Ewa S: Michael's eyes are wide, watching us tear each other apart on the lawn. Our tank tops, white and yellow, now turned to ugly shades of brown and darker brown. Our flesh, our hair, our faces all caked in the grime. Your tattoos barely visible. And apart from few random strands, our hairs are almost indistinguishable. Laying atop of you, my right thigh between yours and yours between mine, my hips grinding against ours as we wriggle and fight intensely, he watches me grabbing your shorts by the top of your left thigh tugging, yanking your leg up slightly as I tighten the shorts around your limb, tangling it and letting the fabric dig where my nails bit just a bit earlier. Your cries showing him how much its hurting, and he covers his mouth with both hands, trying to breathe hard. But he sees you retaliating, with one hand holding my hair, my left cheek and yours brushing you go for my tights, you slide your hands into the rip and you PULLLL... ripping it vertically up to the waist and tearing it open, practically turning my tights into two pairs of leggings, connecting at the front. Your claw reaches down and you start to claw, rake and scratch at my ass...
Your attempt to bridge and buck us, fails as the pain spasms in your left leg, but I am starting to feel the pain on my ass, your nails are not messing around, scratching, raking, clawing, gouging. And I grimace in pain and as you buck again I do not fight you and I let you roll us over, splashing into the wet grass, with your body atop of mine... "Ugghh... FUCK!!" I cuss in pain, as my left hand in your hair pulls sharply back, trying to pull your head back and ease the pressure of your breasts on mine... My left tit still aching from the clawing you gave it earlier through my top and bra. My right hand, leaving your shorts, go up and I press my palm against your left cheek, my fingers curling, and I push my nails into your skin, my thumb, curling under your aw, I find that hollow in the middle of your under chin and I push up, curling my hand, trying to tighten, and use my thumb nail to force your mouth shut, a defensive move to make it harder for you to counter-bite me, I PULL down on your hair again, bringing your face towards my pinned-down head and I open my mouth, trying to bite the tip of your damn chin!
Kimberly: I'm fucking stubborn. Yes, it hurt when I pushed with my leg and tried to roll us over, but this whole thing is about pain, and there's no way I'm going to just let you lay on top of me with your ass out for Michael. For a few moments, maybe, but I'm sure as hell not going to let you just stay on top of me. My foot pushes down into the muddy grass and finally finds traction. "UGHHH!!!!" I grunt as I push and you see more than willing to get your ass into the ground and let the mud smear against your cheeks if it means my nails will pull from your flesh. As I land on top my breasts come down on yours hard and I grind my right tit down, knowing what I did to you earlier, and that with a bitch like you ever little bit of extra pain in the same spot can help, but you are quickly pulling on my hair, pulling my head back and pulling our cheeks apart.
"fuckkiingg... cxntt" I breathe out through clenched teeth as you pull, and as I spit venom at you your right hand comes up to my face. Your thumb curls under my jaw and I scream immediately through clenched teeth as your hand collapse and your claw sink in and shut my jaw closed. Your hand pulls, my face comes back a few inches towards your teeth, and fuck... AWWWWWWWW AWWWWW you bite down into me again, this time into the tip of my chin, and I scream, knowing Michael has a perfect view of you biting into his wife's face.
I scream out, and my hands which are now freed from your ass come up. My right hand goes back to your left breast, pulling on the bottom of your white (well, it used to be white, but now it's a brownish color) lace bra just enough to expose your nipple, and then my fingers curl in. My thumb stabs into the underside of your sensitive flesh as the rest of my talons curl in and grip hard. My hands close, trying to grip and squeeze as much flesh as I possibly can and work your impressive assets. I know Michael can't wait to see them again, and this time I'm going to make sure they are worse for the wear before he does. My left hand comes to your face, still wet and muddy like yours as they press against me and you smear mud on my cheek, and I slap your face as hard as I can manage and then push. My thumb presses in just above your cheek and curls just under your nose as my other fingers curl in above your eyebrow and I press hard, trying to shove your head down and pull back to free the tip of my chin from another of your fucking bites.
Ewa S: There is no fucking denying it. It's something I've made my peace with a long time ago; I've never fought a bitch like you. I just haven't. I've fought taller, stronger, heavier, harder-hitting bitches, that's for sure. But that was it. Each of them had that... ONE... edge over me... But you... You fucking have everything... Everything balanced and rounded perfectly enough to match me in every way. Here we are. On the grass and mud, rolling, writhing, with my claws and teeth tearing at you, and yet, you are still fighting back hard. Still finding it in you to roll me off, to slap your body on mine and grind that right tit of yours against my aching left. It's not wounded, it's not bleeding, nor even badly scratched. But I can still feel the pain your grinding palm and mauling claws caused, and you make sure to liven it up. And against a slut like you I just must fight... like my life depends on it. It's all going to come down to these tiny attacks and small dents we leave into each other's armor. It will NOT be a big blow or one superior move. It will never come to that again, not since our first fight. It will all be a tally of who had more cuts, welts, bruises at the end, whose energy and pain tolerance reserves were sapped the most.
