[sinclairfan]

Kristy vs Robin

As Robin and I squared off and started warily throwing left jabs at each other, some at the face and others at each others' bare chests (the chest punches hurting much, much worse, to my surprise and dismay), I could see Britney on the sectional couch digging her hand deep under her pants and pleasuring herself.  The scene in front of her was ticking off a Triple Cown of items of her wishlist:  catfighting, mate-stealing, territoriality.  And she may even have been as surprised as I was at how kindly the 1990s had treated Robin's physique.
I waited for our fight to degenerate into a catball brawl on the floor, as Britney's foyer-showdown with her boyfriend's ex eventually did--but everytime I moved in for the takedown, I had visions of Britney landing on top of her rival and reaching straight for her enemy's chest, and was reminded how exposed I would be in such a position to Robin's claws--so I settled for a punch, which was blocked by Robin's clenched hands.  I had three options of where to engage my evenly-matched enemy:  the open floor, the wall to our right, or the sectional to our left which was doubling as our only witness's masturbating surface.
Britney was deep into her pre-climax groans that I had come to know so well during our weeks of phone sex sessions.  What she was seeing was definitely "doing it for her", which I took as validation of the intensity of our fist fight.  Robin's flesh and bones with making an all-too-real cracking-slapping sound as it collided with mine, and the presence of genuine violence echoed lingered in the low-ceilinged living room, accompanied by the intensifying rain pounding on the walls just outside of us.  Robin and I started bresthing heavily, and not wanting to concede increasing fatigue is all the made me resist the temptation to grab ahold of Robin's shiny black hair and tugging with all my might.  In all three of our 1980s aborted battles, Robin's hair was in clumps under my nails by this point in our fight, but this battle till now was pure bareknuckles boxing.  The knuckles in the description was apt, and I could feel them swelling from the strain of repeatedly colliding with Robin's cheeks, wrists, and ribs.  They needed a break, so I began kicking at Robin's shins and knees with my feet, which she answered with high kicks straight at my pussy.
I answered by dropping my fists and punching her where I had just been kicked, and she upped the ante even more by grabbing and pulling me down there, daring we with her eyes to match or raise her.
"So....we're gonna do THIS, Robin?"
"I've wanted to for 13 years, Kristy."
"Now's your chance.  Go for it, bitch."
Robin and I latched onto each others' head, grabbing hair from the back, with one hand, and onto each others' pussy with the other, scratching and pulling as hard as we could.  Our breasts, not content with a role as passive spectactators, pressed together hard into each other.  I felt full complete sensory overload, as every pain and pleasure receptor in my body pulled into full overdrive.
Our faces pressed together.
"I've hated you since high school, bitch."
"You were too afraid to fight me so you fought Cindy instead."
"I wanted to fight you everyday, you just never left your house."
"Then you shoulda come into my house, pussy, like I did now."
"You waited for me to break Cindy before you fought her."
"She picked you first becuase she thought you were weaker."
"She thought wrong."
"Show me, bitch."
Our hands released from the back of each others' heads, and started raking, grabbing, pulling, slapping, and eventually punching each others' bare breasts.  We suppressed our muffled grunts, so Britney's climactic groans were audible in the room, as she came multiple times from pleasuring herself to the sight of the standup catfight in full view in front of her. 
"Your girl likes seeing you get hurt, Kristy."
[Sssooo....if Robin and Britney talked beforehand, Britney said I was her girl.  I'm flattered.]
"She's looking forward to making love with me afterwards."
"She must enjoy dominating you."
"You think you're winning this fight?"
"I think you're more tired."
"Is that how you beat Cindy?  Waited for her to get tired?"
"She was tired from me hitting her."
"Then you've lost a step--you haven't hurt me yet."
"That's exactly what SHE said 20 minutes into our fight."
Had we been fighting 20 minutes already?  Was I playing into Robin's hands?  Her fight with Cindy was the stuff of playground legend because of its length.  Was I in more danger of losing the longer this went on?

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

"Do you have Foxy Boxing gloves?"

Desperate to find a way to put Robin on her back, but with my knuckles in excruciating pain from the toll of hitting her several times already (and the damp weather outside), I back of from my clinch with my opponent, and blurt out to our only spectator, "Britney, do you have any spare Foxy Boxing gloves that we can use?"  My history with Britney so far is to just blurt out what's on my mind and hope for the best, and this time the outcome is about as favorable as it's been so far.  The sensuous blonde responds, "I've got a whole set, from oversized to 2-ounces.  But if I run out to my car, you vixens won't kill each other, now will you?  I'd hate to miss the show."

