[sinclairfan]

TALE OF THE TAPE

Now, you might be wondering:  Trudy, two whip-smart sexy college coeds are about to beat the shit out of each other for you.  Why not just enjoy the show, and the aftermath, alone?  Why involve your enemy Vanessa.

Well, there are two answers to that, one practical and one selfish.

The practical answer is that Heather and Lesley were going to school 300+ miles away from each other.  And get this.  Neither of them own cars.  These Millenials take Uber everywhere and have no interest in owning cars.  It's weird.  When I was 17, getting wheels was the way you got to parties, to dates, to booty calls.   It was how you got to the mall to see and be seen.  To buy sexy makeup and clothes and shoes.  To have a staredown with a bitch and maybe start shit with her.  Now all the malls in the country are closing because these Millenial bitches sit in their rooms, order stuff of Amazon Prime, and start shit on each other's Facebook and Instagram pages.

I've become my grandmother, not understanding this generation.

But I digress.  The point is that I had to drive at least one of the girls to the fight.  So I needed Vanessa's help to drive the other.

But, there was a second reason for the decision I made.  Even though I was extremely attracted to both Heather and Lesley, I knew that once I watched one of them lose a catfight, that attraction would go right down the toilet.  I'm a wolf in wolf's clothing, and I need a partner who is a worthy sparring partner.  So, I needed Vanessa to gracefully get the fight loser out of my face and, frankly, out of my life.  And pawning off my sloppy seconds on Vanessa would give me one-up points on Vanessa.  Let her play nurse to some broken wannabe, while the winner and I enjoy new heights of ecstasy.

Now, in hindsight, this plan was ill-conceived.  Vanessa was like me, and would make her play for the winner, just like I would in her shoes.  I should have known that.  But, more on that later.

For now, I was fixated on the girlfight, in lovely office wear.  I would pick up Heather, Vanessa would pick up Lesley, and we would meet in a rented off-season banquet room in Colonie, outside of Albany, New York.

Now, who would win the fight?  I was dedicating a great deal of thought and contemplation to this question.  Heather was a natural alpha.  In everything she did, she needed to be the prettiest, the smartest, the best.  Just by my opening the door and having a simultaneous affair with her and Lesley, Heather was "rising to the occassion" to outdo her rival.  Almost businesslike about it.  I liked that.  But Lesley--well, she was the sleeping dog that you let lie.  Because once you woke her, she would bury her teeth into your jugular and not let go.  I could totally see her in that lacrosse camp fight she had one summer with another girl, just a face-saving sparring match to start, but a slugfest war by the time it was done.  Lesley was awake now--and knew the stakes.  The loser would miss an intern cycle the next summer, thus greatly increasing their student debt balance.  And both knew it.

And, not to be conceited, but I do think I was beach's first serious girlfriend. There was feminine pride on the line.

In short, the perfect matchup.  The irresistible force versus the immovable wall.

Let's fight, ladies.

To be continued.....

[Vanessa]

Oh I cannot wait to get my nails and teeth in you Trudy. After Heather and Leslie find out who the Alpha cxnt is then I will show you I am Trudy, I am the Alpha cxnt between you and I.

[Trudy]

Vanessa, I am glad to hear that because I want to get my teeth and claws in you too. In fact maybe before we have it we should discuss what we both want. I don't want a knock down punch out fist fight with you, I want it to be hair pulling, claws, and teeth. And we can't settle this in an hour. In fact I think we should check into a hotel suite and take as much time as we need. Overnight? The next day? I'm up for it if you are. Any ideas?

[Vanessa]

Why not make it at the secluded cabin and all weekend so I can totally make you my slave. And teeth and claws and everything else we can come up with is how I want you Trudy

[sinclairfan]

ROAD-TRIPPING WITH HEATHER

On Saturday morning, I pick up Heather at her off-campus apartment near the Bucknell campus.  Her roommates are still sleeping.   I wonder to myself if Heather has told them where she's going and what she's doing.  Surely by tonight they'll know, when they see her bruised and scratched body.  Or worse, if she loses to Lesley.  But, I don't push the issue.