Laying down there, your body rocks above me, grinding, despite my bite on your face, you move your right claw, to the left side of my tank top, wiggling and grabbing my bra cup, pulling on it until it slides under my areola, and your nails JAM into my nipple.... My eyes go wide as your nasty nails, caked with mud sink into my flesh, while your left claw goes to my face, spreading and jamming your other set of dirty nails into my flesh and "AHHHIIEEHHHHH!!!" I scream in pain... My eyes shutting in pain as my head falls back and *SPLASH* sends a wave of water out of the grass.... My eyes shutting in pain, and I wince, holding your hair up by my right hand, my left reaching down and I sink my nails into the mud... Carving out a ball of mud, larger than the one you used to smear my face earlier and I send it flying in a hard SPLATTTTT to your face, trying to drive it into your eyes and nostrils, growling and THRUSTING up, bucking and trying to toss you off me.... Needing to retreat... My eyes set on Michael, seeing him standing there, and the sliding door to the living room behind him... Thinking if I can as much as SPRINT to him and use him as a human shield to break off and rush inside, I would get a chance to recuperate....
Kimberly: This bitch is wearing me out. From the moment you came screaming through the sliding glass door with your hands up, it's been a vicious fight of nails and teeth. And not just to our bodies. That's the regular, unwritten rule of the club. None of us are professional fighters. We have to go back to our regular lives: to work, to our families, to our hobbies, and showing up with scratches and bites on our face isn't the easiest thing in the whole world to explain. But this fight, like our second fight at the club, is one of nails and teeth, and neither of us sparing the other's face. You bite my face and claw into my chin. I claw into your breast and nipple and under your nose and above your eye brow. It's a savage war, and if I know anything about Michael, he is equal parts worried and equal parts aroused.
You scream out as my nails bite down into your flesh, and your screams bring a smile to face, maybe even a sickening smile as I delight in causing you pain. Your eyes shut as you scream your hand reaches out and like I did to you, only more dramatic, you grab a hand full of mud and smash it into my face. Your hand smears across my eyes, under my nose, pushing it in my nostrils and I can taste it more pronounced on my teeth... "UWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!" I shout through clenched lips, refusing to let you get any more mud in my mouth than you can absolutely force in. As I scream there's a click, but neither of us hears it. Michael does though, and he sees it. You buck hard, thrusting up and tossing me to the side. "Fuckkk... FUCK!" Michael screams as he moves frantically. You move to your knees, turning and getting up in one quick motion as Michael moves across us towards the side of the house, and all he manages to say is, "I thought I turned off the timer!"
Within seconds it all happens almost simultaneously, he moves across us as you turn to stand, and you collide with his. Your wet breasts to your chest, your waist to his and if I could see through the fucking mud in eyes I'd know you felt him and he felt you. You collapse down as I frantically wipe mud from my eyes as the sprinklers click on and Te-te-te-te-te our state of the art sprinkler system, which Michael still doesn't know how to work properly, turns on and starts to hose us all down as you lay there next to Michael in the mud of our fight. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry" I hear him saying as I look up, wondering what he's sorry for and I see you next to him and the wet spots on his clothes tell me exactly what happened... "BITCH!" I shout as I reach out for your muddy hair as water begins to spray all around us from every direction... "WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING!?!" I shout from my knees as yank your hair and try to pull you into me.
Ewa S: My face... I fucking feel the nasty cut your nail left above my eye, just at the inside of my eyebrow... It burns, and I hope, I HOPE it doesn't bleed... I know my cheek is, but at least that won't come in my vision... But right now, your damn thumb that have jammed into my eyebrow poked and brushed my eyeball roughly my eye is tearing out of control... I NEED to get some distance between us... I fucking must.. I push you off and I rise... My bare feet slapping on the mud and I stumble towards Michael, I want to put him between us, and as he sees me rushing towards him he does that fucking thing that happens all the time... I step right, he steps left... I step left, he steps right, and we COLLAPSE together... "UGHHH!!" I grunt as my exposed left tit, and my covered right one mash into his chest... His right hand that was trying to stop me brushes, then... GRABS... the bulging side of my left tit, giving it a firm, noticeable knead.... Like he wants to feel for himself how full and firm I am... And my eyes go wide... not at his outrageous move... No... But at what my right hand, that had the exact same thought felt when it lightly brushed against his crotch...... Feeling that.... police-baton-sized cock so tightly strangled by his jeans, and thrust down towards the left leg of his pants....
We slide and crash down as the sprinklers go off... I hear him bursting in an apology, pulling his hand back, but right now.... I almost totally forget about you... as I push up on my ass and try to rise up to get away when; "AHIIIIEEHHH!!" I yelp in pain as you grab my hair and YANKKKKK me back... On your knees, you have a higher vantage and I fall flat back, my head held up by the hair... and I screech as you shake me madly by the hair; "FUCKING PSYCHO BITCH!!! GET OFF MEE!!" I roar in pain, my right eye still shut from that dumb thumb to it.... My hands shoot up, and I curl my palms towards your chest and I JAM my nails into your cleavage and RAKE down, dragging my nails across the short distance of cleavage exposed to me, before feeling your yellow tank top, and I grab it with both hands, PULLING down, trying to stretch it towards me, as I coil my body, pulling my legs back towards my chest, trying to aim my feet at your chest, your face, your shoulders, anything, and KICK/SHOVE you back and off me, hoping it's enough to make you let go of my hair, so I can break free, but determined that if it happens, that I would *NOT* let go of your dirty tank top...... The cold sprinkler water spraying the jets on our flesh, washing away the mud from the flesh, but not the fabric, which makes both our tops sag and feel heavy...
