[sinclairfan]

NICOLE VERSUS BELLA:  RUMORS AND REPERCUSSIONS

Hello.  My name is Nicole.  I graduated high school in 2012, and spent my senior year grappling with my bisexuality.  I also grappled with a crush that went unrequited with a classmate and neighbor named Bella, that resulted in us almost fighting in 2012, and then actually fighting 6 years later, on Mother's Day 2018, when we each returned home to visit our moms.  It's an embarrassing story, but I'll never meet so, so I might as well tell you about it.

I have thick, long black hair, and also have 38c breasts.  These attributes drew so much attention to me from boys that until senior year I never stopped to ask myself who I wanted to date.  I kind of floated around from boy to boy to boy, letting them touch and kiss my 38c breasts, hoping that one would be my prince, but being disappointed everytime in failing to connect with any of them on an emotinal level.  When I would get back home in my bed at night, my thoughts would inevitably circle back to a straight-haired sandy brown hair neighbor my age named Bella, who was also in my French class at school. 

My first fantasies about Bella actually didn't involve kissing or sex.  I wanted to have some sort of neighborhood fistfight with her.  I know it sounds totally random, but I remembered being in middle school and high school girls in the neighborhood playing coed flag football with the high school boys, while all us "little kids" stood on the sidelines and watched.  I remembered all the boys playing the ball-handling positions like quarterback and receiver, leaving the girls at the line of scrimmage taking all of the blocking and rushing-the-passer roles.  I remember some of those scrums occassionally getting chippy and heated, as the prettiest girls would line up against each other and push and shove, hands inevitably pressing into and jabbing each others' tits.  As the game wore on and tempers flared, some of the pushing and blocking was indistinguishable from all-out catfighting.  I pictured Bella and me in the middle of one of those scrums, pinching and tugging at each others' breasts.  A couple of those games happened when we were old enogh to play, and we had some contact, but never sustained enough to get chippy.  Apparently our rivalry wasn't mutual enough.  Not yet.

As senior year drew to a close and the prospect of us moving away forever became frighteningly real, I tried to figure out what Bella's deal was with me.  Just directly asking her would have saved both of us a lot of trouble, but the possibility of an outright rejection frightened me, so I went the immature route.  I started invoking her name in school and in the neighborhood.  I started a rumor that the reason neither of us had steady boyfriends is that we kissed at each others' houses after school before our parents got home.

I don't know where I pulled that rumor out of my ass.  I mean, it was a sexy fantasy for me, that's for sure.  I though about going over and knocking on her door hundreds of times.  And I guess in a way I was subconsciously outting myself.  But I was outting her too--if it was true that she was bi and I was outting her, I was comitting a horrible offense.  And if she was straight and I was outting her, I was just telling lies.  Either way, I was doing a horrible wrong to Bella, and every day I didn't apologize just made it worse.  The last few weeks of our senior year in high school were a non-stop tension convention, with French class being the worst.  Bella snubbed me in French, turning her back on me whenever we accidentally came near each other.  I hated every second of the day.

But, ironically, I loved every second of the night.  Because I spent every minute in bed with my hand on my pussy, fantasizing about Bella charging at me in French class or in the girls' room at school and fighting me.  I pictured us grabbing each other by the hair and tossing each other around like rag dolls.  I pictured our mothers picking us up at school, and rather than disciplining us, taking us to Bella's backyard and encouraging us to finish the girlfight which had gotten broken up at school.  Settling once and for all the neighborhood rivalry which had gone unsettled for 18 years.

I would masturbate for hours to that fantasy.

But, of coures, real life isn't a fantasy.

I moved away, and so did Bella.  I did my best to forget her.  Until Easter 2018, when my Mother called and asked why I hadn't visited her.  She then said that she had gone out walking, and had run into Bella, who was visiting her mom.  Bella had told my mom that she would be back in town for Mother's Day, and was hoping I would be as well.

Game on, Bella. 

I'll be there.

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

WHAT KIND OF MEETING?

As April 2018 crawls by and my Mother's Day reunion with Bella approaches, my mind crackles with wonder and mystery, curiosity too, about why it is that Bella has requested a meeting with me.  On one end of the spectrum, perhaps it's just innocent catching up.  Perhaps Bella was just making polite small talk with my mom and actually doesn't give a crap at all about me or if I even show up on Mother's Day at all.  Perhaps Bella won't even show up herself.

But, ooh la la, the possibilities if that's not the case.  Maybe she's been seething in rage for 6 long years at my horrible rumor about her.  Maybe the only thing holding her back from jumping me in French class senior year was fear of jeopardizing her diploma.  Maybe she too has envisioned an all-out girlwar in one of our backwards.

The few times we bumped into each other in flag football, our jostling was totally indistinguishable from catfighting.  I remember how firm her whole torso was, including her 36c tits.  I remember her hands finding my underboob and tearing downward as hard as she could, actually causing rips in my sportsbra.  I remember the girls around us calling each other sluts and bitches, girls intentionally lining up against sidechicks and ex's of their boyfriends.  Was it coincidence that Bella lined up against me, my choice, or mutual?

To be continued.....