Robin and I face off 8 feet or so apart and inspect each others' battered bodies.  The scratches, cuts, and bruises are to numerous to count.  Britney isn't exaggerating, though--if given the chance, I still want to hurt Robin far worse.  The question that brought us here today still lingers in the air like the fog and rain outside:  "Who would win a fight between Kristy and Robin?".  The answer could still go either way.

I want to offer to go out to the car with Britney, but it will take forever to put my clothes back on, only to take them right back off again.  Robin senses my indecision, and offers a solution:  "I'll go upstairs and wash up.  Call me when you girls are ready."  She then toddles upstairs, her slow movement betraying the pain traversing her limbs and core.

Britney and I are finally alone, and I crave affirmation from her.

Brit, how'm I doing?  Who's winning the fight?

Kristy, this fight ... is... ssssooo ... awesome.  I can't even tell you.

[I get a lump in the pit of my stomach.  Is she here to see me win?  Or just to be entertained by a close fight?]

Thx, Brit, but .... Brit, I didn't knock her down .... I want to hurt her so bad .....

[I'm either talking too loud, or Robin's house has porous walls and floors, because she shouts from upstairs...]:  Knock me down, bitch?  Good one.

[Britney glares at me]:  No trash talk!!  How can I go out to my car if you two are gonna get into it again??

[Robin calls down again from upstairs]:  If you're gonna go out to your cat, you better hurry Blondie.  I'm cummin' down soon to finish off Kristy.

Britney grabs her keys, and braves the puddles and downpour and pops her trunk.  She runs back in with a bulky leather satchel and puts it on the floor of the den.  Inside are about a dozen sets of bright red and pink Foxy Boxing gloves, from oversized to a small set thst look like golf gloves.  The oversized one are obviously for bouts less serious than mine and Robin's, so we wordlessly toss them aside.  I'm drown to the miniature gloves.

"What are these for?"

"I LLLOOOVVVE these.  But, Kristy, you cannot mess around if you use these.  You're gonna hafta be more active than Robin--these are for Foxy Boxing bachelor parties where the guys want .... results.  You know, where the guys are ex-military or law enforcement and are used to seeing beat up bodies   Kristy, you can't believe what this does to someone's face if you land a blow with this."

"Put it on me."  I know immediately that Robin and I will be fighting in these.

Britney and I face each other, and she squeezes the tiny glove onto my hand.  "Don't tell anyone, but these aren't legal."  That remark causes me to look up into Britney's eyes.  We both see in each other the look we get when we're aroused. 

I realize that I haven't kissed Britney yet.  Robin beat me to that.  But I can't resist any longer.  I move in, wishing my mouth was less dry.  Our kiss is slower than I was expecting, but I stay with it.  We allow our lips to feel each others' contours, our noses breathing into each other.  I pull our bodies close, craving as much contact between us as possible.  Our tongues press together. 

"I love watching you fight so much," she practically purrs.

"I love that it turns you on.  I got so jealous when you kissed Robin earlier."

"I let her do it so you two would fight harder, I can't help myself when two girls are about to fight."

"We woulda fought anyways."

"I know.  I love how you fight, I love how you kiss."

"Then tell her that."

Britney and my introdoctory kiss has morphed into making out on the couch.  I think back to the aftermath of my high school catfight with Cindy, wanting nothing more than to curl up with someone in bed, to satiate my arousal from the excitement of the fight.

But this fight isn't over, and now that we've broken out the two-ounce gloves, it's barely begun. 

Robin hears that it's gotten quiet in the den, and has descended the stairs.

"I'm gonna steal your girl, Kristy.  Got a pair of 2-oz glovesz for me?"

"Of course," answrs Britney, holding up Robin's pair.

"Then lace 'em up.  Let's go, bitch."

