Five Years of Venom
Five years had crawled by since Marlene, with her tight little body and sly grin, sank her claws into Dave and ripped him out of Andrea’s life. For Andrea, 51 now, those years were a slow burn of rage and humiliation. She’d been 46 then, a stunning almost-model with 34DDDs that Dave worshipped, her long legs, large breasts, and thick nipples the stuff of his fantasies. She took up catfighting to further stoke Dave’s fires, and her sexual prowess cemented the marriage. But it did not last.
When Marlene stole her king, Andrea quickly found another. Marriage to Dan, an affable general contractor, came quick after the divorce—a rebound she turned into a trophy-wife triumph. Her breasts swelled to 34Gs with the help of Dan’s wallet, and she kept her body tight, her sundresses thin enough to flaunt every curve, and sought new ways to secure Dan to her side. But beneath the polish, Andrea seethed. Marlene hadn’t just taken Dave; she’d stolen her pride, her youth, her power. Every time she saw her ex’s new life on Instagram—four kids, a younger wife—she felt a stab of failure, a gnawing need to prove she was still the better woman. And fuck, it wasn’t just hate. Seeing Marlene’s smug face stirred something primal, a dark, wet heat between her thighs—a craving to crush her rival and reclaim her throne, naked and victorious.
Marlene, 34 now, had her own scars from those five years. She’d been 29 when, with her fitness junkie personality, her CrossFit-honed frame, and her round, densely packed hiker’s ass, she seduced Dave, her 34Ds perky, and her confidence sky-high. Working with Dave at the IT firm, she’d seen Andrea’s shadow looming—his gorgeous, leggy wife—and decided to take him for her own. Hearing about Andrea’s arranged fights, Marlene took her fitness-honed body and a wicked competitive streak and captivated Dave with two incredible showings in two rough catfights. Then, four kids in five years both solidified her breeding fetish, secured her position with Dave, and battered her body, her c-section scar a concealed but ever-present reminder, but she still loved her thick thighs and sculpted ass, honed by squats and riding Dave reverse cowgirl.
Marlene regularly poured herself into tight jeans and leggings, tops that screamed look at me, nipples hard as bullets. Yet Andrea haunted her. That bitch’s taunts—calling her a thief, a slut—echoed in her head from years ago, fueling a hatred so fierce it made her pulse race and her pussy throb. She didn’t just want to beat Andrea; she wanted to break her, to grind her into the dirt and show Dave, Dan, and herself that she was the ultimate woman, the one who fucked better, fought harder, and won.
One day in May, Andrea strode into Starbucks, her 5-inch wedges clicking like a predator’s claws, her sundress hugging her 32Gs so tight her thick nipples jutted out like a challenge. She spotted Marlene at the counter, poured into leggings that clung to her juicy ass, a top straining over her 34Ds, nipples poking through like she owned the place. Andrea’s gut twisted—five years of hate roared up, that smug little tramp who’d fucked her husband and smirked about it. “Well, well, if it isn’t the cocksucking thief,” she purred, voice dripping acid. “Still slurping my leftovers, Marlene? Dave always said you couldn’t suck dick worth a damn compared to me.” Her eyes raked Marlene’s body, loathing every curve, yet her breath hitched—God, she wanted to claw that bitch apart and feel her squirm, to prove Dan’s groans were louder than Dave’s ever were.
Marlene spun, her hazel eyes flashing, lip curling at Andrea’s trophy-wife strut. She’d spent five years hearing Dave mutter about Andrea’s tits in his sleep, and it drove her insane—this hag thought she was still queen? “Oh, Andrea, you dried-up old cow,” she sneered. “Dave couldn’t wait to ditch your saggy ass. I give head so good he forgot your name—bet Dan’s faking it just to shut you up.” She stepped closer, heat radiating between them, her pulse pounding with rage and something darker—a slick, twisted thrill at the thought of pinning Andrea down, making her beg, showing her who really ruled. They stood toe-to-toe, the air crackling, baristas gawking as the women’s glares promised blood.
