[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.....

[sinclairfan]

INTERLUDE--DARLENE VS DIANE AS COEDS

As Lesley and Heather battle on the floor, fighting like Millenial girls fight these days, I recognize that Vanessa and I have made a mistake in forcing them to bite and scratch like Vanessa and I do when we fight.  Lesley and Heather's fight has near constant clutching of each other's long brown hair, interspersed with upper cuts to each other's faces, kicks to each other's shins, and knees to each other's midsection.

But the hairpulling.  Goodness.  Vanessa and I pull hair to steady ourselves.  Maybe to get our opponent to face forward to us if we're standing, or to get her back to us if we're on the ground.  These younger girls, wow--They get handfuls of hair, and they're actually trying to twist your entire head around.  Or to shove your face down so you can't see the next round of incoming punches.  You know what it's like?  It's like a hockey fight, except the grab the hair instead of the "fight strap" hockey players have on their jerseys. 

And these 2 girls are darn good at it.  And Lesley is a tad better.  She's putting a beating on Heather, but not so much that Heather can honorably give just yet.  So the beating slowly continues.

In other words, my idea of heaven.

Between cum's, i think back to how my generation fought when we were college age.  Way less hairpulling.  Or if we did pull hair, not in the same way this generation does.

I think back to the Diane vs Darlene story on the website i found.  Diane was reflecting on her college years at Bridgewater State in Massachusetts in 1983 to 1987, which is when I was in college.  She remembers late night talks in the dorms with her classmates, with girls being away at school for the first time in their lives, 50 to 100 miles from home in the days before cell phones or email.  Knowing that back home, their home town boyfriend was being pursued and tempted by a rival girl.  Knowing that when long weekends came, they would be going to house parties back in their home town, both girls knowing through body language that clandestine hookups had been occurring while the coed was away at school.  Which was fine with the coed, as long as the hometown knew her place, knew to "step down" now that the coed was back home. 

But what if the hometown girl didn't want to "step down"?  What if her vibe to the coed, "Things have changed since you were away.  He's mine now.  Deal with it."  The coed would have already anticipated this scenario, would have already decided if she should move on from her hometown days, or have it out with the hometown girl.  Diane got excited listening to her classmates, their situations, their decisions.  And the outcomes when the long weekends were over and everyone was back at school.  Or perhaps didn't return to school--because taking care of business on the home front, defending a first true love and potential future husband from the hometown slut, was more important than a Bachelors in General Studies from Bridgewater State.

In the story on the website, Diane would think about her own situation.  Herself away at Bridgewater State, her neighborhood social rival Darlene away at Salem State.  Darlene's mother recognizing Diane as "competition for" Darlene, putting ideas in Darlene's head about a cul de sac catfight between the two.  Both knowing they would be back home on Columbus Day weekend.  Both knowing the hometown high school football game, where all the recent high school grads re-gathered to see and be seen, ended around 10.  Knowing there were reunion-style house parties scheduled for the next 2 nights.  So that there was a 10:30pm-to-midnight Friday night window where Diane was alone with the light on in her bedroom, Darlene alone with the light on in hers.  Darlene's mom has suggestively left the spotlight on, lighting up the grass field between the two enemies' houses.  Perfect place for a private catfight.  Perfect time.  Perfect setting.  The two girls go out into the crisp fall New England Friday night and sit on their patios.  I'm here.  So am i.  I'm ready.  Me too.  Ok, let's go.

That was college fighting when I was that age.  When Vanessa was.  Planning weeks in advance on where and when you would cross each other's paths.

I look at Lesley and Heather.  It's totally different now, with the internet, with social media.  "Just In Time" catfighting I call it.  Someone disses you.  Someone's with you man.  You post her, or even more pointedly, post "about" her of Facebook, and the fight is on.  Talk shit, get hit.  No weeks and weeks of planning.

There's benefits to that.  But something's been lost.  The anticipation.  The wondering if the fight will happen.  The wondering if either girl will chicken out and back down.

And Lesley and Heather have another advantage.  They can watch girtlfights on YouTube.  Vanessa and i had to learn by fighting siblings.  The occasional schoolyard firefight was so rare, the one which did occur became legendary.  So, when we would fight, we had no idea what to expect out of each other.  We're we supposed to punch like boys?  Was hairpulling allowed?

Lesley and Heather are clearly mimicking YouTube fights they've seen.  The twisting of hair.  The leglocks on the ground.

I miss the 1980s.

I miss my youth.

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

INTERLUDE--HIGH SCHOOL LEGENDARY GIRLFIGHT

As I continue to watch Lesley fight Heather, I reflect back on the rarity of 1980s girlfights.  And how the rare few which did occur grew thru word of mouth into epic proportions.

