[sinclairfan]

LOVE TRIANGLE

It's 6:45pm in an Irving, Texas McMansion, and there are three bitchy, horny women sitting naked in a McMansion living room sipping white wine.

I'm bitchy because I'm hungry and tired from a long morning drive, and a nightmare Uber ride thru Dallas rush hour traffic that got me here 30 minutes late.

Darlene is bitchy because she spent the afternoon finding out the upstairs of her house has $25,000 of pepper spray damages.  She's a realtor, so a contractor will fix it for cost.  You and me?--we'd pay $40,000 for the same repairs.

Which makes me even bitchier.   Just because she's a realtor??  Lucky tramp.  I want to punch her in the tits for that.

Sierra (God, she's fucking hot) is bitchy because she stood up her boyfriend tonight to watch a catfight, and he dumped her.  She's in the mood for some scorching rebound sex.

Either Darlene or me are going to give it to her.  One or the other.  Not both.

So the anticipation has all 3 of us horny.

Sierra has a couple of (tasteful) tattoos, a statuesque body, even longer blonde hair than when I finger fucked her 2 months ago.

Anyone would want her.  Man or woman.  Boy or girl.  Straight or bi or transgender or gender fluid or whatever new crap they have today.  Any.  One.  Would.  Fuck.  Sierra.  She's pure, walking, talking sex.

Darlene and I want her.  Only one will have her.  She only fucks winners.

I'm late.  But I'm here now.  No point pretending there will be rules.  The vacant dining room has French doors.  Sierra will be watching thru those.  Watching who her rebound sex fuck for the night will be.

I tell Darlene that the sooner we start fighting, the sooner the winner starts fucking Sierra.

I go into the dining room first, and Darlene follows and shuts the doors.  Sierra takes a barstool and pulls it up to the French door to watch.  She's buck naked, and crossing her legs.  

Always the lady.

Nothing ladylike about what's about to happen on the other side of the French doors, in here.

Darlene and I are in each others hair instantly.  I'm going to shred this bitch.  My nails are in her scalp.  Hers are tearing of my hair like I'm in a barber's chair.  Mine move to her back and shoulders and dig deep, like a plow in farmland.  Our tits are touching, hard as 20 year olds.  We go to the floor, tightening our grips.

We roll into the wall, my butt up against it.  Darlene's knees pound my crotch.  The pain is crippling.  I lose my grip on Darlene.  She scrambles to her feet and starts kicking my head and face.  She connects a couple times, then misses, her big toe connecting with the baseboard, her shrieking in pain and swearing.  She turns away, I'm up, and I tackle her.  I reach around and bury my claws into both of her tits.  I twist mercilessly, and tell her in her ear what a no-good lying bitch she is and always has been.  She bends backwards, and slams my head onto the hardwood floor.

She pins me, and goes into ground and pound mode.  But her tits are unprotected, and I start to punch.  I knee her desperately in the back, her butt slides up to my mouth, and I bite her thighs.  Darlene screeches again, leaning forward, and bites my left shoulder.  She reaches backwards and claws my crotch.

I roll, and slam Darlene into the wall.

We both leap up and face each other, hateful stares penetrating each others eyes.

We square up. warily circling, jabbing each others tits.

We're both out of breath.

Neither one is renewing the clinch.

Sierra opens the French doors, holding our white wine glasses.

"Ding, ding.  I think that's round one ladies.  I had it 10-9 Diane for the first use of biting.  But I don't think this one is going to a decision.  I think we'll have a KO soon."

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

FIRST INTERMISSION

Darlene and I instinctively retreat the opposite corners to be tended to by Sierra.  She did the right thing choosing this fight over a boyfriend tonight--no guy is worth missing the epic bitch brawl whispy is underway.  I want to sit, but don't want Darlene to think I'm tired, so I stand while Sierra dabs my shoulder bite wound with napkins and bottled water.  I hiss across at Darlene " I hope you got your rabies shot."  She hisses right back, "Didn't you get yours at your clinic, already, treating your STDs?"  .  And I'm back at her, "Bitch, your STD treatment plan is abstinence."

