Maria was a flurry of activity as she pottered around the kitchen, setting the table for supper, while her young son giggled and laughed hysterically at some inane, cartoon. Maria’s glossy black hair was tied up in a ponytail, her long, sexy legs clad in comfortable jeans, and her tanned torso encased in a snug-fitting t-shirt. She had spent the day catering to the whims of her tireless toddler, Diego, and his boundless energy, which showed no signs of abating, even now, with bed-time approaching. Still, bath time normally tired the little tyke out, and gave his loving mother a much needed rest. And a rest is very much what the pretty young Latina was looking forward to, after a Saturday spent cleaning, shopping, and playing with Diego.
Her husband, Tyrone, was taking on a job, a considerable distance away. And as such, had elected to stay in a motel while he worked, rather than endure an extended commute from one side of New York, to the other. Unfortunately for Maria, this meant that all parenting duties and household tasks fell on Maria, in his absence. For the last two weeks, this meant Maria was a thoroughly exhausted woman come the evening. Yet, she didn’t mind……
Tyrone was busy providing for her and Diego, and besides, ’Absence only makes the heart grow fonder…..’she mused. Maria giggled as she thought to herself, ‘That’s not all that grows after Tyrone has been separated from me for a while….’ Since their little vacation, five months ago, in one of the city’s most plush hotels, Maria and Tyrone’s sex-life had received a much-needed shot in the arm. Life in the marital bed had become much more passionate and urgent, Maria’s once-off confrontation with an alluring English redhead, and the memories derived from it, providing both spouses with plenty of fuel for horny bouts of lovemaking…… Maria snapped back to reality, as she realized Diego was wearing more of his supper, than actually eating it. Sighing, she scooped him up, and headed for the bathroom…….
Two Hours Later…..
Maria collapsed on the couch, laying back on the cushions, resting her feet against the arm of the sofa. With Diego washed and put down for the night, the attractive Mexican-American could finally rest. She squirmed on said sofa as she stretched her lithe five foot four frame, and prepared for an idle evening in front of the box.
She reached for the remote, and flicked on the television. She was immediately greeted with the sight of two blowhard politicians bickering like children. ‘Fuck no…’ Maria muttered, as she rolled her eyes and changed the channel repeatedly. As she channel-surfed, the phone rang. Maria quickly muted the television, and answered it, fearful that it might wake her son.
‘Hey Honey, How’s everything back home, on the ranch?’ a cheerful voice queried. Maria smiled instantly, ‘We’re managing…… Miss you Ty……’ Maria answered earnestly. ‘Not too worry, we’ll be finishing up on this site fairly soon, I’ll be back home in no time.’ Tyrone reassured her. ‘Good….What you up to this evening?’ Maria asked. ‘Just killing time, you know, watching T.V. in the motel room……You?’ Tyrone responded. ‘Same here….exciting lives we lead, eh?’ On the other end of the phone, the athletic black man smiled mischievously as he lay back on his motel bed, and decided to make a suggestion. ‘If you’re bored babe, I know what we can talk about…….’
Maria, knew what was coming, it had become a staple of their sex-lives in the last few months. ‘Let me guess……’ she whispered huskily down the receiver, ‘…….you want to talk about a certain ginger whore and what I’d like to do to her……’ Maria smiled as she could hear rustling and the sound of a zipper being undone on the other end of the line, she could visualize Tyrone wrapping his fist around his big, black, eight and a half inch cock.
Maria put the phone on speaker, placing it on the coffee table in front of her, before slowly allowing her hands to travel past her tight, black t-shirt, to her jeans, where she undid the button and lowered her zipper. With her left hand she lazily rubbed her mound over her white, cotton panties….. ‘Well babe…….Why don’t you get our little conversation started……’ Maria cooed.
‘Oh babe….. I was just thinking about the night that you fought Emma…….. Fuck….You two going at it…..The anguished look on your face when she squeezed your tits……How determined you looked when you managed to mount her……The two of you on the floor kneeing each other’s cunts……. Oohhh Fuck……’ Tyrone gasped as he jerked off over the phone, nearly bringing himself to climax, before Maria had even opened her mouth.
On the other end of the line, Maria listened to Tyrone’s recollections with rapt attention. Her husband’s grunts of pleasure combined with the memories of her tangle with Emma, made the Latina beauty horny, as her left hand delved below the waistband of her panties and played with her pussy. Maria moaned loudly over the phone; ‘That bitch…….Insulting me in front of you Ty…..Pulling my hair…..Scratching at my body……’
Her almond colored fingers plunged rapidly in and out of her cxnt, as Maria’s mind became flooded with vivid memories of her duel with the pale-skinned English woman. She remembered the feel of her sweaty body struggling against her, the pain of her dark brown nipples being tweaked, and the satisfaction of making Emma groan in pain when she yanked her fiery, red hair. Maria arched her back as pleasant sensations washed over her groin, and she roughly tweaked her right nipple, with her free hand, as she moaned down the line to her horny husband……
Tyrone could feel an orgasm welling up, ready to explode from the head of his cock, as he masturbated at a quick rhythm. ‘…….Oh Maria……..Fuck…….. The two of you…….buck-ass nude……sweaty and fighting like bitches…….trying to prove who the better woman is…..oh shit…..’