In the Diane vs Darlene story which I found on the internet, Lisa vs Sandy.  Two mature "bad girls" who were dating older boys with cars, a "girl swap" switch between the four of them gone bad, resulting in a planned catfight in front of 30 to 40 students from their class, mostly girls.  And talked about for the next thirty years.

My high school had an epic girlfight in our lore.  I've never forgotten it.  Vicki vs Laura.  They were 2 jock girls, one track and field, the other basketball and softball, who were 2 years ahead of me.  As seniors, there was a seed of bad blood planted when Laura clotheslined Vicki, intentionally, at the Powder Puff Football game.  But no fight happened until 2 years later.  They were by then home from college one Thanksgiving Break, and patents were all out Black Friday Shopping.  There was an impromptu house party at a jock house--not usually my crowd in high school, but I stumbled across the invite by chance.  By luck.  My lucky day.  Because Laura and Vicki were both there.  And neither of them had forgotten the Powder Puff Game.  There wasn't much trash talk--they were both like, "Let's get this over with, let's fight."  About 20 of us were there--i think they wanted to get it done before word spread and 150 people were there.

Shit, what an incredible fight they had.  They both tore each other's tops off and were punching and grabbing tits.  I kept needing to pinch myself to convince myself what my eyes were seeing.  Vicki's punches, we could all tell by the cracking flesh-on-flesh sound, were causing more damage, so Laura turned her back first and walked away, effectively ending the fight.  The boys were so horny by what they had just seen that they immediately began hitting on the girls at the party.  I must have been horny too because I let one I didn't like pick me up and have his way with me.  Then went home and masturbated for hours, even though I didn't do that much back then.

The whole rest of the high school envy, to this day, the 20 of us that were there.  Laura never showed her face in town ever again, obviously; but neither did Vicki, apparently ashamed at having her top taken off.  This only added to the legend of the fight.

Lesley finishes off Heather, Heather crying buckets of tears.

Pathetic.

Vanessa and I are up now.

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

INTERLUDE--MY FIRST NAKED FIGHT

After the Vicki vs Laura topless bare knuckles fight, word got around that Vicki was a ringer--She had a basement full of boxing gloves, punching bags, etc.  She had tricked Laura into the type of fight she had been training for for years, and Laura had been dumb enough to fall for it.  If anything, she was lucky they weren't punching each other in the face.

Partially as a result of hearing that, I've shied away from fistfighting since then.  I've always preferred to catfight.

Not that I immediately went on a binge of catfights.  Just the opposite.  I got married young, and entered what I call the "Betty Crocker" phase of my life--Taking meat out of the freezer at 8am to defrost, putting it in the oven at 3, dinner on the table for my groom at 5:30 sharp, making love to Johnny Carson at 11. 

We met another couple.  The wife's name was Deanna.  Curly frosted hair just begging to be pulled.  After watching an episode of Knight Rider where Bonnie posed as a prisoner and got into a courtyard catfight, my husband confessed he fantasized about Deanna and i doing that.  I thought he had a crush on her, and wanted to prevent her getting any ideas of flirting with him.

So, one liquor-fueled evening, the inevitable happened.  Deanna and i, with our husbands watching, started some friendly hairpulling, which didn't stay friendly for long.  I remembered how humiliated Laura and Vicki had been at losing their tops, so i made sure Deanna lost hers.  The fight ran its course after our husbands came, but i was hooked.

I remember that night as I approach Vanessa.

To be continued....

[Trudy]

Vanessa dear, you are about to get yours

[sinclairfan]

FINALLY

Vanessa has been watching Lesley and I bond during Lesley's beat down of Heather, and senses she's losing Lesley's affections to me.  She also, like me, has no interest in going home with Hapless Heather.  I feel her anger as we lock up.  Vanessa takes a page out of the Millenial catfight toolbox, and uses my hair to whip me down to the ground.  My butt lands squarely on my tailbone, and I suddenly understand how elderly women are always one fall away from a broken pelvis.  Vanessa then pounces, putting me flat on my back, grabs a double fistful of my chest, and kneads away with her signature motion that I've come to dread in my fights with her.

To be honest, Vanessa had me at her mercy here, as I did not have the strength or positioning to either buck her off of me, nor to wrap my legs around to kick her off.  For a solid 2 minutes, I was convinced I was a goner.  But I had become attuned to the tension which fills Vanessa's body when she's aroused, and the nearing of her final victory over me was doing the trick.  I could sense her getting more and more turned on at the humiliation she was inflicting on me with the object of our rivalry bearing witness.