Kimberly: I look up just in time to see it, and I'm fucking furious. Not at him, of course, because what man wouldn't want to touch you, and he's as sexually healthy and active as any man I've ever met. He might be the only one I've known who can actually keep up with me. But there you are... this fucking cxnt. with the mud wiped from my eyes, assisted by the first blast of the sprinklers, I look up to you two laying there in the mud, his hand on your bare breast, your hand between his legs. It's one thing for this bitch to touch me. I agreed to this. I signed up for this. You can touch me however you please and if I don't like it, it's my job to stop you. But my husband. MY FUCKING HUSBAND!!! I yank back hard, pulling you to me, shaking your head side to side as I scream out, "DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HIM WHORE!!!" You call me a psycho bitch, and maybe you're right, because seeing your hands on him has me in a rage.
Your hands shoot up as I whip your head side to side and the spraying water washes the mud away from your face, showing that I didn't cut your skin above the eye, which might have been fucking sweet if you had to deal with blood running down into your eye the rest of the fight. But there's no crimson or visible open wound, just a red gash. Your hands grab for my tank top and you pull down, immediately stretching it out towards you as your body coils... "FUCKKK FUCKING cxnt!" I shout as I'm pulled forward into you from the hard pull, but my momentum is stopped as your feet pull toward your chest and then push out.
One foot lands in my hard, but clawed abs, the other lands in my sore shoulder. I shriek in the pain and am shoved back. My hands slide through your hair and as I fall back into the now completely soaked grass, my tank top rips from my body, pulling off in your hands as both shoulders give, the wet front pulls off in your hands and the back lays in the grass beneath me. Michael has decided to lay there in the mud and watch, seemingly shocked at what he's seeing with his erection clearly framed in his now saturated jeans, "FUCKING BITCH!!" I shout as I lay back in the mud, the sprinklers cleaning my front side. I push my hands into the grass as we get a bit of separation, and I slowly start to stand. I watch you carefully, and very protectively test my right leg as the water now soaks us both, I stand up, scratched, my face, leg and shoulder bitten, my shoulder bleeding, and I breathe deeply... "Come on, bitch... Get up... GET UP!!!" I shout as I stand there soaking wet in just my black lace bra and my shorts with my black thong underneath.
Ewa S: I thrash and flail... Screeching and kicking... Your fingers tugging, shaking, yanking my hair from right to left, and back.... Trying to grind my head into the mud and obviously get the sprinkler water to blast my face directly with it being that low. It works, but in a way it clears my eyes and vision, and allows me to curl up and fold-kick you back and off me... I hear the tearing and stretching of your top as it comes off in my grip... I cuss and roll to my knees, turning. Panting and breathing hard. I see you already springing up. in your shorts and black bra.... Your thong poking up under the shorts, hiking over your hip bones... You scream at me, taunting me to rise up and face you.... And I turn my eyes to the side, Michael sprawling between us, but his body is angled in a way that's between you and the glass door. I grimace and glare at you... Now is my chance... But I need to be clever... I need to be cunning... I rise up to my feet, and I slowly peel up my half turn white top... I yank it and pull the white left bra cup up, covering up my clawed left tit. It's slightly bleeding from your clawing, and I almost wince in pain as the wound brushes against the inside of my bra.
But I pull the tank off and hold it in my hand, letting it dangle beside me for few seconds, letting the sprinklers wet it, soak it, and I turn my eyes to Michael, and I put on a little foxy smirk... For no reason... He didn't do anything, but I'm trying to draw your eyes to him, to draw your guard for a split second so I can lunge forwards and SWING the wet, coiled up white tank top right across your FACE and eyes, trying to sting your face and buy myself that one second to DART past you and towards the glass door. My feet slapping on the wet grass as I rush over the small brick padding and the wooden steps, my hand holding my wet tank top lightly and I burst into the living room. I can see the large open space, the sectional sofa. The coffee table and sitting area. The small dining table by the side, with the high child's stool, and next to it, the other stool fitted with the baby's bracing and mini table. A typical home. With the open Kitchen space-style and the long, black large kitchen marble that you seem to have cleared off any plates or glasses in preparation for my visit.
Kimberly: I shout for you to stand, but really this place is becoming no space for us to fight unless we've decided to take up mud wrestling, and with the water streaming and getting into our faces, who knows exactly how this could all go. No, the best thing to do at this point is to get inside, even if it means bringing in all this wetness and what's left of the mud that the sprinklers couldn't knock off. I want you to stand. I want to grab you by your hair as you start to get up and drag you like a bitch into my home, and as I see you start to stand I push with my right leg, forgetting for a moment what you did to me, and my body quickly reminds me. Between the pain and the saturated grass my foot slips and I can't lunge for you. Instead I'm forced to watch as you pull your tank top over your head and Michael's fucking eyes are glued. In my mind I'm screaming... "HELLO!!!! ASSHOLE... YOUR WIFE IS STANDING RIGHT HERE IN HER BRA!" but his eyes are glued on you, and you can feel it. You give him a foxy smirk, and my eyes dark dangerously from you and onto him, so see her reaction. I see a smile on his face, and then all I see is dark white and then darkness as your tank top whips across my face.
