News:

COMMERCIAL SITES: Please note - if WANT A BANNER LINK? displayed on this site, please contact FEMMEFIGHT

LISA VS WENDY: BACK-TO-SCHOOL FIGHT

  • 52 Replies
  • 21869 Views
*

Offline sinclairfan

  • God Member
  • *****
  • 4636
Re: LISA VS WENDY: BACK-TO-SCHOOL FIGHT
« Reply #30 on: December 08, 2018, 01:56:54 PM »
SENIOR CLASS CATFIGHT QUEEN

Beating up Wendy, with Craig witnessing the whole battle, cemented forever my undisputed  title as The Brockton High School Catfight Queen of the Class of 1982.  In an age before Facebook and Snapchat stories like the one Craig had to tell, and was eager to tell, spread like wildfire.  Soon the entire Brockton-Braintree community heard some version of the tale of the Cardinal Spelman dropout who arrived at Brockton High and stole a footbsll player from the school bitch.

And even those who were skeptical of the story could see corroborating visual evidence in the school hallways every weekday:  Craig and me, kissing in front of my locker.

And no Wendy.  She had dropped out of school senior year.  And then when news of her pregnancy got around after Christmas break, even the most disinterested party took notice of our love triangle.

"Shit.  That new girl Lisa must have laid one hell of a ass-whupping on that bitch Wendy."

Women from Brockton would see my stepmom out grocery shopping and actually congratulate her for raising such a tough daughter.  Even devout Catholic parents, teachers, and administrators from Spelman.

Hell, ESPECIALLY devout Catholics from the Spelman community.  Tuition at Spelman was climbing fast, out of the reach of many Brockton working folks.  It was comforting to show the Brockton High School long-timers that they couldn't push around Catholics who were squeezed out of Spelman due to economics.

Life was good.

Spring of senior year came.  Craig and I got accepted to Bridgewater State.  "Accepted to Bridgewater State" really meant that you had submitted all of the paperwork by the deadline.  But still, I was going to be a college girl, majoring in English.   And my boyfriend would be with me.

I could end the story here and just tell you that we lived happily ever after.  But we didn't.  I don't think Craig ever opened a single one of his textbooks at Bridgewater State.  I was angry at him not for failing, but for not even trying.  Didn't he WANT to spend four years of college with me, and then get married?  Apparently not.  We broke up after he dropped out.

And there were two other .... ummm .... life complications.  Or, two that I'll tell you about.

The first:  graduating from high school as your town's Catfight Queen isn't a title you can just sit back and enjoy.  Like an actual Queen, with the perks come responsibilities and burdens.  One of the burdens is that there's other bitches out there wanting to make a name for themselves by riding your wave--in this case, to challenge you to a catfight.  And I did not long escspe this fate.  In the summer of 1984, after my sophomore year at Bridgewater State, and girl from Archbishop Williams heard about me and came looking for trouble.

And second:  Wendy.  You didn't think I'd heard the last of her, did you?  She had her baby and went on welfare.  And brooded about what had become of her life.  And came at me in 1990 when we were both 26 years old.

Let me tell you after both of these fights.

To be continued.....

*

Offline sinclairfan

  • God Member
  • *****
  • 4636
Re: LISA VS WENDY: BACK-TO-SCHOOL FIGHT
« Reply #31 on: December 08, 2018, 06:02:03 PM »
POST-GRAD YEARS FIGHT

Whenever someone leaves a school or a job or an entire town, I think most of the time we tend to presume that things "aren't like they used to be in the good ole days", back when we were there keeping watch.  I hadn't even gone far from Brockton after graduating high school on 1982--just attending Bridgewater State, a few miles down the road. 

Even though in theory I could have commuted, I lived on campus my entire 4 years there, going home usually only for long weekends and summers.  To start with, I didn't own a car yet.  But more importantly, I was a bit of a third wheel in my own home.  My stepmom and my Spelman friend Maureen were continuing their same-sex, cross-generational ....  whatever it was .... affair? ..... relationship? ..... experimentation?  My mom would cook food and provide a clean bed for Maureen, Maureen would keep up the house and do yardwork for my mom.  Don't get me wrong, Maureen always had an "old soul" thing going at Spelman, and upon graduation was ready to launch into adulthood.  Plus, her traditional Catholic Irish family was distinctly unsupportive of her same sex proclivities, do my mom provided a safe space for Maureen to think out her future, as well as a warm shoulder to, literally and figuratively, rest her head ..... and to do other things.  Mom never made me Maureen was replacing me, so Maureen and I remained friends, and even went out as such when I was home on breaks.

Maureen also, her own academic career having apparently reached an end, stayed in touch with things at Spelman.  Catholic high school tuition continued its dizzying rise after I left in 1981.  Lay teachers were replacing nuns and Brothers as the teachers, and lay teachers wanted to be paid.  This came out of tuition, since Catholic High Schools, unlike Catholic K thru 8 schools, were not subsidized by sponsoring parishes.

So, in a short space of time, from 1981 to 1984, Massachusetts Catholic High Schools morphed from being religious-based versions of public high schools to being elitist enclaves of spoiled brats and bitches who had parents who could afford the golden key its guilded cage--in other words, religious-based privste schools.  That's a bit harsh and oversimplified, but no one who was paying attention could miss the cultural wave which swept thru Catholic secondary education in those dizzying years, and mourn what had been lost.

