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Fight of the soccer moms

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Offline Dude64

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Fight of the soccer moms
« on: May 29, 2018, 10:27:44 PM »
Does anyone know what happened to the story titled Fight of the Soccer Moms?

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Offline john54

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Re: Fight of the soccer moms
« Reply #1 on: February 22, 2020, 07:45:36 PM »
I found these two stories, are they the ones you are referring to?. I haven't a clue who wrote them hope whoever it was doesn't mind me re-posting.

Part 1

I am a 32-year-old wife and mother of two girls, aged 7 and 3, who has not worked outside the home since I got married nine years ago, just after college. My husband is an engineer with a large firm in our Northeastern city, and makes a good income. I studied psychology in college, but never worked after we married. My husband takes a lot of pride in his traditional role as breadwinner, and in my appearance and role as a wife and homemaker. Without blowing my own horn too much, I’m considered to be quite attractive. I’m a 5’5” tall brunette with thick shoulder-length hair, weigh 120 lbs, and measure 36-28-35. I have large breasts (D-cup) that I consider to be a bit too pendulous, but that my husband adores (can’t keep his hands or mouth off of them), and that seem to attract a lot of attention from other men, and some envy from women.

I’m very family oriented now, but was a bit of a wild child before I met my husband, and partied hard for a couple of years in my teens and early twenties. During this time, I hooked up with a lot of guys, got drunk quite a bit, and got into a couple of fights with other girls. I found fighting to be a tremendous rush, and easily beat the three girls I tangled with. One fight occurred spontaneously at a party, when a girl I’d never met before jumped me because I was talking to her boyfriend (I didn’t know he was her boyfriend). I recovered from her initial attack and eventually wound up sitting on her chest and punching her in the face before I was pulled off her. The other occurred when a girl from my high school was spreading rumors about me in senior year. I called her out and we agreed to fight after school in a park, in a secluded spot often used for fights. Word got out and there must have been 100 kids watching- her friends, mine, and a bunch of guys hoping we’d tear each other’s tops off, which we actually did during the course of the fight, which lasted about 20 minutes. This time, no one interfered; on the contrary, they cheered us on and encouraged us. I found it a huge rush to fight in frontof a big crowd. I won that one because once we had torn off each other’s tops and bras, she got modest and tried to cover her boobs, while I just went crazy on her and didn’t care what anyone saw. I was able to punch her in the face, stomach, and breasts without her hitting me back, until she ran away sobbing and my friends surrounded me and raised my arms in victory, even before I put my blouse back on. I was thrilled to have beaten her up and made her cry; it was really one of the crowning achievements of my senior year- well worth the black eye and scratched breast I got. My last fight took place in a bar in the town where I went to college, where I got in an argument with another girl over a guy we were both interested in. We were both pretty drunk and wound up rolling on the dance floor, legs entwined and pulling hair. It was quite a show, since we were both wearing miniskirts that were soon up around our waists! The bouncers let us fight for about three minutes, until I got firmly seated on her chest and started punching her in the face, at which point they pulled me off her and threw us out of the bar. I challenged her to continue in the parking lot but she left quickly with her friends, and I wound up leaving with the guy, who became my husband. Sometimes, when people ask how we met, I say I won him in a fight!

I’ve come to realize that watching women fight really turns my husband and a lot of other men on. I started searching the internet and found lots of sites that showed videos ofwomen fighting. One company in particular intrigued me. In these films, two women, not trained fighters but often women who clearly had been in a few fights, would fight in a room, no holds barred, until one gave up. They were allowed to kick, punch, pull hair, do anything except bite or gouge eyes (but didn’t always obey these rules). Many of thefights were topless, or ended that way after the fighters ripped off flimsy blouses. The women sometimes just appeared to be going through the motions, but more often fought brutally and viciously, swearing at and insulting each other as they fought and trying to hurt each other as much as possible. Some of the most brutal fights appeared to be between women settling personal disputes. Usually, the fights ended with one woman giving up after becoming exhausted and being thoroughly beaten. Occasionally, the winner continued beating the loser in her rage and excitement and had to be pulled off her by a cameraman- there was no referee. The women were very tough. The losers occasionally were left crying on the ground but usually just sat silent and exhausted, or in a couple of cases were knocked out. The fights were watched only by the cameramen and a few other women who appeared also to be fighters participating in a filming session, who sometimes cheered the women and advised them on tactics.