That same week, Marlene was mid-squat at Lifetime Fitness, her leggings stretched over her thick thighs, ass flexing like a weapon, when Andrea sashayed in. That sundress—thin, slutty, showing off those monstrous 32Gs—made Marlene’s blood boil. Five years of Andrea’s shadow loomed over her marriage, that bitch’s smug beauty a constant taunt. “Look at you, waddling in here like you belong,” Marlene snapped, dropping the barbell with a clang. “Dave said your tits were all you had, and even those couldn’t keep him. I fuck him so hard he can’t walk—bet you’re too old to even get Dan up.” She smirked, nipples hardening through her top, hating Andrea’s poise but feeling a sick rush—imagining slamming her into the mat, grinding her face into defeat, her own pussy slick with the thought.
Andrea laughed, sharp and cruel, tossing her hair. Marlene’s barb stung—five years of rebuilding herself, and this tramp dared question her? “You’re a deluded little gym rat,” she shot back. “Dave worshipped these tits—you think your saggy 34Ds compare? I milk Dan dry every night while you’re panting to keep up.” She stepped closer, their breaths mingling, her body humming with fury and a raw, shameful heat. She hated Marlene’s toned legs, her cocky grin, yet pictured pinning her, ripping those leggings off, proving she was sexier, stronger. The gym hushed, onlookers sensing a storm, as the women’s voices rose, each word a dagger laced with lustful spite.
The women knew they had attracted an audience, but the combination of a shared exhibitionist streaks and overlapping need of each to prove her worth, they did not want to part. “You’re lucky there’s no boxing ring here,” Marlene said angrily. “There’s a trash corral, bitch. I should take you there.”
Andrea was floored, unsure how to respond. But she found her footing fast: “Any time you want it, I’ll give it to you. You’ve got a huge ass and need a huge asswhipping.” The women parted before they came to blows.
Two weeks passed, until one day when Andrea bent to scoop up her grandson at the daycare, her sundress riding up her long legs, 32Gs swaying, when Marlene strutted in—jeans painted on, tank top barely containing her tits. Venom surged in Andrea’s chest; this was the slut who’d wrecked her world, birthed Dave’s brats, and dared to flaunt it. “Picking up your litter, Marlene?” she hissed. “Four kids and you still can’t keep a man—Dave only stayed ‘cause I’d already trained him. Bet your sloppy blowjobs can’t match what I gave him.” Her eyes burned down Marlene’s body, despising every inch, yet her thighs clenched—a dark, pulsing need to dominate her, to make her scream, to show Dan she was the hottest bitch alive.
Marlene’s face twisted, Andrea’s barbs festering like a wound. This prissy hag picking up a grandkid while she juggled sons—she’d show her. “Oh, Andrea, you pathetic grandma,” she spat. “Dave begged for my mouth—said yours was a tired old hole. No wonder you couldn’t keep him; Dan’s probably dreaming of me while you flail.” She closed the gap, their voices low but lethal, her body thrumming with hate and a twisted ache—wanting to claw Andrea’s smug face, to straddle her, to prove she was the queen of sex and fury. Outside, it boiled over: Andrea slapped Marlene—crack!—snarling, “You’re trash!” Marlene slapped back—whack!—“You’re nothing!” They parted, panting, the sting fueling their fire.
The month ended and Andrea got Marlene’s number—from the daycare or the gym, it didn’t matter—and unleashed five years of rage via text. “You’re a filthy slut who’ll never be me,” she typed, nails clicking, replaying every night Dave groaned for her tits. “Dan fucks me senseless while you’re a worn-out broodmare.” She hated Marlene’s existence, yet each message stoked a heat low in her belly—a need to face her, to rip her apart, to see her husband’s eyes widen as she triumphed. Marlene’s replies were instant, vicious: “I suck Dave dry in ways you never could, you saggy bitch. No man wants you.” Five years of Andrea’s shadow drove her mad, and now her fingers flew, her pussy wet with the fantasy of breaking her rival, proving her mouth, her body, her will were superior.