Maureen and her Spelman friends stayed in touch with, and argued back and gorth with, their old Williams rivals.  Maybe they even fought sometimes at Braintree Mall on Sunday nights, although even that tradition began to fall by the wayside when Massachusetts began repealing their "blue laws" and extending weekend retail hours.

More dizzying change; more loss to be mourned.

Instead, the new rivalry was between the "old school" Spelman grads, defenders of the traditions of the past, and the "new school" Williams snobs who were misfits in regular society and whose parents were trying to pad their resume for college and, eventually, marriage.  To them, Archbishop Williams was just a ticket to punch on thr road to other destinations, not the destination in and of itself.  These "new school" bitches didn't grow up in working class Brockton and Braintree or Dedham--no, they were from suburban Weymouth and Scituate and Hanover.  They weren't from broken homes like Maureen and me--they had parents who both worked and whose dad were lawyers or worked downtown for Fidelity Investments or on Route 128 for one of the new, booming computer companies.  They drove cars to school at Williams, and on weekends when they were looking to drink and make out.

Nothing like the Catholic schoolgirls Maureen and I had been.

They hated us, and we hated them back.

In early May 1984, I was done my sophomore year at Bridgewater.  I had a six week overlap at home with Maureen and her Spelman friends before Massachusetts high schools got out.  This 6-week window was legendary in Massachusetts for profuse beer consumption, as returned college students used their fake, and real, id's to buy beer for their high school party mates.  The excessive drinking, warm nights, too many young adults with too much free time on our hands, and mixing of ages and schools would sometimes lead to girlfights.

In other words, Maureen and I loved evrry minute of it.

That spring of 1984, there was a really nasty posse of spoiled new age spoiled Archbishop Williams senior girls lurking around Maureen's posse.  One night on Nantasket Beach, our two groups ran into each other and began trash talking.  One of the blonde Williams girls had a reputation as a fierce fighter.

She pointed at me and told me she heard I was a former Brockton High Catfight Queen.

A circle of 8 girls formed around us.

To be continued.....

*

Offline sinclairfan

  • God Member
  • *****
  • 4636
Re: LISA VS WENDY: BACK-TO-SCHOOL FIGHT
« Reply #32 on: December 09, 2018, 07:51:09 PM »
NANTASKET BEACH CATFIGHT, 1984

In the cool crisp spring air in the grassy sand dunes approaching the still-closed-for-the-season Nantasket Beach (beaches in Massachusetts open on Memorial Day weekend), the bitchy blonde senior from Archbishop Williams, evidently named Hannah from the shouts of encouragement she was receiving from her 4 friends, and I pulled each other by the hair and crumpled down into a catball in the annoyingly long grass.  We released each others' hair, grabbed each others' waist with our legs, and scratched viciously at any exposed flesh which we could feel or see.  Hannah's nails were slitting my like razors.

Belying my nickname of "Class of 1982 Catfight Queen" I had only had one catfight opponent my entire life, and so only had experience against one catfighting style:  Wendy's signature wait-for-the-perfect-opportunity-to-land-a-right-cross.  Hannah fought much more energetically, coming out of the gate like a cyclone and not letting up, not saving any energy at all for a Round 2, which she apparently had no intention of allowing to occur.  Both of us were breathing heavily, and I began praying that my second wind would kick in before I was humiliated by a high school student.

Hannah's face was pressed closed to mine, and we hissed traditional Spelman-Williams catfight insults.

> Spelman Slut.

> Williams Witch.

> Spelman shithead.

> Archbishop Williams asshole.

> You're getting soft in college, bitch.

> Then why is your face bleeding, sweetie?

Hannah's nails continued to shred my bare arms and shoulders, and the long blades of beach grass and fine beach sand entered every opening and gave me the agonizing sensation of what it must feel like to fight on glass.  I desperately wanted to get our catfight back standing up, but Hannah kept me pinned onto the ground or wrapped around her body, forcing us to fight on the sand.  Our eight girl audience closed in on us to see who was winning as the sky got darker, so close I could smell the cocktail of perfumes, 1980's vintage hairspray, beer breath, and female hormones excited by the ferocious catfight between two experts of the craft.

Hannah's nails began raking my face, intentionally seeking eyeballs or lips.  One of her fingers got caught in my mouth, and I clamped down hard with my teeth, eliciting a squeal of pain from my enemy.  I was desperate to neutralize Hannah's nails, obviously prepared with a potential girlfight tonight in mind.

I seized on Hannah's momentary distraction, and grabbed her hair with both my hands.  I pinned her head between my legs, and barrel-rolled her on the ground like a crocodile taking down a deer.  I forced her face further between by legs, rubbing it into the fabric of my pants.  I hoped the audience wouldn't notice my arousal at the sensation of Hannah's face on my thighs, and the sight of her dyed  blonde and dark roots flowing onto my stomach.

I don't think they did, because I think they were even more aroused than I was.  I could see their erect nipples through their tops, and could smell the dampness coming from their shorts.

To be continued.....

*

Offline sinclairfan

  • God Member
  • *****
  • 4636
Re: LISA VS WENDY: BACK-TO-SCHOOL FIGHT
« Reply #33 on: December 11, 2018, 04:20:25 AM »
FINISHING OFF HANNAH

I thrill to the thought, and the present reality ('Real Presence"--a concept every Catholic schoolgirl had absorbed during her education), of eight young women bring sexually excited at the sight of Hannah and I struggling on the outskirts of Nantasket Beach.  I play to the ground, doing everything I can to make the visuals more stimulating. 