"Ladies, ladies," interrupts Sierra, "I appreciate the passion.  But save the energy for Round 2.  You're gonna need it."  She continues tending my wound.

I stop, because I know that last one stung Darlene as much as any tit punch I dished out in Round 1.  She's in a slump sexually, and I know why.  Instead of going on a post-divorce sex bender, like any self-respecting middle aged woman (including me; hey, we've all been there), she's fixated on Sierra.  Obviously ran into her one day as part of her realtor job, and was smitten.  Started asking her out, and struck out.  Then along comes me, her high school rival, and already scores an epic mutual finger fuck.  Which Darlene had to watch.  No wonder the bitch is so bitter.

As Sierra wraps up treating my wound, I survey the hair littering the floor.  It's about half-and-half--half is my brown hair, but a solid 50% is Darlene's jet black Portuguese hair.  Good.  During the fight, it felt like I was the only one losing hair.  But I got her good.

Before Sierra leaves me to treat my opponent, she whispers to me:  "Keep doing what you did on that round baby, and I'll give you the best fuck you ever had."  She then leans in, and we tongue kiss for 15 seconds.  I know it was exactly 15--you don't forget a kiss from that girl.

Shit.  I wish I could fuck her right now.

As Sierra walks over to Darlene and treats her thigh bite, I feel the glow of Sierra telling both of us that she thinks I won the first round.  Sierra washes Darlene's thigh, but then stats tease-kissing Darlene's pussy.  If she's trying to make me jealous, it's working.  If she's trying to make Round 2 even more intense, it's working.  If she's trying to turn on Darlene, it's working.  I can see Darlene's tits and nipples at full arousal.  Note to self:  target those things early in Round 2.

My cardio is back--I'm ready to start Round 2.  But Sierra is continuing to towel off Darlene.  I always wondered why Lisa and Sandy, when they had their high school catfight, did it in front of us classmates instead of in front of their mutual boyfriend's.  Was it because if you do it in front of the 3rd person in the triangle, that the cattiness and viciousness takes over, like is happening with Darlene and me? 

I could kill that bitch right now, no lie.  Even my worst biker chick fight wasn't like this--no matter how close and dirty the fight had been, no matter how long the feud, when it was over, the winner would get in maybe one last hit, or kick, but then would walk away.  I have no desire to walk away from Darlene.  I want to destroy her body, steal everything I can grab in her house, destroy her reputation on Facebook....

And steal Sierra from her.  Especially that one.  I want Sierra.  And want to block Darlene from having Sierra.

Sierra is whispering something in Darlene's ear.

She leaves thru the French doors, saying,  "Ding, ding.  Round 2."

To be continued......

[Wilts1755]

Has the second part of this story been written, if so what title is it under? Can't wait for this to come to a finish... Maybe it is in "Deadskirts.com"  for the ultimate end, a final round catball fight with the winner taking Sierra and  fucking each other over her body.

[sinclairfan]

ROUND 2, DIANE VS DARLENE

Darlene's tits are bigger and harder than I've ever seen them, aroused from the between-rounds kissing with Sierra.  I come to the center of the dining room with my fists cocked, jabbing at Darlene's breasts with precise, controlled swings.  The flesh-on-flesh "thwap" when I connect directly thrills my senses, as does the woman-to-woman violence of a standup fistfight.  At first my slight reach and height advantage gives me a 3-to-1 edge in landed punches, but after a couple of minutes, Darlene gets the measure of me and reverses the ratio to 3-to-1 in her favor.  I struggle to suppress painful groans, but Darlene's face shows satisfaction at her success at inflicting pain to my body.

I drop my fists to block or at least deflect Darlene's blows, but Darlene surprises me by uppercutting my jaw, causing me to bite my tongue and taste iron in my mouth.  Shit--that's why some bikerchick fistfighers wore mouthguards.   I jab at Darlene's face, wanting to rearrange it.  We stare hatred into each others' eye which speaks volumes.

We both miss with a pair of face punches snd come together in a clinch.  I notice how sweaty we each are, and how aroused my flesh is sexually.  Darlene and I pull each other together to maximize body contact.  I feel flattered that a bi woman is getting aroused at contact with my body.  The building sexual dimension of the confrontation between Diane and me is becoming ever more evident--the jealousy and rivalry in the 1983 version of ourselves has re-emerged, while the confidence and insecurities of our 2016 selves is stoked by the presence of Sierra.

