each other so that shd can have her way with him.....

> Jess.....kill EACH OTHER......are you FUCKING DELUSIONAL......I would.....SSOOO.....FUCKING.....KILL YOU.....if we fought.....don't even go there....

> <<<<<<my clit becomes erect again>>>>>  <<<<nothing Katie could have said to me just now pushes my buttons more than questioning my fighting chops.....I've just gone toe to toe in a war with an Alpha Bitch>>>>>......Katie.....you don't know what you're talking about.....I just KO'd Cassie.....and without a fucking boxcutter, I might add.....

> THEN HOW'D SHE GET YOUR STUFF, SLUT??

>.....Katie.....it's a long fucking story that I don't need to get into.....with YOU......

> What's that supposed to mean, asshole?

> It means....I...would....fucking.. ..beat....you....in....a....fight....bitch.  <<<<I'm playing into Cassie's hands by fighting Katie and not Cassie, but I don't have much choice at this point.  Katie has my stuff, and I need it back.>>>>>   Now give me my stuff back, bitch.

> After I beat the shit out of you, I'm throwing it all in the fucking ocean.

> As will I with yours.  Where and when, whore?

> I'm off work in an hour.  What address are you at? 

I find food in a mini-fridge.  And I find my clit.  I lay on thd couch and masturbate to thoughts of hitting Katie.  The fact the she and I are fighting, and eliminating one of her rivals, will make Cassie happen, but so be it.  A fight between Katie and me has been a long time coming.

Is that another thing women do?  Divide and conquer their enemies?  If Cassie and Katie had fought that morning in Kroger's, would I have had Mr Smooth to myself?  One of them in the hospital, the other in jail?  Which one where, tho?

Who would have won?  Cassie or Katie?

Who will win in an hour?  Katie or me?

Fuck, my clit is hard.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

BREAK-UP CATFIGHT

As Friday afternoon turns into Friday evening, I wait in the bungalow-turned-waxing-salon for my soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend Katie to arrive.  It's sad that things have come to this.  That we graduated high school together, that we emotionally supported each other thru my college years, that we attempted to have a relationship.  I wonder how our future, my future, would have turned out if, when Katie got the one bedroom apartment in Wellington, I had been brave enough to move in with her.  I hesitated, and Katie started sexting with a customer she met at work.  And now she and I are going to catfight over him.

Why isn't Katie herr yet?  Is she playing games with me?  Is she dreading this fight as much as I am?  I want my damn cellphone and car keys back.

Katie and I talked smack about throwing esch others' cellphones into the Atlantic.  But we both know what we REALLY want to do with them:  read each others' texts and emails.  And to send a few under each others' (false) names.  That's every girl's real fantasy--we both know it.  The winner of our fight will get to actually do it.  For about 2 hours--until the loser gets the cellphone number disconnected.

Cassie no doubt wants Katie and I to put each other in the hospital.  But Cassie and I have unfinished business, so I'm going to suggest to Katie that we not fight like barbarians, like Marianne and I do, but with clits, like Cassie and I were starting to, before I caught Cassie eith an admittedly lucky uppercut.

All these thoughts of fight, and fighting styles, are leaving my clit bulging.  I want to attack Katie's with it while it's like this.

Katie and I never were in sync in bed.  When we would do my thing and hit each other, she seemed unsatisfied.  When we did her thing and tenderly kissed, I never found it quite exciting enough.  Maybe in a clit fight we can meet halfway.  Maybe that's why Cassie and I started to fight that way.

It's been awhile since Katie and I have been naked with each other.  Which caused which?  Did we stop having sex because we grew apart, or did we grow apart because we didn't work hard enough on the sex?  But why should sex be work?  If it is, maybe that person isn't the one for you.

I lay naked on my back, playing with my throbbing clit.  I'm so looking forward to this fight.  Where the hell is she?

A car pulls up.  Katie's, I can tell by the sound.  I stay laying on my back.

She comes in.  She's wearing her work uniform. 

> Jessica?  Are you OK??  What the fuck is wrong with your clit??

> Nothing.  Get yours like this.  Cassie showed me a....personal.....way to fight.  You have my stuff?

> Right here.  Bitch.

> Put it on the table.  With yours.

> For the record:  if you had any cash on you, Cassie took that, not me.

> No prob.  I'll get it back.

> Oh, you think so.  You'll beat her AND me??

> I. can.  Ssssoooo.  Beat. You.   In a fight.  Now, clit fight me.

> <<<<<Katie strips, revealing an engorged, aroused clit.>>>>  Let's do this.

Katie and I stand facing each other in the middle of the darkening room, and take a firm grasp of each others' buttocks.  We thrust our hips and poke angrily af each others' clit, a guttural grunt escaping our throats when we make contact.  The pain is cruel and vicious, my eyes welling with tears.  Unlike Cassie and I, who never broke eye contact our entire fight, I try but am unable to meet Katie's angry glare.  All thought of reconciliation between us disappates.