I watched all of the fights I could find and became increasingly fascinated with the idea of participating in one. I don’t take any kind of martial arts training but I keep fit and from what I could see from the videos, fights were often lost because one woman simply didn’t have the strength and wind to keep going. I knew I could fight a normal, non-expert women my size, and I thought my fitness would give me an edge. I told my husband I wanted to try it, and showed him the videos. Although he was clearly excited by them, he at first absolutely forbade me to contact the producers, out of fear that I’d get seriously hurt. I pointed out to him that none of the videos seemed to end with a woman getting badly hurt, and that I thought I could give a pretty good account of myself, judging from past experience. I also told him to imagine me on top of another woman, both of us topless, with her sobbing as I pulled her hair and punched her face and boobs. His resistance melted and the conversation ended! We didn’t even make it to the bedroom; we were discussing this in the kitchen and he had to have me right there on the floor!

I emailed the company, telling them about my interest in fighting, and sending them a photo of myself in a bikini. They responded quickly, and we got in touch by phone. The manager told me that he had a woman my size to fight me, and she’d never fought before either for the company. She was not their usual sort of fighter, but another housewife, a blonde about an inch taller than me and with distinctly smaller breasts but about the same weight, who was married to a stockbroker. He e-mailed me a photo of a long-haired, beautiful, slender woman in a short dark skirt, white blouse, and spike heels with her fists raised. She looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth and I couldn’t wait to get my hands on her and erase that smug look on her face. He was going to bill it as “The Battle of the Soccer Moms.” He said she was willing to fight topless, and I eagerly agreed. We set a date for the fight during their next filming session, about a month away. He said he knew that we weren’t really in it for the money, but he would pay each ofus $500 and another $2000 to the winner. I insisted that my husband be allowed to attend. He said they preferred that husbands and boyfriends not be there, but if he promised not to interfere, he could come.

Over the next month I worked out a lot, running and lifting weights, and I took some mixed martial arts classes that gave me some basic ideas about fighting other than my tendency just to go crazy on my opponent, but I didn’t get too far in the four lessons I took. I didn’t think my opponent looked like a real brawler, and the organizers assured me that she wasn’t a highly trained martial artist, but like me was just a wife and mom who had won a few scraps in her younger days and wanted to see if she still had her chops, and who found the idea of fighting topless in front of her husband hot. The organizer said she told him I looked like a big-titted cow and that she was looking forward to beating the crap out of me. I told him to tell her that she was a dumb blonde slut and that she’d be bald and crying when I was finished with her.

Finally, the weekend of the fight rolled around and my husband and I left the girls with my mother, saying we were going to the city for a grown-up weekend, which didn’t quite describe it! We drove about two hours to the city where the studio was located and rented a hotel room, where I proceeded to attack my husband. We had sex three times over the course of the evening, until we fell asleep happy and exhausted. In the morning, I jumped him again but he refused to do me, telling me to save my strength for the fight and not to underestimate the woman, who for all we knew might have a black belt in karate. So we slept in, and then I got a massage. In the early afternoon, I called the promoter, who said they were ready and that my opponent was on her way. He said that the taping would begin with an interview with us in the same room, in street clothes, in which we’d be asked about our fighting experience, our opinion of each other, and our plans for the fight.

Now I was getting nervous, and a bit afraid! It was possible that I’d get seriously hurt. No one would stop this fight unless I asked for it to be stopped, and I knew myself well enough that that was unlikely once the adrenaline got going. I could easily lose teeth or get a broken nose, and might emerge disfigured for life. I took a deep breath and resolved that if that happened, it would be to her, not me. I visualized my opponent lying unconscious on the floor, with me standing triumphantly over her, or sitting on her and punching her while she lay there crying.

We arrived at the address we’d been given, which was a private house in a suburban neighborhood. It was strange to think that in another hour, I’d be naked at least to the waist, fighting viciously with a woman behind one of these doors, while men mowed their lawns and kids rode their bikes nearby. We drove to the address we’d been given, parked in the driveway, and rang the bell. We were met by a couple in their fifties, who were the man I’d spoken to and his wife, the owners of the production company. They invited us in and offered us drinks while we read and signed release forms. I had two quick glasses of wine to calm my nerves. We went over the rules again: we’d fight topless, and no holds were barred except eye gouging and biting (but I’d seen women bite each other on the videos, so wasn’t sure how well this rule was enforced). The fight would continue until one fighter gave up or was unable to defend herself. My husband had to sign a form saying he would not interefere with the fight under any circumstances.