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

Kristy vs Robin

As Robin sits on the couch and faces Britney to allow Brit to lace up her 2-ounce rawhide gloves, the two pause freqently to tongue kiss.  Deep, real deep.  My same sex experiences to date have all been with other strippers, but have all been afterthoughts.  Afterthoughts in the pursuit of the experience, but afterthoughts in my tactics.  I never tried to express my feelings for my same sex partner, either in words or body language.  Robin and Britney are speaking with their lips, with their eyes, with their sighs, even though they just met.  My phone calls with Brit have been all about me getting off.  Would we have kissed before this afternoon if I had thought of someone besides myself? 
How long has Robin had same sex attraction?  Is that why she chose the all-girls Catholic high school over the co-ed options Cindy and I elected.  I remember being so excited at my high school, finding out a boy I liked had a public school girlfriend-- I fantasized about my public school rival finding she had private school competition, and us meeting in the parking lot of Shoppers World or Natick Mall to have it out with each other.  What if instead I went to all-girls Marian, frustrated by the complete lack of any male classmates, working on my girl-on-girl make out skills before I deveoped my bad relationships habits.  Is that where, and when, Robin learned to kiss how she's kissing now?  Did Robin go to bed alone the night after her fight with Cindy, like I did?  Or were one of the fight witnesses there to tuck her in and caress her to sleep, like I craved so bad the night after my fight?
I want to resume my fight with Robin, but don't want to betray my jealousy of her kissing with Britney.  I try to turn the tables on Robin.
>  Wish you had a girl like that Robin?
>  Who says I don't?
>  If you do, aren't you steppin' out on her now by kissing Britney?
>  Not that it's any of your beeswax, but ...... she's overseas.  Military.  We allow kissing when we're apart.
>  If you can be with others, why bother being a couple??
>  Because of how ...  mind-blowing .... the reunion sex is.
>  Pfft.  I doubt it.
>  Pfft all you want.  And, ..... no offense, Britney ..... she's the same age as me.  So there's a mental connection, not just physical.
>  Military, huh?  You gonna kill me with some secret choke hold??
>  Don'tchya think I woulda done that by now sweetie?  Nah, I'm gonna lay ya out, the old fashioned way.  Then have some fun with your girl.  She seems frisky.

Robin and Britney kiss more passionately than before.  Britney looks so mature in her straight hair.  Robin looks up at my slyly.

> By the way, you know my girlfriend.  It's Cindy.  I'm kicking your ass not just for me.  But for her, too.  Revenge.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

Kristy vs Robin

So, Robin and Cindy are a couple?  When did they first get together?  A few years ago?  After high school?  During high school?  Shortly after their high school fight?

When Cindy came into my backyard the afternoon in high school that she and I fought, she was angry about rumors of me being interested in a particular public high school boy.  Cindy's anger on that topic completely confused me, because the boy in question was known to be dating a public school girl in his same school.  I knew several of the public school girls' faces or names, but rarely the two together, so I remembered figuring out who she was, first connecting the face with the name (Anne) at a party, where I saw Anne sitting in the boy's lap.  When I saw the girl, something about her (her hair?  her build?  her attitude?) made me want to fight her, so I allowed rumors to be spread that I was interested in the boy.  I was hoping Anne would confront me about my interest, but instead it was Cindy who did the confronting.  How had the rumors made their way to our cul-de-sac.  Had Robin spread them?  Were Robin and Cindy already on the road to "making up" from their fight on the Pop Warner football field by "making out"?

Before the confrontation, and fight, with Cindy over the boy, I had been masturbating for weeks to fantasies of Anne and I coming to blows over the boy.  Should I confront Anne first, and then kiss him, or the reverse?  Should I call Anne on the phone?  meet her outside her school?  outside her house?  Had Cindy considered all her options in confronting me?  had she barrelled into my yard impulsively?  had she been masturbating to the thought for weeks?  Did Anne ever find out that two other girls had fought over a boy she was dating?  did the boy ever find?  was he impressed I won, or did he think the whole drama was pathetic?  If the rumor came from Robin, was she hoping Cindy would kick my ass?  that I would kick Cindy's ass?  or just get off to the fight happening?

Cindy's impulsivity that 1984 afternoon inspires me now in 1997.  I interrupt Robin and Britney's kissing and go straight at Robin.  I can't clutch or scratch her, since I'm wearing 2-oz gloves, so in no time we're in a scrum on the floor, exchanging leg-locks and desperately trying to get on top.  We line up each others' faces with haymaker right crosses.  The rawhide gloves rugburn and slice our flesh, and both of us within a minute are inflicting more damage on each other than we did in the entire first half hour of what had been a standup catfight.  Our brawl on the floor is desperate and chaotic, knees and feet looking for targets to connect to, even as long snake around hips and faces.  The tight 2-oz gloves frustrate me, preventing my fingers from extending to tear at Robin's hair or gouge her eyes.  Instead, I swing with crosses and Foxy Boxing-style backhands.  Our flesh breaks out in pool of sweat, the humidity from outside permeating the room.  The pentup sexual tension from watching Britney kiss explodes in a physical release. 

Robin snake our legs into a mutual side-by-side 69 position on the floor, a position that is my favorite one sexually.  I bury my face into Robin's jet black-haired bush and smell and feel for the first time how aroused she is.  Is it from fighting me, from kissing Britney, or missing Cindy?  I feel Robin's tongue on my inner thighs.  I open her legs to offer her even more of me, which she eagerly accepts.