Katie's and my hips continue to ram together, the slapping sound resembling the times Marianne and my brother would amatuerishly fuck on our couch at home.  But unlike the joyful cries they would emit, Katie and I cry at each other in raw agony.

Bitch.

Slut.

Pussy.

Ditz.

Rookie.

Baby.

Bitch.

We glide to our knees, then to the floor.  Our legs wrap around each other, our hands clutching each other's backs.  Our clits rub side-to-side, rather than tip-to-tip.  The sensation is electric the increase in surface area contact dominating my senses, me feeling at one with Katie, even in my hate for her.  Does she feel the same?

Give yet?

Fuck you.

I can do this all night.

Then we are you crying?

Why are YOU?

Fuck you, bitch.

Everytime our clits slide out of contact, we eagerly wiggle our hips and re-seek vontact, to resume the sliding motion.  The pain....just....keeps....getting worse....and worse.  Is that why Cassie passed out when I uppercut her?  Followed shortly after by me?

What will hsppen if either Katie or I pass out?  What will we do to each other?

Our grinding is angrier and more vicious than any hitting we ever did.

And yet.....more intimate than any kissing.

I'm the better woman.

Oh....no.....you're not.

Prove it bitch.

I am, slut.

Our claws sink into esch others' scalps.  I perceive cutting, slashing, but register pain only from my clit.  The sensation is like getting a dental drill in an novacained mouth.  Katie's and my face press together.  We nibble on each others' nose and lips, but not tenderly.  The sensation of Katie's soft tongue blends discordantly with her razor-sharp teeth.  We discontinue the clit sliding and resume poking tips, harder than before.  Our breathing becomes panting.

Neither of us will give.  This is a fight to the finish.

Even the most vicious fistfight would have been long over. The cruelty of this fight is unimaginable.

I want to pay this bitch back so bad.  For not giving in this fight.  I want to read every slutty sext she's been sending the past year.

The desire to read Katie's cellphone gets me thru the fight.  It mzkes me "want it more".  I feel Katie getting weaker in my grip.  I grind her hard.  She passes out, like Cassie.

Now this time, I need to maintain consciousness.

I look in the mirror.  My hair, my face, my mouth are a mess.  I didn't even realize how hard we were biting.

I clean up.  And clean up somd more.

Katie begins to stir.

Should I stay for Round 2?  After all, our breasts never got the chance to exchange pleasantries.

No. no.

I take Katie's cellphone.  But leave her cash and her carkeys.

Maybe she'll leave me alone.

While I deal with Cassie.

To be continued.....

[JT Edson]

Can hardly wait for the next installment.

[sinclairfan]

PHONE CALL WITH CASSIE

I pull over in the parking lot of a strip mall (is there any other type of parking lot in Wellington?) to get my bearings.  It's late Friday night, and the 4-day 4th of July weekend is underway.  Part of me wants to get back home in Boca and wash up.  I had two vicious catfights today, and I have work Sunday afternoon at the hospital to get ready for.  And by getting ready for work, I mean covering up the scratches and  bruises Cassie and Katie have decorated my body with.  Not to mentions the aches and sores which won't be noticable till tomorrow.  Both of my thumbs already feel sprained--I have no idea how I'll lift equipment or patients by Sunday.

But part of me feels like I have unsettled business with Cassie over here in Wellington.  She must know that Katie and I have fought by now.  She's hoping, no doubt, that we both put each other in wheelchairs and that she never has to worry about either of us again.  If that was her plan, it failed spectacularly--she....very much....still needs to deal with me--for one, to return the fucking cash and credit cards she stole from me.  (And p.s. I don't give a fuck if she tossed them over a bridge into a canal or even into a dumpster in an alley--she's fucking climbing in and retrieving them.)

I decide that if I drive back to Boca right now, I'll crash into bed tonight, spend all day Saturday in bed, work Sunday/Monday/Tuesday, blah blah blah, and Cassie will be off the hook for awhile for what she did.  Better to deal with her now, and force her to deal with me, while adrenaline is still coarsing thru my veins.

I dial Cassie's cellphone number.  She picks up.  Her speech sounds slurred.

> Hellloooo, Jessica. I take it you won?

> Are you surprised?

> If Katie didn't have a boxcutter on her?  Then....no.  How bad did you hurt her?

> I think what you really want to know is....how bad did she hurt me?

> I think you're calling is all the answer I need.

> I want my purse back.

> I'm thinking.....

> You weren't ready for this call, were you?  You thought Katie would....handle it....me.....didn't you?    <<<<Cassie wants me gone; but I'm not going anywhere.....no woman would.....without my money back--and Cassid loses face if she returns it to me.  She knows I can make fearsome trouble with her family and house, now that I know about them.  Having Katie....handle me was her only way out, and that didn't happen. >>>>

> I can't fight you at my house.  People are over.

>  <<<I think of the tennis courts Marianne almost went to at our second fight.>>>>  The municipal tennis courts clise at dusk.  There's a big grass field next to them.  We can fight there.