[catfightlover40]

You deserve the praise you get for your stories. I'm constantly on the lookout for stories where the author puts in the time and energy required to talk about how people on the LGBTQ+ spectrum are not unicorns and are as equally fallible as the rest of us. In that vein I have enjoyed Nicole's cowardice and subservience to pleasure as she suffers from the dreaded Can't Spit It Out trope.

 

[sinclairfan]

RECONNECTING WITH MOM

My mother is excited for my planned Mother's Day return home.  I definitely don't visit her enough or even call her on the phone enough.  I text her when I have good news, but that doesn't seem to be very often lately. 

When I graduated high school and left home in 2012, I entered the Management Trainee program at J.C.Penney.  It was perfect, or so it seemed.  J.C.Penney would train me to become a store manager, and would pay for my education, all while I was making a real salary.  Then some jackass from Apple became the CEO of J.C.Penney--his name was Ron Johnson.  He broke up the floorplan and pricing structure and merchandise that our loyal customers had become accustomed to, and almost put us out of business.  We started closing stores, including practically the whole region I was training in, and I was disenrolled from the program, and then laid off entirely.  It sucked sucked sucked.  Getting laid off sucks, and so does starting over.

I pieced together a living on part time jobs, and then came fully out to myself about my bisexuality.  I started attempted actual relationships with women, and a couple of men, most of thd relationships ultimately unsuccessful, but always learning what I liked and didn't.  Doing some growing up which I should have done in high school.

Maybe Bella has been doing some growing up as well.  Maybe that's why she asked to meet with me on Mother's Day.

When I hang up on the phone with my Mom at night, working out arrangements for May, I retreat to my couch and let the 2012 repressed neighborhood memories flood back.  The ugly rumor fiasco with Bella had caused me to intentionally and unintentionally forget my entire senior year.  But it's all coming back to me now, in spurts.

I remember the 2012 football game where Bella had gouged and tugged my underboob.  I stung at the time, but the real pain came later that night at the dinner table.  My mother saw me short of breath, actual tears in my eyes, and demanded to see my breast.  It was entirely purple.  She flushed, saying, "Are those boys forcing you girls to run with footballs so they can watch your tits bounce up anf down?  That's the oldest trick in the book."  I defensively shoot back in a what-do-you-know,-Mom sneer, "It's not the boys, Mom.  It's the girls.  We never touch the football.  We line up on the scrimmage line and we pair off and we...  we... we block and push and shove ...  but then as the game goes on and it starts getting really nasty ...  and we start grabbing and pulling ...  and depending on if two girls have a history they might start literally punching and take it to the ground.  Sometimes a play is over and we'll all move 15 yards downfield and two girls will be there on thr ground and they'll just keep on fightin' for five, ten minutes."

And Mon says, "And let me guess.  The boys are hootin' and hollerin' the whole time."

"Give it up on the boys, mom.  They're there for the football.  It's the girls doin' the extracirricular stuff.  Fightin' each other.  Or watchin' the fights.  One or the other."

"I see.  And if I might ask, which are you?"

"When I was younger--watchin' the fights.  But startin' the year--doin' the fightin'."

"I see.  And who, may I ask, gave you that love mark on your breast."

I clam up.

" Was it that prissy bitch Bella down the street?"

I'm quiet.

"You say the word right now darlin' and I'll get her Mom on the phone and you and Bella can have it out anyway you two girls want it--fair, no rules, weapons, whatever."

"Mom!?!?!  Weapons?!?"

"Sure.  You know, belts.  Don't girls fight like that anymore?"

"If they do, I ain't never seen it."

"Too bad.  You're missing a show.  So what do you say.  Am I calling Bella's mom right now or not?"

I should have said yes. 

But I didn't.

To be continued.......

[sinclairfan]

BELT FIGHTING

I got Mom to tell me a story about one of the belt fights she had witnessed growing up.

Mom hung out around a group of greaser hot rodders.  They'd work on their engines, go cruising, have sex in the backseats of their cars.  Girls and boys would pair off, and grils would compete to be with the boys with the nicest cars.  They'd compete by challenging each other to fights.  If they were wearing jeans, and neither girl was good with her fists, or didn't want to break their hand, they'd take of their tops and their belts, wearing just jeans, with their belt in and, square off and try to whip each other with their belts in the face or tits.  If they were particularly angry with each other, they'd try to hit the other with the buckle.

Mom told a story about two girls, Trish and Colleen.  They were two alpha bitches who had been in juvenile hall and knew how to fight with belts.  The had the pointy metal part of their belts aimed at each others' eyes, teeth, and ears, and were drawing up huge welts on each others' flesh, and were just getting warmed up.  Both had been practicing for a fight like this for quite some time, and were planning on taking full advantage of the opportunity to inflict permanent damage on her enemy.

Trish got Colleen hard in the face and Colleen went down on all 4's in agony.  Trish pounched viciously, whipping Colleen's back mercilessly, drawing long paths of cuts and gouges.  I thought of sailing novels where mutineers would be flogged on deck.

I wondered what would have happened if Bella and I, amateurs with belts, fought.

[sinclairfan]

2012-2018 FIGHTS

You may be wondering at this point, besides my flag football near-miss with Bella, if I got into any actual girlfights in the intervening years.  The answer would be, Yes, three of them.  Two barfights against strangers that are honestly not worth mentioning except in passing.  And a doozy of a brawl against a jealous ex of one of the few men I've ever dated. 