I want to continue fighting, but give in to the irresistable sexual arousal.  I cum in waves.  Robin does so, not as quickly as me, but even more intensely. 

And we resume fighting, as if nothing just happened.  We attack with our gloved fists the area each others' body we had just pleasured second earlier.  Which seems to heighten the pain setting in.  And the anger I now release.

Robin stops fighting back.  Britney pulls me off of her.  My body feels gross, covered with sweat and blood.  I let Britney remove my 2-oz gloves, and wash cloth me off.  I allow her to dress me.  We run out, in the rain to her car.

I collapse in exhaustion, stretched out on the backseat as the car speeds away.

I fall asleep, dead tired. 

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

Kristy vs Robin aftermath and conclusion

I wish I could tell you that the 2 weeks of Britney tending to me in my aprtment in the aftermath of my catfight with Robin was a cavalcade of us exploring each others' bodies.  Sadly, the banality of real life (keeping me fed, keeping my place stocked and cleaned) interfered, and we consoled ourselves with reliving the Kristy-Cindy-Anne-mystery-boy 1984 love rectangle.  The only fight that hadn't happened now from that sosp opera was me versus Anne, the one public school student from that senior year of high school.  Anne and I actually did come nose-to-nose for 20 seconds that summer--in Walpole Center one late night for their 4th of July fireworks.  We were with each others' pack of girl gangs, one from Xaverian and the other from Walpole High School, and were each weighing to avoid each other, or come eye to eye and incite an inevitable girlfight.  The confrontation, when it came, was so packed with tension that we couldn't even hold each others' stare.  Anne had no doubt heard by now of my defeat of Cindy, and knew that she and I were now Last-Girls-Standing in the long rivalry of the boy juggling girlfriends across for different Eastern Massachusetts high schools.  Anne and I were close enough to smell each others' breath, and we were both wearing fight clothes so had clearly come for a battle, but the cops roaming the crowd noticed our pre-fight stand off posture, and separated us quickly.

I assumed Anne and I would fight later that summer.  But her parents moved her out of state to go to college.  Britney and I looked for her online the Summer of 1997, but her internet trail went dry in 1989.  I've looked other times since, but am starting to doubt that in 2020 she's even still alive.

So Britney and I masturbated to how that fight would have gone.

Shortly after my 1997 catfight with Robin, my stepmom began her final illness.  I hadn't seen her since 1995, when I took her to lunch at Shoppers' World in Framingham.  The layout was completely open now, the exact opposite of 1984, when packs of Xaverian girls went looking for catfights.  Were we the reason the floor plan was opened up?  At the 1995 lunch, I told her about my fight with Cindy, and the rumored and anticipated showdown with Robin.  She said she knew about all that in 1984, and said she worried about it constantly, since she thought Robin and I would be a brutal and bloody brawl, and knew how much we always hated each other.  In 1997, I told her Robin and I finally had it out, and it was as brutal as my stepmom had feared.

Tammy, let Debbie be your Robin, not your Anne.  Don't regret never fighting her to the finish.

Kristy

Dear Kristy--quite the tale, Kristy;  a million thank you for sharing.  (Btw--are you out there, Anne?  Let us know where you are!)  And, yes, we see parallels in your situation and Tammy's--the kissing, the suspicion of something going on, the simmering hatreds.  The ball is squarely in Tammy's court.  TABSK

[sinclairfan]

Dear TABSK--Tammy, again.  I wanted to thank Kristy for reaching out, and, then, opening up about her experiences.  I had been wondering what about my experience with Debbie she identified with, and then it hit me when she described seeing her enemy Robin kissing her friend Britney.  The helplessness I've felt, knowing Debbie kissed my husband, is even worse than if they had had an affair.  Like Kristy's affair with Britney, that would have spent itself, crowded out by the mundane day-to-day boredom of living together, even if just for hours at a time.  But the memory of furtive kissing is something that can be relived in the mind, almost on demand.  My husband ultimately said "No" to Debbie, but their mouths were saying "Yes" during their kissing more emphatically than any words ever can.  My frustration at that is still eating at me.  More on that in a minute.
Just let me quickly say, somewhat off-topic, that Kristy's fireworks night confrontation with Anne took me down memory lane.  In the pre-Facebook era, getting a good look at your out-of-town rival was always an exciting thrillride.  Is she prettier than me?  The same?  Worse?  Not to mention--needing to do so without locking eyes, which risked sparking a catfight in a sub-optimal setting or in place where her friends outnumbered yours.  Yes, having tensions so high that just making eye contact would start the fists and fur flying--that was what high school rivalries were all about.  Uoung people today will never quite get to experience that thrill in quite the same way.  Thank you for the reminder, Kristy.
Now, back to business.  Debbie.  She and I have taken the gloves off, and ended our friendship.  But we've not tested our womanhood.  She and I can only do that the way Kristy and Robin did--with one witness.  My husband.  I had been wanting to keep him out of this, but now realize I can't.  He was at first reluctant, but I'm working on him.  I'll get him there. 
And then I'll get Debbie here.
I know what I need to do.
Tammy