>  Fine.  Be there in 20 minutes.

>  Bring.  My.  Money.

>  Fine.

Now, all I need to do is win my third catfight in one day.

To be contnued......

[sinclairfan]

JESSICA VS CASSIE -- FIGHT #2

You may be wondering why I called a story, which involved me fighting my girlfriend Katie once and her rival Cassie twice, "Jessica vs Katie".

The answer is that both of us wanted to have the 1am fight on the grass tennis court that I was about to have with Cassie, but only I was going to have it.  Cassie offered Katie a fight at Katie's workplace, but Katie let the opportunity slip thru her boxcutter-holding fingers.  She then lost the catfight to me to determine which of us would fight Cassie.  Cassie had baited that fight into happening, and had no interest in fighting the loser.

ANY woman would want to have the fight I was about to have with Cassie.  In our "teaser" fight earlier in the morning, at the waxing office, Cassie and I had used punching and hairpulling as foreplay to entice our lower bodies into a state of arousal so taut and elevated that we both ended up losing consciousness.  Neither of us had ever met another woman able to go toe-to-toe with the other in such a contest, of at least if Cassie had, it had been awhile.  When she confronted Katie at Krogers, she was probably hoping Katie was such a woman--but through Katie, she found me.

That she, a married woman, was willing to leave her own house at 1am to fight it out with me showed how irresistable the prospect of our matchup was to her.

That I was willing to get into my third fight in 24 hours showed how irresistable the propect was to me.

I arrived at the parking lot of the tennis courts and waited.  I stripped below the the waist in my car, my clit already rock hard in anticipation of fighting Cassie.  If the cops or someone more nefarious showed up, or even worse were sent to the parking lot by Cassie, I would have quite a lot of explaining to do.  But Cassie didn't disappoint me--she showed up shortly.  She got out of her car, also naked below the waist.  My hair was a greasy, oily mess from my long day of fighting; hers looked like she had just walked out of a salon, clean and fresh cut.  I got even more aroused.

I got out of my car and followed Cassie into the grass.  The night sky was almost pitch black, and I could only see familiar shadows and silhouettes of Cassie's face through the ambient light from miscellaneous spotlights in the surrounding park.  My sexual craving for hitting and being hit was at full alert, and I closed the physical space between us without hesitation, not caring what Cassie had in store for me. 

We slapped each others' faces with forehands and backhands repeatedly, holding nothing back.  We brought our hips together, searching for each others' erect clits, and grabbed each other by the buttocks.  Since the firmness of the contact was insufficient to satisfy our desire, we locked legs  at the knees, fell to the grass, and rolled, furiously grinding our hips together with every roll, seeking satisfaction for our cravings.

Occassionally, the woman on top would pause, cock her fist, and take a full downward swing at her enemy's face, connecting with a sickening crunching sound.  The woman on the bottom would stoically respond by absorbing the blow, reaching up and grabbing her tormentor's hair, and rolling her attacker off of her.  The violent hip-grinding would then resume, until interrupted by a haymaker punch.

Our clits were growing ever more engorged and sensitive.  Our brains told us to protect our lower bodies and to, if we absolutely needed to fight, to attack faces and bellies.  But our hormones needed to know which woman was the more able and willing to use her clit to hurt the other.  We knew each was the strongest we would ever encounter in such a contest, and needed to continue until the outcome was decided.

After several minutes, we found ourselves sitting up facing each other, our legs scissored together and our clits touching, our faces almost touching, barely visible in the dark light, our breathing audible and so close and warm we could feel it.  Our tongues searched and found each other, flicking hard and violently in imitation of our clits, but without the pain.  We continued fighting that way for a long interval.

We resumed rolling on the ground, wanting more hip grinding, trying to keep our mouths and tongues in contact.

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

I wish I could tell you what happened next.

Maybe Cassie hit me and knocked me out.

Maybe I passed out from the cocktail of sensations I was perceiving.

I woke up just before dawn on the grass, battered and bruised, thirsty and hungry.  I think Cassie was the only one who beat me up between 1am and 5am, but I can't even guarantee that--anyone who was passing by could have had their way with me.

I didn't have my money, but I somehow had my license, keys, car, and cellphone.

With false brauvado, I swore to myself I'd get Cassie back.  I'd call her house and torment her until she faced me again.

But 6 months have gone by, and that hasn't happened yet.

So I think we all know it won't happen.

By we all, I mean Cassie.

And Katie.

And you.

And me.

I'm Jessica.  And I'm a nurse.

The End.

[SCFFSCFF]

You are a magnificent writer!  I love every hot contribution you make here!  Your style, technique, and vocabulary are superb!  I masturbate for hours to all of your pieces.  More, please more - don't ever stop!   I would love to be your lookalike catty sexual rival and tangle with you, bitch... We would slap, pull hair, tear dresses, scratch, smack, spank, and struggle feverishly for DAYS!!!