In her living room, Maria listened to her husband’s gasps of ecstasy while aggressively fondling her pussy, groaning out her sexual fantasies as she pleasured herself; ‘…….Oh …….Fuck Ty…..I’m close baby…….The cheek of that whore….. Challenging me in front of you……. Oh baby…..If I ever saw her again….. I’d make her scream for mercy……Oooohhhh Gaaawwwdddd!!!’ Maria screamed her orgasm down the phone, overcome by her kinky little fantasy, pushing Tyrone ‘over the edge’, as it were, in the process. Both spouses lay, spent, on their bed and sofa respectively. ‘See you soon Honey….’Maria cooed down the phone, before hanging up, thoroughly satisfied.
Across The Pond
Emma tossed and turned in her queen-sized bed, as the rain pitter-pattered against her bedroom window. A typical English winter’s night. Despite being tired, sleep would not come easy. She felt restless. Besides, her bed felt cold in her husband’s absence. Steve’s work often took him overseas, leaving Emma to hold the fort back home, in London. She was content, spending time with her little boy, Darren, but she missed her husband greatly.
It was not uncommon for Steve to spend prolonged periods of time on the far side of the Atlantic, working on some important project or another. Recently, however, prolonged absences had become torture. Since their romantic break in New York, and Emma’s impromptu clash with an American woman called Maria, Emma and Steve’s flagging libidos had experienced a miraculous recovery.
Emma smiled as she thought of Steve, and how his cock would harden when she told him about how it felt to have another woman slap and squeeze her ass, to have her tits mauled by a feminine rival, the emotions that surged within, as two sweaty women rolled to and fro, across a New York hotel room floor, threatening and cursing each other as they fought.
The memory had made Emma hot and bothered. She squirmed under her bed sheets, shifting about in the bed, attempting to settle her black, satin nightdress. Emma sat up, sighing in frustration. It was no use, she was awake now. She glance at her alarm clock, and sighed in frustration, as red neon digits told her it was still only half-three in the morning. ‘Fuck….’ She groaned as she lay back on her pillow, her gorgeous, copper hair spread out on the pillow beneath her. If Emma was to get any sleep tonight, she would need a little ‘relief’. And with her loving husband on the far side of the Atlantic, what’s a girl to do……
Emma reached towards her bedside table, pulling open the top drawer and rummaging for her ‘little friend’. She smiled as her hand found its prize, and she pulled a little, purple vibrator from the drawer.
Beneath the sheets, Emma hiked her nightdress up to hip level, and she set to work as it were, slowly teasing her pussy, tickling her clit, and making herself moist with the fingers on her left hand. As she did so, her right hand descended below the duvet, clutching her vibrator. The silence and stillness of the room was temporarily disrupted by the emission of a faint buzzing sound from between Emma’s legs.
The heel of Emma’s hand pressed against her neat thatch of curly, red pubic hair, as she slowly pushed the purple phallus in and out of her pussy, the vibrations sensually tickling her clitoris, unleashing glorious sensations throughout her body. ‘Aaaahhhh Fuck……’ Emma groaned as she pleasured herself, her masturbatory efforts provoking her most debauched fantasies. As her hips moved in time with her dildo, Emma’s thoughts dwelt on her confrontation with the bronzed, American housewife.
‘…….Oooohhhh… that bitch……’ Emma moaned as she thought about what she would do to Maria, in the highly unlikely event that they would ever meet again. She imagined balling her fist in her rivals jet-black hair, wrestling her to the ground and sitting on her face, grinding her mound into that whore’s arrogant little snout. She could picture herself yanking Maria’s panties from her slutty body, stuffing them in her mouth, and humiliating her in front of both their husbands. ‘Oh shit……..Oh Gawd………I’m cumming……..Oh Yeah……. That’s it………’ Emma moaned, as a combination of her potent imagination and the industrious use of her dildo, pushed her towards a rather powerful orgasm. ‘Fuckin’ Hell!’ Emma thought, ‘I almost wish I could be reunited with that bitch……’
Steve sat at the counter, looking somewhat out of place in his impeccable business suit. His attire somewhat at odds with the relaxed and casual atmosphere of a New York City sports bar, not that Steve cared all that much. He had been working long hours, in an effort to get his firm’s latest project finished, and all he wanted was a few quiet drinks before retiring to bed for the night.
The bar was a hive of activity, populated mainly by young men in their mid to late twenties, shouting and roaring in broad New York accents at a flat-screen t.v., showing an American football match of some sort. The sport held little interest for Steve, as he kept to himself, and quietly sipped his drink.
Just then, Steve was mildly startled by a strong slap on his shoulder blade, and a particularly warm and enthusiastic greeting; ‘Shit man…… I thought it was you, long time, no see. How you been? How’s Emma?’ a familiar voice chimed. Steve turned to see the broad smile of Tyrone, the friendly African-American with the sexy wife, that he had befriended only months ago. Well, he and Tyrone had become friends, their wives developing a much more ‘antagonistic’ relationship.
‘Tyrone, Great to see you, I’ve been good. Emma is in great form. How’s about Maria?’ Steve answered. ‘Oh you know, same old, same old….. What’ you doing back in New York?’ Tyrone responded. Steve then proceeded to tell Tyrone about his overseas project, life back in London and the other mundane features of everyday life. Likewise, Tyrone filled Steve in on developments State side, how his wife and son were doing, and what he had been getting up to.