We were then led into the basement, where an interview was to be taped. There, I saw my opponent for the first time, sitting on a couch in a very short leather skirt, black nylons, black heels about 3” high, a demure white silk blouse, and a string of pearls, her legs crossed tightly and hands folded in her lap. Her bare arms and legs were firm but not muscular. She smirked at me as we appraised each other, but as she bounced one leg on top of the other constantly, I realized she was at least as nervous as I was. Was she afraid of me? I was asked to sit beside her on the other side of the couch. I was wearing a black miniskirt, bare legs, sandals, and a light blue, tight-fitting blouse that accentuated my breasts, which were clearly bigger than hers. They started filming, and asked her about her fighting experience. She recounted a couple of schoolyard fights she’d won, but only one fight as an adult at a disco during college, when she beat up a girl who hit on her boyfriend. When asked what she thought of me, she repeated the big-titted cow remark, called me a whore, and said she’d have me crying at her feet in about 3 minutes. She stared straight at me while she said this, and I made a move to slap her but the woman impresario quickly grabbed my arm- she was stronger than she looked. She said “Hold you fire, honey, you can have at her to your heart’s delight in a minute.” They asked me the same question and I said my plan was to make her cry, re-arrange her ugly face so her brats wouldn’t recognize her, pull her hair out, and knock her out.

The woman, whose name was Anne and who was acting as the MC for the taping, said, “Well, it sounds like you ladies are anxious to get down to business. Mary,” she said to my opponent, “Why don’t you go into the bedroom on the right and get undressed. Roberta, please use the bedroom on the left.”

We went into the appointed bedrooms with our husbands. I took off my blouse, bra, and skirt, leaving on a pair of black lace panties. I hugged and kissed him for good luck, then went back into the main room. Mary entered at the same time. We were both flushed and breathing quickly. I was somewhat self-conscious- this was the first time I had been topless in front of men other than my husband since my high school fight. Mary was wearing white lace panties. We stood there awkwardly, while the female proprietor ran through the rules with us. She said “Ladies, you will fight until one of you gives up or can no longer defend herself. No holds are barred except biting and eye gouging. You may punch, kick, knee, elbow, pull hair, and choke your opponent. You may attack any part of her body. Do you understand? “ We nodded our assent. “Then fight!”

Finally, it was on. We flew at each other and immediately started punching and kicking. She was very aggressive, swinging at my head and punching my breasts and stomach. I stood my ground and grabbed her hair, yanking her forward and kneeing her in the stomach. She doubled over, winded, and I punched her in the face and breasts with big uppercuts. I felt terrific as I hit her and yanked her hair, feeling that I’d finish her off in a few moments, a feeling that was solidified when I saw that she was crying! But, sobbing away, she gathered her strength and charged into me, driving me backwards. I lost my balance and fell with her on top of me. She tried to plant herself on my chest but I bucked her off, and we wound up in a confusing and frantic fight on the floor, wrestling, kicking, and clawing as we struggled for the upper position. She fought like a wildcat, recovered from the blow to her stomach, although I was glad to see that I had given her a fat lip and a cut eyebrow while I pummeled her while she was bent over. But soon she managed to get on top of me and fire off a hard punch to my right eye. I too burst into tears and felt my eye closing up. We both cried for the rest of the fight, but the tears were as much from rage as pain, and neither of us backed away from the fight until the end, our only desire to hurt the other woman fighting as much as possible. We rolled over each other, pulling hair, punching, clawing, and kneeing, but neither could get a decisive advantage. This continued for about 10 minutes as our husbands shouted advice and encouragement, during which time we each clawed at the other’s crotch, ripping off our panties and scoring our labia in the dirtiest fighting I could imagine. Finally, while on my knees, I was able to get her head in a scissors, squeezing her as hard as I could between my thighs while I pulled her hair. She flailed at me with her free arm but wasn’t at the right angle to get any power into her blows. For a second time I thought I was on the point of winning, but then I felt a sharp pain in my upper thigh.