I make sure Hannah's blonde hair is as flared out, as "big" as possible.  And then mine.  It's 1984.  Sexy is all about Big Hair.

I make sure cleavage is showing through Hannah's blouse.  And then mine.  Neither of us are wearing bra's tonight.  Good.

I mount Hannah, like Wendy mounted me during our first fight, back in 1981.  That fight seems like a lifetime ago, even though it's only 1984.  We fought alone, to avoid a crowd of gawkers.  But both Hannah and I are enjoying our audience of 8 horny women tonight.  It makes us horny, too.

Hannah has never been choked out of a fight, like I was by Wendy.  If she had been, she wouldn't be letting me put the weight of my forearm on her throat like I'm doing right now.

Or perhaps she's distracted by the rhythmic rubbing of our thighs and between our legs.  Perhaps she enjoys it do much it's worth being under me.  Perhaps she enjoys looking up at my face and chest, like the September 1981 afternoon I took in the mild acne on Wendy's chin, the oiliness of her hair, the firmness of her chest.  What's flaws does Hannah see in me tonight?  What positive features.

I notice Hannah's flawless skin, her clean pores.  How does she pull it off?  Does she wash her face every night?  Who has the patience?  Even at Bridgewater State, with nothing but free time on my hands, I skip nights.  I get blemishes two days later, and resolve to be more diligent, but then relapse again.

I'm pretty sure Hannah is cumming under me.  These Class of '84 girls are nasty, tacky, sleazy, cheesy.  Who cums when they're in a girlfight?

It's not like it was back in my day.  We never came DURING the fight.  After, maybe.  Never during.

I lean harder on Hannah's throat.

Bitch.

I tell Maureen and my posse, "Let's get outta here."

Maureen kisses me on the mouth.
 Nope, not like the old days at all.

I never fight in another Williams-Spelman fight again.  No one dares take me on, so fearsome is my reputation.

I don't fight again at all until 1990.  A full year after graduating Bridgewater State.  Wendy's daughter is now 8, a 3rd grader in Weymouth, north of Brockton.  Where does the time go?

I'm living at home with my stepmom after Maureen ditches her.  I'm working as a Customer Service Rep at a medical device company. Wendy calls me one night in April.  She has unresolved issues from 1981.

Good.  So do I.

To be continued......

*

Offline sinclairfan

  • God Member
  • *****
  • 4636
Re: LISA VS WENDY: BACK-TO-SCHOOL FIGHT
« Reply #34 on: December 12, 2018, 12:41:26 PM »
1984 TO 1990, 6 DRY YEARS

After the Nantasket Beach fight against Hannah during my sophomore year at Bridgewater State, I began the awkward transition from childhood to young adulthood.  Today, in 2018, with Millenials spending their elongated childhoods living with their parents (sometimes in their actual childhood bedrooms, not even bothering to move to the basement anymore), playing XBox or Playstation, binge watching TV series or all 15 episodes of Star Wars, that statement of how I spent my years between 20 and 26 probably doesn't mean much.  Heck, in 2018, you can stay on your parents' health insurance until you're 26.

But I was 20 to 26 in the 1980s.  If you hadn't cut ties with your parents by age 22 back then, you were a loser.  And even worse, a loser who was shunned by your peers, which in turn made it even harder to cut ties with your parents, your last source of human connection in a time before you could log in to Facebook or Snapchat.

Things started unraveling in the spring of 1985.  April came, the 6-week window of graduated high school senior out late at night looking for parties, trouble and girlfights.  Maureen and I drove around Braintree and Brockton, making our presence, and our willingness to take any 18- or 19- year old who so desired down a peg if she wanted, known.

There were no takers.  My reputation as someone who had knocked Wendy out of the Brockton public school system, and who had made Hannah cum under me in front of 8 girls at Nantasket Beach, was too fearsome.  No one wanted a piece of that action.  Fighting just about anyone else carried less risk.

So that 6 weeks in 1985 came and went for Maureen and I without me finding any fights.

And that six weeks in 1986.

And that six weeks in 1987, my final year at Bridgewater State.  By which point, the Spelman and Williams girls didn't hang out much anyways at Braintree Mall or even Nantasket Beach--they were living even further away from Brockton and Braintree, even further than Weymouth, in places like Scituate and Duxbury and Hanover.  They hung out in suburban homes where both parents were absent, just like Brockton.  Except in Brockton the parents were absent due to divorce, and in the new towns the parents were absent due to busy jobs or exotic travel destinations.

Maureen felt very awkward at the parties.  Saying we were from Brockton triggered nervous giggles from the girls.  We stopped attending in 1988.

And Maureen had a falling out with my stepmom, I assume over money.  She moved out, and didn't keep up her friendship with me.

By the end of 1988, even when I wanted to go out, I had nobody to go out WITH.

My step mom was sad and lonely as well, her youthful looks fading.  She had been with Maureen so long, I think she had forgotten how to flirt with men.

I got a job on Route 128 doing coding for a customer service tech company.  My choice of English as a major probably wasn't the greatest career choice, but the Massachsetts Miracle had one last gasp to go in it (it didn't come crashing down until 1990-91), so I rode the wave, burying myself in my career for all of 1989, enjoying my first real paycheck and getting 401(k) statements.  Maybe I vould impress the Spelman-Williams rich bitches this way.