However, as the night progressed, and more and more alcohol was consumed, both men started to loosen up, and began to feel comfortable in steering the conversation towards the topic that was on both their minds. Both Tyrone and Steve confided in each other, just how sexy the catfight between their wives had been, and in both cases, how it had acted as a tonic for both their ailing marriages. Obviously, both men shared a fetish interest, and better still, wives who reciprocated their unusual interest.
‘Fuckin’ hell Tyrone, Emma loves to trash talk your wife when we fuck…… You should hear the things she says about her when I’m inside her……Got to tell ya, works out well for me!’ Steve announced. Tyrone laughed, ‘ I know what you mean man, Maria talks shit like that about Emma, whenever she is feeling horny and wants to get me interested. Never….Fuckin….Fails!’ Both men were engrossed in their catfight discussion and its side-effects.
Inevitably, talk turned to who the better fighter was. While both men felt duty bound to plump for their own wife, they were willing to concede that each woman had put up a hell of a fight that night, on the hotel room floor. ‘I dunno Steve, Emma was fierce that night, but I reckon Maria would have wore her down eventually…..Just a matter of time….’ Tyrone suggested.
‘What? Not a chance, mate…….Maria was done by the end of the night……Emma had her in the bag…..’ Steve responded incredulously. Tyrone laughed at the conviction in Steve’s voice, diplomatically suggesting; ‘We’ll have to agree to disagree….. Wouldn’t mind seeing a rematch though….Ah well…’
Steve, seeing an opportunity, seized on the idea. ‘You know, while we usually spend Christmas at the folks, we like to spend New Year’s in a cozy little cottage down in the English countryside. A bit secluded, but a nice spot to ring in the New Years. If you and Maria were at a loose end for something to do for the night, and fancied ringing in the New Year in England, we would be only too happy to host……I’m sure we could find some way to wile away the hours….’ Steve said with a smirk.
‘Sounds like a plan….. Leave me your email address and I’ll run it by Maria……. I reckon she’d love to celebrate New Year’s in a different country…..and take part in any party games that you might have planned……’ Tyrone added with a mischievous smile.
With their plans for the holidays set, both men departed, thick as thieves, determined to talk their respective wives into an unexpected reunion, greatly anticipating New Year’s Eve, and the fun it would undoubtedly bring.
Steve and Tyrone relaxed, or at least tried to relax in their comfy armchairs. They attempted to make idle conversation, but the minds of both men, were elsewhere. The moment of truth was upon them. Neither man could prevent himself from looking at the grandfather clock, in the corner of the living room, as it inexorably ticked towards half ten. Steve and Emma had arrived at the isolated cottage early in the day, eager to have everything prepared for tonight.
Maria and Tyrone arrived later. Both women avoided each other studiously throughout the evening. Not an easy feat, considering the size of this quaint little country cottage. Neither Emma nor Maria wished to engage in small talk before renewing their ‘conflict’. Both women were wary of dulling their competitive edge, and after the mammoth struggle they had engaged in, just months previously, each woman was desperate for victory. As such, despite occupying the same building for hours at this point, neither Maria nor Emma had clapped eyes on each other yet.
Comically, this left Tyrone and Steve in their roles as intermediaries, passing messages between each other, for the wives’ benefit, along with some choice insults, which Emma and Maria both insisted were delivered. It was by this method, that the terms of tonight’s catfight were settled. Both women had agreed to lock-up at half-ten, and they would catfight until the New Year, in other words, until the clock struck midnight. Unless of course, one of the women submitted, which admittedly, was far more likely.
As such, here Steve and Tyrone sat, like kids at Christmas, willing the hands of the old grandfather clock to turn a little faster. Separated by a distance of twelve yards, each man sat comfortably in their soft, cushy armchairs. The room was dimly lit, save for a Christmas tree, with flashing fairy lights, blinking, in the far corner of the room.
Elsewhere, strategically placed candles dotted the mantelpiece, bookshelves, coffee table, and other pieces of furniture that had been moved to the outskirts of the living room, in order to provide space for the combatants. However, the main source of illumination in the room was the open hearth fire, loaded to the brink with split logs.
It bathed the room in an orange glow, and provided a fierce, almost uncomfortable heat. A large bearskin rug lay in front of the hearth, and both men reckoned that it would be where the bulk of the catfight would take place, with the warm glow of the fireplace acting as a backdrop for tonight’s ‘festivities’.
Both Steve and Tyrone were hot, and they were clad only in terry-cloth bath robes. Neither men envied their wives, having to exert themselves in such oppressive heat. They smiled politely at each other, situated either side of the bearskin rug. The conversation that usually flowed between them, had disappeared. Both men feeling a degree of butterflies, on their wives’ behalf.
Boing! The old grandfather clock struck once, loud and clear, reverberating around the room, announcing the arrival of the half hour, with a chime loud enough to be heard in both the main and guest bedrooms. As it did, the door behind Steve opened slowly, and Emma strode purposely into the room. Mere seconds later, the door behind Tyrone creaked open, and Maria sauntered towards the edge of the bearskin rug. The moment both women had been looking forward to, nay craved, for the last few months, was upon them.
Emma stood in front of her husband’s armchair, her arms down by her side, the only ‘tell’ that she was a little bit anxious to get things started, was the slow flexing of her fingers. Unlike the first fight, Emma was prepared for this confrontation, her attire demonstrating her steadfast refusal to be upstaged by Maria. Steve and Tyrone admired Emma’s inspired sartorial choices for this evening, from the vantage point of their respective armchairs.