“Fuck! The cxnt bit me!” I screamed, rolling away from her and leaping to my feet, clutching my thigh. She hadn’t broken the skin but there was a clear bite mark that was already bruising. She lay on the floor, gasping, then slowly got to her knees.
Anne said “She certainly bit you! We can disqualify her and give you the win, or you can punish her yourself.”

By way of response, I charged the blonde bitch as she tried to get to her feet, kicking her in the breasts and knocking her back on her ass. I then yanked her up by the hair and kneed her in the face! Her nose started to bleed and she fell to her knees screaming that she quit. I kicked her again, this time in the stomach, but Anne pulled me away from her and held me back. I struggled to get away and attack Mary as she lay sobbing on the floor, but my husband rushed to me and hugged me and Anne raised my hand in the air in victory. I had completely dominated the blonde bitch! It was pretty clear I had broken or nearly broken her nose. Her husband comforted her as she lay crying, and I collapsed in my husband’s arms, crying too with joy and relief. He was hard as a rock, and wet! He told me later that he came watching the fight, but that didn’t slow him down much. We went into the bedroom so I could dress, but despite my bruises and scratched pussy, I couldn’t resist climbing onto him, sweaty and bloody as I was. We fucked like animals; I’m sure they heard us outside! After half an hour, we came out and Mary was gone. Anne handed me an envelope full of cash- best money I ever made! My husband told me he made another $1000 betting on me against the blonde bitch! I bought a dress, shoes, and lingerie, and every time I wear them, I think of Mary and smile!

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Offline john54

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Re: Fight of the soccer moms
« Reply #2 on: February 22, 2020, 07:48:17 PM »
Part 2

I’m a married woman, 31 years old, mother of two boys aged 7 and 5. My husband is a successful lawyer, and is five years older than I am. I have an MBA from Penn State but I don’t have to work because of my husband’s income. I pride myself on my appearance, as does he, and spend a lot of time in the gym. I’m thin and blond, wearing my hair long and straight. I have great legs that I display as much as I can without crossing over the “slut” line, but my breasts are quite small and I have always wished they were bigger. In our neighborhood, we’re considered a model couple and have a very wide circle of friends, but I’ve always been very competitive with other girls and women, especially busty ones, and actually fought physically three times as a schoolgirl and twice in college. I loved dropping all inhibitions and letting out my anger at and hatred for another female. I also loved being the center of attention, and fights between girls always attract a lot of attention. I never felt so alive as when I was rolling on the ground with my fists in some bitch’s hair, with a hundred spectators cheering us on. None of these fights went to completion, but I was even or winning all of them when they were broken up. As an adult, I had not gotten in any fights since college, but always wondered how I’d do in a fight with a woman my size if we were not stopped. When I told my husband about my fights, I realized that he found catfights very arousing. I in turn found his response to catfights arousing, and our sex life started to include fantasies of me fighting and beating up other women. 

After a few years of this sort of fantasizing, I became more and more fixated on fighting for real. I found that there were several companies that filmed and distributed videos of real fights between women. I watched these videos obsessively, studying the tactics the women used and imagining myself fighting. I fantasized daily about beating and stripping another woman, leaving her sobbing or unconscious at my feet in front of our men. After overcoming the objections of my husband, who worried that I’d get hurt but who was also wildly turned on by the idea, about two months ago I participated in a videotaped, no-holds-barred topless fight with another woman about my age and size, filmed in a private home for a company that produced videos of vicious catfights between ordinary women wearing little or nothing. The fight was an absolutely brutal, back-and-forth affair that lasted for about 45 minutes, and I had several chances to win, but lost in the end. In the process, we punched, kicked, scratched, and bit each other mercilessly. I admit to having bitten her inner thigh first, in desperation while she had me in a headscissors. Then she retaliated by biting my breast while I had her in a headlock. It went crazy from there, and we both wound up naked, crying, and torn up. She won by kneeing me in the face and breaking my nose. Then, although I screamed that I quit, she continued to kick me until the men pulled her off and held her. It took me a full month to recover to the point where I could leave the house. Even after my nose basically healed, I had to wear sunglasses and lots of make-up to cover my black eyes, and a scarf to cover my patches of missing hair. We had to concoct a story about me having fallen down the stairs to avoid having people assume that Norm had beaten me up. My husband had clearly found the fight very arousing, but was extremely frustrated that my face, breasts, and pussy were so sore that sex was impossible for several days after the fight. My opponent was much the worse for wear too, but the animalistic whore made her husband service her in the bedroom she used to change in, her moans, grunts, and shouts of pleasure heard by me and everyone else, right after the fight. My two children were frightened by my appearance. Overall, it felt like my fighting days were over. But I found I could not get over the horrible feeling of being humiliated by another woman in front of my husband, and found myself dreaming of payback. The fight had been much harder than I had expected. The bitch who beat me, Roberta, was a stay-at-home mom and wife of a professional, like me. She was a big-titted slut of the type I had always hated, a woman who flaunted her looks and especially her breasts to get the attention of men. The simple creatures, my husband included, seem to check their brains when they are presented with a big pair of boobs underneath a passable face. I at least had the satisfaction of knowing that her stomach, boobs, face, and vagina were just about as sore as mine after the fight, because I dished out almost as much punishment to her as I received, except in the last few moments when she had me down, kicking my face and breasts even after I gave up, until she was pulled off me. I’ll never forgive or forget that beating after I submitted, and began dreaming of my revenge on her even as he was cleaning me up and half-carrying me to the car.