In the spring of 1990, my mother and I started walking at night around our old neighborhood.  We started walking by Wendy's house.  We knew Wendy's daughter was school age by now, so the daughter probably wasn't living in the house--the Brockton primary school system had continued to deteriorate, so sending a 7-year old to Brockton public schools was not an option to be considered in sny but the most desperate circumstances.  No, Wendy and her daughter likely lived with a relative in a surrounding suburb.

But someone was definitely living in Wendy's old house, the yard still as junked up as the October 1981 afternoon when Wendy and I had our catfight in the leaves.  It appeared to be a single man in his 30s, probably Wendy's brother, the same person now grown up who had answered the door when I walked over to fight Wendy after she called me a slut at the Homecoming Pep Rally all those years before.

We asked some neighbors to the old house what was up there, and where Wendy was at.  My mom seemed as interested as me.  It gave a sense of purpose and anticipation to our evening walks.

> Remember the week you and Wendy got into three catfight?  Three catfights in one week!!

My stepmom seems to relish using the word catfight twice. 

> Well, it was partly your fault, Mom.  You broke up the first fight before it was over.

> I know, but, Baby, you didn't understand what two girls csn do to each other in a fight.

> Hate to break it to you, Mom, but I did.  She and I had fought a month earlier.  Alone.  At home.

> You what? ....  you did? .... Lisa, that's ....   but ..... for how long.

> Maybe 20 minutes.  She choked me out.  It was my first fight.

> Lisa, that's ..... horrible. ....  why didn't you tell me??

> Lots of reasons ..... shame that I lost, mostly.  Why didn't YOU tell ME about your catfights?

> Touche.

> So, any questions?

> Do you want to fight Wendy again?

> More than anything.

to be continued.....


*

Offline sinclairfan

  • God Member
  • *****
  • 4636
Re: LISA VS WENDY: BACK-TO-SCHOOL FIGHT
« Reply #35 on: December 15, 2018, 02:43:26 PM »
DINNER WITH WENDY

In pre-internet, pre-texting 1990, asking another woman, even one you know, even one you've fought before, if she wants to fight is a lot like asking a man if he wants to fuck.  You know the answer is probably Yes, but getting to Yes can be tricky.  And you can blow it if you come on too strong. 

When you're both 18, you can get to Yes pretty directly, like when I was 18 and walked straight over to Wendy's house after school, or straight over to Craig's house when I wanted to lose my virginity.

But It's 1990, and I'm 26 now.  Adulthood has intervened and made life more complicated than it used to be.  I have a paying job, burgeoning into a career.  And Wendy has a 7-year old girl.  And she and I aren't neighbors anymore--Wendy lives with an aunt in Weymouth so her daughter can go to a respectable public school.  Public school isn't an option anymore in Brockton, and the rich bitches like Hannah have gentrified the Catholic schools.

My stepmom and I, out on one of our evening walks, ask Wendy's brother how to get in touch with Wendy, and how we might get her ear for 10 minutes to feel her out on her openness for a rematch catfight.  Flirting, in other words, but about fighting, not sex.

Wendy's brother informs us that Wendy enjoys being wined and dined at an area restaurant called Hilltop in Saugus.  Hilltop is a Massachusetts institution, a non-chain restaurant with an endless menu and even more endless numbers of tables--over 250 in use at any one time.  It's the working-class Massachusetts equivalent of fine dining, and more importantly, loud enough that you can have an awkward conversation with you tablemates without being eavesdropped on.

Now to request the "first date".  We secure Wendy's current phone number from Wendy's brother, and ask him to give her a heads-up we might be calling.  My step mom wait two days, then on the third day (another Catholic "thing"--don't ask) nervously dial her number.  I hope she picks up.

> Hello?  [Sounds like her voice, but more mature.  I hope she hasn't outgrown girlfighting.]

> Hello, this is Lisa from Brockton.  May I please speak to Lisa.

> This is she.  [Wow.  Super mature.  And without a high school degree.]

> Wendy, hi, thanks for picking up.  Your brother gave me this number.  Do you have a few minutes to talk? 

> Yes, he mentioned you might be calling.  I'm glad you did.  What's up?

> Yes, I'm glad too.  The neighborhood isn't the same without you.  So, the thing is, Wendy, [don't scare her off, Lisa, don't creep her out] my stepmom and I never got a chance to give you a proper send-off.  For all the years of being our neighbor.  And we heard a rumor that you like Hilltop in Saugus.  My mom and I were hoping we could take you there.  Our treat.

> Wow.  What's the catch? 

> [Shit, this bitch is good.  Don't blow this Lisa.]  No catch, Wendy.  Well, unless, I guess, you count giving up an evening to be with us as being a catch.

> Can I bring someone?

> [Does Wendy smell a rat?  Or is she just not used to having someone reach out to her?  Is she having trouble dating as a single mom?  In 1990 Massachusetts, that stll carries a stigma.]  Yes, I'm sorry, Wendy.  Whare are my manners?  [Did that sound sarcastic?  The pressure of this call is getting to me.]  Yes, you and a guest, your choice.  My mom and I will drive.  Whattya say, [bitch]?

> Well, ok.  I could use a night out, I suppose.  Don't worry about any guest--I'll go stag.  Friday nights are better than Saturdays for me.  I try and go to Mass with my daughter on Saturday night.

> [Ok, now, was that a dig at me?  Or is Wendy on the straight and narrow now, and my offer to fight will be laughed at?  Or does she just "do Church" for her girl?]  Ok, Friday nights.  It's Monday now.  This Friday too soon?