The buxom redhead wore thigh-high, jet-black, fishnet stockings. Her sexy little ass and pussy were encased in matching, sheer black knickers, the material was flimsy and see-through, granting everyone in the room a view of the curve of her delicious ass, not to mention her delicately manicured lady garden.
A lacy, black push-up bra completed the ensemble, and like the knickers it matched, the material was relatively transparent, allowing both men the opportunity to see her milky-white breasts and pink nipples through the material. Emma’s pretty face sported cherry pink lip-stick, and black eye-liner adorned her deep, blue eyes, her fiery, red hair she wore loose, and it fell in waves, down just past her shoulders. She was a truly exquisite looking creature tonight.
On the opposite side of the bearskin rug, stood her gorgeous nemesis. Sheer black stockings ran from the tips of Maria’s toes, along her bronzed calves and stopping at mid-thigh level. Unlike her English opponent, Maria had opted to affix dark red suspenders to the tops of said stockings, which were in turn, attached to a sexy little garter belt which circumnavigated the taut belly of the sexy American.
Between stockings and garter belt, a sleazy little dark, red thong struggled to conceal her pubic region, with a thin strip of lycra dividing Maria’s toned buttocks. Her mocha-colored boobs were held in a lacy bra of the same color. The texture of the material allowed for glimpses of Maria’s dark brown nipples, and the darker pigment of her skin in general. Maria’s full lips bore a dark, red lip-stick, matching her sexy laundrette, dark eye-shadow decorating her eye-lids. Like her English rival, Maria chose to wear her long hair loose, and down past her shoulders.
There was no doubt about it, but both women were dressed to impress. As far as they were concerned, everything was a competition, and neither woman wanted to be up-staged, to look less feminine than the other. Obviously, their choice of apparel was far from durable, in no way suitable for a hard-fought, catfighting marathon. Neither Maria, nor Emma, gave a damn. They dressed to turn on the men in their lives, to show them just how alluring they could be. If that meant fighting naked on the floor of a quaint, English cottage, then so be it.
Without a single word spoken, both women stepped onto the bear-skin rug, advancing until their breasts meet, and engaged in a nose-to nose stare-down. They stood there, deathly still, close enough to feel the other woman’s breath on their face, two pairs of 34d breasts squished together, neither Emma or Maria willing to blink, for fear of breaking the stare-down.
For over a minute this continued, before Emma broke the silence and said with conviction; ‘Last time we tangled, you just managed to hang on long enough to steal a draw…….That won’t be happening again’. The matter of fact delivery of Emma’s assertion, needled Maria. She visibly bristled as she retorted; ‘Who are you trying to convince sweetie……me or you?’
Emma’s blood boiled at Maria’s little, verbal riposte. She could feel her cheeks redden, as blood rushed to her head, and the urge to escalate this confrontation to the next level, became unbearable. Without thinking, Emma surged forward, unleashing a most unladylike, feral yell; ‘Bitch!’
The fight was on……….
Emma’s rapid onslaught caught Maria completely off-guard. Emma’s hands latched onto clumps of Maria’s glossy, black mane. Their breasts met as Emma’s charge pushed Maria backwards, her heels awkwardly clipping together as she stumbled, causing her to crash to the rug below. Emma, her talons fixed in Maria’s hair, stumbled after her, a victim of her own forward momentum.
The rug felt soft and yielding on Maria’s back, shoulder blades, and backside, in stark contrast to the feeling of Emma crashing down on top of her, with an almighty thud. Their breasts collided with a meaty slap, and each woman could feel the lace of their bras rub roughly against one another.
The shock of the initial collision now over, Maria slipped into survival mode. She reached deep into the auburn locks of the woman pinning her to the rug, seizing a sizable portion of Emma’s hair, and pulled with menace. Her reward was a pained expression, and a gasp of frustration from the lips of her rival.
Instinctively, Maria’s legs raised until they were level with Emma’s hips, at which point, her legs locked behind the redhead’s ass, the Latina stunner’s stockings making a rasping sound as they crossed together, preventing Emma from gaining a full mount, and assuming a position of power. The entire exchange had taken just over a minute, taking both women from a stage of eager anticipation to anger and resentment, in a minuscule period of time.
While Emma was undoubtedly in the driver’s seat so far, Maria was by no means panicked. She felt confident that she could defend herself from this position, and she knew that this would just be the initial skirmish, in a long and hard war.
Emma grimaced as Maria pulled the turf of her hair, at the back of her head, and pulled it hard. The burning pain in her scalp was excruciating and Maria’s legs held her in a stationary position, unable to leverage being on top into dominance. At least, not yet….. All of a sudden, an idea came to Emma, as regards breaking the deadlock.
She allowed her left hand to release its prize of jet-black hair, and reach downwards, towards Maria’s thong-clad ass. She reached back, and brought the open palm of her left hand, crashing hard against Maria’s left ass cheek. Slap! The sound of Emma’s hand crashing against Maria’s tanned ass echoed around the living room. Slap! Emma repeated the attack, this time, mustering even more intensity and venom into the attack. Slap!
This time, Maria audibly yelps, the meat of her left ass cheek turning as red as Emma’s hair. The pain inflicted so far, along with Emma’s superior smirk, drive Maria to take immediate action. Her right hand relinquishes its grasp on Emma’s copper strands, and reaches down, in anticipation of another strike. With admirable dexterity, Maria manages to prevent a fourth slap by catching Emma’s wrist and holding it, before the Englishwoman could land another blow.