Over about two months after the fight, I watched the video that was made of it obsessively, noting at least three moments when I could have finished her but wasn’t fast or aggressive enough. And despite losing, there turned out to be a very satisfying side to the experience. My husband couldn’t keep his hands off me and when we started having sex about a week after the fight, I found the bruises on my breasts intensified the pleasure I got from him fondling and sucking them, and the feeling of his cock penetrating my scratched and sore pussy was indescribable- an excruciating pleasure. So when Ellen Tate, one half of the husband-and wife production team called me about a rematch, I jumped at the chance. She said that our fight was a huge seller for them, and she was getting a lot of requests for another fight between me and Roberta. She told me that she and Todd, her husband, had moved the operation out of their basement. They had started up a female fight club where spectators paid to watch no-holds-barred fights between women, which were also filmed. She was charging $300 per ticket, and was able to pay fighters very well, because she was getting audiences of about 200 people. The presence of an audience cheering the women on greatly added to the excitement level and the intensity of the fights. The women fought in skirts and blouses or dresses, as if they were working in an office or going to a club, and were encouraged to strip each other through cash incentives- you were given $500 extra for exposing her breasts or bush. You were also awarded $1000 for making her cry. The fight continued until one woman was unable to continue or gave up- their husbands or friends couldn’t throw in the towel, although they were allowed to pull the winner off a woman who had submitted or was knocked out. They’d had two fight nights already at the club, which were held after hours in a suburban strip club. She offered me $5000 to fight, and another $5000 if I won. The money was attractive, but I didn’t tell her that I would have fought the bitch for nothing to get a chance at avenging my loss. She asked me if I was willing to fight in two weeks and told me that the slut Roberta, my opponent, had already agreed. I agreed immediately, although I knew my husband would object, thinking I’d get beaten again. But after the call, I told him that I just couldn’t rest until I fought her again, and told him all the things I wanted to do to her. His eyes glazed over and we continued the discussion while he did me bent over the kitchen counter, pulling my hair and humping me as I cursed her and told him how I planned to strip her, knock her out, and leave her spread-eagled on the ground while I kicked and stomped her until someone pulled me off. I was planning to do worse to her than she had done to me- but my husband did me beautifully. Luckily the kids were both on play dates!

The two weeks until the fight passed quickly. I worked on my strength and wind at the fitness center and took four private MMA lessons from a female instructor at a local martial arts club- the practice was good, but there wasn’t time to learn much. One night, we met Todd and Ellen at a bar and signed release forms absolving them of liability, and a contract for the fight specifying the prize money and the type of clothing we were to wear, which was to be dressy and light (ie easily torn off), with lace strapless bra and panties. On the night of the fight, we packed our bags for a week, planning to go to a beach house we rented where I could rest and recover, and left the kids with my in-laws. We then rented a hotel room, had hot sex, and prepared for the fight. Since we were to fight in more or less normal clothes, I got ready in the hotel room. I wore a black cocktail dress with spaghetti straps and a low back, with the skirt about 3 inches about my knees. The fight was scheduled for 1 am, so we left for the club late, arriving around 11:30. The venue was a non-descript night-club in an industrial part of town, a place where business travelers could watch lap-dancers after work. The parking lot was full, and many of the cars in it were quite up-scale- Ellen had told me that she was raising the tone of the show by requiring men to wear jackets and ties, and women to wear evening wear. She said having the well-dressed spectators screaming encouragement at the half-nude fighters made for great video.