"AWWWWWW FUCKKK!!!!!" I turn my head away, trying to grab the wet fabric but you pull it back before I can do anything. I look back, wanting to lunge at you and claw your fucking eyes for that, but when I look up I see you heading into the house. We had the same thought apparently, although I'm not at all happy that now I have to chase you into my own fucking home. I hear Michael ask, "are you ok?" but I'm annoyed enough that all I can manage back is "shut the fuck up" through labored breathes as I start to make my way through the spraying sprinklers, onto the small brick padding, up the wooden steps and into my living room. My eyes dart to and fro quickly, like I'm looking for a predator in my own fucking home, but I see you quickly, standing across the living room. Not giving me space, but far enough away that you can't just lunge at me. Michael steps inside shortly after us. The sprinklers continue to spray out in the back yard, but their sound is muffled as he slides the door shut behind us without saying a word, and tries to slip to the side near the sectional sofa.
Ewa S: The run is... DEFINITELY not cowardly!! I tell myself that... Yes... Yes... It's a "Tactical Retreat"... Exactly!! That's what it freaking is, and right now, I don't want to as much as hear anyone contradict my perfect line of excuses and elaborate nonsense! It's really all about getting some distance... To take a breather... To count my wins and tally the losses, and those are simply terms for damage. I'm aching all over, but that's normal, a totally expected side-effect from bumping, grinding, and writhing with another bitch on the ground, tackling each other and pressing our bodies so tightly together in attempts to crush, flatten, or outright shove our curves and toned bodies in the other's faces.
But then, there are the other bits. The scratches, the aches and needle-like pinches of the nails. And despite a wide range that you've left on my body right now, what matters most is, well, that nasty claw grip you got on my left breast. Both the four marks at the top, and then the three marks on my areola when you briefly exposed my breast and mauled it. It's hidden back now under my bra, soaked and soppy, but it still hurts. And then, the nasty clawing you applied to my face. The nasty welt above my left eye, that FEELS like it's bleeding, but every time I wipe it, I feel no blood... But gawd it's SO close to just seep out, and then, the two claw marks on my cheeks and sides of my nose.... And those ARE bleeding slightly, I can tell....
I heave, standing in the living room... My black tights torn at the back, hanging loose, and causing the front to sag a little, to show the white fabric of my G-string. I didn't go for a lacey, sexy thong look. I went for the practicality of sports-grade undergarments to withstand the punishment, and to make it harder for you to rip... Also, cuz they are cheaper, and I KNOW they are getting ruined. But my plan is pretty simple regarding that... I beat your ass... I raid your wardrobe... And I take whatever I need there to get back in my car and get back home, then live in my bed for the next week until I can walk again.... And given your taste for clothing and our very similar dimensions, it won't be hard to find something that fits my body and style.... But my thoughts are cut off as you rush in, and I see you standing there, dripping... Michael charging in after you, muttering his apologies, his shirt soaked, and so are his pants, and there is no hiding that bulge in his pants that I took more than one second touching when we tripped and fell down under the sprinklers.
But there is no time admiring your luck in nailing a stud like him... None at all.... I just grit on my teeth and I LUNGE forwards, screeching and I SWING my right arm with my coiled up, wet top again at your face.... Trying to nail you across the eyes, but this time, you're more than ready and adapted to it, you bend your knees and duck, letting it fly over your head, and send a spray of water around, as I cuss, but I twist my body back and LASH in a diagonal, back-swing motion, trying to slap it across the right side of your face, growling; "Piece of fucking TRASH!!! Dress however you want Kim, you ARE trash!!!" Roaring in rage, as I pull my right foot up, trying to kick it towards your chest right after my swing, hoping I can catch you and send you sprawling back into Michael!
Kimberly: Everything is tense the moment I step inside the living room. It's not just you and I who are tense as we stare across for a few seconds at the bitch we decided to trade pain with until one of us was the only left standing and the other felt the betrayal of her body and mind giving in to defeat. Michael is tense too. He always is when I fight. As much as he loves it there's a part of him that hates to see his wife, the mother of his kids, getting hurt. He's such a natural protector that it's in his basic instincts to want to jump in a defend me, or at least pull me from the bad situation, but he knows better. He tried that shit once, and if he thought I was furious at the girl I was fighting, he hadn't seen fury yet. I lost my fucking mind on him, screaming at him like I've never screamed at him before. From then on he knows, whatever happens, happens. He knows not to interfere unless it's one of those fights where... well, he's the center of our attention. But bitch on bitch, cat on cat like this, he knows what can happen, he knows he can't do anything, and it makes his heart pound, his blood flow, and his cock swell so visibly in his jeans, with the added assistance of your fingers gripping around it and framing the fabric around his road.
My bra is soaking wet and heavy, and I don't expect it to last long. My leg hurts. Every step gives me a wince of pain although I try my hardest not to show it. My shoulder is bit and bleeding, and there are bite marks on my chin and thigh. My ear is still bright and red, and I've got claw marks running down my temple to my ear. I'm fucking hurt, and we're just getting started. There isn't a single doubt in my mind that each of us are going to give everything we have to see who is left standing, and we're both going to pay dearly for this. I won't be at the PTA meeting tomorrow night for sure. I might even miss Joshua's t-ball game next weekend, but all of that will be worth it if I can just put this bitch down and make her stay down.