As they struggle against each other, both women’s breasts have been rubbing against each other, stiffening their nipples. The open fire, blazing away to their right, bathing the scantily-clad figures in an orange hue, the heat provided by the flames causing both women to perspire. cunts covered in lacy black and red material respectively, mash together, pubic bones meeting on occasion, as the women buck and struggle against each other.
Both women can feel their crotches moisten as they fight, their conflict in front of their loving husbands making them feel like women, their pussies starting to yearn for the touch of their husbands.
Once more locked in a stalemate, Emma on top of Maria, keeping her on the flat of her back, by virtue of her body weight, each woman with one hand buried in each others’ hair. The only difference being, that now Maria has a firm grasp on Emma’s left wrist. Maria sought to reverse her fortunes by squeezing her legs together, compressing Emma’s abdomen.
However, she could not maintain a python-like hold for prolonged periods of time. Instead, she would squeeze for ten seconds, before easing off. When she felt suitably rested, she would renew her scissor-hold with renewed vigor. Gradually, this strategy began to bear fruit.
Emma surrendered her right-handed grip on the turf of Maria’s hair. She leaned back on her knees and shins, sitting upright, her sleazy, black, push-up bra rising and falling as she struggled to suck in oxygen. For her part, Maria had lost her grip on Emma’s wrist and was using her elbows to prop herself up, her upper body slightly elevated, as if she was finishing a sit-up, albeit with her elbows keeping her shoulder-blades from the floor, rather than her abdominal muscles. Maria’s lower body, her legs, remained tightly fastened around the torso of the attractive redhead. As Maria looked up at Emma, she derived considerable satisfaction from the discomfort exhibited by her opponent. She felt even more pleasure at the thought of Tyrone’s cock hardening as she took control of the fight, ready and waiting for her when she did eventually seize victory.
Emma’s pretty features had morphed into the very definition of frustration. She attempted to use her elbows to dig deep into Maria’s thighs, to drive a wedge into her leg lock as it were, so that she could then pry them apart. However, it was to no avail, Maria’s toned legs held firm, becoming ever more constricting.
It was now Emma’s turn to panic. She bucked and thrashed in an effort to break the hold, with no advantage accruing. She dug her nails into Maria’s thighs, hurting the sexy, little Latina, but failing to force her into breaking the hold. Emma pulled wildly at Maria’s sleazy, red suspenders and garterbelt, hoping to anger Maria, cloud her judgment, perhaps force her to forgo her current hold for the sake of preserving what was undoubtedly one of her husband’s favorite outfits.
Yet, not even prying these garments from Maria’s body, would force the Latina from altering her tactics. Beads of sweat were clearly visible on Emma’s forehead, her toned belly sore from the feeling of Maria’s thigh-high stockings abrasively rubbing against it. Emma was in the last chance saloon, and she knew it. Drastic action was needed……
From her kneeling position, Emma lurched forward, hands stretched out in front of her. She found her targets, as each hand roughly gripped one of Maria’s full, 34d breasts. Maria howled in shock and pain; ‘Whore! How dare you?’ Without hesitation, Maria retaliated by allowing her back to hit the bear skin rug again, as her nails were roughly dug into Emma’s wrists in a futile effort at breaking the painful tit squeeze.
In doing this, the application of her scissor hold suffered, and Maria was unable to maintain it, as Emma shook free from it. Maria was now in a position where her shoulders were strongly pinned to the bearskin rug beneath her, her beautiful, sun-kissed tits in the unforgiving grasp of her ginger tormentor. Throwing caution to the wind, Maria ceased all efforts at tearing Emma’s probing hands from her aching breasts, and put all her might into an open-handed haymaker.
In truth, it was a Hail Mary effort, a strike threw from the ground, against an opponent in a domineering position. Maria had no reason to expect it to be effective, such strikes are seen as a waste of time in professional combat, the science of most combat sports dictating in such scenarios, energy would be better utilized in trying to protect oneself, or change your current predicament…….. and thankfully, for Maria’s sake at least, she managed to prove the experts wrong. The palm of her right hand connected flush with Emma’s cheek, knocking her head sideways, and sending auburn hair flitting in all directions, and causing the Englishwoman to elicit a pained whimper.
Emma’s painful hold on Maria’s breasts was lost, and Maria managed to get the soles of her feet between her and Emma’s belly. Kicking with all her might, Maria managed to send Emma scuttling backwards towards her husband with a well-executed, two-footed push.
Just before being propelled backwards, Emma managed to grab at the front of Maria’s bra, hoping to prevent being tossed backwards. Unfortunately for Emma, she was tossed regardless, albeit with a sizable portion of Maria’s red, push-up bra, securely gripped in her fist.