Instead, we kiss on the lips.  I miss the taste of Heather's mouth, since i started hanging out with Lesley.  Heather is a better kisser than Lesley, and her mouth always tastes fresh and minty.  I tell her that.  She rewards me with another kiss.  Longer and deeper.  I want go further, but we need to hit the road.

I wonder if Vanessa is kissing Lesley right now. 

Heather finishes putting on the business suit Lesley and I bought her at the shop in Northampton.  It's dark brown, like her hair.  In hindsight, something with a tad more contrast with hair would have been sexier, but otherwise this will do.  Hell, the suit will be shredded anyways by this afternoon.  She carries a hoodie to wear for the ride home.  The hood must be to cover her face.  Smart.  She's obviously road tripped to a catfight before.  Sexy.

We get in the car and enter the address in the GPS.  Once We're on the highway, I tell her how I'm amazed women her age don't go to malls anymore, telling her how central the were to girl drama when Vanessa and I were in our early 20s.

Heather:  Tell me about a time you started shit with a girl at a mall, Trudy.

Me:  Let me think, let me think.  Ok, here's one.  So, I'm 18, and a senior in high school.  I'm class of 1983, but I'm not partying with the boys and girls in my class.  I'm partying with the boys and girls in the class of 1981, 2 years older than me and already going to community college or commuting to regular college or "taking time off to make money before attending college"--you see, that was another difference between your generation and mine.  We'd think twice before taking out a student loan.

Heather:  Even though college cost $50 per semester?

Me:  Little bit more than that, but you've got the right idea.  Maybe $800 per semester for state school--and that was everything if you commuted--tuition, commuter meal plan, books....

Heather:  And people took time off for that instead of just borrowing?

Me:  Well, in all candidness, girls who <<<air quotes>>>> "took time off" sometimes never did end up going back.  Or they would, but wouldn't finish, because credits wouldn't transfer, yada, yada.

<<<<<<I get nostalgic for 1983.>>>>>

Anyways, back to fighting.  Or starting shit, which can be just as fun.  So, anyways, the girls from the class of 1981 are none too pleased that I'm hanging with them.  An 18 year old still in high school is more alluring to the boys than a used up 20 year old in the process of slowly becoming a college drop out.  But we don't have Instagram and Facebook, so how do I show or tell them that I'm not going anywhere.

So one of the boys goes by Nuge.  I think it was a piece of his last night, I don't even remember, isn't that weird?  Anyways, he was class of 1981, and had been center fielder on the state tournament baseball team.  That team was legendary--they were losing 7-2 in the last inning of the state tournament and came back and won, 8-7.  Nuge had one of the big hits in the rally.

So Nuge and the girl, Laura, who didn't like me hanging out with them and partying with the 81ers, used to walk around the Lincoln Mall on Saturdays holding Nuge's hand and holding bags of clothes he would buy her.

Well, the next Sunday, I call up Nuge and ask him if He'll take me to the Lincoln Mall.  And he and I walk around for 4 hours.  And he buys me a couple bags of stuff.

Heather:  Did you have to "give it up" for that?

Me:  Not bad, just a hand job in the car.

Heather:  Because Laura was a skank and was too disgusting to share cock with?

Me:  See, now, you're holding out on me--you know more about 1980s bitchfighting than you're letting on.

Heather:  Well, actually, I would have never guessed the hand holding in the mall part.  But now that you describe it, I get it.  Kinda neat.  Less to-the-point than a bitchy Instagram post, but just as effective.  If Laura's friends so you and him.  Did they?

Me:  They did.

Heather:  And did they tell her?

Me:  They did.

Heather:  And who won the fight between you and her?

Me:  You seriously need to ask that?

Heather:   Correction.  How bad did you hurt her in the fight you and her had?