We're both breathing hard, trying to catch our breath and fill our lungs with much needed oxygen when you lunge at me, trying to strike me with your top again as mine lays outside in the soaked grass. I duck, just barely making you miss as water flies of the top and onto my walls and furniture, but I can't even begin to be concerned with that now. After all the times I've told the kids not to make a mess as they play, it's me and you who are about to make the biggest mess this living room has ever seen. I come up from the fuck only to see the wet fabric flying again at my face as you swing with a hard backhand, and I can't move fast enough.
It hits, blinding me as your foot comes up and my hands go to the top as it smears across my face, and you lift your foot and drive it into my chest "uwwwwwwnnnn UWHNNNN FUCKKKKK!" I just barely manage to hold onto to my grip on your top as I go sprawling back into Michael. He collides with the wall, I collide into him, and I can feel his large cock framed perfectly between my ass cheeks. He grunts out, not just from the collision, but I know him well enough to hear the sound he makes. He's too confined. It's hurting him. "GIVE ME TAHT FUCKING TOP BITCH!" I shout as I pull with both hands, trying to tear the top from your hands. I arch forward as I do, shoving more of my ass back into Michael, and with one hard pull I don't manage to get the top free because you won't let it go. Instead you come tumbling into me, with the wet top and our hands between us. My right hand releases quickly, shooting down to your ass, and I start to slap down hard at the exposed, clawed flesh as I scream "FUCKING ... BITCH!!!" with each slap while Michael moans loudly like he's getting dry humped on the wall behind me with our bodies crushing against him.
Ewa S: It's not even close to anything I've experienced before meeting you. Sure. I've made a pretty damn notorious name in the club for being a hard, no-nonsense kind of fighter. The type you don't mess around with unless you really had masochistic needs, or truly hated yourself.... But still, even then, all my fights were... confined to the club... They were more or less sanctioned, observed, and with safe words to stop it when things get too far. But this is so... fucking different... This is a fight that will clearly, and easily top what we have done in our second, the one that got us both kicked out. It's a fight in your fucking HOME. And part of me still can't get my mind wrapped around the level of insanity we are getting into. Fighting not only in your living accommodations, where you live, where your children play and sleep, but in a way that could EASILY be labeled as home-assault should things go awry. But No. You're not that kind of bitch. I could leave you within an inch of your life, or you within an inch of mine, and neither would involve the cops or even report it. We are just like that, we're here for the same thing, and that is, to prove to ourselves first, even before the other, and certainly before Michael, who truly is the better fighter. Who is tougher, and the alpha cat in this damn town.
I whip at you and fire a hard kick to your chest, I feel my bare foot slapping against your wet chest, compressing your breast as I squeeze out some water from your bra and you stagger back, but with a firm grip on my top. I yelp in rage as I yank trying to free it, but you PULL violently with both hands and I grunt, stumbling into you and I feel our chests crash together... The impact immediately awakening the ache in my left tit, the one you clawed... "ARGGHHH!! LET GO YOU cxnt! IT'S MY TOP!!" I roar out, but you swing your right arm out and you... SLAP SLAP SLAP hard on my ass... Your fingers curling and then DIGGING into my toned, exposed buttocks... "FUUUCKKK!!" AIIEEHHH!" I arch up in pain and I PRESS my body, hips, tummy, chest into yours, and I GRIND you into Michael, your body sandwiched between me and him, but you don't care... FUCK... I even feel you brushing your hip right and left... Ehhh... Did that skank just GRIND her ass against her husband's cock while fighting me.... I feel fucking furious, as I keep my right grip on the top, and I hiss... "Fine... You want to be a WHORE Sandwich? Let me fucking help you cxnt... How about a Pressini??"
Bitching at you I PUSH my body further into yours... And I mean... ALL the way... I slide my left foot up, and like a little girl in her middle school prom, dancing with her dad, I slide it over your right foot, and I curl my toes, digging my toe nails into your shin and the top of your foot and then I do the same to my right foot, literally standing on YOUR feet and LEANING into you... to further grind you into him... Your left hand and my right fighting over the top, I yank my hand UP between us, and then around, letting the top slide and wrap around your large, arching, prominently abundant left tit, wrapping from the underside, around the cleavage, the top and back down the outside and I YANK hard, using the wet top to strangle and squeeze your left tit, in a crushing motion... And to stop the wet fabric from sliding off your moist flesh, I bring my left arm up and I press my forearm into your right breast, while shoving my nails into the bulging top of your left tit, using my nails to both burrow into your flesh and as a 'stopper' to not let the top go away... Giving you the choice of either letting go of the top, or holding on, and helping me CRUSH your damn tit....
Kimberly: Is he really fucking moaning like this behind me while his wife is in the most intense and likely costly fight of her entire life? "uhhhhhh you FUCK. Just take them off!" I shout to him as you scream about making a whore sandwich and push your body into mine fully. I'm not sure we could be any closer even if you had come over tonight for sex instead of a fight. Your breasts are mashed to mine, our lips are practically rubbing, I can feel the front of your bottoms sticking to your legs and to mine from the wetness and our hips rubbing and pressing, but this is the exact opposite of fucking.
It's full of hate and anger and frustration and pain. "uwwwww uhnnnnn what? what the fuck bitch!?!?" I ask in surprise as you step up into my feet one at a time and dig your toe nails into my shins. My nails jab into your ass again, tearing and pulling you into me even more as we look into each other's eyes, which are only inches apart, and we see the rage burning inside each other brightly. Suddenly your hand shoots up and starts to wrap around my left breast. I try to stop you but you're too quick and suddenly my left tit is being crushed in your top. "Uwwwnnn. AWWWW BITCHHH!!" I shout as you squeeze, knowing at least any second the wet fabric should pull from my breast.