Mine was the second fight of the night- the main event. The first, scheduled for midnight, was between two 19-year-olds, college freshmen, who were settling a grudge from high school. I wanted to watch the sweet young things go at it, but Ellen wanted us to stay out of sight of the crowd, so my husband and I waited in the well-appointed dressing room. Shouts from the crowd and young female voices crying and swearing told us that the fight was on. While it carried on, one of the waitresses (topless, to my husband’s delight), stopped in and asked if I wanted a drink. I ordered a double scotch. She brought it in, saying, “Here’s your liquid courage, hun.” I smiled at her and knocked it back, feeling its warmth spread through my body and my fear drain away. “Seriously, “ she said, “do you really want to go through with this? The girls out there are really hurting each other. But they’re just young girls fighting over a guy-happens all the time until they figure out no guy is worth it. You just don’t look the type for this sort of thing, and neither does the other one. “ She pointed at the other bedroom. “You both look like PTA presidents in a good neighborhood.”
I laughed. “I think we both are. But that doesn’t mean we don’t like a good scrap. And I cannot stand that woman. It will be one of the great pleasures of my life to fuck her up and leave her naked on the floor of that cage.”

The barmaid’s eyes widened. “Well then, you go girl. I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for out there. I’ll be rooting for you, by the way. The other one seems too confident.” We hugged and she left us alone. As she went, it was clear from the sustained cheering that the first fight had ended. Ellen announced the winner, and then a few moments later we saw a naked, dazed girl on a stretcher being carried down the hall, with two worried young women walking on either side of her, talking softly to her, holding a cloth to her nose, and stroking her sweaty forehead. Both her eyes were black, her lower lip was swollen,  her nose was bleeding, and her breasts were scratched and bruised.  She was cupping her pussy with both hands and crying softly . A few minutes later the winner hobbled by, supported by two girlfriends. She was wearing nothing but a thong and clutching both a bouquet of flowers and what appeared to be the panties of her opponent. Her face was tearstreaked and nearly as badly beaten up as the girl on the stretcher, but she was smiling from ear to ear. Victory is the best painkiller!

A few minutes later, the waitress who had brought me the drink came to the door of the dressing room, smiled, and said “Show-time! I’ll help your husband in your corner”. This was it! In a few minutes, I’d be fighting another woman to a clear conclusion in front of hundreds of paying spectators, baying for blood! What kind of pastime was this for a community-minded, married mother of two? Somewhat dizzied by the weirdness of it all, but in a high state of excitement, I and Rick followed her out and into the main room, which consisted of about 60 tables each seating 5 people surrounding a raised octagonal cage. Ellen was standing in the center of the cage, a spotlight on her and microphone in hand. “Ladies, and gentlemen, for our main event tonight, let me introduce to you Mary, a 32-year-old blonde housewife standing 5’5” and weighing in tonight at 122 lbs. Her measurements are 34B-24-35. Although you would not guess it from her cool demeanor and flawless dress sense (she fights tonight in a simple and elegant “little black dress”), she is an experienced catfighter, and lost a very close match to our other fighter, the lovely Roberta! Many of you have seen this match on video- it has been one of our best sellers. Mary is here tonight to avenge this loss. And now, Roberta, please enter the cage!”

Roberta, followed by her husband, strode in from the wings and entered the cage door opposite me. We glared at each other while Ellen said “Roberta stands 5’4” and weighs 126 lbs. She measures 36D-25-35, so you can see where her weight advantage lies! She will be fighting tonight in a strapless light blue cocktail dress.”
She motioned us to the center of the cage, where we stood on either side of her. We were both flushed with excitement “These two elegant ladies will soon look much less put-together, as they fight each other for their personal reasons and your pleasure. Ladies, please face each other.” We stood face to face, breast to breast, staring daggers at each other.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is a no-holds-barred fight. Nothing is forbidden except eye-gouging and biting, but we will not intervene unless one of the fighters complains. The fighter may punch, kick, knee, elbow, choke, or scratch her opponent, and judging by past experience I’m sure both of these hell-cats will. “
She addressed us directly, continuing “ You may attack any part of her body except her eyes, and including her breasts and vagina, and you may remove her clothing in the process. In addition to the $5000 prize the winner will receive and your $5000 appearance fee, we will pay you $500 if you expose your opponent’s breasts or vagina, and give you an additional $1000 if you manage to make her cry. The fight will end only when one woman is knocked out or submits to the other unequivocally. Our referees for tonight will be Amy and Jane (she motioned to two of the topless waitresses who had entered the cage, slightly bigger girls than the rest), whose main job is to ensure that the winner is pulled off the loser after a submission or knockout. Ladies, do you understand the rules? Then go to your corners, remove your shoes, and on my command, come out fighting.”