Me:  Mmmmm.  Scratches.  Bites.

Heather:  Bites??

Me:  Hell ya.  You're not gonna hesitate to bite today, are you??  Because if you are, i might as well call work right now and tell them to put the name Lesley on the office.

Heather:  There's an office??

Me:  Sure is.

<<<<<We drive in silence for 10 minutes.>>>>

Heather:  Did Lesley bite in the fights she told you about?

Me:  In one of them, at least.  At a lacrosse camp.

Heather:  Did Laura stop hanging out with Nuge after you fought her?

Me:  Never saw her again.

Heather:  I never wanna see Lesley again after today.

<<<<<<More silence.>>>>>>

Heather:  So I know what i need to do.  Thanks.

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

INTERLUDE--A FALL CAR TRIP IN UPSTATE NEW YORK

As Heather and I go over the Delaware River, which is the border between Pennsylvania and New York, on what is proving to be a gorgeous October Saturday, my body takes in a plethora of erotic sensations.

Heather has started combing her beautiful, thick, lustrous brown hair.  I wonder how much of it she will lose in the catfight which is about to happen.  She puts eye shadow and lipstick on her face in an intentionally ironic excessive manner, trying to look like a hooker, even though she is not one.  I tell her I love the lipstick. She smells wonderful.  I'm jealous of Lesley, getting to smell her up close when she's done up like this.

But erotic sensations are not the only ones I feel.

I feel fear.  Heather and Lesley both have families, including parents.  What if the parents someday find out that I've instigated a fight between Heather and Lesley?  What will they do to me?  Legally or otherwise?

I fear the future.  How much longer will I be desirable enough for two college coeds not just to want me, but to fight for me?  The catfight website i got involved reading had a story Regina vs Sue.  Regina was my age and bi--check and check, so far just like me.  But she talked about being in polyamorous relationships, where, without jealousy, you share partners.  Or, even worse, your partner takes other partners.  And you shut up and allow it.  No, honey, that's not me.  If you're with my partner, sweetie, you and me have a beef.  We're coming to blows.  Always been that way, whether the 3some is fff or fmf.  I do NOT share partners.  And guess what else?  Two of you want me?  Fine.  But at the end of the day, one of you is leaving.  Either you sort that thru civilly, or you fight for it.  And I get to watch.  Again, that's me.  Always been that way, always will.  Wolf in wolf's clothing.

Except.

Except, for how much longer will the two combatants be fit, smart, sexy, gorgeous college girls.  Not when I'm 60, right?  I mean, even if i still have my looks and smarts at that age, won't just saying "I'm Trudy, and I'm 60" be a mood killer?  I fear the loss of having that power.

I feel guilt.  I won't desire the loser of today's fight.  Will that hurt her feelings.

Will my employer find out the "job interview" I've set up?  (And am i fearful about it, or guilty?)

I look down at the Delaware River.  I took a rafting trip down if one June in 1989.  4 girls and 6 boys.  Not enough boys to go around.  A blonde girl Jamie and I competed for one of the boys.  I wanted to fight her so bad for him.  But there was no opportunity.

Heather and Lesley have that opportunity now.  They're the age now that I was that 1989 afternoon.

I try and block out the fear.

I try to live for this moment.

This wonderful, erotic moment.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

STAREDOWN

Heather and i arrive at the banquet facility, and enter the carpeted dining room.  I tell her I want to kiss her minty mouth one last time before it gets messed up in her fight with Lesley.  We tongue kiss for 10 seconds.  20 seconds.  30 seconds.  Big mistake.  I want to call off the fight, or defer it for at least a 2 hour lovemaking session with Heather, I'm so aroused.

But our kiss is interrupted by the arrival of Vanessa and Lesley.  Laughing loud and obnoxiously, as if drunk or high or stoned or all three.  Arm in arm, sides rubbing together.

"Hey, bitches," they set in unison.