Maria shrugged out off what remained of said bra, tossing it aside, as she wearily got to her feet. Maria had visibly suffered at Emma’s hands. All that remained of her outfit was her skimpy, red thong and shear black stockings. Her voluptuous breasts bore faint scratch marks where Emma had forcibly squeezed them, and her left buttock was red, inflamed from the hellacious slaps that Emma had doled out. She was by no means out of the fight. Her brown nipples protruded prominently, and the under curve of her panties was starting to exhibit the tell-tale sign of moistness. As far as Maria was concerned, this fight was far from over……
Across from her, Emma slowly rose to her feet, feeling the worse for wear, at Maria’s hands once again. Emma was really starting to resent this, admittedly resilient, little bitch. Thus far, Emma’s sexy, little fuck me outfit, had endured better than Maria’s. Her fish net stockings were still intact. Ditto her see-through black panties and push-up bra. Yet, she too bore the marks of an evenly contested catfight. Her left cheek was sore, a little red, and a throbbing reminder of just what Maria was capable of. The abrasive material in Maria’s stockings had left its mark on her belly. However, Emma was wet and horny, eager to finish this and fuck her man like a catfighting champ….
At this point, both women had been fighting for half an hour, a fact confirmed by the eleven strikes of the grandfather clock in the corner. Once again, the loud booing sound rang out loudly, announcing the hour to everyone in the dimly-lit living room. Despite suffering a little from fatigue, Maria and Emma were eager for seconds.
Adrenaline, feminine pride, and the desire to humble the other woman and claim the passionate victory fuck that would undoubtedly follow, drove the women forward. They knew how much their husbands enjoyed their last catfight, and each woman relished the incredible sex that had followed, as a result of that night.
Maria and Emma circled each other warily, their stocking feet padding across the soft fabric of the bear-skin rug as they eye each other warily, looking for an opening, an avenue of attack. ‘Bitch…..You ain’t shit…..I’ll kick your ass all night if I have to……’ Maria panted at her rival. Emma’s eyes narrowed as she gasped her response, ‘Admit it…… you whore…… you’re done……’
Frustrated with each other, both women charged….……only for Maria to side-step Emma at the last minute, leaving her left leg trailing behind her, for Emma to trip over. Emma went tumbling face first to the rug below, utterly deceived by Maria’s deft movement. Maria hastily bounded towards her. Placing her foot on the small of Emma’s back, Maria grabbed at the back of Emma’s shear, black bra. Pulling upwards with her hands, and pushing downwards with her foot, Maria forcibly snapped the strap, albeit falling backwards as she did so, landing squarely on her ass.
Emma pushed upwards with her hands, lifting herself from the surface of the rug, leaving the remnants of her bra beneath her. Once upright, she dove headlong at Maria, effectively rugby tackling her to the mat beneath her, Emma’s momentum sending both women rolling along the rug in a jumble of female flesh, hair and fury. Crotch to crotch, chest to chest, Emma and Maria rolled back and forth, alternating between kneeing each other in the pussy, and tearing vindictively at each others’ stockings.
The oppressive heat of the open fire caused both women to sweat profusely, as they scratched, slapped, kicked and insulted each other. Muffled cries of discomfort echoed around the room; Maria: ‘Ow ……..my tit, you fucking cxnt!’
Emma : ‘Don’t you dare………. you bitch….. Don’t you dare……..Get your hand off my pussy!’
Maria: ‘How do you like having your big pink nipples pulled, whore!’
Emma: ‘I can take it, if you can…… what’s wrong, bitch?……Can’t take it when someone pulls your nipples!’
Maria: ‘Aaaahhhh…..Fuck….. That’s how you want it……Fine!’
Emma: ‘That’s all you got, isn’t it? Pulling my hair now? See if I give a shit!’
Maria: ‘Let go of mine and I’ll let go of yours……’
Emma: ‘Just tap, you whore……….You know you want too…….’
Maria: ‘Make me, you fucking slut!’
Emma and Maria were fighting with a passion and zest that reminded Steve and Tyrone just why they adored the women in their lives. Both men wanted nothing more, than for their wife to claim victory. This catty little contest obviously meant a lot to them, judging by the effort that was being put forth. Not only that, but both Maria and Emma had abstained from sex, unbeknownst to each other, for approximately two weeks, in anticipation of their second match. Both women had arrived at the conclusion that a little sexual frustration made them a little cattier, and more formidable fighters because of it. That’s how much victory meant to them……
Tyrone and Steve were snapped from their thoughts, as the catballing catfight at their feet, had ceased temporarily. As the women were rolling across the rug, they had slipped from each others’ sweaty clutches.
Unexpectedly, neither Maria nor Emma sought to re-engage. Instead, they slowly backed away from each other, before turning, and walking towards their respective husband’s chair, for a moment’s respite. Perhaps the fighting had taken an emotional toll, and both women sought the affection and reassurance of their partner, in order to see it through. Maybe they just needed a breather? Only the women themselves, could truly know. In any event, the grandfather clock read twenty minutes past eleven, 2014 was approaching, and Emma and Maria had a grudge match to settle……. The next round would be decisive.
Maria sat up on her husband’s lap, naked save for her thong and stocking combo, curled up in a discreet ball. Her beautiful breasts heaved up and down as she attempted to compose herself, and catch her second wind. Emma, once again, had provided formidable opposition. Maria’s joints ached, her skin pock-marked with red marks caused by Emma’s more savage strikes. However, as before, fighting turned her on, to no end. Each slap, tweak, pinch and insult revved her engine, made her wetter, made her hornier.
She smiled as she thought how difficult it was to subdue another woman, when her mind raced with what she wanted to do with Tyrone. In the midst of battle, it felt as if Emma was intentionally refusing to give, delaying Tyrone from sinking that big dick of his into Maria. Even as the thoughts raced through Maria’s head, she knew they weren’t true. Regardless, the notion had helped fuel Maria’s animosity towards Emma, gave her the drive to keep fighting…..