With that, she left us in the cage with the two “referees”. We each went to opposite sides and removed our shoes, handing them over to our husbands. We both kissed our husbands through the mesh, then turned to face each other. My world shrank down to that bitch, barefoot in her blue dress, on the the other side of the cage. “Fight!” cried Ellen, and we moved to the center, fists raised.

The audience cheered wildly as we started circling each other warily the way men often do when they start to fight, and in contrast to our previous fight, when we launched at each other without any thought. We spent several minutes darting punches at each other, tentatively at first, then with increasing force. I danced out of the way of two roundhouse swings, then took my own wild swing at her head. I connected with her temple so hard my knuckles hurt, and she staggered back stunned and clutching her head. It felt wonderful, and raised a huge cheer from the crowd. Unexpectedly, she started to cry, earning me $1000, but I knew the fight wasn’t over, and that fighting while crying was standard practice for both of us.

Her face contorted with rage and pain, Roberta launched herself at me, bowling me over and landing on top of me. She clawed at my face with her left hand, grabbing my hair with her right. We yanked hair and clawed at each other as we rolled on the ground, two upper-middle class wives of professionals fighting like cheap street whores in front of a baying crowd. Neither of us could stay on top, and our dresses rode up around our waists as we wrestled for advantage. I scrambled to my feet but she wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me back down to my hands and knees. I tried to crawl away from her but she grabbed the waistband of my panties and yanked them around my knees. The crowd roared to see my pussy exposed, and roared even louder when she raked my bare labia with her nails. I screamed and scrambled away from her, leaving my panties in her hand. She grabbed my ankles but I rolled on my back, kicking her as hard as I could in the face. She fell back, clutching her mouth, and I leaped on her, straddling her chest as my husband shouted encouragement, telling me to punch her in the face. I got two good punches in but she was able to grab my hair and pull me off to her left side.

We both scrambled to our feet. I grabbed the collar of her dress and her bra strap, and yanked them up over her head, blinding her and tangling her arms. I yanked her forward and off balance, swinging uppercuts into her covered face and breasts. I connected hard with her mouth and right eye. She pulled back and away from me, leaving her dress and bra in my hands. It was thrilling to have her nearly naked and sobbing, and I charged at her, slamming her up against the cage. We clawed and kneed each other as I held her against the chain link, and she managed to tear the front of my dress open and yanked my bra up over my breasts. She scratched my nipples viciously, but I was able to stun her with a punch to the jaw, and then pulled her panties down around her thighs, hobbling her. She stumbled against me, clutched her arms around my waist, and bit hard into the top of my right breast. I screamed and wrapped my hands around her throat in a frantic effort to detach her from my tit. She sputtered and gagged, letting go, and pushed me away with both arms. My dress was now hanging around my waist. She stepped out of her panties, and I pulled off my bra and dress, not wanting to trip on or be choked by my own clothes. We faced each other, two naked, sobbing women, as the crowd egged us on. The women were especially vociferous, yelling “Rip her tits off” and “Kick her in the cxnt!”

We closed in on each other again, grabbing each other by the hair. We circled, bent at the waist, our breasts dangling, yanking hair with one hand and swinging uppercuts at the other’s face and boobs with the other in what my husband calls a “bitch clinch”. This continued inconclusively for about three minutes, and we were both nearing exhaustion. Somehow she managed to pull me into a choking headlock, and began punching my right tit and side. I was on the verge of passing out, but saw that her legs were slightly spread to brace herself, and managed to get my right hand between them, clawing her clitoris as hard as I could. She broke away from me, shrieking and clutching herself and hobbling to the other side of the cage, her back to me.