"Strange way to show up for a job interview, slut," purrs Heather.  "Kissing your boss's enemy."

"After 5 minutes with you, I'll be the only healthy candidate, cxnt," hisses Lesley.

"I like these two, sweetie,"  Vanessa tells me.  "But especially Lesley.  Especially."  Vanessa and Lesley full on tongue kiss for a minute.

Between kissing Heather, seeing how much Heather and Lesley hate each other, and seeing Vanessa for the first time in months, my crotch is quaking and in need of attention.  I fake a cool demeanor, but I'm past ready for the fight to begin.  Way past.

I lock the door with all 4 of us in the room.  I motion Vanessa to take a chair in one corner, and I take a seat in the opposite one.  There is plenty of room in the middle, where Heather and Lesley now approach.

"Winner gets a thousand a week working for me January to August.  Loser--don't let the door hit your ads on the way out.  No rules.  Go."

The girls are in each other's hair on the the floor in a ball in ten seconds.  Heather is already biting Lesley's wrist.

And I already cum.

"Bite her back, Lesley!!!!" shouts Vanessa.

Lesley doesn't hesitate, biting Heather exposed midriff.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

VICIOUS CIRCLE, PUN INTENDED

As their fight progress, Heather and Lesley are getting more and more angry.  Which is causing them to bite harder and more brutally on each other's arms, shoulders, fingers, legs, and bellies.  Which is making them angrier.  Which is causing them to.....

Well, you get the idea.  A vicious circle.  Figuratively.  And literally.

I take in the sublime visual of the biting, clawing fight happening on the ground in front of me.  With Vanessa masturbating to it.

Have you ever had the light bulb go off in your head?  That feeling that you can now perceive something that's been in front of you all along?

I get that feeling.  It occurs to me--Heather will do to Lesley whatever I tell her to do.  Lesley will retaliate back however Vanessa instructs her to do.

I tell Heather to tear Lesley's top off.  Including the bra.

I barely get the words out between orgasms.  But I manage to do it.  Heather hears me.  And complies.

Vanessa shouts as Lesley to do the same.  "Get her tits out!".  Real classy, Vanessa.  Classy as always.

I yell at Heather to twist Lesley's chest.  Hold on an twist, like an owl twists his head.  360 degrees.  All the way around.  Heather twists and turns as hard as she can. Not quite a full 360.  Maybe 270, though.  Impressive.

Vanessa tells Lesley to retaliate by biting Heather chest.  Lesley doesn't hesitate.

One advantage of biting I hadn't noticed till now--your opponent can't hear you scream.  So she doesn't know the agony you're in.

Heather is screaming.  Lesley is not--her mouth is full.

I tell Heather to pull Lesley face down by pulling her hair.  There--see her back?  Bite it!!

Heather and Lesley rise to their knees, completely topless, hands and mouths locked onto their opponent.

I tell Heather to knee Lesley in the crotch.  Lesley's cry of pain causes her to release her grip with her mouth.  She retaliates, encouraged by Vanessa, striking a direct hit on Heather.

Heather and Lesley clinch by mutual fistfulls of hair.  Both need a break, a pause, but ate afraid to show it.  They clinch on the floor.  I need a break as well, but for a different reason.  I need to release in the worst way.  I rub myself hard, and come explosively in waves of orgasm.  But I don't feel release.  Just more arousal.

I encourage Heather to dig deep and resume fighting.  I yell that she hadn't bitten Lesley's tits yet.  Heather does as I instruct her to.  And Lesley returns the favor, now biting into Heather's previously untouched back.

Both women bite, pausing only to take breaths, hands steadily ripping out brunette hair onto the carpet.  Both skirts are sliding off, with only panties remaining.

The sight of pubic hair renews my waves of orgasms.

Vanessa is moaning and writhing in her chair.

Why is this not bringing me release?

Because I need a winner.  It's not about the fight.  It's about one winner, one loser. I being to instruct both girls, not just Heather.