The ex's name was Taylor.  She didn't quite grasp the concept of a "break up"--she still texted the man I had just started sleeping with as if the two of them were still a couple.  I wondered if perhaps she didn't realize how far he and I progressed, so I just directly told her, by text.  She perceived that as some sort of warning or threat by me, which it honestly wasn't, but it was totally on between me and her after that.  I didn't let him out of my sight after that without first knowing Taylor's whereabouts.  I got sucked into the stupid stalker game where she blocked me on Twitter, so I friended her friends to see her messages thru them, and she figured out I had done that because I always knew where she was even though she had blocked me.  So then Taylor started doing the same to me, friending my friends, except I totally busted her because I only had a couple friends.  I know, I know--totally juvenile bullshit.

Well, long story short, we drunk texted threats and challenges to each other one night and met at a cemetary, I guess hoping the other would use the venue as an excuse to not show.  I showed with one friend, she showed with two, and we fought with fists and feet, me getting a small advantage but not overwheming, until her 2 friends saved her skin and her pride by taking her away.  I would have finished her off if our friend advantage was the same.

Yet another reason for me to regret my Mom's offer in 2012 to referee a fight between Bella and me.

Not only would the fight had been exhilarating.  I would have continued until a clear ending.

To be continued......

[RPBella]

wow! loving the story

[sinclairfan]

SEDUCING BELLA'S YOUNGER BROTHER

The Wednesday before Mother's Day, I arrive home with 6 or 7 days worth of clothes.  My mom gives me a huge hug and tells me, "Well, no matter what goes wrong this weekend, at least I get to spend some time with my baby girl."  The comment strikes me as odd, but I decide to let it go until later.

I hang up my clothes one by one in my bedroom closet.  As I hang up a pair of jeans, I think of the topless jeans belt fight between the two hot rod chicks that my mom recollected to me--will Bella and I be fighting topless in jeans on Sunday like those two girls did?  Fuck, that would be hot.

I put away some tank tops, some t-shirts, some bras, and a sports bra.  The sports bra makes me think of the neighborhood flag football game back in high school when Bella reached under my tshirt, tore my sports bra, and gouged and bruised my underboob.  Should I wear those clothes on Sunday and see if she remembers that football game and what she did to me?  I can confront her about whether what she did was an accident or intentional.  Or I can wear our high school Class of 2012 sweatshirt, and see if SHE wants to confront ME about the kissing rumor I started about her and me.

My panties get soaked thinking about the possibilities.  I wonder what Bella will wear Sunday.

Mom has lunch waiting for me in the kitchen.  We sit and eat in silence, until I break it.

> So, Mom, what did you mean back there about something going wrong this weekend.

> Nicole, darlin', Bella and you have had unresolved issues for years now.  I know women, and if one of 'em kicks a sleepin' dog, it's cuz she's got her reasons to settle th'other one.

> Well, assumin' she's lookin' for trouble, and I don't assume that, but assumin' she is, why are you so sure I can't handle my business?

> The question answers itself darlin'.  Yu'z gots to make assumptions about Bella's intentions, Sunday.  But Bella ain't gotta do that.  She already knows her intentions.  By the time you figger 'em out Sunday, she'll have 2 or 3 free punches to start the fight.  And that can be enough to win a fight.  And I can't stand think' 'bout how mortified I'll be, that skank Mom of her bein' able to rub Bella beatin' you in a fight in my face.

I sit and chew on my food.  And on Mom's words.

> So what do you suggest I do?

> Get an edge on her.  Get inside her head.  She's gonna throw the first punch--that's her privilege for havin' the moxey to call you out.  But you can throw her a curveball.

> Such as?

> On weekdays, Bella's mom ain't home all day.  She works.  Only 'un home is Bella's younger brother.  He's 19.  Goes to junior college or somethin', but must do a lot of it online 'cuz he's always home.    Use those 38c's of yours to trick him inta lettin' ya inta Bella's bedroom.  Then trash somethin' of hers.  Somethin' real ....  personal.

I get wet at the thought of getting into Bella's bedroom.  I've wanted to be there for years--to kiss, to play-wrestle, to spoon with her in bed, to brawl.  A, B, C, D, or All of the Above.  A multiple choice problem with no wrong answers.

I go out for a walk.  I walk up to Bella's door.  I think of all the school day afternoons growing up where Bella was home alone and I was home alone.  Woulda solved both of us a lot of tension and conflict later if I had just walked on over and rung the bell then like I am now.

I ring the bell.  A 19 year old with movie star looks answers.

> Andrew?!?@?

> Yes, do I know you.

> Andrew, holy fuck, look at you, all grown up.  It's Nicole, from down the street.  Remember me?

> Oh, ya, I can place the face now. 

> Andrew, can, I, umm, come in?

> I'm ....  ummm.   sorta not supposed to let strangers in.

> Andrew ......  <<I run my fingers on his right cheek>> ...  I'm not a stranger.  It's me.  Nicole.  Just for a minute, I promise.

<<<<I flash my cleavage.  Andrew knows what I'm doing but can't help himself, and looks.>>

Andrew reluctantly lets me in the house.  He's listening to the devil on his shoulder, not the angel.

> So, Andrew, which room is Bella's?