Our clinch becomes a drunken, stumbling bearhug, as we wrap our arms ever tighter around one another.  We bang into the wall, trying to drive each others' shoulders or collarbones into the hard surface.  We sense each others' hands moving down our backs, grabbing each others' butt cheeks.  Darlene's ass is hard is rock--shit, is there a workout exercise that achieves that effect?

We begin pushing our crotches together, trading places against the wall to maintain our balance and footing.  Much of the motion is clumsy fumbling, but there are moments when our pussy lips lock together like   puzzle pieces.  Those moments are pure, transcendant, raw hatred.  We begin hissing into each others' faces.

Bitch.

cxnt.

I win all our fucking fights.

I'm winning this one.

Fuck you, how are you winning.

Your mouth is bleeding, slut.  Now you can't kiss Sierra.

Shit, Darlene is right.  I notice blood smeared on Darlene's cheek, which came from my mouth.  I pull my upper body away from her, but am reluctant to release our leg lock.  Darlene releases a moan, the type a woman only emits in a sexual context.  I'm flattered again--but is she moaning from our pussies rubbing, or because she drew blood from me--there's a big difference, and I have a sudden need to know the answer.  Without thinking, I thrust my hip into hers and demand,

"You like that, baby?"

I mean it as a factual question, as in, "Are you turned on by me, or by hurting me?"  But, in the heat of the moment, it sounds like an attempt at foreplay.  Which it wasn't.  Darlene seizes me by hair, my blood congealing on her cheek, and hisses at me, "I don't know what your game is, you sick fucking cxnt, if this is a fight, then fucking fight me."

She then pushes me away and yells to Sierra, "Can you come in here and make sure the bitch didn't lose a fucking tooth?", and retreats to her corner.

Sierra hustles into the room with towels, water, and a spit bucket, asking me to rinse my mouth do she can get a good view into it, purring something about, "This battle is so good, we want it to last as long as possible."  But my head is struggling to process the strange turn of events.  My lifelong sexual insecurities, or, actually, confusion, dominate my senses.  Were Darlene and I acting out sexually, mutually, when our crotches were rubbing?  Why did she let it go on so long if she didn't like it?  Why did she get angry so suddenly?  I want to ask Sierra--but, did she even notice?  Why isn't she saying anything now?  I want to talk, but Sierra is holding my mouth open and looking into it.  She tells me, "Those were some vicious punches--let me make sure no teeth came flying out?"  Wait--we were landing vicious punches on each other?  Or just Darlene's were vicious?  And why isn't Sierra saying who won that round--is it obvious I lost?

I feel out of sorts.  Should I?  Or is Darlene just playing with my head? 

Sierra kisses me, and everything feels better.  Will everything feel better with my life if I can have a girl like her, everyday?

Is that why I tracked down Darlene to fight her after all these years:  to feel better about my life?

I watch Darlene and Sierra kissing in the far corner.  Is Sierra hoping Darlene will win so she can fight a genuine bi woman instead of me? 

I can't wait for Round 3 to start.

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

ROUND 3

Darlene has me confused as hell.  When I bit her earlier in the fight, she didn't even comment.  But when I rubbed up against her a certain way, she got all offended; pissed off, even.  I don't get it.  I don't get her.  I think back to 1983, when Darlene and I were seniors in high school.  There was always something "off" between us.  We couldn't even say hello to each other like normal people.  Maybe a fight back then would have cleared the air--maybe we would actually have been friends, or at least normal neighbors, after that.

There's no chance of that now.  There's someone witnessing our fight.  Is that why Lisa and Sandy wanted witnesses for their fight in 1983?  How humiliating for Sandy to lose a fight in front of 30 girls from her high school class.  I'm sure Lisa and Sandy were never friends again after that fight--never sgain double-dated and swapped with, or got swapped by, the older men they dated. 