The texts escalated, a digital brawl. “I’ll claw your face off and fuck Dan over your corpse,” Andrea wrote, her breath short. “I’ll kick your cxnt in and make Dave watch,” Marlene fired back, smirking. Five years of hate crystallized into a challenge, their words dripping with sex and violence. Andrea ended it: “Tell Dave to set it up with Dan. I’ll bury you.” Marlene grinned at her screen: “Oh, it’s fucking on, hag.” They didn’t just want to win—they needed to, their hatred a twisted aphrodisiac, a craving to dominate and be adored as the ultimate woman.
The husbands were tasked with setting the details. With their wives frothing to settle their dispute, the call was arranged in short order. The air crackled with tension as Andrea and Marlene eavesdropped on speakerphone, their husbands’ voices tight with lust and bravado. Under the table, Andrea’s manicured hand gripped Dan’s thick cock, her sundress hiked up to her hips, exposing her toned thighs. She stroked him slow and firm, thumb circling his tip until pre-cum glistened, smearing down his shaft. Dan shifted in his chair, hips twitching, his meaty contractor’s frame tensing as he growled, “No rules, Dave. Andrea’s gonna claw her way through—nails to the tits, fists to the face.” Marlene, across town, had Dave’s bulge straining against his slacks, her fingers slipping inside to pump his rigid length, slick with pre-cum dripping onto her palm. Dave’s beefy IT-exec body shuddered, his voice hitching, “Marlene’s a scrapper—kicks to the cxnt, elbows to the jaw.” The women’s hands unknowingly moved in sync, relentless, their hate-fueled lust pushing the men toward the edge.
Dan’s cock throbbed under Andrea’s grip, veins pulsing as she squeezed harder, her wrist flicking with precision, pre-cum oozing over her knuckles. “She’ll rip Marlene’s hair out, stomp her ass flat,” he rasped, picturing his wife’s 32Gs bouncing as she fought. Dave groaned, Marlene’s hand twisting around his shaft, her thumb pressing his slit until he bucked, pre-cum soaking her fingers. “Marlene’ll gouge those saggy tits, knee her belly ‘til she pukes,” he countered, his balls tightening. The women’s strokes quickened, a silent challenge—Andrea’s nails grazing Dan’s sack, Marlene’s grip choking Dave’s base—until the men’s grunts synced, their cocks pulsing in unison. “Reconvene soon,” they gasped together, erupting at the same moment, hot cum spilling over their wives’ hands, the simultaneous release a twisted testament to the stakes. Andrea licked her fingers clean, smirking; Marlene wiped hers on her full lips before licking those DSLs clean, eyes gleaming.
Days later, the second call was a descent into chaos, the wives on their knees, their oral skills now a weapon of war. Andrea peeled off her sundress, 32Gs swaying as she knelt before Dan, her lips wrapping his cock in a wet, tight seal. She sucked hard, tongue swirling his tip, then plunged deep, throat flexing as she took him to the hilt, spit dripping down her chin. Dan’s hands fisted her hair, his voice ragged, “Just let ‘em fight, Dave—Andrea’s gonna punch her tits to pulp.” Marlene, jeans yanked down and her round ass and tight pussy exposed, knelt before Dave, her ass flexing as she devoured his cock—lips sliding slow, then fast, tongue flicking his slit, cheeks hollowing with suction. She gagged herself on him, drool pooling, her 34Ds jiggling as she worked. Dave’s hips jerked, “No rules—Marlene’ll kick her cxnt raw,” he choked out, lost in her throat’s grip.