> What do I get if I show you?

> You already know what you get, sailor.  But only if we do it in her room, in her bed.

Andrew weighs the costs and the benefits.

> Do we have an ...... arrangement?  Sailor?

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

Thirty minutes later, I'm bavk at my mom's house.  She smells my face.

> Well, I'd recognize that scent anywhere.  You were just gettin' sweaty with Bella's younger brother and done gave 'im a blow job, amirite?

> <<<I grin devilishly.>>> Not necessarily all the particulars or in that order, but yes you've got the right idea.

> Ok, so he got what he wanted.  But, Nic..... lemme ask ya ..... did you git what you wanted?

> Well, Mom.  I think I dun myself proud.  He and I did it ..... on Bella's bed.

> And you can prove this?  To her, I mean?  Cuz her brother 'll deny it.  You know that, right?

I pull out an Employee of the Month,  medallion, with Bella's name, June 2013, Gallatin County Waterpark chiselled into it.

> Where'd you find that?

> It was at her makeup table, in thr top drawer, under a bunch of other real personal stuff.  She tries 'n start shit Sundsy, I'll show it to her.  She'll know I've been rummagin' thru her most personal belongings.  That alone will be worth it.  But thd frosting will be how I got her brother to let me in.

Now it's my mom's turn to think pensively.

> Nicole, I do declare, that there was definitely worth a blow job.  How was he, by the way.

> OMG Mom you didn't tell me what a hunk he grew up to be.

> 'Thought you might 'preciate that.

This trip is already worth it.

Hopefully it keeps going this well.

For me.  Not for Bella.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

FIGHT DAY

I went to bed Wednesday night, Thursday night, Friday night, and Saturday night, touching myself and expecting to masturbate to thoughts of my confrontation and (presumed, much much too-long deferred) fight with Bella coming up on Sunday.  And most of my touching did indeed begin that way:  Bella and I getting nose-to-nose like a WMMA weigh-in, cussing each other out, smelling each others' hair, touching tits like the old flag football days, and going to the grass in a tangled writhing heap, sorting out once and for all who was the better woman.

But, everytime I would start getting warmed up, a strange apparition would intrude.  Bella's movie-star-worthy younger brother Andrew would intrude, first staring at Bella and my catfight from afar, but then closing up to an infinitesimal distance and leering at our fight like classmates or bus-stop bystanders at a middle school girlfight, except with him being the only spectator.

I loved it, and I hated it.

I loved Andrew watching me, getting turned on at the visuals and audio of a no holds harred, clothes-ripping bitchfight, enhanced by the backstory of him amping up the tension by letting me into my enemy's bedroom at the paltry price of a no strings attached afternoon hookup.

But my love and warmth morphed into jealousy and hatred almost immediately.  Bella had grown up with this Greek god of a male.  She shared a bathroom with him, and probably seen him naked and/or semi-nude on a regular basis.  Just as I spread neighborhood gossip about Bella, she also no doubt whispered malicious musings into his ear about me, Nicole, the uneducated trailer trash four doors down.  I likely had no chance dating him as an equal, due solely to the feedback provided by his sister, my most hated enemy.

Bella's private time with Andrew, every minute of it, made me sick with disgust; her 5 year age advantage on him milked for every sick advantage bitch Bella could extract.

My finger attempts to penetrate my pussy, but it's now dryer than the Kalahari desert.  Instead of fulfillment and pleasure, I feel nothing but scratching and pain.  So it's cum to this--even self-pleasure is unavailable to me.  Even the one man on Earth who would date me is deprived of me by Bella, even though she can't have him herself, since she's his sister.

I try and conjure up thoughts of the flag football fights between other girls.  Or the topless Trish-Colleen belt fight my mom told me about.  Or my afternoon blow job with Andrew.  But I am unable to reboot my normally-responsive pussy.  Only a fight with Bella will get me out on my rut.

I kick myself for giving myself away so freely to Andrew.  I received non-sexual reciprocation in the form of access to the bitch's bedroom.  But I should have demanded sexual payment as well.  I should have taken out my 38c's, as my mother had not coincidentally pre-emptively suggested, and demanded he suck me until I get off, or even titty-fuck me.

I'll demand Bella do all sorts of things to me Sunday.

To be continued.......

[sinclairfan]

WELL WELL WELL

I shower on Mother's Day morning, washing my 38c breasts and dreading what they will look like tonight when my fight with Bella is over.  Even if I win the fight, I can be sure that Bella will give my chest a brutal workout.  This will be my last painless shower in a week.

I dry my black hair with a blowdryer.  I meant to get a haircut earlier this week, but time go away from me after my blow job with Bella's brother Andrew--I was hoping he would call my mom's house and/or stop by for a repeat performance, or even better was hoping he would call be for intercourse.  Did I give him the wrong idea about me, that I only would give him sex if I got something in return from him.  Because that's not true--he's totally fuckable, and I would fuck him just to do it and not to spite Bella.  Even though that's how it started.  Part of me wishes I had visited my mom before this weekend--without being called out by Bella--had walked over to Andrew's and Bella's house and hooked up with him, and "seen what happens" between him and me as a couple.  When I propositioned him, should I have called him by his name instead of calling him "sailor"?  Would that have made him call me?

