My confident (omg, I hope she's not being overly cocky) daughter struts out of my car in her fight jeans, and with her top already removed. It's nighttime, so it's not like I'm overly worried about her large breasts being visible from the road (not that there's much traffic in this walkable community), but this is Florida at nighttime--bugs will swarm [and bite] pretty much any exposed flesh in less than a minute, so I hope Brandi's back (and front) doesn't accumulate bug bites that will distract her during her imminent catfight with Sherry.
Kari and Sherry stand in the backyard as they see Brandi and me approaching. Sherry sees Brandi's implied challenge from her top already being removed, and takes her own t-shirt off over her head and tosses it to the ground. Both daughters' breasts are fully erect without any need for a bra or other support. They are similarly sized.
Both Brandi and Sherry are used to having the sexiest chest in any gathering. Tonight, they will need to share the spotlight, which only sours their already-feisty mood.
Their eyes are locked on each other in pure hate.
Hate at first sight.
Kari breaks the tense silence.
> Well, well. I see you two bitches require no introduction. Pam, can to join me on my lap and watch our two daughters sort things out between them.
> [Oh, good--I was hoping Kari would let me touch her during the fight.] I'd love to, Kari. On the way over, Brandi was quite confident she would fuck your daughter up.
> Oh, is that a fact? Because Sherry was telling me all the things she's been looking to do to Brandi.
> Well, well. I wonder which girl is right.
> As do I.
Kari sits up on the chaisse lounge, and I sit on her lap. Her arms wrap around my breasts, and she kisses the back of my neck. I enjoy how it feels. I guide her hand under my elastic waistband to stroke my bush.
I mske sure to adjust my head so as not to block her view of the start of the fight.
Brandi and Sherry approach, half-warily and half-confidently. They alternate left jabs to each others' face and boobs. The flesh-on-flesh sound is genuine. Both girls are fighting for keeps. They begin trash talking.
> Fuck you, homewrecking slut. I'm knocking you out.
> Fuck you, Sherry. Your punches are nothing. You fight like a girl.
> Oh, you wanna fight like girls? [Sherry reaches out and grabs two fistfuls of Brandi's hair. Brandi resists the urge to reciprocate, keeping her fists clenched, punching Sherry in the face and back. I yell out to her: 'Atta girl, Brandi' Keep it a standup fight. Don't let the bitch take you down.']
Kari's affectionate embrace of my boobs becomes less tender. In fact, it suddenly becomes hostile. She hisses in my ear,
> 'No coaching from the Mom's, bitch. Let the girls sort this out. It's between them.'
> Not so hard, Kari. And I'll coach if I feel like it. We're here to win. I hope your daughter knew that.
> Fuck you, bitch. Get off my lap. I'll deal with you later.
Brandi's hard face punches force Sherry to release her grip on Brandi's hair. The two daughters have resumed their stand-up fist fight.
Kari pushes me down onto the ground off her lap. I want to concentrate on the fight, but momentarily glance at Kari's face.
She not happy with me.
I get spiteful, and yell out to Brandi, 'You go girl. Fuck up the white trash.'
'You're not white trash, Sherry. Fuck her up, then I'll fuck up her Mom.'
My heart sinks. Kari knows I can't fight right now. My left collarbone is mangled.
We discussed this, Kari and I.
Didn't we?
To be continued....