The men struggled to focus, their wives’ mouths relentless. Andrea bobbed faster, slurping loud, her tongue lashing Dan’s shaft, then teasing his balls, sucking one into her mouth before swallowing his cock again—deep, wet, obscene. “She’ll break her nose, claw her pussy,” Dan panted, thighs trembling. Marlene matched her, lips locked around Dave, sucking so hard her cheeks sank, tongue curling under his tip, then diving down, gagging as his cock hit her throat’s back wall. “Marlene’ll rip her face off, stomp her tits,” Dave groaned, pre-cum coating her tongue. The banter grew wild—Dan gasping, “Andrea’s tougher, she’ll win”; Dave retorting, “Marlene’s meaner, she’ll crush her”—their voices cracking as the women pushed them past reason. Andrea’s throat hummed, Marlene’s slurps echoed, and after ten minutes of filthy boasts, the men roared together, “No limits, just fight!” Their cocks erupted in sync, Andrea gulping Dan’s thick load, Marlene swallowing Dave’s hot spurts, both women pulling back with swollen lips and triumphant smirks. It was settled: a brutal, anything-goes brawl.
The old house in Scottsdale—once Dave and Andrea’s marital nest, now a vacant rental—reeked of wealth and memory as a small, bare room in the back of the sprawling house became a crucible. Andrea and Marlene stripped nude, their bodies glistening with anticipatory sweat under the dim light. Andrea’s 32Gs hung heavy, nipples thick and dark, her toned thighs flexing, c-section scar a faint line low on her belly. Marlene’s 34Ds jiggled with every breath, her ass and thighs rippling with muscle, her own belly scar a jagged echo. The air was thick with their musk—sweat, fury, and a sharp, primal tang of arousal. Dan and Dave stood rigid, cocks straining against their pants, eyes wide with a mix of dread and lust as their wives faced off, voices raw and venomous. “I’ll fucking destroy you, you thieving slut,” Andrea snarled. Marlene spat back, “I’ll break your saggy ass, you washed-up hag.” The fight erupted, a storm of flesh and hate.
Andrea struck first, her right fist rocketing toward Marlene’s face, knuckles slamming into her left cheek with a wet crack, snapping her head sideways. Blood flecked Marlene’s lip, and Andrea hissed, “That’s for stealing my man, bitch!” Marlene stumbled, then roared back, her left fist arcing up to smash Andrea’s jaw—thud—rocking her back on her wedges-toned heels. “You couldn’t keep him, you dried-up whore!” she screamed, lunging with a right knee that thudded into Andrea’s belly, folding her forward with a gasp. The room filled with the stench of sweat, sharp and acrid, as Dan groaned, “Rip her apart, Andrea!” his cock throbbing painfully against his zipper. Dave’s voice rasped, “Kick her cxnt, Marlene!” his erection tenting his slacks, pre-cum darkening the fabric.
Andrea straightened, eyes blazing, and swung her left fist in a brutal hook, catching Marlene’s right tit—smack—flattening it against her ribs, the flesh rippling under the blow. “These pathetic bags are nothing!” she taunted, following with a right kick that slammed into Marlene’s thick thigh, bruising it purple. Marlene yelped, then retaliated, her right hand clawing down Andrea’s chest, nails raking red welts across her 32Gs, blood beading in thin lines. “Fake tits won’t save you!” she sneered, her left foot snapping up to crack against Andrea’s shin, buckling her leg. The men’s breaths hitched—Dan’s hand twitched toward his groin, Dave’s hips jerked—as the women’s bodies collided, sweat flying, their mingled scents of rage and wet heat thickening the air.
Marlene pressed her advantage, grabbing Andrea’s hair with both hands and yanking her head down, driving her right knee up into Andrea’s nose—crunch—blood gushing hot and coppery. “Cry, you old cow!” she spat, then shoved Andrea back, her left fist pounding into her belly—thump—forcing a wheezing grunt. Andrea’s hands flailed, then found purchase, her right fist smashing into Marlene’s left eye—thwack—swelling it instantly. “You’re trash, you slut!” she roared, her left foot stomping Marlene’s instep, grinding down until Marlene howled. The men were statues of agony, Dan’s cock leaking through his pants, Dave’s pulsing with every blow, their voices hoarse: “Harder, Andrea!” “Fuck her up, Marlene!”