On the far side of the bear-skin rug, Emma sat snugly in Steve’s lap, running her hand through his chestnut brown hair, as he nuzzled her neck, exacerbating her already highly-aroused state. Her modesty preserved only by her shear black panties and fishnet stockings, Emma’s alabaster skin showed red welts, marks, and scratches where Maria’s probing hands had slapped, scratched, punched, or grabbed her. Fighting that yank slut had been difficult, yet rewarding. Every physical exchange, every tawdry jibe, every physical contact made her feel more sexual, made her feel like a woman. The only problem being that catfighting tactics were hard to visualize when your husband’s prick was on your mind……
As Emma and Maria sat upon their husbands’ laps, Steve and Tyrone set about soothing their wives’ war wounds. Tyrone’s big ebony hands gently caressed Maria’s breasts, as he occasionally kissed her shoulder, her cheek, or nibbled an ear, peppering his pretty Latina wife with compliments, telling her how much he loved her. Likewise, Emma’s milky-white tits were being similarly felt-up by Steve, every contact with her pink aureoles, like an electric current being passing through her body. He whispered in her ear how much he wanted her, how desirable he found her, and what awaited her after the catfight.
Both women felt emboldened by their husband’s devotion. They eyed each other spitefully, as they peered across the bear-skin rug, resentment building once again, as their respective husband’s intimately explored their bodies. The need to prove their femininity in front of the men they loved, to assert themselves in the face of another woman’s challenge, making their hearts beat faster. Slowly, each woman rose from their husband’s lap, their back to their opponent. As they stood, Emma and Marias’ soft hands, pulled at the lapels of Steve and Tyrones’ respective terry-cloth robes, beckoning them to rise from their armchairs.
As they stood, Steve and Tyrone, reached around their wives, cupping their asses, and pulling them tight to their muscular bodies, kissing them deeply, for what seemed like an eternity. Each man wanting to reassure their wife before the catfight concluded, to remind them just how alluring they found them, before they turned and renewed hostilities.
As each couple broke their kiss, Emma and Maria peered over their shoulders at each other, their asses still firmly held by their husbands. They felt desirable, they felt wanted, and they felt the powerful urge to prove their worth as wives, to demonstrate the feminine wiles that they possessed, they felt a need to upstage ‘the other woman’…….
Standing at opposite ends of the bearskin rug, still glaring over their shoulders at one another, both Emma and Maria began to slip the terrycloth robes off their husbands’ strong shoulders, allowing their robes to fall to the floor, leaving both men naked, and sporting potent erections.
Still staring at each other, each woman slowly sank to their knees, level with the engorged manhoods of their beloved spouses. Minutes before, both women had been aggressive, warrior-like even, now, ironically, assuming an almost submissive role in front of their men.
Freed from the confines of his robe, Tyrone stretched, and pushed his groin forward, presenting his penis to Maria. His dark, brown dick sprouted forth, from a mass of curly black pubes. It stood proud and upright, veins protruding along the length of Tyrone’s shaft, his substantial length and girth topped off by a sizable helmet.
Maria gazed at it fondly, before lustily taking it in her mouth, her head slowly bobbing up and down, as she teased her husband’s erection. Pleasure surged through Tyrone’s manhood as he croaked his satisfaction; ‘Oooohhhhh Fuck, babe………Yeah…….That’s it……Suck that dick……’
Across from them, Steve too had been relieved of his robe, his eight inch cock erect and mere millimeters from Emma’s pretty face. His large white cock extending towards a rather large pink cock head. His ‘mast’ looked stiff and strong, his length and girth, much like Tyrone’s, rather impressive.
Emma licked her lips, before taking Steve into her mouth, tickling his sensitive cock head with the tip of her tongue, before moving up and down his shaft. The sensations Steve was feeling were tantalizing, causing him to grunt his approval; ‘Jesus…….Oh fuck, Em………Oh Gawd……That feels so fucking good……..Oh baby……. Don’t stop…..’
Only minutes ago, the room had been wracked with the sounds of irate women tearing into each other, but now, it had become strangely still. Only the roar of the fire, the thump of raindrops against the window, the grunts and groans of the men receiving fellatio, and the slurping sounds created by Emma and Marias’ enthusiastic efforts, could be heard.
Maria looked up as she pleasured her man, his cock firmly gripped in her left hand, her brown, doe-eyes gazing into her husbands. ‘You like that baby……I know you do……. Are you gonna cum for me?…….Are ya gonna cum in my mouth, baby?’ Maria huskily whispers, tormenting her already highly aroused husband. As she speaks, her mouth is located mere inches from her husband’s member, a thin stream of pre-cum trailing from her lower lip to Tyrone’s slick cock head.
Steve’s cock twitched as he struggled to delay orgasm. God! Emma was good, and she wasn’t letting up, but Steve didn’t want the blowjob to end anytime soon. He huffed and puffed, as he savored his wife’s touch.
Emma ceased her actions temporarily, allowing her husband time to ‘recover’. Her cherry, pink lips glistened with pre-cum, as she started to ‘talk dirty’ to her husband; ‘How ya doing sweetie?…….Enjoying my lips around your dick?……….. Like it when I cup your balls?……….C’mon Stevie…….Give me that cum……Cum on my face, baby…….’