"Someone get on top," I plead.  "Get on top.  Finish her."

Both girls change tactics, using their arms to headlock the other, trying to mount the other.

"Bite her, dammit, Lesley.  Bite!"  Vanessa and I are competing to influence the fighters.

I flash back to the Delaware River.  1989.  Jamie and i competing for the attention of a boy.

"Don't listen, Lesley.  Get her under you."

Did I just say that?  Why am I telling Lesley what to do now.  Did Heather hear me?

"Don't talk to her, Trudy," Vanessa snarls at me.

We both stand.

"She's not YOURS, asshole," I hear myself tell her.

The release I need.  Her.

Vanessa and I grab full fists of each other hair and fall to the floor.

Our mouths find each other.  I feel out bodies tense in unison.  We tear our skirts off and lock onto each other, both slick and soaked.  Waves of simultaneous orgasm was over us.

Heather and Lesley watch us.

The room gets quiet.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

"THE FUCK?!?!?"

Heather stares at me.  She's angry again.  But not at Lesley.  Now She's angry at Vanessa and me.  Or certainly at me.

"The fuck?!?!?  Lesley and I bite the shit out of each other, while you two sluts have ssssexxxxx?!?!?"

Lesley joins in, too.

"Trudy, you dumb slut.  My family can sue your ass, then buy and sell it, too.  How about you and Vanessa bite, while Heather and I, ummmm, relax?".

The fear I felt in the car kicks in.  At least Lesley and Heather aren't threatening to go to my employer.  But Heather and Lesley's parents will be smart enough to do that.

The girls have me by the balls.

Vanessa is a different story.  But the dumb bitch is swooning over Lesley.  She must not get college pussy very often.

They want Vanessa and I to fight.  For their entertainment.

This weekend is not going how I planned.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

THE PUPPETMASTER BECOMES THE PUPPET

In the space of a couple minutes, I went from having three women doing my bidding to have three women trying to destroy me.

Heather and Lesley assumed the chairs which, for most of the morning, had been occupied by Vanessa and me.  Whilst Vanessa, still aroused from the biting catfight which was now suspended, was listening to the encouragement, taunts, and shouts of the 2 coeds, and was pulling my hair and barrell rolling me onto the carpet.

Desperate not to lose a catfight in the presence of the two high potential young fighters to whom I was becoming increasingly attached, I amped up my hostility, and began fully engaging in what was my third catfight in less than a year with Vicious Vanessa.

All the familiar sensations of fighting with Vanessa returned to me slowly but steadily.  The smell of Vanessa's sweat--part workout, part sex marathon.  The parts of her body which would produce sweat--her armpits, her underboob, her back, between her legs and buttocks.  The smell of Vanessa's thick dark hair, the oils which would permeate when she exerted herself.  The way Vanessa's muscles would tense, then shutter, then release when she was aroused.  The way or breasts would always find each other in a clinch, hardening against each other like diamonds.  The way our legs would wrap around each other, Vanessa's strong like 2 pythons.  Her thick pussy hair, grinding into mine like sandpaper.  Her clit poking into mine like a railroad spike.  Our mouths lining up with our ears to hiss curses.

And, now, a new sensation.  Vanessa biting me, and not love nips.  The were full on bites.  To my ears.  Now my shoulders.  Now my back.  My ears tearing up to the searing pain, like when your in the kitchen dicing vegetables and first realize you've cut deep into your thumb tip.  I pull Vanessa's hair, desperately trying to get her mouth away from my body.  But she pulls my close with her hands, and continues to sink my teeth into any exposed flesh she can find.

"Get her, Vanessa!!!", screeches Lesley.

"Bite her, Trudy!!!!!", shouts Heather.

As Vanessa slides down my body, we get into what fighters call the north-south position, and what lovers call the 69 position.  With muscular thighs now tensing, coated with sweat, we simultaneously bite, not letting go.  I feel satisfaction at retaliating for what has until now been minutes of one-sided torture.