> Let me think .... let me think .... [Now I know how boys asking for a date feel.] ... ok, let's do it.  Do you have a piece of paper to right down my address?

> Sure.  Lay it on me.

Like the beating I'm gonna lay on YOU the next time we fight.

To be continued.....

*

Offline sinclairfan

  • God Member
  • *****
  • 4636
Re: LISA VS WENDY: BACK-TO-SCHOOL FIGHT
« Reply #36 on: December 16, 2018, 04:55:11 AM »
DINNER AT HILLTOP

On a chilly New England February Friday night, my stepmom and I follow handwritten directions and pick up Wendy at her aunt's house in Weymouth.  Wendy is waiting outside on the screen porch, apparently snuffing out a cigarette as we pull up.  She climbs in the backseat of the car and fist bumps my mom, but not me, thanking my mom for the ride.  Wendy looks more mature, but not eight years more mature.  Let's call it four.  Her hair seems less oily, and the acne around her mouth is gone.  Her freckles are faded, either naturally or by make up.

We settle in for the car ride to the restaurant, my mom and Wendy doing most of the talking.

> So how do you like Weymouth?

> If I didn't have my aunt, I don't know that I'd like it much.  People keep to themselves more than Brockton.

> Not to pry, how do you support yourself, Wendy?  I'm divorced myself, so no shame in being honest.  Does your baby's father help you?

> He does.  But not voluntarily.  He was ordered to by a court.

> Good.

> .....aaannd not so good.  He only needs to as long as I'm not in a relationship.  So, basically, I don't date much.

> And you're ok with that?  or No?

> At first, no.  But then I got to thinking...

> Yes?   Got to thinking what?

> Well, net net [where is Wendy picking up these sophisticated phrases?  She's the most educated-sounding high school dropout I've heard for awhile] ....  guys are a pain in the ass when you think about it ....

> [My mom takes her hand off the wheel snd raises it] ... Second!  Divorced, remember?

> And, I don't even mean it like that.  I mean .... even the good stuff .... the sex itself... [We're pulling into the gargantuan Hilltop parking lot now.] ....

> Yes?  I'm listening.

> .... well  it's exciting and all .... it's just .....

> Yes?  [My stepmom turns off the engine, and both her and I turn and look at Wendy.  She meets my mom's gazezdx but not mine.]

> .....well ... it's still no match for .... the other thing I'd rather be doing .....

> Which is?

> Well ..... you know ..... fighting.

We get out of the car.  Wendy hugs my mom but not me.  I check between my legs to make sure my wet spot isn't showing thru the fabric  of my pants.

This dinner should be interesting.

To be continued....

*

Offline sinclairfan

  • God Member
  • *****
  • 4636
Re: LISA VS WENDY: BACK-TO-SCHOOL FIGHT
« Reply #37 on: December 16, 2018, 09:38:46 PM »
DINNER AT HILLTOP

My mom, Wendy, and I sit at a circular table in the packed Friday night Hilltop restaurant.  Conversation occurs between my mom and Wendy, and between my mom and me, but not between Wendy and me.  We don't even looked at each other directly, judt out of our peripheral vision.  I woory that if we meet each others' gaze, we'll throwdown our utensils, and then throw down with each other in front of to hundreds of other restaurant patrons and staff.

So, instead, we refer TO each other throw my mother's interrogation of us.

> So, Wendy, how did my daughter rate as a fight opponent?  Compared to other girls you fought during those years.

> Lisa had balls, I'll give her that.  She always came straight at me.  Her hands weren't much, tho.  That was her weakness, I think she recognized that herself.  She tried to make sure our fights were wrestling matches.

> Lisa, do you think you couldn't hit like Wendy because you had no siblings?

> No siblings, and no brother who lay around the house.  Like, until and through adulthood.  I'm sure he's the one who taught Wendy how to punch.

> Wendy, what kind of fights do you think were the rowdiest?  Public school fights or Catholic school fights?

> Door number three, Monty.  Public VERSUS Catholics.  What do they call Notre Dame/Miami football games?  Catholics versus Convicts. Those fights always got nasty.

> Lisa, you made the transition to public school.  How would Wendy have fared in Catholic school.

> Well, seeing as she didn't last two months in public school once I arrived ...... she would have been eaten alive.

> Wendy, you look like you want to say something.

> I want to say that Lisa needs to go fuck herself.

Our food arrives just in the nick of time.  We awkwardly eat in silence.

My mother finally speaks up.

> Wendy, I can't speak for you, but I know Lisa and I are both ... intrigued to see what would happen if you and her tangled again.

> As am I.

More awkward silence.

> Earlier, you referred to tonight as a date.  Do you fight on the first date?

> Typically, no.  But I'm willing to make an exception tonight.

> Wonderful.

The crotch stain on my pants doubles in size.

To be continued.....

*

Offline sinclairfan

  • God Member
  • *****
  • 4636
Re: LISA VS WENDY: BACK-TO-SCHOOL FIGHT
« Reply #38 on: December 18, 2018, 03:50:30 AM »
SAUGUS TO BROCKTON

I sit in the back seat of my stepmom's Cadillac Eldorado, Wendy in the front passenger's seat.  We're driving back home from dinner at Hilltop.  I had the clam strips and fries, abstaining from met since it's a Friday night during Lent.  I can't believe my luck that I got to have dinner at Hilltop in Saugus tonight.

And I can't believe my luck that I get to catfight Wendy tonight.

It's early 1990.  Our last catfight was in 1981.  An entire decade ago.  And an entire world ago.