The fight spiraled, hate metastasizing. Andrea tackled Marlene, her shoulder slamming into her gut, driving them to the floor in a tangle of limbs. She straddled Marlene’s hips, her right fist crashing into Marlene’s mouth—crack—splitting her lip wider, blood smearing her chin. “I’ll ruin your face, you cxnt!” she screamed, her left hand clawing Marlene’s right tit, twisting until the skin blanched. Marlene bucked, her right elbow smashing into Andrea’s cheek—thud—bruising it purple, then raked her nails down Andrea’s belly, aiming for her pussy, drawing a shriek. “I’ll tear your saggy hole apart!” she snarled, her left knee thrusting up into Andrea’s ass, bruising it deep. The room pulsed with their grunts, the slap of flesh, the men’s tortured moans as their cocks ached, rigid and desperate.
Andrea reared back, her left fist pounding Marlene’s nose again—snap—more blood spraying, then her right knee slamming into Marlene’s belly, flattening it. “You’re nothing!” she hissed, sweat dripping from her tits onto Marlene’s face. But Marlene twisted, her right hand grabbing Andrea’s hair and yanking her sideways, rolling them over. Now atop Andrea, Marlene unleashed a right hook to her jaw—crack—rocking her head, then a left to her right tit—thump—flattening it grotesquely. “I fuck better, I fight better!” she taunted, her thighs clamping Andrea’s hips. Dan’s voice broke, “Get up, Andrea!” as his cock strained, Dave growling, “Finish her, Marlene!” his erection a painful bulge.
The tide turned relentless. Marlene pinned Andrea’s hips, her right fist hammering down into Andrea’s left eye—thwack—blackening it, then her left smashing her nose—crunch—spit and pain pooling in her mouth. “Beg, you bitch!” she screamed, her right knee grinding into Andrea’s belly, bruising it red. Andrea fought back, her right hand clawing Marlene’s face, leaving red streaks, her left fist weakly pounding Marlene’s swaying tit—smack—but the fire was fading. Marlene’s left fist crashed into Andrea’s jaw again—thud—then her right to her belly—thump—over and over, a machine of hate. “You’re done, you hag!” she spat, sweat and rage mixing, her musk overpowering as she dominated.
Andrea’s resistance crumbled, her hands flailing then dropping, limp at her sides. Marlene’s fists kept coming—right to her cheek—crack—left to her tit—thud—right to her belly—thump—each blow a wet, meaty sound, bruising her purple and black. Andrea’s face went slack, eyes half-lidded, spit drooling from her lips as she whimpered, “Stop… please…” her voice a broken sob. Marlene paused, panting, then slammed one final right fist into Andrea’s mouth—crack—knocking a tooth loose, leaving her pleading, “No more… I’m done…” Dan’s face fell, his cock deflating in shame, while Dave’s surged, a large wet spot of precum blooming as he rasped, “That’s my girl.”
Marlene rose, victorious, her body battered but unbowed, blood and sweat streaking her thighs, her 34Ds heaving. Andrea lay sprawled, a wreck of bruises and tears, her 32Gs sagging, her pride shattered. The room stank of defeat, sex, and raw power, the men’s rigid agony replaced by awe and despair.