But now another sensation awakens my senses.  The familiar smell of Vanessa's cum.  She enjoying either the anything-goes attacks on me, my response, or both.  I get scared.  If Vanessa finds this torturous pain to be sexually arousing, then I have a long, punishing fight ahead of me.  Vanessa's familiar shuttering begins.  We lock our legs around each other's heads, and begging rocking rhythmically.  Vanessa is ahead of me in arousal, but I'm gradually catching up.  I lock eyes with Heather, as she rubs herself on the chair.  Vanessa releases her mouth from my thigh as she begins screaming in rolling waves of orgasms.  I try to cum, grinding my clit in Vanessa's thick hair, but experience only frustration, unable to get over the top.  Heather can see the desperation on my face.  With my eyes, I motion her over to Lesley.  Only the visual of Heather fighting Lesley will bring me relief.  Heather understands, gets up from her chair, and begins slapping Lesley in the face.  The two girls catchall as they resume fighting.  My arousal heightens to unprecedented levels, to wedding night levels, past confronting your worst enemy highs, beyond the first affair bliss.  My sexual/catfighting life passes before my eyes.  First oral sex.  First fucking-a-stranger.  First fight-with-a-bully.  First topless catfight.  First naked catfight.  First breast-kneading.  First pussy clawing.

I cum, but not in a normal climax.  This one is like a volcano eruption.  Ash emitted miles high in a never ending plume, blotting out the sun.  Magma rolling down the sides, flowing for miles, burning everything in its path until it reaches the sea.  Ash cooling and covering the earth over 500 miles a way.  The atmosphere covered with so much ash that the party's temperature will be 2 degrees cooler for the next 6 months.  Tambura, 1815.  Krakatoa, 1883.  Liquids and heat ooze unrestrained from my pussy, soaking Vanessa's hair.  I grind my clit in her face, seeking relief from the uncontrollable waves of pleasure.

I pass out.

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

INTERLUDE--MY FIRST DIRTY CATFIGHT

As I lie on the ground passed out, my mind wanders in a dream state.  I flash back to 2003, when I was 38 years old.  I had just exited a chaotic relationship with more drama than i normally tolerate or allow to develop.  Summer was turning into fall, and my Seasonal Affective Disorder was giving me the blues.

Against my better judgment, I went to a neighborhood Halloween party.  Out of defiance, I refused to wear a costume.  I wasn't the only costume-free rebel at the party, but definitely one of the few.

I was there to get laid by a dumpy divorced guy at the party.  Men are boring and predictable sexually, but that's what I needed that night.  A man, inside of me, no drama.

But the man I wanted that night was talking to a married neighbor named Denise wearing a French Maid costume.  I gave her attitude with my eyes and snippy words, and she gave it right back.  It was on.

There were chips with guacamole at the party.  I told Denise the dip appeared to be running low, that I had avacadoes in my fridge, would she come back to my place to help me cut them.  Without hesitation, she said yes.

The walk back to my place was taut and tense.  I half expected us to start fighting in the middle of the street.

We got back to my place and shut the door.  My hands were under her French Maid outfit and on her breasts in three seconds, tops.  She reciprocated, reaching under my shirt and locking onto my boobs and twisting.

And that was it.  We continued to twist and knead and shout and moan and cry.  Twisting and kneading, now digging in with nails, standing nose to nose with each other.  So close we could smell each other's breath.

After 4 minutes Denise gave.  I got the man.  He was so drunk, he either didn't notice my clawed boobs or didn't care.

The sex was pedestrian.  But the excitement of the fight was exquisite.

I wake up to the sight of Heather standing over me.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

LOSERS

I'm horrified at what Heaather tells me has been occurring while I was passed out.  Vanessa and Lesley have been celebrating Vanessa's "victory" over me by ravaging each other while hissing insults at Heather.  Worse, Heather is ok with this, waiting to comfort me and, apparently, be taken home by me.