But then your left arm comes up, pushing against my right breast and jamming your nails into the top of my tit. "AWWWWW GAWWDDD DAMN IT" I shout directly into your face as I hear Michael behind me say, "Oh my god," as he has a perfect view of my tit being choked in your top and clawed with your nails. I'm furious, not just from the pain but from his comment. My hands release your ass and release the top, and I bring them to your exposed stomach. I curl my nails into your abs, which are much more toned and firm than the last time we've fought, telling me you've been working on them and we're a bit jealous of the stomach I brought to our fights.
I dig my claws in, shove with my arms, and my right foot slides out from under your left and pushes between Michael's legs and against the wall. I shove hard, again pushing more of my ass back into Michael as I do, and I manage to force you back. Your claw pulls from my breast, the top comes slides off, and you stagger back a few steps. "BITCH!" I scream as we separate for just a moment, and I reach back, not turning away from you entirely, but exposing myself for just a moment as I grab the bottom of Michael's favorite t-shirt and start to pull it up and off him. "Give me your fucking shirt!" I order him, and he tries to comply, but I'm pulling too hard and the tee is too wet and the soaking wet Metallica shirt from one of the concerts we went to on our honeymoon rips and pulls off in my hand.
Ewa S: You bet your ass I worked my ass hard. Heck, I've been working my ass hard for the last 2.5 months, since we first met. Since that beating you gave me. I've fought many 'fit' girls before, but one after another, I beat them all down. I did so much that I often touted and joked that 'fit girls are weak', and that perhaps spending too much time in the gym for those glamor muscles make you actually weaker... All until I met you... With your provocatively rock-hard body, that got coupled by your skills, and whether I admit it or not, you kicked my ass... And since then I realized I needed to up my game. I needed to get stronger, fitter. My skills alone were not enough for you.
And here I am, not as toned and ripped as you, but certainly closer than I ever was... And as I hear you cry out at Michael, screaming at him to 'take it off', I almost grin, confused, but it makes me laugh as I tear into your breasts, mainly your left one to repay you for the clawing you gave mine.... But then, your nails GOUGE into my abs... The proud, toned mid-riff I sculpted, and I CRY out in pain. Muscle or fat, the nails hurt all the same and you shove all TEN of them... I cry out gasping as I stumble back, arched over.... The top slipping off your tit, and I barely grab on to it... as you turn and grab Michael's shirt, and start to yank it....
My eyes fill with tears, seeing your back turned to me and I roar; "Why you BITCH!!" And I lunge for you, my right hand holding my top, my left grabbing your soaked red hair and I YANK hard, trying to pull you back away from him, and I succeed, but as I do my eyes go wide seeing the top SLIDE off his head and arms and come off in your grip... FUCK!! I turn my body and whip you around, to send you away but you spin, your hair still in my grip and you WHIPPPPP me with the wet top across my clawed abs... "AIIIEEHHH!!!" I cry out in pain, my eyes shutting as I let go of your hair, but I SWING my own coiled top, and SMACKKKKKK it lashes across the top of your breasts, and right across those bright claw marks I left....
I hear your scream as I stumble and thud into the wall, or so I feel... But it's too bump... Too rippled, and I feel Michael's strong hands on my arms giving me a soft push forwards, whispering again for the millionth time; 'Sorry!!!' Your eyes crazed with rage, and I know what you're about to say and do, to tell me to get off your man, so I just grin and PUSH my ass back against his crotch... My tights split at the back, it's now my G-string held buttocks, scratched and spanked GRINDING against his crotch and... OMG... That's monstrous!! But I'm not doing it for him... No, I'm doing it for you, to get red with rage and rush me, to make that mistake ready to POUNCE to the side to avoid your lunge and swing my wet top under your defenses, and this time, hopefully nail you with a stringing slash right between your legs!
Kimberly: This isn't my normal way of fighting, but this bitch is using everything she has against me, even the clothes she wore to the fight, and since we've come into the living room with her wet top hanging from her hand like a whip while mine laid out in the grass, you've had the advantage of having that weapon in your hand. It's not an unfair one. I should have picked mine up, but nonetheless it's time for me to even the odds. I grab Michael's shirt and try to pull it form his body, and just as it's about to come off suddenly my head is jerked back by your grabbing hands.
"OWWWW FUCKKK!!!" You turn and pull me away from him, but I manage to whip his wet tee across your abs as we tussle around the living room. You swing back, catching me across the breasts and I shout out in pain as the wet top slaps across my fresh claw marks that you gave me. We go stumbling, and as my head turns to see where you are I find you quickly enough. You're against Michael, just like I was moments ago, except he was starting to listen to my command from a moment ago, and when I see it, I'm in a rage immediately. His jeans at his knees, leaving him with only his boxers covering his manhood, and you are against him, grinding your bare ass which is only covered by your g-string against my husband.