Marlene remounted Andrea’s hips, her thighs clamped tight, sweat and bruises streaking her victorious body. Andrea lay broken beneath her, a mess of bruises and tears—her left eye blackened, nose swollen, lips split, 32Gs sagging with red welts and purple splotches. Marlene’s 34Ds heaved as she sneered down, her voice a razor of triumph. “Look at you, you saggy old bitch—beaten, pathetic, nothing. I fucked Dave better, I fought you better, and now you’re just a puddle of trash under me.” Dave stood beaming, his chest puffed out, cock straining his shorts as he watched his wife gloat. “She’s the queen, Dan—your girl’s done,” he crowed, voice thick with pride. Dan knelt nearby, gutted, his broad contractor’s frame slumped, eyes hollow as he stared at Andrea’s wreckage, his own erection long gone, replaced by a sick weight in his gut.
Marlene leaned forward, her hands pinning Andrea’s wrists, her ass flexing atop her rival’s hips. “You thought you could take me? I broke you, you washed-up hag. Dave’s mine—always was—and you’re just a memory he jerks off to when I’m not around.” She laughed, cruel and low, her musk—sweat, tears, and wet heat—smothering Andrea’s face. Dave sauntered over, grinning, and Marlene reached up, yanking his shorts down. His cock sprang free, thick and rigid, pre-cum freely beading at the tip. “Watch this, Andrea,” she purred, then wrapped her lips around him, sucking hard. Dave straddled Andrea’s head, his balls swaying over her swollen eyes, as Marlene went to work—slurping loud, gagging intentionally, her tongue swirling his shaft. Drool and spit cascaded from her mouth, soaking Andrea’s swollen face, pooling in her eyes, streaking her cheeks with a humiliating glaze. And yet, she couldn’t look away; the big swaying balls of her ex-husband seen from a view she never imagined, the sounds of his pleasure from someone else’s mouth horrifying captivating.
Dan stared, frozen, as Marlene’s head bobbed, her lips stretching around Dave’s cock, her throat flexing with each deep plunge. She gagged again—glurk—spit dripping deliberately onto Andrea’s battered features, a wet mockery of her defeat. “She’s better than you ever were,” Dave groaned, hips thrusting, his voice a taunt aimed at both losers. Andrea’s breath hitched, the salty tang of Marlene’s drool mixing with the copper of her own blood, her body trembling under the weight of shame. Marlene, smirking around Dave’s shaft, pulled back during one loud, prolonged gag and—hack—spit raining down in thick strands. Dave’s grunts grew frantic, his cock throbbing, and with a bellowing “Fuck yes!” he erupted. His orgasm was massive, ropes of cum blasting into Marlene’s mouth, her cheeks bulging as she let some drool off her full lips—hot, white streaks splattering Andrea’s face, sliding into her mouth.
Andrea smelled it and tasted it—Dave’s cum, her ex-husband’s familiar salt, now a bitter violation delivered by her hated rival. It hit her like a shockwave, and beneath Marlene’s crushing thighs, her soaked pussy clenched. A shudder ripped through her, involuntary and fierce, her hips bucking as a silent orgasm tore her apart—humiliation, hate, and twisted lust colliding. Dan didn’t notice, his head bowed in defeat, his hands limp. Dave didn’t notice, too lost in his shuddering climax, gasping, “That’s my girl.” But Marlene did. Her thighs flexed tighter around Andrea’s hips, a silent I know, her eyes gleaming with sadistic glee as she swallowed the rest, wiping her chin with a smirk.
Dave stepped back, pulling up his shorts, still grinning. “Lock up after you drag your wife out, Dan,” he said, voice casual but cutting. Marlene slid off Andrea, standing tall, her battered body a testament to her win. She glanced down at the whimpering heap, Andrea’s face a smeared canvas of blood, spit, and cum, her pussy glistening beneath her ruined pride. “If this pathetic cow ever dares a rematch, I’ll break her again,” Marlene sneered, then strutted to Dave, her ass swaying. They left, victorious, the door slamming behind them. Dan knelt beside Andrea, muttering, “Come on, baby,” his voice cracked with shame, oblivious to the slick heat between her thighs. Andrea’s soaked pussy pulsed, a dark promise—she’d dare again, driven by hate, by need, by the taste of her own defeat.