I knew this was my chance! I chased her, grabbed her by the hair, straightened her up, and punched her in the stomach, winding her. I shoved her against the fence and held her there, kneeing her between the legs five or six times as hard as I could. She sank to the floor of the cage, eyes glassy, spread-eagled. She was finished, but I wasn’t finished with her! I kicked her in the stomach and she fell on her back. Then I quickly straddled her, pinning her arms under my knees. “Finish the bitch” my husband yelled. I punched her in the face, breaking her nose as she had mine, then pounded her tits. I reached behind me and got my nails into her pussy again, even getting two fingers into her this time and scratching her internally. She screamed and went limp. In a few moments, it became clear that she had passed out, but I kept punching and clawing her until the waitresses, and then a bouncer, pulled me off her. She lay unconscious, bleeding from the nose, covered in scratches and bruises and glistening with sweat, as her husband and Ellen the MC tried to revive her and my husband rushed into the cage and took me in his arms. I sobbed and laughed while he held me and the crowd cheered and applauded. After about five minutes the beaten bitch came around and was able to watch while Ellen raised my arms in victory and presented me with a bouquet and a check for $12,000: $5000 for fighting, $1000 for making her cry, $1000 for exposing her tits and cxnt, and $5000 for beating the bitch.

My husband helped me back to the dressing room. Despite my scratches and bruises, I wanted him desperately. He gently sucked and kissed my black-and-blue breasts. I then undid his belt, pulled down his pants, and fondled his engorged, dripping cock. I lay back on the leather couch and spread my legs for him. He braced himself above me, careful not to put any weight on my bruised body, and entered me gently. The feeling of his cock slowly penetrating my scratched and bruised pussy was exquisite torture, and I moaned and wept with pain and pleasure! As he fucked me, he told me how proud he was of me, and how beautiful I looked as I beat the big-boobed slut, and I told him what I wanted to do to Roberta if she asked for a rematch! I couldn’t leave the house for two weeks, but he took vacation and spent most of that time on top of me. The sex we’ve had since I left her beaten on the floor of the cage has been by far the best sex I’ve ever had!

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Offline JT Edson

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Re: Fight of the soccer moms
« Reply #3 on: February 24, 2020, 12:06:15 PM »
Great story.  I too won my husband in a fight.
Please share the story how you won your husband in a catfight. Sounds hot.

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Offline edelivel

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Re: Fight of the soccer moms
« Reply #4 on: March 11, 2021, 04:28:08 PM »
Do you have any more stories by this author?

I loved his stories, but can't find them anymore:(

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Offline Dude64

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Re: Fight of the soccer moms
« Reply #5 on: March 13, 2021, 05:02:58 PM »
Those two are great stories. There was one though that pitted two woman against each other. It started with them and their husbands meeting at a beachside resort to set up the details. And then they fought it out naked in a pit. It was a great story as were the two you posted. Thank you

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Offline Texaskid

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Re: Fight of the soccer moms
« Reply #6 on: April 13, 2021, 03:00:36 AM »
Can Roberta recover from the beat down like Mary did? I say yes. Roberta woud win the rubber match but not by much, and then they would make it best of 5.

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Offline Texaskid

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Re: Fight of the soccer moms
« Reply #7 on: April 16, 2021, 02:36:10 AM »
After rereading both stories. Mary used every dirty trick in the book to beat Roberta. Roberta probably went in thinking she broke Mary and was in shock she didn't and then Mary made it dirty to even it up. Writing was very good. I wish there had been a third story too. I think Roberta would win in another savage fight.

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Offline cwfan

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Re: Fight of the soccer moms
« Reply #8 on: May 09, 2021, 06:49:49 AM »
I wrote those 7 or 8 years ago when my screen name was Norm60.  Glad some people still recall them :)   I%u2019ll try to find and post some others
  was there ever a match to break the tie?
« Last Edit: May 09, 2021, 06:50:33 AM by cwfan »

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Offline cwfan

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Re: Fight of the soccer moms
« Reply #9 on: May 09, 2021, 09:36:54 PM »
No, never followed that up.  These take a lot of time to write :)
As well as both of those stories were written, I can see it taking a long time.    Well done with both stories.  Would love to hear a follow up if you ever decided to take the time for it.