I hope thoughts of Andrew--fantasies and regrets about him--don't distract me during my fight this afternoon with Bella.

I put on my jeans and tshirt and sports bra.  Just like I used to dress for flag football.

My mom and I eat brunch in silence.  We're looking forward to our walk at noon.  Are Bella and her mom eating in silence too?

Has Bella gotten a couple real streetfights under her belt since leaving the neighborhood?  Were they barfights like mine, fights against a stalker ex like mine, or something different?  Did she like the fights, and is that why she called me out?  Or, after 6 years, did she need to close the page on the old neighborhood chapter of her life?  Did she think about the high school rumor I started everytime she visited her mom, and need to have it out with me?

I go potty, and Mom and me go for our walk.  Bella better not wuss out now--my pussy is soaked.

We meet up with Bella and her mom halfway between our houses.  My mom wastes no time breaking the ice, as she can tell both Bella and I are wound too tight to speak confidently.  On Easter, Bella's mouth may have written a check her butt can't cash.  Our nipples are both pointing out of our tshirts.  (Bella and I are dressed the same, except I have long jeans and Bella has jean cut-off shorts.  I'm going to shred her inner thighs with my nails if our fight goes to the ground.)

Our moms begin bickering like sisters.

> Well, well, well, if it isn't Mrs. and Miss Prissybitch. 

> And good day to you, too, Mrs. and Miss TrailerTrash.

> Fuck you, you're lucky it's Mother's Day or I'd lay you out.

> I doubt it.  So how's this going down.  This has been a long time coming.

> I say we go to your private backyard and enjoy the show.

> I call you on that.  I say you and I take a nice Mother's Day stroll and give these girls 30 minutes alone.  In private.  Long enough to settle what needs to be settled, not so long that they kill each other.  Whattya say.  Your girl woman enough for that?

<<<Bella stares at her mom, as if she wasn't privy ahead of time to her mom's plans for a solo chica-a-chica showdown.  I can smell fear, and I pounce.  I also sense a dirty trick by the Bella clan, so I pounce before the offer of a private fight can be taken off the table.>>>>>

> Done.  On condition you give us 5 minutes to walk over there first, 30 minutes is plenty of time to do what I need to to this bitch.  Wish me luck, Mother.

<<<<My mom and I kiss, and my mom wishes me luck.  For the first time in years, she seems genuinely proud that I'm her daughter.  Also for the first time in years, something in life is going as planned. This double dose of confidence will help me in the fight.  I hope.>>>>>

I leave the three stunned women on the sidewalk and strut purposefully to Bella's backyard.  Why did Bella's mom say 30 minutes and not an hour.  Is she genuinely fearful of us hurting each other?

I turn to look and see if Bella's following me yet.  She isn't.

I shout angrily: "Tick.  Tock.  Bitch.  Clock's ticking."

I then continue walking to her backyard.  I don't stop until I'm there.

I turn and wait for her.  She's about 40 yards behind me, but traces a direct but unhurried path right at me.  I keep waiting for her to pause and for us to trash talk--I'm genuinely curious what the specific catalyst was for her to challenge me 6 weeks ago.

But I guess that doesn't matter at the moment.

Both of our fists are clenched--I guess this is going to start as a fistfight.  I have a irresistable lust to open up her nose and mouth and spill blood from her face onto her backyard.

We swing, a rat-a-tat-tat bone-on bone cacophony of sound actually audible off of the siding of Bella's house where I sucked of Andrew four days ago. 

The 30-minute time limit weighs on my mind, heavy ss a boulder.  Shit, I need a year to fuck up this bitch as bad as I need to and want to.  Thirty minutes ain't gonna cut it.

Fuck, we're on the grass in a knot.  Neither of us are able to wind up on our punches.  I wish our moms were here to stand us back up.  Or Andrew.  Is he home?  Watching out the window?  If he's watching Bella and me fight, who does he want to win.

Or are we like 2 of the flag football girls, pathetically wailing away while the football game moves on down the field without us.

> Fuck you, Bella, I hate you.

> I'm gonna fuck you up, Nicole, for your high school rumors.

So that's what this is about?  Fine, now I know.

> You can't fuck me up, Bella.  I'm the better woman and always was.

> Fuck you, you're not.

My eyes, noses, and mouth are buried in Bella's thick sandy-brown hair.  Just like I fantasized about in high school every weekday afternoon.  It smells almost exactly like I imagined it would.

Bella and Andrew smell exactly the same--I could never tell them apart in the dark.

Is there a name for that fantasy?  To desire a threesome with a brother and sister?

Our fight is just rolling on the ground now.  It's been minutes since either of us punched.

I'm turned on.  Is Bella?  Is that why she's not punching either?

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

CLINCHING EACH OTHER

Bella and I are wrapped in a pretzel on the grass, gasping for breath and sweating profusely.  We came out much too hard and too fast in our fight, and are now paying the price in semi-exhaustion. 

But I also sense there's something else going on.  Bella was throwing punches at the rate of 3 every 2 seconds for the first minute of our fight, but hasn't thrown any at all for quite some time now.  I think back to what my mom told me about why hot rod chicks would choose the fight with weapons like belts:  "because they're afraid of breaking a hand or spraining a finger".