My face goes red. I scream immediately, "YOU FUCKING WHORE!!!" and I lunge at you, raising my right hand which holds his top and swinging it down as hard as I can aimed at your face and chest. I don't care where the fuck I hit you, as long as I fucking hit you. But as I come in you move almost suddenly, like you fucking knew exactly what I was going to do. You slide out of the way and Michael's own t-shirt whips hard across his bare chest. My eyes go wide as I strike him, and he shouts, "AWWW WHAT THE FUCK KIM!!!" I'm froze for a moment, but only a moment. I don't even get the chance to say I'm sorry before your shirt whips up and strikes right between my legs, catching my inner thigh and the crotch of my shorts "UWHWHNNNNCUNNTTTT!!" I shout as the sudden pain makes me collapse forward into Michael, whose hands to my waist instinctively.
Suddenly there's another hard whip across my back and I shout out in pain as my body arches and pushes against him. "AWWWWWW SHITT!!!!" I shove of Michael hard with both hands, turning quickly and swing my right hand back and try to strike you hard across the face. "you.. BITCH!!!!!" I shout as the look of Michael's pained face from when I struck him still burns in my mind, and while I was the one who hit him, the only person I blame in this room is the fucking cxnt who lured me into her trap.
Ewa S: Both wielding the wet, soppy pieces of fabric, even though their effectiveness as weapons is well... mediocre at best.... It's not really about that... It's about the BITCH holding it, and in our hands, freaking toothpicks would qualify as WMD's.... I take a moment to GRIND against Michael's crotch, his pants around his ankles, as you yell at him and he exclaims; "You told me to take it off!!!" Prompting me to smile bitchily and... GRIND... harder into his cock, that slides up and... "Ohhhh!!!" slides up between my butt cheeks with such force, that I can't help the moans, and yeah, that one was NOT made up.... The cotton fabric of his boxers the only thing stopping his manhood from getting stuck between my thighs and just under my buttocks when you lunge, and I DUCK to the side... I hear the WET SMACKKKK and him yelling, and I wince... Ouch... Sorry Michael!! Feeling almost bad for him, but I have no time for pity, I spin and LASH you across your back hard, and I grin seeing the bright pink lash it leaves on our skin.... I grit on my teeth and rush at you, raising my left arm trying to snatch you by the hair to pull you back and maybe.... "ARGGHHH!!!" My thoughts cut as you SPIN and backhand me across my face hard....
I CRY out in pain... and stagger to the side... Holding my cheek and mouth with my left hand, my tongue pocking at the inside of my cheek and I taste some coppery thing... FUCK you fucking cut the inside of my cheek with my own teeth... I growl in anger and I charge at you madly, roaring, but you turn and THRUST your body at me... You don't run, no, you practically SPEAR me with shoulders across my chest and I YELP in pain, my top finally falling from my hand, dropping to the floor as you send me stumbling and into the kitchen counter; "ARRGHHH!!!" I cry out in pain, it's one of those low counters and it jams right into the small of my back... "FFFFFUUUUCKKKK!!" I arch over your body, grimacing and I reach down, sinking my nails into the small of your back and I RAKKEE up... Fast...
A quick swipe of my nails across your bare back all the way to the straps of your red bra.... Clawing across the skin I just whipped as I make a grab for your hair and twist violently, trying to jam your side and ribs into the edge of the counter. "PLAY TIME'S OVER BITCH!!!!" I cry in rage, as Michael's eyes go wide staring at us, not missing a beat, not slowing down... His heart throbbing for a moment... Part of him is SO turned on by this, but another part realizes the risks, the danger.... He has never seen another fight his wife this close... Never seen a woman PISS Kim that much and he's terrified of what would happen.... Either a risk of a horrible injury to you, or what madness you could slump into to get back at me if I push you just a bit more.
Kimberly: I saw it the moment I first laid eyes on you. There's that sparkle in your eye that comes from the beaming confidence of knowing you are the most beautiful woman in the room. Michael saw it too, because he's so used to seeing it in my eyes, and when we saw each other's sparkle, that spark instantly turned into simmering flame. So, it's not for nothing that when I turn, enraged and angry, I don't swing for your breasts or your stomach. I don't even swing for your legs. I swing for your damn face like I'm trying to knock that sparkle out of your eyes once and for all and had this been a small hard object instead of a wet shirt, it would have been devastating. But instead the wet shirt cracks across your face and leaves you staggering to the side.
You charge, and I charge with you, thrusting my body into yours, driving my shoulder into your hard abs and driving you, thanks to our own floor plan, back into the kitchen counters. You scream out, but you immediately go on the offensive because you are a fucking hellcat who won't take anything lying down. You drop your top and as your nails sink into my back and pull up, the sheer pain of your nails scratching up my back, still red and freshly stung from the earlier whip, makes me drop his shirt as well as I scream, "AWWWWW OWWWW cxnt!!!!."
You start to turn us as you claw into me and my body freezes in pain, you turn us to the side and you jam my side and ribs into the edge of the counter, and now it's my turn to deal with the fucking counter. I can see Michael now that you've turned us, with his pants down, his cock rock hard, and his look of worry mixed with raging just strewn across his face. He's never seen anything like this, and it has him equal parts excited and worried as he stands at a distance and watches. I start to slap wildly at your back with my right hand, slapping into the small of your back now that it's free from the counter's edge, and then I claw down, clawing from the small of your back down to your ass again and then hooking my nails and pulling up, thrusting you into me more and making my side and ribs ache, but trying to get you off your feet just enough that I can push and drive your back ass first into the other counter. Your ass slams hard and you scream out, but I keep pushing, getting my hands on your abs and thrusting not just in, but up and forcing your bare ass up on my kitchen counter.
