BREAK-UP CATFIGHT
As Friday afternoon turns into Friday evening, I wait in the bungalow-turned-waxing-salon for my soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend Katie to arrive. It's sad that things have come to this. That we graduated high school together, that we emotionally supported each other thru my college years, that we attempted to have a relationship. I wonder how our future, my future, would have turned out if, when Katie got the one bedroom apartment in Wellington, I had been brave enough to move in with her. I hesitated, and Katie started sexting with a customer she met at work. And now she and I are going to catfight over him.
Why isn't Katie herr yet? Is she playing games with me? Is she dreading this fight as much as I am? I want my damn cellphone and car keys back.
Katie and I talked smack about throwing esch others' cellphones into the Atlantic. But we both know what we REALLY want to do with them: read each others' texts and emails. And to send a few under each others' (false) names. That's every girl's real fantasy--we both know it. The winner of our fight will get to actually do it. For about 2 hours--until the loser gets the cellphone number disconnected.
Cassie no doubt wants Katie and I to put each other in the hospital. But Cassie and I have unfinished business, so I'm going to suggest to Katie that we not fight like barbarians, like Marianne and I do, but with clits, like Cassie and I were starting to, before I caught Cassie eith an admittedly lucky uppercut.
All these thoughts of fight, and fighting styles, are leaving my clit bulging. I want to attack Katie's with it while it's like this.
Katie and I never were in sync in bed. When we would do my thing and hit each other, she seemed unsatisfied. When we did her thing and tenderly kissed, I never found it quite exciting enough. Maybe in a clit fight we can meet halfway. Maybe that's why Cassie and I started to fight that way.
It's been awhile since Katie and I have been naked with each other. Which caused which? Did we stop having sex because we grew apart, or did we grow apart because we didn't work hard enough on the sex? But why should sex be work? If it is, maybe that person isn't the one for you.
I lay naked on my back, playing with my throbbing clit. I'm so looking forward to this fight. Where the hell is she?
A car pulls up. Katie's, I can tell by the sound. I stay laying on my back.
She comes in. She's wearing her work uniform.
> Jessica? Are you OK?? What the fuck is wrong with your clit??
> Nothing. Get yours like this. Cassie showed me a....personal.....way to fight. You have my stuff?
> Right here. Bitch.
> Put it on the table. With yours.
> For the record: if you had any cash on you, Cassie took that, not me.
> No prob. I'll get it back.
> Oh, you think so. You'll beat her AND me?
?
> I. can. Ssssoooo. Beat. You. In a fight. Now, clit fight me.
> <<<<<Katie strips, revealing an engorged, aroused clit.>>>> Let's do this.
Katie and I stand facing each other in the middle of the darkening room, and take a firm grasp of each others' buttocks. We thrust our hips and poke angrily af each others' clit, a guttural grunt escaping our throats when we make contact. The pain is cruel and vicious, my eyes welling with tears. Unlike Cassie and I, who never broke eye contact our entire fight, I try but am unable to meet Katie's angry glare. All thought of reconciliation between us disappates.
Katie's and my hips continue to ram together, the slapping sound resembling the times Marianne and my brother would amatuerishly fuck on our couch at home. But unlike the joyful cries they would emit, Katie and I cry at each other in raw agony.
Bitch.
Slut.
Pussy.
Ditz.
Rookie.
Baby.
Bitch.
We glide to our knees, then to the floor. Our legs wrap around each other, our hands clutching each other's backs. Our clits rub side-to-side, rather than tip-to-tip. The sensation is electric the increase in surface area contact dominating my senses, me feeling at one with Katie, even in my hate for her. Does she feel the same?
Give yet?
Fuck you.
I can do this all night.
Then we are you crying?
Why are YOU?
Fuck you, bitch.
Everytime our clits slide out of contact, we eagerly wiggle our hips and re-seek vontact, to resume the sliding motion. The pain....just....keeps....getting worse....and worse. Is that why Cassie passed out when I uppercut her? Followed shortly after by me?
What will hsppen if either Katie or I pass out? What will we do to each other?
Our grinding is angrier and more vicious than any hitting we ever did.
And yet.....more intimate than any kissing.
I'm the better woman.
Oh....no.....you're not.
Prove it bitch.
I am, slut.
Our claws sink into esch others' scalps. I perceive cutting, slashing, but register pain only from my clit. The sensation is like getting a dental drill in an novacained mouth. Katie's and my face press together. We nibble on each others' nose and lips, but not tenderly. The sensation of Katie's soft tongue blends discordantly with her razor-sharp teeth. We discontinue the clit sliding and resume poking tips, harder than before. Our breathing becomes panting.
Neither of us will give. This is a fight to the finish.
Even the most vicious fistfight would have been long over. The cruelty of this fight is unimaginable.
I want to pay this bitch back so bad. For not giving in this fight. I want to read every slutty sext she's been sending the past year.
The desire to read Katie's cellphone gets me thru the fight. It mzkes me "want it more". I feel Katie getting weaker in my grip. I grind her hard. She passes out, like Cassie.
Now this time, I need to maintain consciousness.
I look in the mirror. My hair, my face, my mouth are a mess. I didn't even realize how hard we were biting.
I clean up. And clean up somd more.
Katie begins to stir.
Should I stay for Round 2? After all, our breasts never got the chance to exchange pleasantries.
No. no.
I take Katie's cellphone. But leave her cash and her carkeys.
Maybe she'll leave me alone.
While I deal with Cassie.
To be continued.....