Catholic High School was for the working class then.  Entree directly into the white collar work force, doing office work  in Boston or Waltham or Wellesley or Newton.  Or a ticket to a 4-year Catholic college like BC or PC or Merrimack or Fordham.

Now, in 1990, Catholic High School is a ticket to Friday night pot party dances and interscholastic tennis and field hockey and prom, and private college after that.  Anything where a working class girl would feel uncomfortable, vulnerable, preyed upon.  One long fraternity party. 

I'm not comfortable in that world.

I'm comfortable in Wendy's world.  Working class Brockton.  Even though she's not IN Brockton anymore, because of her 7-year old, she's OF Brockton.  And I am, too.

Hanging out at the Braintree Mall.  Getting into girlfights.  Going over each others' houses after school and fighting.

Wendy and I are going to fight some where in my house tonight, only my step mom watching us.  She broke up our fight, our second one, on the Friday after school in 1981, but has realized for awhile now that she shouldn't have.  She won't make that mistake tonight.

I think of my last fight, my fight with Hannah in 1984 on Nantasket Beach, with 8 girls watching.  I made Hannah cum during that fight.  I never made Wendy cum in any of our four fights; none, at least, that I know of.

> Is this exciting enough for you, Wendy?

> How do you mean?

> Earlier tonight ..... you said something about sex with guys not doing it for you ... exciting you, I guess .... like fighting does.

> And?

> And ...  what if when we get home to my place .... I put my hair up with hairspray .... and freshen up with, oh, I don't know, some Cindy Crawford ... and throw on some fuck-me pumps ....

> Why does a nice girl like you have fuck-me pumps?

> Why does a smart mom like you still think of me as a nice girl?

> Why does a successful career woman like you think of me as a smart mom?

> My head is about to explode.  Let's cut shit Wendy.  I've wanted to fight you for awhile now.  It's been too long. 

> I agree.  That's why I'm here.

> Mom?  Are we there yet?

To be continued......

*

Offline sinclairfan

  • God Member
  • *****
  • 4636
Re: LISA VS WENDY: BACK-TO-SCHOOL FIGHT
« Reply #39 on: December 18, 2018, 06:58:59 PM »
PRE-FIGHT

My stepmom shuttles between her own bedroom, where Wendy is dressing for our impending catfight, and mine, where I'm doing the same.  Even though it's February 1990 and the 80s are over, I'm hairspraying my hair and "making it big".  I douse myself in perfume, as I'm horrified by the cum smell emanating from my drenched pussy.  I've never been anywhere near this wet, even during actual sex.  The moisture won't stop flowing.  I put on one of my old Catholic school skirts, and nothing else.  My mom spritzes talc on my bare upper body.

> Lisa, goodness, why are your nipples so erect?

> Why are YOURS?

> Good comeback.

> What's Wendy going to wear.

> Hooker underwear--stirrups, crotchless, pushup bra.

> And over that?

> Nothing.

My soaked pussy undulates.  I can barely control the urge to burst in on the bedroom where Wendy is getting ready.

> Is it wrong for me to want to hurt her so bad that her aunt will need to take care of her for a week.

> Great minds think alike.

> How so?

> She wants to hurt YOU so bad that you need to miss work for a week.

> She said that?

> Word-for-word.

> What else did she say?

> That she's wanted to do this for awhile.

> No time like the present.  Is she ready?

> Let me go check.  I'll bring her in here.  You two can fight on the bed you fucked her boyfriend on.

I climb on the bed and throw comforters and pillows along all the hard edges and furniture in my room.  We're likely to be rolling everywhere.  I barely finish, and Wendy walks in, dressed in bra and panties.  Her breasts and bush are larger than they were in 1981.  Does motherhood to that to her?  Or just her aunt's homecooking.

> You're a convincing hooker, Wendy.

> You're the same Catholic school snob you always were.

> Well then let's have one of those Spelman VERSUS Brockton brawls you've been pining for, bitch.

Wendy comes at me on the bed.  Our claws dig into our scalps, scraping skin like ice off a windshield.

> Fuck you, bitch.

> Fuck YOU.

To be continued.....

*

Offline sinclairfan

  • God Member
  • *****
  • 4636
Re: LISA VS WENDY: BACK-TO-SCHOOL FIGHT
« Reply #40 on: December 21, 2018, 12:09:26 PM »
BED FIGHTING

Since Wendy and I had four fights in 1981 just as we were coming of age sexually, our mid-20s sexual isolation has been profoundly shaped by those fights.  A self-reinforcing process has set in whereby we are disappointed by sex, so we withdraw and don't hone our craft, whereby our next sexual encounter is disappointing.  Chicken. Egg.  Chicken.  Egg.  Over and over.  Leading to Wendy being a 26 year old celibate single mom, and me living at home with my mother in my childhood bedroom.

Fighting, though.  Now that's a different story.

As the lacey fabric of Wendy's hooker underwear presses against my naked (up top, at least) flesh, I take in the thrill of at last catfighting an opponent who is worthy of my skill-level.  I bask in the near-occasion (another Catholic thing; don't ask) of danger to Wendy ferocious right fist, her strong biceps, her skilled legs, and her seemingly unlimited pain threshold.  All four require my constant attentiveness to defending myself lest I find myself defeated.