Ok, first Heather, your fight with Lesley still hasn't been decided.  Even worse than being beaten is conceding defeat before being defeated.

Ok, so, second, Vanessa did NOT knock me out.  I passed out from the sight of watching you and Lesley fight.  Nothing to brag about, I admit.  But that bitch did NOT beat me tonight.  At least, not yet.

And, third, if you did lose to Lesley, you are not working for me.  You are not living with me.  You are not getting a ride from me.  Don't even ask.

And fourth, if I need to explain any of this to you, you don't know me, and you never did.  I want to be with winners.  Winners like Lesley.

I should have known when I bonded with Lesley over history.  And the Korean language.  That magnificent word.  SSAUDA.  A physical fight between two women.  So specific.

Lesley is the girl for me.  Heather, you get a damn ride back to Bucknell from Vanessa.  Back to your damn finishing school.  Go marry some man and have him lay on top of you every night for three-and-a-half minutes.  Five if you're lucky and he can't finish because he's buzzed and full of crappy chicken enchilladas you made for dinner and didn't let cool before serving.

That's your sucky destiny, Heather.  Not mine.  And not Lesley's.

I want Lesley back from Vanessa.

"Hey, bitch," I call out to Vanessa.  "Give her back."

"Come and get her," invites Vanessa.

We close, hands again finding each other's hair, our genitals locking up tightly.

The sound of Vanessa moaning returns me to my state of arousal.  I feel her body tense.  We are Cummings together, but this time fighting as well.

SSAUDAing.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

CHANGE OF TONE

I remember one of the first times I was interviewed for a job, early in my career.  The hiring supervisor asked me if I was supposed to be trying to impress her, or if she was trying to impress me.

Well, today is working the same way.  It started with Heather and Lesley trying to impress me.  But with my public declaration to Vanessa to give Lesley to me, the vibe in the room has changed.  Lesley now knows that both Vanessa and I desire her.  It's unlikely she's going to be putting her body at further risk against Heather, especially given the biting and twisting tactics to which their battle had escalated.  The lovely visual of two catballed brunette coeds, which caused me to pass out, will likely not be repeated today.  Instead, Vanessa and I must face up to the likelihood that one or both of us is about to be very badly hurt.  We both want Lesley, and don't want to share her.

Lesley is now reposing comfortably on a chair, both hands rubbing her crotch, as she watches Vanessa and I on the floor, hissing claims to Lesley's affections.

"I found her.  She's mine."

"She enjoys fucking me more than you."

"She my intellectual equal, dumb bitch."

"I make her cum harder."

"I can pay her more than you can."

"You just want her to be your whore--she deserves better."

"Don't you dare corrupt her."

Vanessa and I somehow manage to spew these words between moans of agony as we torture each other's swollen chests and crotches.  We are aroused with desire at the temptation of "owning" Lesley if we can emerge triumphant over our rival.  One of us will be driving Lesley home, and starting a relationship with a woman 28 years younger than us.  The other will have a long, quiet care ride with the pathetic loser, Heather.

My eyes meet Lesley's as she masturbates.  I imagine months of bliss as we watch each other doing that in bed for hours on end.  I remember a vibrator she showed me in her dorm room.  How natural she was at sliding it inside of herself.  I could watch her do that for hours.

Vanessa and I continually mount each other, but the woman temporarily on top inevitably is punished with knees to her kidneys, causing her to fall to the side, thick sweat accelerating the slipping and sliding, and in turn get mounted.  Being on top also invites painful slaps and pinches to the breasts.