Dear Tammy--Glad our advice, and that of one of our readers, brought some clarity.  TABSK

[snw]

It may not be in cards but I can’t help but think about Tammy setting up a fight with Debbie like she intends to it seems while making sure her husband watches. Then proceeds to be totally overwhelmed by her ex friend. I really enjoyed reading the Kristy and Robin fight. Can’t deny I was pulling for Robin but awesome fight with the presence of Britney to spice it up. I love when fights have a spectator who is involved with one or both fighters. Makes the reward readily available for their reward not to mention they get a chance to show the S.O. who exactly is the better woman. Can’t wait for more.

[sinclairfan]

Dear TABSK--It's me again, Tammy.  I took things to the limit--a beyond, even--with my frenemy Debbie.  Or at least I hope you'll agree I went about as far out there as I could imagine.  That was my only plan, really--take things to the limit with Debbie, come what may.  She and I havr been holding back with each other for 30 years.  I decided to end that now.  Have it out with that bitch Debbie, in the most intense way imaginable.  Here's how it all went down.
One night, in bed with my husband, I confessed to him I had driven to Debbie's house and had an inconclusive skirmish.  I told him that in exchange for my impulsiveness, he had temporary dispensation from me to make any emotional confession to me that he wanted to.  About Debbie, the divorcee who had made a pass at him, in our house, and then tongue kissed him.  He was squeamish at first, but I pressed him.  "Be honest.  Is there a 'spark' between you and her?  Before the kissing, was there?  After the kissing, was there?  Be honest with me.  I want to know."  He confessed that he and Debbie had always been slightly awkward with each other--an awkwardness I had innately sensed--and that there was an unspoken understanding between them of mutual sexual tension.  He confessed to being happy to hear that she had gotten divorced--now maybe his odds of getting with her had increased from 1% to 5%.  5 times the chances of sex with Debbie--hey, he'd take it.
I told him about Kristy's story of provoking an epic showdown with Robin.  That I wanted the same with Debbie.  Perhaps we could have a win-win, my husband and I.  I told him, he could have sex with Debbie (if she'd have him), if in return, I could watch them fuck.  And then, as soon as the two of them were done, if Debbie and I could then proceed to kick the living shit out of each other.  With him watching. 
Would he like that?
He didn't need to answer with words.  His erect cock spoke volumes.

We Skyped Debbie that night.  He and I, naked in our bed.  I told Debbie my offer.  She could fuck him, once, in this bed.  I just wanted to watch.  Then brawl with her, no rules.  She was game.  We set up time for the next night.

When she came over, we didn't look at each other--we didn't want our fight to break out before the 2 of them fucked.

Their sex was more ...... energetic .... than I'd hoped.  Their kissed involved extended tongues--is that how they'd kissed when they stole kisses behind my back years ago.  TABSK, this part broke my heart the most:  my husband lay on his back, and Debbie snaked on top of him.  She put her elbows on the mattress, over his shoulders, and buried her elbows deep into the bed, her brown hair falling into his face, him inhaling deeply, aroused in a frenzy.  She went down for passionate kisses.  She came up for breath, talking in his ear.  "Your wife Tammy is a colossal bitch.  I hate her with every part of my body.  I always have.  I'm so glad to be fucking you.  I'm so glad we fuck better than you do with her."

TABSK, before that night, I would have thought her provoking me like that would make me see red and go postal on her body.  But it didn't.  It did something else:  it made me cum.  Everything about the scene:  their passion for each other.  Debbie at long last confessing her hatred of me.  The knowledge of an impending catfight.  My thought of Kristy and Robin and Cindy and Anne.  I came and came in my hand, watching them building to their own simultaneous climax.  Debbie's perfect body, which I had last seen nude on an outdoor camping trip 25 years ago, while changing for an outdoor river rafting outing.  Debbie stopped talking as she resumed tongue kissing my husband.  I felt the need to fill the silence, so I spoke out loud:  "I hate you Debbie.  I'm going to ruin your body, your hair, your tits.  You're a basic bitch who can't get your own man."  Debbie finally acknowledged my presence.  "Fuck you, Tammy.  If you were any sort of woman, we would have fought years ago."  I came at the sight of her hate-stare at me.  She continued riding my husband, the two of them escalating their arousal.