Darlene says she wants to "really fight".  Lisa vs Sandy--that was a real girlfight.  It was streetfight/catfight style--both girls trying to control the other by the hair, then landing a rapid succession of punches and uppercuts to the face.  I've never been a fan of that fighting style--too many thrown punches end up being useless punches to the top or side of the head.  Maybe I should get Darlene into a hairpull, curl up like a hedgehog, and let her wear herself out punching me.

"Round three, bitches.  Ding, ding," says a gleeful Sierra, closing the door behind her.  Shit, her body, her smile are distracting.  The thought of 20 years of sex with her--dayum.

Darlene and I approach each other warily.  We enter into a hairpull.  I begin to sonder if this is a mistake--Darlene's hair is thicker, but mine is longer.  I remember this being a source of jealousy between us in the 1980s.  I was jealous of the thickness and color of her black hair.  She never grew it past her shoulders, though; I assume because it started to curl up and frizz out after that.  Which is why my long, feathered, straight hair must have driven her crazy, even though it was a nondescript light brown color.  I didn't enhance its color any--18 year old girls didn't really do that in 1983--we allocated our haircare budget to feathering and sculpting.  Girls who had a distinct natural color, like Darlene, had an advantage in dating.

I know each others' hair are on our minds now, as we waltz around the room, tugging and twisting mercilessly.  I'm at maximum horniness, between Sierra's mischievous smile, and pulling at the part of Darlene's body I've obsessed at most over the years.

Girls who are enemies usually obsess over each others' breasts.  Maybe if I had been more obsessed with Darlene's breasts, or she with mine, that 1983 fight would have happened.  Maybe I would have knocked on her door, or she on mine, one day after school, before our parents got home.  Bring alone in a house, we could have done a "I'll show you yours if you show me mine", like I did with the quiet boy in the adjacent cul de sac, when he wanted to see real breasts and I wanted to see a real penis.  Our sex with each other was so innocent, wd were mostly with each other to see each others' bodies.

If Darlene and I were obsessed with bressts instead of hair, we would have started arguing about whose was nicer.  Is that why Lisa's and Sandy's swapping arrangement fell apart?  Did their boyfriends compare each others' breasts after they had each seen and felt both of them? 

With Darlene and I bending each other over by the hair, I swing an uppercut at her left breast.  She crumples tl her knees on the floor, pulling me down.  We are in a fully tangled catball on the floor, desperately trying to stay on top. 

This is what most of Lisa and Sandy's catfight was--a tangled, grabbing, rolling cstball on the ground.  I feel a desperation, a creeping fear, not to let Darlene get on top of me.  I long to release my horniness into a long climactic orgasm, but fear Darlene will take advantage and beat me to a pulp.  As I would do to her right now, if presented the opportunity.

The contrasting temptations, between accepting pleasure and inflicting pain, are surreal.

At long last, Darlene are having an 18 year old girl girlfight.

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

MOUNTING DARLENE

Ok, so let me tell you something I learned that night about fighting a girl on the ground.  Maybe some of you who have watched or even been in lots of chickfights already know this, but I difn't realize it until Round Three of my second fight with Darlene.  Here it is, my pearl of girlfight wisdom:

As undignified as it is to be under a girl in a catfight that's gone to the ground, it's even more difficult, bordering impossible, to be ladylike when you're mounting a girl who you've got an advantage on but who still has fight in her.  What I mean is, the posture you inevitably assume is one you only assume in two other circumstances in life--when you've dropped something very small and get on all fours to look for it, or when you're about to receive a cock for doggie-style sex.  And unless the dropped object is damned valuable, or the guy owning the cock is damned desirable, no self-respecting woman ever "assumes the position" more times than she needs to in life.

I think back to the 1983 Lisa-Sandy high school catfight.  All of us girls looked up to how "glamorous" and "mature" Lisa and Sandy were for dating older men with trucks and jobs, then for swapping boyfriends.  We were also mesmerized by the site of them rolling on the ground, mounting each other and landing punches.  I now realize why.  It wasn't the punching--it was the mounting.  Mounting a girl in the on-all-fours posture, with 20-30 girls watching.  It was--sexy.  Sexy as fuck.  That's why I went straight home and masturbated after that fight.

