Dear TABSK--Kayla, again, with a belated response, but only because the drama between Haylie and me has gotten so rapid-fire that events were occurring faster than I could catch my breath and write about them. Do you realize how hard it is for two successful women our age to get free time in common and arrange some good old face-to-face, private girltalk?? Well, ....., now that I think about it, y'all are the experts in girltalk, so, ....., ok, you prolly do. Anyways..... my breaking the ice with Haylie by engaging in textfights with her was probably a mistake, in so many ways. It just fanned the flames of her feeling like she's an active part of Philip's life, which is preventing her from moving on and meeting someone new. It allowed her to tell tall tales about how frequently and intensely Philip and her would have sex, even as they were breaking up, making me feel inadequate, and questioning Philip's devotion for me. And her braggadoccio about confrontations she had with rivals for Philip's affections and attention during their long marriage made me, candidly, wonder what I've been missing out on since college. What I mean is, I of course had my share of catfights during high school and college, and would have willingly entered into more as an adult, but the opportunities just seemed to dry up. I guess becoming an avid reader of yours became my outlet. Anyways, earlier this week, one night after a forecasted Midwestern snowstorm fizzled out on us, leaving Philip away on business travel for an extra night, I drove over to Haylie and Philip's fotmer house, now being occupied by just Haylie. I didn't text her ahead of time that I was coming over, I just showed up at the front door and knocked. I had no plan in mind, TABSK.
She answered, dressed in sweats and with her blonde hair down, and I knew right away we were going to fight--both of us dispensed at last with our threats and trashtalk. Or any talk at all, for that matter--the time for talk was long past. She motioned me into the foyer, and she removed her top. I knew right away the she was curious about what Philip was getting his hands on in bed every night instead of Haylie's 38dd's, and my confidence in my 4-year age advantage on her gavd me the confidence to remove my sweatshirt and bra and drop them on Haylie's foyer floor. I could tell by the look of envy in Haylie's body language that I was no rebound divorce-fling for Philip--that I was a formidable rival of hers in it for thd long haul. I felt a shot of confidence through my body, and did not want to delay the Main Event a second longer. I approched my enemy, neither of us dropping eye contact. We were within an inch of each other in height, so our standing bodies met like puzzle pieces. Our hands started pulling on blonde hair and breast flesh, then slapping each others' faces and sides. Our feet remained anchored to the floor, our hips stubbornly staying square and refusing to give an inch of ground, no matter how much pain we were in from the pinching grabbing our chests were sustaining. I kept waiting for our stance to collapse into a clinch or at least a hairpull, and for our bodies to wrap into a catball against the front door or into the floor. But instead we just continued our standing slap/grab duel, the foyer echoing with flesh-on-flesh slapping and pinching sounds. Our faces and breasts changed from winter pale to pink-red, as we filled each others' upper bodies with bruises. Our slaps became harder and our pinches deeper, causing us to occassionally lose balance, but always returning to our original position. We both wanted to catball, but were stubbornly unwilling to admit defeat or even a draw in our slap-/pinch-fight.
As our duel continued, my confidence in my 4-year age advantage on my enemy and rival grew. Haylie's slap and pinches were losing some of their original snap, and the excitement of the fight was causing my runner's high to kick in, giving me fsith in my ability to fight thru the pain stinging most of my body abovd the waist. Haylie was the first of us unable to suppress grunts of pain from each new blow. I had begun the grunt as well, but was only releasing one versus every four from my enemy. Haylie was sweating more heavily than me, and her knees began to wobble. A single punch to the jaw from me would have dropped her instantly, but I wanted the satisfaction of winning a catfight with her, not a streetfight, so I continued working her over for five more minutes. Her attempts to rally failed, and she dropped to the floor in a helpless heap.
TABSK, as long-winded as that story is, it's not the reason I'm writing. It's for what happened next. Once Haylie was defeated, the adrenaline drained from my body, and the pain she had inflicted on my face and chest was center-most in my consciousness. I wanted to retaliate, so I lay her flat on her back, and made her look at my body standing over her. She motioned me down, and I mounted her body, our bodies pressed together from flesh to forehead. We started rocking back and forth, both of our breasts blooming in full arousal. Our mouths found each other and kissed desperately. I released a slow ecstatic orgasm through my entire hips, and continued rocking on Haylie until I felt her body quiver in orgasm as well. We kissed each other warily, and I started to disengage from my mount. I searched for my bra and sweatshirt, and returned to my car.
TABSK, whatever that was that happened post-fight: did I blow whatever edge I had gained on Haylie by defeating her in our catfight? Kayla
Dear Kayla--As with so many of our long-time readers, when you ask a question, you already know the answer. Of course you did, and you need to search for what's really going on, under the surface, between you and Haylie. And usually, the clues to that are in what is unsaid, not what is said. Our guess? The 38dd's you and your rival share that you not-so-subtly dropped into the narrative. I guess we now know what makes Philip's engine purr, right? Haylie's personality sounds toxic, but that's not what drew him to her, now is it? Kayla, we don't tell uou this to be cruel, but Philip hasn't "moved on from Haylie"--he's found Haylie's chest on your (4 years younger) person. Which, by the way, you and Haylie instantly recognized when you lay eyes on each other topless. Glad you won the catfight, but sorry about the aftermath, and the predicament. Before you "make it legal" with Philip, make sure you're prepared for a confusing 25+ years with his ex. Best wishes, TABSK