I opened my legs to offer Vanessa satisfaction to her engorged crotch.  She resisted at first, knowing that sliding up tight to me would jeopardize the unbreakable pin she had me in.  But I added verbal temptation to the mix.  "Trib me, baby.  Do me, Vanessa.  I want it so bad.  Give it to me, " I pleaded.  Vanessa was clearly weighing in her mind if my lust was genuine, or a trap.

"I need you body baby.  Let's mix our cum," I purred, feeling Vanessa's arousal course every fiber of her body.

"Find my clit with yours.  I'm begging you, Vanessa.  Don't make me beg you with Lesley watching.  Vanessa, this is so fucking humiliating, to need you this bad."

More thinking by Vanessa.

"Vanessa, this is so fucking degrading.  How can you do this to me?  How can you humiliate me so bad?"

Vanessa's wet pussy makes contact with mine.

"Vanessa, Don't stop.  I'm begging you, Vanessa."

Vanessa screams in orgasm.  I aim my right knee direct at her kidney.

TTHHHUUUUDDD.  I feel my right knee sink deep into Vanessa's lower back.  Her body is stiff as concrete, and her entire upper body slams into mine, our foreheads cracking together.

For the second time today, I struggle to maintain consciousness.  But this time is from pain overload, not pleasure overload.

I roll to the side to get her off of me, but Vanessa is instinctively struggling as well.  We wrap our arms around each other's faces, each in mutual headlocks.  I feel our crotches still locked together.  Our legs struggle to get leglocks onto each other, which only tightens our rubbing.  Neither of us know how badly dazed the other is, and don't want to loosen our grips to find out.

Our left arms have each other's faces firmly neutralized, so each of us has our right hand free to roam.  We scratch and jag at any exposed flesh we can reach--faces, shoulders, chest, and inner thighs.  Our scratching alternates between slashing, digging, and clawing.

We begin to taunt each other at how wet we are.

Her: "I made you beg for me, Trudy."

Me:  "I was faking, you dumb slut."

Her: "You can fake quarts of cum, liar."

Me:  "It's from enjoyment at hurting you, sweetie.  What's yours from?"

Her:  "You've never hurt me once in a single fight we've had dumbass, Don't you get it?"

Me:  "Answer the question, cxnt.  Why do you cum so much when we fight?"

Her:  "Why do you care?"

Me:  "ANSWER THE QUESTION, BITCH!!!"

We both cum simultaneously in waves.  Wave after wave after wave after wave, breathing into each other's faces.

To be continued.....

[Trudy]

 Vanessa you sweet Bitch. All I need to do is make you cum one more time than me and I will consider it a victory.  I don't know that we can settle this for good in one night or even a weekend. You and I may need to rent a beach house for the summer

[sinclairfan]

"SHE HAS A POINT, VANESSA"

As Vanessa and I stand yelling at each other, Lesley steps forward.  Lesley has put her clothes back on and fixed her hair, and the unpresentable, nude status of the other 3 women in the room (Vanessa, Heather, me) becomes suddenly apparent.  All 3 of us have our hair a toussled wreck, our flesh soaked in sweat, our makeup a distant memory.  Lesley stands alone, a youthful, statuesque marvel.  And smelling spectacular.  We stand around her, hanging on her every word.

"Trudy has a point, Vanessa.  She can clearly make you cum at will.  Like Niagara Falls.  But I don't see you making her cum much.  What's the deal?"

" I.....well....i...." stutters Vanessa, clearly stung.

I marvel at how Lesley has taken control of the situation.  In fact, I melt. 

I think back to when my first marriage was ending, and an office romance with a woman I worked with was budding.  We were at an office picnic, and she said, "I'm glad you're here."  "Well, ya, you knew I'd be he.....ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh."  We left the picnic as soon as convention would permit and went to her apartment, tearing our clothes off.

Now Lesley has me in the palm of her hand like that woman did when I was young, a quarter century ago.

That's the only explanation I have for what happened next.

With Vanessa, Heather, and I all tongue-tied--granted, for very, very different reasons--Lesley fills the void.  "Vanessa, make Trudy cum."

My mind hears, "Siri, make Trudy cum," or "Alexa, make Trudy cum," humor distracting me from the fact that my posted hated enemy and I are about to hook up.  With the object of our affection watching us, to see who enjoys it more.

I'm of two minds as to my approach.  If I go limp noodle, I won't get aroused at all, but it won't arouse Vanessa, either.  If, on the other hand, I strut my stuff, bring my A-game, I'll no doubt send Vanessa over the edge in ecstasy.  But I might join her there.  And That's not a place I ever want to be with anyone except Lesley.  Especially with Lesley watching.

Before I've even settled into a strategy, Vanessa approaches me, arms open, tongue unsteathed, seeking my mouth.