I wonder if while we were punching Bella broke a finger or sprained her wrist.  I wonder if her mom will need to take her to the emergency room after our fight.  Won't the ER doctors ask her why her bones are fractured and her face is bruised?  Won't it be obvious to them that she was in a fight?  Is that why her mom was so anxious for Bella and me to be alone for our fight?  So that I would get the blame for any injury?

The thought of Bella being hurt right now turns me on, even more than I already was from smelling her hair and fantasizing about her brother's dick.  I hope her entire hand is full of shattered bones, but I'm not going to tip my hand and divulge my suspicion that she's hurt.  I continued to rest.

Fuck, wearing jeans was a stupid idea.  My pussy is burning to be touched, but the jeans don't allow it sufficient relief.  Bella is snaking her bare inner thighs on my denim and rubbing herself to satisfaction, but I'm unable to achieve reciprocal relief.  She pretends to be wresting my body to submission, but is clearly in the throes of masturbation.  Is her own pain and injury getting herself off?  Is that was a masochist is?  Did Bella challenge me expecting to get hurt?  Have I fulfilled a fantasy of hers by using my skull, cheekbones, and jaw to shatter her hand?

Fuck, my pussy is burning.  I undo my button, and slide my engorged clit over the waistline, pulling it outside of my clothes.  It's rubbing on Bella's bare, firm belly--she must be able to feel it, or at least my bush.  Does she know I've exposed myself on purpose?

We're both moaning like the soundtrack on an amateur porno.  I can't get a fix on how far along Bella is--I can't read her now, just like I never could in high school.  Is the fight over?  Are we just going to rut here on the grass like humping, fixed dogs in heat?  Will our moms find us here like this?  Is Andrew watching from the house?  Which did he like watching better, the fighting or the humping?

Bella's mouth and mine meet, not quite kissing and not quite biting--something halfway in between.  It's not friendly or aggressive, but it's very intimate.  I never kissed Andrew when I gave him his Wednesday blow job--would he have called me back if I had?  Did I come across to him as too distant?  Does Bella think what we're doing now is intimate?  Personal?  Are we bonding?  Do I want to bond with her?

Does she want me to make it either aggressive or intimate?  Is she leaving it up to me?

How much time do we have before our moms return and break us up?

What have they been doing all yhis time?  Talking?  Fighting?

To be continued?.....

[sinclairfan]

"BREAK IT UP, BITCHES"

As I ponder what exactly it is that Bella and I are doing to each other with our mouths, and as I try unsuccessfully to rub myself off on Bella's hard abs, I know instinctively that the 30 minutes allotted to us to fight out our issues is rapidly elapsing.  The time pressure only makes it more difficult for me to get myself "over the hump".

After countless more frustratingly inadequate thrusts, I receive sonorous confirmation that Bella and I have been going at it, and going at it, in the form of the grating voices of Bella's mom and mine.

> Ah, shit.  Really, ladies?  Hairpullin'?  I fuckin' knew it.

> Break it up, bitches.  Told ya they wouldn't kill each other.

> Shit, in my day, ya leave two bitches alone for that long, one or bof of 'em need a body cast.  Pffft--kids these days. 

> Gone soft, they done.

Bella rolls away from me, cradling her right hand and wrist in her left arm.

> Actually, mom, hold the thought on the cast idea.  I think I might need one for my hand.

My elation at possibly breaking Bella's bones is quickly eviscerated by my Debbie-Downer mom.

> Awww, fuck, Nicole.  Th'other girl breaks her hand on yerr fuckin' hard head and ya don't even take advantage?!?  Whattdya need, step by step instructions of how ta fight?  And any how, why are yerr pants rolled down?  What were you two girls doin' anyways.

I would give a smart ass reply.  If I knew the actual answer to what we WERE doing.  But I don't.

Was Bella bite-kissing me to distract me from her broken hand?  Is that what she wanted to do all along?  Did she decide to do it after getting turned on by fighting me?

If I had broken my hand, would Bella have finished me off like my mom wanted me to finish Bella off?

I realize now that my lip is bleeding.  A drop falls into the grass in Bella's backyard.  I never did bust open Bella in her own backyard like I wanted to 30 minutes ago, and now my own blood is forever in the grass here to memorialize the humiliation of my anti-climactic Mother's Day fight with her.

Anti-climactic.  That's the perfect one.  Literally and figuratively.  I need to cum so bad I could fucking explode.  I haven't been able to cum by masturbating for four frustrating nights, since I sucked off Bella's brother Andrew.  I couldn't cum the entire fight with Bella.  Even though
I wanted to.  Even though we were kissing.  As rough as I've ever kissed anyone.

Even though I hurt her.

Bella's mom looks at Bella's hand, fingers, thumb, wrist, and arm.  She's worried--Bella can't hardly move or bend any of them.

Fuck.  And I couldn't beat her in a fight?  I feel impotent.  Can a girl feel impotent?  I feel that way right now.

My mom walks back to our house in disgust.

Bella and her mom get in Bella's mom care to get Bella's broken bones looked at.

I'm alone on the grass.

I look into Bella's house.  I look at the upstairs bed room windows.

Andrew is looking down at me.  How long has he been watching.

"Enjoy the show, sailor?".

Andrew smirks.  He's thinking of a witty comeback.  He's only 19--he'll get better, and quicker, at it later.  I give him space.