I'm now fighting Darlene like that.  She mounts me, and I buck her off.  I mount her, and attempt to stay on top, all while landing punches to her face.  I alternate between the doggie style position and the upright riding position.  Sierra is watching us.  Is she getting as turned on as I did watching the Lisa-Sandy fight?  Is that why she likes watching girlfights?

Darlene is getting angry at spending more time under me than on top.  Shit, I love being on top of Darlene.  I feel better than her, sexier than her, more of a woman than her.  We dig our nails into each others' flesh and twist.  Hard.  We punch at faces, breasts, and bellies.  I grind into Darlene with my hips.  We screech in pain at the clawing and scratching.

Dsrlene mounts me and retaliates.  She grabs my hair and attempts to slam my head into the floor.  She attempts to mount my face.  Her pussy is soaked.  I grab it and twist, sending her to her feet.  I motion for her to catfight me on the ground.  She retreats to her corner.

Sierra comes into the room.  "Round three to Diane.  2 to 1 Diane.  Can Darlene respond?"

Shit, that was fun.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

ROUND FOUR

The only round of our catfight--both of our catfights, now that I think about it--that Darlene was able to hold her own with me was when we were having a standup bare-knuckle boxing match.  A cheezy cardio-kickboxing workout course wouldn't have given her, I don't think, the striking and footwork skills thst nearly cost me a molar a few minutes ago.  As we face off in the middle of the room exchsnging jabs, I decide to probe her for the source of her pugilistic expertise.

>  Where'd you learn to punch like that, Rocky?

>  Where'd you learn to bite like that, bitch?

>  Ha ha, loser.  I'm doing a lot more than biting you.

>  Not really.  When you called me on the phone, did you say, 'Wanna fight?', or 'Wanna bite?'.  I think maybe the line was a little static-y.

>  I'm flattered that call meant so much that remember it so clearly.

>  I'm flattered you spent weeks on the internet searching for me.

>  <<<<<Darlene has landed three times the breast-jabs I have, turning both of my boobs bright pink.  Shit, she's a good boxer.  I try and maintain my composure.>>>>  Darlene, fuck you.  At least I'm woman enough to start a fight with you.  You fucking freeze me out and bully me in Massachusetts for seven years but don't have the guts to let me fight you.  That's fucking bullshit.

> <<<<Our punches move up to our faces now.>>>>>  You knew where I loved, pussy.  You never knocked.

>  <<<<<Darlene and I are punching more, and talking less.  But not because we don't have anything to say.  Just the opposite--we're finally getting to the core of our relationship....how it went so wrong.>>>>>   Sure.  Make me the bad girl.  I bet you would have loved that.  Mommy mommy, the bad girl next door came over and punched me.

>  Fuck you, Diane.  You knew we needed to fight.  You knew that was my turf, and you needed to earn your place.  Admit it.  You were afraid to try me.

> <<<<<As Darlene and I trade jabs, I begin to wonder if Darlene is right.  She was daring me to come at her--but did I know it at the time?  Did I know it in 1983?  Was our miscommunication because we were incompatible--or were we totally understanding each other perfectly clearly?  Was she baiting me the whole time, and I just didn't take the bait?>>>>> Convenient rationalization, slut. 

> <<<<Darlene and I clinch, digging our nails into each others' shoulder blades, twisting and clawing flesh from bone.>>>>  I would have fucking destroyed you, Diane.

>  Bull-fucking-shit, Darlene.  I fucking hated you.

> I hated you worse.

> <<<<<We drive knees into each others' crotches from point-blank ranges, our bodies knotted together like ivy.>>>>

> I've tought about kicking your ass everday since 1983 Diane.

> Now's your chance bitch.

We struggle desperately, alternately clawing at fleshy, then taut, flesh, probing at which causes more pain.  Without warning, Darlene sinks her teeth into my left breast.  I swoon, and Darlene shoves me, the back of my head striking the chair rail.  I sense a warm stream down my back.

Sierra dashes into the room.

"Shit, head contusion.  Darlene, neutral corner!"

..........

I wake up 60 seconds later.  Sierra is cupping my cheeks.

"Whattaya say, sport?  Had enough?.....Diane?.....Diane?"

"Let me at her."

To be continued......

"