I become conscious of the sweaty, cummy smells in the room, Vanessa sweating much more than I am.  Did she sweat like this when Lesley and her made love this morning.  Does that turn Lesley on or off.  I long to explore Lesley's turnons.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

SODA BREAK

The catball Vanessa and I are in grinds to a halt, figuratively and literally.  Our muscles begin to cramp, and our moaning is not in ecstasy but in agony.  We are unable to wrest control of each other's bodies, as we have been fighting into Saturday evening and have not eaten or had a drink all afternoon.  Lesley is bored by what has become an unentertaining performance, and has found a soda machine and gotten each of Vanessa and me a 16 oz. Coke.

I pour almost the entire bottle into my parched mouth and ravenously hungry stomach.  Heather come over to me with napkins and tends to my many wounds.  She seems to be under the impression that she and I are a couple.  But her attempts are more annoying than comforting.  I have no interest in her.  Lesley has won the job interview, and now I am trying to "close the deal" with her.

I picture my future with Lesley.  Yes, 2 or 3 years of her at my beck and call at my accounting firm.  But then I think back to the clothing store in Northampton, MA, with the clothes appropriate to any catfight occasion.  With a model/sparring partner who will let the customer test what it's like to wrestle/catfight in the clothes she's buying.  Lesley would be perfect for that job.  I picture her and I opening a store like that in an LGBT community, but much bigger than Northampton.  And not in a college town, but in a town with more spending money.  Somewhere like Florida.  I picture women coming in to the store.  "I might be having a catfight with my partner's ex.  She's coming to town for a week and I question her intentions."  or "Some bitch just broke my little sister's heart.  I'm going to confront her and give her a good ass-kicking." or "An old girlfriend I though I was helping out is late on her rent.  I'm going over to collect, and it could get ugly."  or "This bitch who works with my partner won't stop texting him.  I'm going to confront her."  or "Some girl and me got broken up in the bathroom by bouncers at a club last Friday.  I'm going to the same club tonight, and I want to be prepared in case she's there."

So many sexy scenarios.  We discuss what clothes would be appropriate.  The customers don't believe me that they'll be able to fight in the clothes I recommend.  I snap my fingers, and out comes Lesley, dressed as the opponent they're expecting to fight.  Lesley and the customer roll around on the floor until the customer is satisfied.  And until I am.

I look across the room.  Lesley is tending to Vanessa, but also eyeing me.  She is impressed by the fight I am giving Vanessa.  I could have Heather all to myself right now, but I am making a play for the A candidate, not settling for the B.

Lesley is appreciating the competition for her attention.

Lesley calls on her cellphone for pizzas to be delivered to the banquet hall.  "I'll pay," she offers.  "But the loser pays when you two bitches finally finish."

Wouldn't have it any other way......

[sinclairfan]

COED FIGHT!!!!!!

As we eat our pizza and drink our soda, Vanessa and Lesley lay of each other's bodies, exchanging tongue kisses.  Heather lingers near me, apparently expecting the same for me.  But her presence has become annoying to me, her body not attractive, her smells a turnoff, her conversation uninteresting.

Heather and I are over, no matter what happens the rest of tonight.

But rather than tell her that (I may need her help if Vanessa or Lesley get crazy with me), given that I've been fighting like a lioness for her amusement, I decide she can do the same for me.

There's gonna be a girlfight.  A Bucknell vs Middlebury coed fight.

I start needling Heather.  I ask her why only Lesley showed leadership and ordered food.  And then, i sink the knife in.

"So, Heather, how is it that the pizza delivery guy didn't even suspect Lesley had been in a fight this afternoon?  You didn't even scratch her."

Heather walks over to Lesley and says, "Stand up, bitch.  I'm not finished with you."

Lesley smirks and rolls her eyes.  Damn, I love that girl.

She stands up deliberately, and she and Heather exchange ritualistic face slaps.

Lesley gives Heather a "we gonna do this?" shrug.

After a tense pause, it's on.

Coed fight!!

Heather and Lesley are on the ground in a catball, nails and teeth visible everywhere.

Vanessa and I notice each other enjoying the event.

Or are we enjoying each other enjoying the event?

Lesley gets the upper hand.

I feel zero guilt.

To be continued.....