We kiss.  Ok, That's an unstatement.  We inhale each other.  Pulling hair, but not catfight style.  We're not tearing it out, We're feeling each other up. 

I remember the first fight Vanessa and I had, almost a full year ago now.  Her teeth were inside my mouth.  Later that night, I felt scratches on my gums.  How did she do that, I wondered at the time.  She's doing it again, and I still can't figure out how, still can't make the geometry work.

We go to our knees, gently, not in a fighting pose, and then to the floor.  I mount Vanessa, our mouths not losing contact, a our hands still hungrily caressing each other's hair and scalps.  I begin sucking Vanessa's tongue like It's a cock.

Vanessa's body constricts in its familiar aroused tensing.  But this time is different.  She's letting go, letting me lead.  SHE never has before.

My left hand reaches down and penetrates her, sliding in easily.  Her moaning builds and builds, and I sense She's way beyond the point of no return.  But I keep my mouth sealed on her, letting her lack of air intensify her arousal.  Lesley's hand is inside her own pants, obviously enjoying the view, the sounds.

Vanessa explodes in screams.

And so does Lesley.

"NO, NO, NO, Vanessa!!!!" Lesley shouts, taking the air out of the moment, and startling all of us.  Taken aback, Lesley continues, "Not you, Trudy, you're fine.  It's YOU, Vanessa.  I thought I told YOU to make Trudy cum.  What don't you understand??"

Vanessa, angered at having her pleasure interrupted, turns and walks to Heather.  "Ok, you want to see Trudy cum, bitch???  You want to???"

Lesley:  "I do."

Vanessa:  " Well, watch this neat trick.  Heather.  Kick the living shit out of Lesley."

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

"KICK HER ASS"

There's a lot of unspoken lady-speak occurring in the room right now, some of which I'm able to decipher, and some not.

Two "frequencies" I tap into right away are with respect to the Vanessa-Lesley dynamic.  The first is that Lesley is attempting to leverage her fully-clothed status over the three naked women in the room.  I remember the Seinfeld episode where George had "hand" over Susan, and didn't was to relinquish it.  Well, Lesley has "hand" over us right now, and Vanessa is trying to seize it back.  Which brings up the second dynamic in the room.  Lesley has just made Vanessa cum, after ordering Vanessa to make me cum.  Vanessa failed, has lost face in front of Lesley, and is trying to get it back.

I pick all this up.  But am unable to comprehend other dynamics.

Heather is surprisingly eager to kick Lesley's ass.  I had thought Heather had "dropped out" of this competition hours ago, especially in the issue of being able to handle Lesley.

Lesley.  Sweet, sweet Lesley.  Out of no where, i flash back to one of our phone sex sessions.  I remember her telling me the Korean language has three different words for rice--one for the growing plant, a second for the edible grain part, and a third for the prepared, cooked dish.  Lesley, so smart.  Lesley, so fuckable.

And yet, Lesley still has not managed to put Heather away.  Still has not gotten Heather to cry uncle, to give, to beg for mercy.

Heather goes at Lesley with the signature Millennial hair pull, grab, yank, and throw.  My clit, still engorged from my mount-hump-and-grind session with Vanessa, throbs and climaxes like a cock.  I strain to keep my eyes open and focussed on the delightful view of the renewed coed fight.

Vanessa does not cum.  Only a beat down by Heather on Lesley will get her there.

Heather and Lesley are grappling on the ground, tearing hair by the handful, each struggling to get on top, each succeeding just half the time.  In less time than I expect, Lesley is nude again.  Those perfect globes of breasts of hers, pointy, firm nipples jutting up at the ceiling, no matter what her fight position is, like a cat who always lands on its feet.  I resist the urge to jump into the fight and suck on them.  How, I do not know.

Vanessa urges Heather to tear into Lesley.  Vanessa has already proved her point.  I'm slow to cum while kissing, but cum uncontrollably while there's a girlfight in the room.  If Lesley wins the fight in progress, Vanessa will attempt to use this against me with Lesley.  If Lesley loses, Vanessa won't care--she'll want Heather.

And what if Heather and Lesley stalemate?  They are curled up on the floor right now, neither with a clear advantage.  If this was an after-school playground fight, Heather and Lesley are at the part of the fight where two alpha boys would come over and separate them.  Is that what Vanessa and I should do?

I get down on my butt and face Vanessa.  I want to scissor with her to the site of the stalemated college girls.  Vanessa either wants the same, or reads my body language, because she sits facing me and opens her legs.  Vanessa and I gingerly line up our crotches, and lock them together tight.  We grab each other's legs, lock our eyes on the Heather-Lesley struggle, and rock and grind.  Out clit penetrate each other as we roll on the floor.

The orgasms which roll through my body are transformational.

I lose track of time.

To be continued.....