My efforts, however, are not limited to mere defense.  I also have an offensive objective at the top of my mind.  As Wendy and I fall into a catball on my soft bed, arousal courses thru the veins of my body and leave my body longing to have my skirted hips grinding onto Wendy's face, the exposed flesh of my inner thighs grinding on Wendy's mouth and jaw.  I long for the physiological sensations but also for the psychological domination and humiliation it would bring to my romantic and social rival, competitor, and adversary.

Wendy is attempting to similarly humiliate me, physically or sexually, preferably both.  Submitting to her, of all women, would be devastatingly mortifying to my psyche, and a thought I eould have difficulty living with in the months and years afterwards.

So Wendy and I thrash on the bed in a tight catball, mutually struggling (futilely, so far) for even temporary dominance.  This is the part where I'm supposed to tell you about my ignoring, or fighting thru, or succumbing to the searing pain of having hair and flesh shredded from my scalp by Wendy's razor-sharp nails.  But as our catfight progresses, sexual arousal washes like a tsunami thry my body and dampens the intensity of my pain. 

Tsunami is an apt word for my sexual sensations furing the fight, as a tsunami is an unnatural event where wave energy "puts" the ocean somewhere it didn't used to be.  Well, as I catball on the bed with Wendy, erotic sensations I normally feel between my legs are erupting in my breasts, on my tongue, in my ears, inside my thighs and calves, on my butt.  Everywhere, really.  I crave contact, friction, everywhere I can get it from Wendy.

Sexual energy has taken over the entire bedroom.  Sweat pours from Wendy and I, cancelling out the cologne and perfume scents which dominated the room at the start of the fight, replacing it with the boy-dirty-sock funk which I first experienced when I painfully surrendered my virginity to Wendy's boyfriend Craig senior year of high school.  Wendy's hair, so soft and full at dinner tonight, is now a mangled mop of oily, bloody ooze.  My pussy gives me the sensation that it will never be clean, no matter how much I wipe it.  I crave a wash cloth.

My stepmother is sitting in the corner, loving every second of our struggle.  I hear her making the sounds she used to make when Maureen was in her bedroom.

My distraction causes Wendy to push me, and the entangled comforter, of the side of the bed.  Wendy scrambles to mount and straddle me, her soaked think bush scratching my face.  Her hands pull my hair immobilizing my entire upper body.  I inhale desperately for breath, my gasps only alerting my enemy to my vulnerable position.  Wendy grinds and thrusts violently, now bucking ecstatically.  She locks eyes with my stepmom.  My eyes follow her to see if my strpmom returns my opponent's gaze, but as if mesmerized returns and meets my stepmom's longing gaze.  Wendy releases my hair with one of her hands, reaches behind while sitting on my face, and inserts two fingers into my pussy.  I resist at first, and then open my legs.  Wendy and I begin rocking and bucking in unison, both staring at my stepmom.

The three of us begin groaning together.

Faster. 

And louder.

Wendy and I lock into how close we each are to cumming, moving the other along when when of us gets ahead.

My stepmom watches in eager anticipation for the climax.

> You fucking bitch, Wendy.

> You fucking slut, Lisa.

We scream together and cum in unison. 

To be continued.....


*

Offline sinclairfan

  • God Member
  • *****
  • 4636
Re: LISA VS WENDY: BACK-TO-SCHOOL FIGHT
« Reply #41 on: December 25, 2018, 05:39:50 PM »
LONG PIN

After cumming on top of me, I wait for Wendy to dismount.  She has won this fight, or at least this round, and I feel profound disappointment.  Nine years after I stood up to Wendy in a series of four fights, she has gotten her revenge.  Even when she choked me out after our first fight, the first day of school the senior year of high school, she wasn't able to gloat about her victory, since I was laying unconscious on the floor.  She stole my stepmom's cigarettes, but didn't humiliate me.

Tonight is different.  Wendy has me in a pin.  She is pleasuring herself by straddling me, and is reaching behind herself to stick her fingers in my pussy, betraying my arousal by feeling my wetness and fingering me to climax.

But it's about to get worse.  Much worse.

Wendy isn't releasing her pin on me.  She motions for me to attempt to buck her off.  I knee her in the back by lifting my legs, but nothing gets her to dismount me.  I grab her hair and attempt to roll her off of me.  Wendy retaliates by grabbing my hands and pinning them down mext to my ears.  She bends down and sets her breasts on mine, pleasuring herself.

I alternate between resting for a new attempt to buck her off, and then gathering my strength and trying to buck her off of me.  Each attempt is less successful than the last.  Gravity is on Wendy's side.  I'm getting more and more tired; Wendy is getting more and more confident.

Wendy is thoroughly enjoying the humiliation she is subjecting me to.  My stepmom continues to watch from the corner, shouting encouragement to both of us.  She doesn't care who wins--she just wants a long, long fight.  And she's getting her wish.  It's nighttime, with no clocks in sight, so we have no frame of reference to gauge how much time has elapsed since our fight began.

Wendy and I are both sweating.  And are thirsty.  Maybe that's what will get Wendy off of me.  I fight the urge to beg for mercy.

> Can I have a bottled?, Wendy asks me mom.

My stepmom comes back with 2 bottled waters.  I'm thankful I didn't need to ask.

Wendy grabs boths, and chugs her own.

> One for me ....... , she says

Oh, good.  She giving the other one to me.  My throat is parched.

> And one for the bitch .....

Wendy opens my water, takes a swig from it, and spit-sprays it into my face.

I glare at Wendy.  She glares right back.

We stare at each other for two minutes.

> I'm glad you did that, bitch.  Because now I won't feel bad after I finish with you.