TABSK, I'll tell you what happened in the fight.  But, me cumming to them doing it in front of me.  Is that .... normal?  Tammy


Dear Tammy--we at TABSK try to avoid the concept of normal.  Now:  catfighting as foreplay to sex--yes, quite common.  Sex as foreplay to a catfight--quite uncommon.  And, .... yes, honey, you BETTER tell us how the fight went!!  We're waiting! TABSK

[sinclairfan]

WATCHING DEBBIE KISS

Dear TABSK--Tammy here, again.  Debbie and I went to an all-girls Catholic high school, and were only able to be with boys outside of school.  Towards the end on senior year, we were sensing that our time together on a day-to-day basis was coming to an end, and our passive-aggressive sniping and competition with each other was coming more and more into the open.  One of the ways this played out was to act out with boys, at parties and dances, in front of each other.  We never declared all-out war with each other by dating each others' ex's--that, of course, would have sparked an immediate catfight, which would have violated the passive-aggressive nature of our years-long duel--but we started a sordid "game" of making out in front of each other at school mixers and unsponsored gatherings.  The boys we would choose to involve would be random--sometimes frat-boy Catholic schoolboys from nearby schools, sometimes dangerous older boys (men, really) from the neighborhood, sometimes virginal inexperienced boys who got innocently caught up in the whirlwind which was my psychological war with by frenemy Debbie.
The first time I realized that Debbie was flamboyantly making out with a boy thst she had no interest in, and was doing it just so I could see it, was, I will admit, a shock to me.  I couldn't stare, but I couldn't look away.  I blushed like I never blushed before.  But I kept looking, even though completely flustered.  I was angry at Debbie for getting such a reaction out of me.  Her tongue kissing of the boy she was with was completely exaggerated, yet strangely sincere.  I kept waiting for her to stare over to her left to mock me for how into her yhe boy was  and yet she was too committed to her deep kissing of him to allow any such distraction, even for a few seconds.  I was on a sectional, kitty-corner from her and her partner, and could even over the 90s techno music of the party could hear her loud lip smacking and sucking.  Where had Debbie learned to kiss like this?  Did she make love this aggressively?  I needed to know.  I saw the boy getting aroused and dis-shevvelling Debbie's hair.  The only other time I had seen her brunette hair get mussed was when she was in parking lot catfights against girls from Saugus or Lynnfield.  I loved watching her fight, watching her get taken down a peg, even in fights she won, which was most of them.  But watching her make out was different.  It was arousing to me.  It was violating her privacy, in a way.  Getting a glimpse of her behind closed bedroom doors, now that she and I were both experimenting with intercourse. 
Another boy at the party could tell I was aroused, and started kissing me.  I tried to be as aggressive as Debbie was being, and as loud.  Debbie and I were side-by-side now, kissing our partners passionately.  And we were watching the other, as best we could.  The boy I was with had opened my shirt and moved his head down, so I let him and turned over to face the boy Debbie was with.  I asked him if his girlfriend would be made at Debbie and would want to fight her.  He removed his mouth from Debbie's and said, "Yes, better not tell her."  My breasts have always been very erogenous, and I was already at the point of cumming from the boy who was kissing them, so I blurted out, "I'll tell her.  And I hope she kicks Debbie's ass."  Debbie glared at me as I came on the couch. 
Debbie and I talked about the simultaneous make out on the phone the next night.  I asked her if the boy's girlfriend had found out about Debbie's kissing.  Debbie gave me attitude, and asked if MY partner's gitlfriend had found about MY LETTING HIM SUCK MY TITS at the same party.
"Oh, I bet you'd love that.  Me getting my ass kicked."
"Don't say you don't deserve it after that.  Although I'd win the fight.  You know that, right?"
"It would be interesting to watch."
"Apparently you like watch me."
"Apparently it's mutual."
We were on the phone, and couldn't read each others' body language.  Were Debbie and I arguing right now?  What did last night mean?  (Did the 2 boys we had made out yet really have jealous girlfriends?  Did just 1 of them?  Which one?)
That night, and our phone conversation after it, started a couple years of us making out in front of each other.  Until we turned 22 or so, and the parties we went to stopped being make-out parties.
And then that all stoopped.
Until she kissed my husband.
And then I invited her to bed with my husband.
And I was the jealous girlfriend.
It all came full circle that night.
I'll tell you how that went down.  Tammy

Dear Tammy--We stand corrected.  Sex as foreplay to a catfight is a thing.  You and Debbie invented it.  Well done!  TABSK

[snw]

This is like crazy hot. I can’t wait to hear about the fight. The best part is it could go either way for Tammy in the fight and she could possibly still be satisfied. For the time being mind you. If she loses the fight and Debbie satisfies her sexually afterwards she could still be good with the outcome. If she wins the fight of course that’s satisfying. I know what I’d like to see but will just look forward to the next part. Hopefully not too far off.