He and I both wait to see what will come out of his mouth.

"I'm free if you are.  Front door's open."

That'll do.

I brush myself off, stand up, and walk around to the front door of Bella's and Andrew's house.

I let myself in.

I strip as I climb the stairs. 

I'll pick my clothes up, I tell myself, on the way out.

After I cum.

To br continued......

[sinclairfan]

"DO YOU LIKE WATCHING GIRLS FIGHT?"

Andrew's bed is considerably smaller than Bella's, and the bedroom in general is considerably more child-like.  Either Bella's and Andrew's family was running a tighter household budget during Andrew's high school years, or they just generally spoiled Bella at the expense of her younger brother.  If the latter is the case, that would explain a lot about the snootiness my mother has always claimed to see in Bella's behavior.

Andrew is lying on his back, naked already below the waist.  His posture indicates that like Wednesday, he would prefer not to do any of the work for whatever is going to happen next between us, but rather his expectation is that I will "service", and serve, him.  Andrew's looks have apparently spared him the need to develop even minimal skills at foreplay, with girls and sex coming to him, my climb up the stairs illustrating the point nicely.  I regret the dynamic between us which I introduced on Wednesday, and which now feels unbreakable.

I climb onto Andrew, straddling him and rubbing my naked body on his erect dick. I kiss him and try to engage him in conversation.  He continues his annoying, unsexy tongue-tiedness, giving a choppiness to the banter between us, appearing to think about what he says out loud rather than letting the conversation flow. 

> Were you watching Bella and me out your window the whole time?

<<<<Pause>>>>>

> Off and on.

> Who do you think won the fight?

<<<<Pause>>>>>>

> Her at the start, you at the end.

> Do you like watching girls fight?

<<<<<Pause>>>>>

> I liked when you were talking about how much you hate each other. 

> Does Bella ever talk to you about how much she hates me?

<<<<<Pause>>>>>

> Not as much as when she was in high school.

I sense that Andrew is a gold mine of insights about Bella and her thoughts and attitudes and intentions towards me, but I don't want him to cum before I do, or even worse to run out of steam if he's been peeping-Tom the fight since its start.  I guide him inside of me, and rock and my upper body on him, expecting him to kiss the bare 38c breasts offered so generously to him.  Andrew stares but otherwise does not indulge--is he turned off by the sweat, mine and Bella's, coating my body from the fight?  Do I smell?  I inhale--and I smell Andrew, the same smell from Wednesday.  Andrew smells exactly like Bella.  And vice versa.  Do they use the same antiperspirant, the same soap in the shower, the same shampoo?  I run my fingers through Andrew's hair--it feels exactly like Bella's.  I close my eyes, and pretend I'm fucking Bella.  I start murmuring her name.

After 5 days of dryness and tightness, my pussy is finally wet and loose.  I take in more and more of Andrew's shaft, appalled I'm fucking someone I barely know without a condom.  I try and forget it's Andrew and try to picture Bella.  I remember one of the girlfriends I dated, an older, wilder management trainer from J.C.Penney, showing me one time her double-ended vibrator.  I remember looking at her, and it, disinterestedly, wondering why two women would ever want to use it on, or with, or to, each other.  I remember not even knowing which preposition applied.

By now I know.  I wish Bella and I were in bed right now.  Using that contraption, or anything resembling it.  Bella and I using it ON each other.  Bella and I using it WITH each other.   Bella and I using it TO each other.

And Andrew got one thing right.  Bella and I are at our best when we're telling each other how much we hate each other.

I slide into the most intense ecstacy, the best sex, of my life, riding Andrew, and picturing Bella and me with a double vibrator.

Ffffffffgffgaaaaaawwwwwwwwwww

fffffffffgguuuuuuuugggggggggggg

ccccvuuummmmmmm into me, Andrew........

Yyyyyeeesssssssssss

Yyyyeesssssss

Andrew's cock cums deep into me.  I wish I could role onto my side or back, to keep it indide of me, but the bed is too small.

Andrew doesn't hold or comfort me, which doesn't surprise me.  My mind goes places I don't want it to go--is Andrew going to tell Bella what he and I just did?  Do the two of them ever talk about their dating lives?

How long were Andrew and I in bed?  The sun is getting lower, and the weather looks like it's changing.  Bella and her mom will be back soon.  I remember my clothes, strewn on the stairs and floor, leading to Andrew's bedroom.  I don't want Bella to see them like that--it will be obvious I gave myself to Andrew.

I climb off the bed and put my clothes back on.

I suddenly know why they call it the "walk of shame", as I return to my house, looking maximally dishevelled.  A seemingly endless parade of cars passes by, waving and staring at me.

Is this why I never dropped by Bella's for a high school booty call?  The fear of the walk back?

I dread bumping into my mom.

Good, she's not here.

I climb in the shower.

Shit, no hot water.

My mom must be in her bath.  I listen--she is.  Why's she taking a bath?  What WAS she doing for the 30 minutes with Bella's mom while Bella and I were fighting?

Do I care?  Would I understand?  Do I even understand what I just did?

No.  No, I don't understand what I just did.

Or what I want next.