"I FUCKING HATE YOU!!!" I scream out as I push, but my scream is met with a hard slap across the face, then another as you try to fight your way off the counter. I claw into your sides, my face stinging and my mouth hurling curses at you, and I lean forward and try to sink my teeth into the top of your exposed left tit, knowing your natural reaction to move back away from the bite will send you back first into our recently redone maple cherry kitchen cabinets with their large, protruding handles.
Ewa S: There we are again. With no weapons, no Michael, and nothing but our furious rage upon each other. And you remind me once again, why I fucking hate your damn guts. Your strength. your speed, your fucking ferocity. You slam my back into the counter. I claw your back up, gripping your hair and spinning you and even with your ribs and kidney mashing into the counter's edge, you swing, you slap my back hard, slapping and tendering my skin as you RAKE down to my ass... I wail in pain as you claw my buttock and PULL up... I cry out again and I whimper for a second.
I jam you into the counter, trying to punish your side but you twist and slide down, pushing your shoulder into my ribs and turning us, lifting up and I feel my feet leaving the floor.... "NNRRAGGHHH!! I HATE YOU MOREEE!!" You lift me up just to lay me on the edge of the counter. I grit as I realize your plan, I can feel the maple against my bare ass, my leggings now split even forwards to the crotch, held together by nothing more than the front of the waistband... And the stinging claw marks on my ass brush against the maple cheery wood.... But then you LUNGE forwards and I see your teeth going wide... aiming for my tit....
"ARRGHHH!!!" I cry in rage and frustrated by the corner you drove me into, I know I'm playing JUST into your hands as I fall back to avoid the bite, but as I do, I expect you to pounce atop of me, but... you don't... You remain on the floor and you reach, gripping my hair and you start... DRAGGING me... Shaking me right and left, and using your feet to RUN across the kitchen floor, around the counter, to literally SPIN and DRAG me across the polished surface... Screaming curses at me... Michael's eyes go wide, now down to his boxers, he watches as I cry and twist, my back and sides gliding on the polished counter, no way to stop or grab for anything, my hands going for your wrists as you PULL and TWIST, TUG and YANK at my roots... Trying to fucking scalp me....
I screech in pain and in pure frustration, I manage to turn my body just a bit, and I slide my right foot forwards and I slide it under your chin, pressing my foot against your throat and I PUSH hard... Grinding and pressing with my leg muscles hissing; "Let... Fucking... GO...." I roar as I feel you tensing your neck, but against my leg on your throat, you let go and stumble back and I gasp, sitting up, reaching up, teary eyed to grab my scalp feeling hair coming off by the roots; "YOU FUCKER!!" And I see you rush at me, but this time, I reach forwards, thrusting my claws straight for your face, aiming my nails at your cheeks to either slow you down, or impale your freaking face!!
Kimberly: I don't remember if I've ever felt this much hate towards someone, and it's not just hate, but it's this delicious cocktail of raging hate mixed with the greatest of respect. I've done this for over a decade, in my home, in other women's home, in parks, in bars, in fight clubs. You name it, I've fought there. I've fought every kind of woman imaginable from moms and even grandmas to club girls to fitness girls to dancers and even a body builder or two, but I've never ever met a woman who could give me a fight like you, where we could be this far into the fight and it feels like we're both so much worse for the wear and yet with so far still to go. Already I'm starting to wonder just what the hell it will take you finish you of this time. It took everything I had in our first fight, and in our second I didn't have enough for you.
I can't! CAN'T! go through all of this in front of Michael and not come out on top. I know he fucking wants you. He'd be a fucking idiot if he didn't. So I have to remind him who I am and what I can do, no matter what it takes. I claw your ass, lift, thrust, and push you up onto the counter. You scream as I drag you, twisting your head side to side as my teeth bite into your flesh and then pull back as I yank you across the counter. I'm pulling so hard on your hair even your strong strands start to yank out, and I smile as I start to feel them popping out. But that smile fades quickly as you shove your foot into my throat after a twist of your body. You push hard, screaming for me to let go, but even though I have no desire to, your foot on my throat insists that I must as it pushes.
We separate for a moment, and as you grab for your hair instead of coming after me, I got to strike again. I rush at you, my hands aimed for your midsection with my right going for your left breast and my left going for your abs, but my claws barely make it into your skin when your hands dive from your hair to my face. "UWNNNNNNN FUCKKK" as the pain stop my momentum and I'm already back pedaling some as you slide off the counter and your fingers grip into my face! "AWWWWWW FUCKKK FCUKKKK!!! I hear Michael gasp as he sees what you're doing to me and you start to walk me back. My hands still grab and squeeze for your abs and breast, but the pain in my face and the humiliation of being walked backwards in my own kitchen like this makes them far less than effective.
You smirk and then shove, slamming my back into the end of my small kitchen table with four seats, one for Michael and me each and one for each of the kids, and you bend me over the table where I serve my family dinner meals every day, where we sit and talk and watch my kids grows, and now you have me on that table with your claws in my face. "YOU BITCH!!!" I scream out in pain as my left hand comes up, trying to get your nails from my face by pushing up with my forearm under both your arms, while my left slides down between your legs. My nails curl into the front of your g-string just as your teeth come down into my arched, swelling right breast. We both scream out in blinding pain as Michael stands across from us at the other end of the table and not so subtly rubs himself to our war.