[sinclairfan]

Dear TABSK--It's Tammy, again.  Sorry it's taking me so long to tell my story, but I keep thinking of important details.  Not even details--important episodes that were all-consuming to me at the time they were happening.  Like around 2000, when Debbie got married.  Debbie was the ultimate Bridezilla, excluding me out of spite from the wedding and the showers and Bachlorette party, thereby doing me a favor and being too clueless to realize it.  She surrounded herself with a bunch of Saugus and Lynnfield girls who ditched her as soon as the wedding was over, and she started calling me incessantly on the phone as soon as she settled into married life.  Sometimes .... not all the time, but sometimes   .... when she would call, she would be on the couch .... and, I think, sometimes even in bed, and they would get frisky with each other and start kissing, her lips making the smacking and sucking sounds I remembered from high school make-out party days.  I would be super-bored with Debbie's self-absorbed conversation ..... and super- super-horny at the sounds of her honeymoon-phase foreplay with her husband, touching myself as her new husband got himself warmed ip on his bitchy bride's distracted body.  Debbie was too busy to notice, too busy being nosey about my latest romantic failures, too busy setting me up with Mr Wrong.
"I heard Glenn from Lynnfield is single again, you should call him.  Watch out though, his ex Linda is crazy."
"Didn't you fight her once?"
"I think so.  Behind Hilltop, Monday after Mothers' Day once."
"Debbie, why do you always recommend guys to me who have crazy ex's??"
"Why would you say that, Tammy??  What are you tryin' t'say?"
"I just said what I'm tryin' t'say.  That you set me up with guys I'm gonns get into a catfight over."
"Don't pretend you don't like it, girl."
"Like what??  Fightin'??  Sex??"
"Fightin'.  Bein' around girls who fight.  Like me."
<<<<Is Debbie fishing?  Trying to provoke me?>>>>
"What, Debbie??  You think I'm obsessed with you or somethin'?"
"....Or maybe just lonely."
"You tryin' to make me hang up, Debbie??"
" I know you won't."
<<<<< How does she know?? >>>>
" Shouldn't YOU hang up??  Doesn't your new huband need servicing??"
" That's kind of bitchy."
" Well you make me bitchy sometimes."
" Are you giving me attitude???"
" Debbie, I don't know .... Uou're EXHAUSTING sometimes."
" Then why do you talk to me??"
'" Debbie, I don't know ....  do you WANT me to talk to you??"
"Yes.  But I wanna hear about you dating, and ....."
" And fucking??"
" You said it, not me."
" You WANTED me to say it."
"Oh, is that so??"
"Your husband have any crazy ex's??"
And on and on like that.  On and on, for hours, neither of us wanting to give the other the satisfaction of hanging up.  And when we finally did, the sound of her husband, in the background, kissing her whole face and upper body echoing in my ears.  Unable to decipher if Debbie's increasing aroussl was from his pleasure, my frustration, or both.
And the me being unable to sleep.  Until I masturbated to memories of the Lynnfield crazy ex's she had fought.  Or the thought of her, Debbie, on the couch,  or in bed, with her new husband.
Touching myself until or thought or the other made me cum.  Even if it took an hour or two.
Then being crabby the next morning.  Or mad at myself that Debbie had kept me up to such useless purposes.

I thought of those years--2000, 2001, 2002--again now, as Debbie was now in my own bed, fucking my own husband.
She and I stare each other down.
"Finish soon.  So I can tear your fucking hair out."
" Oh, but sweetie .... this feels sssoo  good .... this fucking."
" I knew it.  You're afraid."
" Tammy, honey, I've wanted to catfight you since high school."
"And yet you never did.  I call b.s."
Debbie orgasms on my husband's cock.
"Go time."

To be continued......

[snw]

This is great . The only thing Debbie hasn’t done yet has been to get Tammy’s husband to tell her she’s better in bed and he thinks she’ll kick Tammy’s in the fight. Damn hot.