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

TALKING WITH MOM

At 11:15pm Sunday night, I can't sleep, can't even lay still in bed, and there's nothing on TV.  I knock on my mom's bedroom door and ask her if she can talk.  She seems tired, but pulls herself together and agrees to meet me in the living room.  I start talking, itching to know her opinion of the fight Bella and I had.

> So?  What'd ya think when you came up and saw us on the ground?  Pathetic?

> I didn't see nuthin' pathetic when I came up--just 2 girls still fightin'.  What was maybe lame, baby doll, was when she left aft'wards with her hand all swelled up.  Baby doll, did you knows her hand was hurt?  Why dind't'ya finish her?

> Mama, I don't know, it was so....so fast....we just....when we started, we didn't even ssy nuthin'....we were just swingin' like two tornados bumpin' inta each other.....and then we just slowed down...I was so tired....I assumed she wuz too.....but now I know she was hurt....when you watched your hot rod chick fights, did two girls ever just....spend themselves....right off like that.

> Sometimes.  We even had a name for it.  A flameout.  Named for a drag race, when both cars blow up at the start, then coast to the finish line.  So, ya, it happens....but I didn't figger you and Bella for a flameout.
 Baby doll, why'd you two fight that way?  Didn't ya have words for each other first?

> Momma, it was so strange.  We exchanged words....hateful, spiteful, threatening words....when we locked up on the grass.  But not before--we just started fightin'.  Momma, Bella and I hate each other so much.   Did you ever hate any hor rod chick that bad?

> No doubt, no doubt.  I 'member there was a hanger-on, a college girl, younger 'n most of us.  She was sleepin' with one of the hot rod greasers....posin' we called it, pretendin' she was a hot rod chick.  Anyways, I wouldn't call it a flameout fight she 'n I had, but ya' she 'n I startin' fightin' when a bit a' talkin' may have smoothed things over.  Put her in her place.

I get horny talking to my mom about fighting.  Why haven't she and I had more of these talks?  Did she think not talking about fighting would keep me from getting into fights?  I did kind of work for 22 years--that I got out of high school without fighting Bella was a minor miracle.

But the floodgates are open now, and I need all the advice I can get.  I'm no good at keeping my cool before a fight, that's for sure.  Bella and I have things that need to be said, but I can't hold it together, when she's in front of me, long enough to even get the words out.

So I act out with her.

And with her brother Andrew.  I can't even talk to my mom about Andrew and I fucking after the fight.  She'll think I just did that to get all Bella.  But I really like him.  I really really really like him, and like fucking him.

It kills me that Bella is under the same roof as him.  I wanna go over there now and throw her out of her own house by the hair.

This is so not over between me and her.

It can't be--I'm not giving up Andrew.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

"LOOKIN' GOOD, BITCH"

On Monday morning, I get showered, put on my slut skirt and halter top and my fuck-me pumps, and walk over to Andrew's and Bella's house, hoping for another roll in the hay with Andrew.  Bella answers the door, her face covered with welts and her right hand in some sort of cast.   I wish she looked even worse--a full body cast, for example, would ne nice--but I'll take it.  For now.

> Lookin' good, bitch.  How many bones did I break in that hand and wrist.

> None, wise ass.  It's tendonitis, that you re-aggravated from carpal tunnel I got a couple years ago.  From doing college research, working in an office, and such.  Ya know, stuff white trash like you and mom never do?

I could just about drive my fist through Nicole's teeth at this point.  Not only do I again feel pathetic about how little damage I inflicted on my enemy in a 30-minute brawl, but Bella is still on her "white trash" high horse, no doubt encouraged by her mom.  Hell, they live in the same damn neighborhood as us.

> Well, then maybe we ought to have round two right here is the doorway, bitch.  Whadya say?

> No can do until Memorial Day.  When the swelling will be down.  And if you lay a hand on me while I'm hurt, you're a chickenshit coward.

> I'm not here to lay a hand on you, bitch.  I'm hrre to lay a hand on your hunky brother, Andrew.  He's no doubt told you by now that he and I are dating.

> He has, and he has finals a junior college this week.  So don't even think about seeing him this week.

I panic.  I need Andrew bad this week.  Every day this week.  Real bad.

Andrew, as if on cue, shows up at the door, backpack in hand.

> Go on and drive to class, Andrew.  You know you need to pass--his sister tells him.

I retort with a counteroffer.

> Or, sailor .... you and I could fuck each others' brains out.

I lean foward, letting Bella and Andrew see what's under my halter top, all 38c of them.  Now it's Bella's turn to be angry.  Angry that she can't physically throw me out for the next two weeks, while her hand is hurt.

> Nicole, if you so much as lay a foot in this house, I.  Will.  Call.  The.  Cops.  On.  You.  Honey.

>  Ok, then.  Andrew, how 'bout we go over to my place to fuck?  We haven't done it yet in my bed.

> Andrew, don't do it.  If you flunk finals, you don't pass.

Andrew thinks.  I bat my eyelashes at him.

He drops and backpack and takes me hand.  Bella fumes.  I gloat.

We walk hand in hand to my house.

We go in.  I tell my mom, "Hello, mom.  You know Andrew.  You're gonna be seein' a lot of him the next two weeks.  Now, he and I are going to my bedroom.  Don't be alarmed by any ....noises ..... you might hear."

The whole time I ride Andrew, I picture Bella's angry, impotent face.

To be continued......