> You go, Lisa.  Kick her ass, my stepmom calls out in encouragement.

I jab at Wendy's belly, poking at the water which she's inhaled too quickly into her now-bloated belly.  I barrell-roll her, achieving a full 180-degree reversal of our pin.

Now I'M facesitting HER.  Now WENDY is exhausted, her muscles not recovering from the extended strain of our fight, our cumming, and her extended pin.

Now SHE's at MY mercy.

And I don't let the opportunity go to waste.  I start grinding her face and mouth, slowly but roughly.  I'm bucking on her face, riding it like an off-road motorcyle.

I don't reciprocate--I don't stick my fingers into Wendy's protruding pussy lips.  I pull Wendy's hair with them.

I cum loudly. 

I grab the second bottled water.  Rather than foolishly chugging it, like Wendy did, I sip it.  I take a mouthful, and spit it in Wendy's face.

I've avenged my defeat from 10 minutes ago.

> I like this position, bitch.  Try and get me off.

To be continued.....

*

Offline sinclairfan

  • God Member
  • *****
  • 4636
Re: LISA VS WENDY: BACK-TO-SCHOOL FIGHT
« Reply #42 on: January 19, 2019, 05:11:41 AM »
PINNING WENDY

I straddle Wendy, wrapping my fingers in hers, and pleasuring my soaked pussy on her sweaty chest and stomach.  I look down at her body, much more mature than the borderline underdeveloped woman I tangled with in high school.  Wendy's breasts seem several sizes larger than they did in Brockton in 1981--has maturity done that for her, or motherhood?

Wendy wants me to dismount from her, but is too proud to beg.  I love the feeling of asserting dominance over her, and love my stepmom witnessing who the better woman is.  I pleasure my pussy by sliding it back and forth on her skin, but the stroking too my ego is even more erotic.

> Beg for mercy, bitch.

> You're not hurting me, Lisa.

> And YOU think YOU'RE hurting ME, bitch???

Our fingers curl tightly around each other.  My breasts are attracted to Wendy's maternally-enhanced chest.  I lean down and pleasure my normally-non-erogenous nipples on her, sliding back and forth.  Our faces touch, me wondering if we will be kissing soon.

Wendy and I start bucking rhythmically and roughly.  I sense right away that she only cums when the sex is rough.  I bet that's why something was always "off" between Craig and her in high school--rough sex was never his thing.

Wendy's fingers are wrapped so tightly around mine that the tips are tingling.  Our breasts flop together loudly, almost like hands clapping.  I feel unlimited power, stradding the girl who tormented me in high school.

> Bitch.

> You're a bitch.

> I hate you bitch.

> Let me up and fist fight me, bitch.

> Make me get up.

> You're afraid to fistfight.

I drift away from orgasm.  I get frustrated at being so close, and not
achieving climax.  Kissing Wendy is the furthest thing from my mind now.

> I want to hurt you, Wendy.

> Then let me up.

> Wait a minute.

> Why?

> I want to remember what it was like being on top of you.

To be continued.....

*

Offline sinclairfan

  • God Member
  • *****
  • 4636
Re: LISA VS WENDY: BACK-TO-SCHOOL FIGHT
« Reply #43 on: January 19, 2019, 10:44:17 PM »
"GET FUCKIN' OR FIGHTIN' "

Although I'm enjoying every minute spent on top of Wendy, nine long years in the making, the pace of action between us has noticably sagged.  Neither of us has cum in over 30 minutes, and neither of us is able to inflict any injury on the other.  I'm becoming physically exhausted from both the long fight and the advanced hour, likely approaching midnight. 

Our lone spectator, my stepmom, is also becoming restless.  She, unfortunately for me, takes up Wendy on her gambit for me to give up my pin and engage me in a standup fist fight.  I'm reluctant to do so, having felt the wrath of Wendy's rock-hard, lighting-fast hands in 1981 and 1982.  Wendy has possibly lost a step or two off her game since becoming a mother, but I see nothing to gain from giving up my advantage.

Mom> Break it up, you love birds.  Time to either get fuckin' or fightin'.

Me> We ARE fightin', Mom.  Pathetic Wendy just can't get me off.

Wendy> Let me up, bitch, and tell me that.

Me> What's in it it for me??

Wendy> You get to show your Mom your fistfighting game, slut.

Me> Is that what you and your older brother used to do growing up, bitch??  Fought for your mom??

Mom> Bravo if they did, Lisa.  I sure would mind seein' some brawlin' on a Friday night in the middle of winter.

Me> Mom !?!?!, ixnay on the etting-up-gay.  Whose side are you on??

Mom> I'm on your side, win or lose, Lisa.  But not if you draw.

Me> Draw????  Mom, I'm winning this fight!!!!

Mom> Wendy.  You give to Lisa??  You had enough??

Wendy>  Hell, no.

Mom> Lisa, if you won a fight tonight, I don't see no loser.

Wendy> C'mon, Lisa.  Let's give your Mom a show she'll always remember.

Me> What's in it for me?

Wendy> C'mon, bitch.  You know it's not over between you and me.  Let's settle this once and for all.

Mom> Giddyy-up!!  C'mom Lisa, hand-to-hand.  Be a woman!

To be continued.....


*

Offline ralbright2010

  • God Member
  • *****
  • 186
Re: LISA VS WENDY: BACK-TO-SCHOOL FIGHT
« Reply #44 on: January 20, 2019, 02:36:24 PM »
I am loving this! Definitely worth the wait!