[snw]

This is great . The only thing Debbie hasn’t done yet has been to get Tammy’s husband to tell her she’s better in bed and he thinks she’ll kick Tammy’s in the fight. Damn hot.

This is what I need to see, Debbie with a complete and total victory

Right there with you bud.

[sinclairfan]

TAMMY VS DEBBIE

The master bedroom in my husband's and my house has a step-down walk-in closet.  As Debbie was winding down from dismounting my husband, I had popped into the closet quickly to grab 2 towels, one for Debbie and one for me, in case either of us started bleeding during our fight.  When I had come home after my first fight with Debbie a week ago, when I had driven to her house in 1990-throwback clothes to confront her, when I aarived back home and stripped I had found several cuts from places Debbie's nails and teeth had found me.  In tonight's fight, we were already starting nude, so the cuts and bite wounds would be much worse, so I had a nesting/maternal urge to prevent bloodstain damage to my matrimonial chambers, and had simply intended to grab 2 bath towels to wipe down our fight venue before the blood caked and stained.

But my unexpected movement in such a tense, taut atmosphere startled my adversary, who must have thought my mission was to retrieve a hidden weapon.  Debbie instinctively followed me down the steps to the walk-in closet, which in turn startled me, causing me to pivot around quickly to face her and defend myself.  Our claws locked onto each others' scalps, and we began slamming each others' heads into the chaotic closed quarters of the walk in closet, knocking over stacks of jeans, skirts, and underwear, making our footing very uncertain and then treacherous.  I became agree at the violation of my privacy, and dreaded the cleanup chores facing me post-fight.  Our breasts bumped and rubbed together, hers still rock-hard from her intercourse with my husband.  My hands released from her scalp and dug into her breasts, twisting them back and forth as violently as I could.  Debbie retaliated instantly and in kind, making my self-conscious of their relative flabbiness, compounded by a long-held suspicion I harbored that at 38C they were two sizes smaller than hers in both cup size and girth.  I felt my temper snap, and started brerating her:
-Fuck you, Debbie, I'll twist your tits off.
-Like Hell, Tammy, try it and and I'll scratch yours open like tin foil.
Debbie and I simultaneously pushed each other apart at the chest, making eye contact for the first time since the start of the fight.  Our eyes caught each other inspecting each others' groin area, unspeakingly realizing we were about to attack and test each other there within seconds.  We merged into a bearhug, opened our right hands to form a claw, and sank our fingers deep into each others' bushes and flesh.  Debbie's nails were raggedly chipped from our 7-days-ago undercard catfight at her house, and I instantly regretted every crevise, as the dug into and cut my flesh on contact.  I must have been doing to the to Debbie tho, as she let loose with a yelp which matched mine in pitch, tone, and volume.
-You'll fucking pay for this, Tammy.
-Try it, Debbie.  I'll just get you back worse.  I dare you.
-I don't need your permission, Tammy.
-Stop thinking you're better than me, bitch.
-Bitch, I'm 20 times the woman you are.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

TAMMY VS DEBBIE

Over the years, I had noticed awkward energy between Debbie and my husband.  But now, with my body rubbing against Debbie's, I realize how Debbie and I had avoided direct skin contact with each other over the years, despite us being in each others' company repeatedly for almost 40 years.  We never hugged how other girlfriends do, even one's that are frenemies.  We never shook hands.  When I fought her seven days ago, we were both dressed head to toe in clothes. 

After all this time, our skin is finally touching.  And the feelings it brings out in me are pure sexual eroticsm.  The violence of our total was catfight should be stinging my flesh with pain and agony, but the sensation is the opposite.  I antagonize my enemy to make her attack me further.

> You make love like a snail.  That was so boring watching you just now, Debbie.

> You came watching us, bitch.

> You were so not-into that fucking that you had time to notice me??

> Your moaning was distracting, slut.

> You know it got you off.

> It was a turnoff.  I wany your husband alone, sweetie.

> Then get rid of me.

> I intend to.

Debbie closes her fist and starts attacking my face with punches, our fight now taking on the character of a Saugus parking lot fight, rather than an ex-best friend catfight for a man.  Debbie's punches ate as hard as the experienced streetfighter she is, and my mouth and nasal passages take on a metallic taste.  The closetechoes with the bone-on-bone cracking sound I haven't heard since high school girlfights.  My mind races and wants to returns to a bearhug catfight, and yet my desire is for the escalation of our battle.  Both of us begin to sweat profusely.

My veins run pure adrenaline.  The excitment is indescribable.  For reason I can't grasp, I feel nothing but pure pleasure.

Even after Debbie hits me in the jaw and I fall onto my back.

To be continued....