As they struggled to maintain their composure, Steve and Tyrone were able to appraise the other man’s wife, ogle her toned backside, as red and black shoulder-length hair bobbed up and down across from them. Briefly, both men looked up, making eye contact, if only for a second. In that instant, Tyrone winked. Steve understood fully…… ‘Follow my lead’.
As the grunts of the men became more urgent, Tyrone placed his hands on Maria’s shoulders, gently easing her back onto the soft bearskin rug beneath her. Across from them, Steve mimicked the movement with Emma…..
Tyrone sat on his wife’s warm belly, the bulk of his weight supported by his knees, either side of a prostrate Maria, his long, black cock curving up towards the ceiling. From his ‘throne’, he looked down at his wife, her straight, black hair spread out on the rug beneath her.
‘Oh Maria…..I love your tits…….. I want to cum all over your beautiful, brown nipples……’ The words had barely left his mouth, when Maria grasped his dick, and started to rapidly jack him off. As she did, Tyrone leaned forward, allowing his member to be pointed at this Latina wife and her buxom chest, so he could spill his seed all over her…..
As Steve straddled his wife’s sweaty belly, he looked into her deep, blue eyes. Her startlingly red hair spread out on the rug beneath her, she cut a truly stunning figure. Steve moved his groin forward slightly, as if presenting his penis to Emma.
His cock was red, pulsing and looked fit to ‘burst’. ‘I love you, baby……You are the sexiest woman alive……I want to cum all over your tits…….Can I come on your boobs, babe?…..’ Emma’s response was swift, as the fingers of her left hand circled Steve’s dick, and she proceeded to wank him with gusto…….
As if on cue, both men started to gasp, each telling their wife not too stop, and telling them how close they were. Almost simultaneously, Steve and Tyrone let out a guttural moan, signaling the arrival of their orgasms…..
Tyrone leaned back, his gaze raising to the ceiling, as his wife coaxed thick spurts of semen from his cock. Due to the two week abstention from sex, poor Tyrone was pretty backed up. His cum erupted several times, layering sticky streams of sperm across Maria’s bronzed chest. Maria milked every last drop from Tyrone, greedily ensuring that she wore every last drop of Tyrone’s considerable load.
‘Ohhhhh Shiiitt!!!…..Thats it, Em…..Wank my cock…..’ Steve moaned, as his agitated, red cock head spewed its salvo across Emma’s considerable boobs. Like Tyrone, abstinence had made Steve’s cum thick and plentiful. The warm liquid pooled across Emma’s chest, the warm feel of it on her flesh titillating her, driving her crazy……
Both men rose from their wives’ stomachs, returning to their soft armchairs, their dicks flaccid and spent, thoroughly milked. Both men knew that the finish to this catfight would do wonders for their powers of recovery, making them rise in no time, as it were.
Meanwhile, Emma and Maria had assumed aggressive positions, kneeling at opposite ends of the bearskin rug, the open fire, roaring in front of them. The hands of the grandfather clock indicated it was twenty minutes to twelve. The New Year loomed, and these two sexy vixens had ‘matters’ to attend to. Without a word spoken, all parties present in the room knew that this rest period had ended…….
The Final Round
When they were within grabbing distance, both women lurched at each other, their gooey cleavage and slimy bellies colliding with a wet slap, as they met in a mutual bearhug. Maria and Emma squeezed with all their might, their tits sticky with sperm, sliding about against each other, as they turned and twisted, making audible squishing sounds as they struggled.
Their faces were inches apart, allowing both women to look into the eyes of her opponent, as they attempted to topple each other down to the rug. As they wrestled, the rather pungent odor of cum wafted up from their breasts, making the combatants incredibly horny……
With considerable effort, Emma managed to push Maria backwards , once again, finding herself cunt to cunt and tit to tit, on top of the American. From her vantage point, Maria couldn’t exert anywhere near enough pressure on Emma with her bearhug. Realizing this, Maria changed tactics, instead, opting to grab the waistband of Emma’s sexy, black panties, and pulling harshly.
Unfortunately for Maria, this granted Emma a greater degree of freedom, which she took maximum advantage of. She surged forward, dropping her cum-covered titties over Maria’s tanned face, grabbing the black locks at the side of Maria’s head, and pulling her deep into her cleavage. The only sound in the room, was muffled cries of frustration from underneath Emma’s boobs.
Maria bucked fiercely, in an effort to unseat the gorgeous redhead. Emma counter-acted this with minimal effort, matching each of Maria’s bucks with a retaliatory thrust. However, this was not the only weapon in Maria’s arsenal. The pretty American still maintained her grip on the waistband of Emma’s knickers. Feeling the heat, Maria decided to make the most of her grip on Emma’s knickers. She pulled up…..Hard!
Maria’s attack took immediate effect, as Emma’s black panties disappeared between the crack of her ass, her underwear being converted into a makeshift thong, in the most brutal fashion. Seeking to relieve the uncomfortable feeling building between her ass cheeks, Emma let go of Maria’s hair, in favor of grabbing the American’s wrists, allowing her to counter-act the strength of the wedgie she was enduring. In order to reach backwards, and grab the Latina’s wrists, Emma was forced to arch her back slightly, lifting her breasts from Maria’s face, and allowing her to breath freely again.
As Emma struggled on top her, Maria used Emma’s panties to haul to the left, clean off her, and subsequently roll on top of her, assuming the mount position. Once there, a clearly irritated Maria decided to fight fire with fire, releasing Emma’s waistband and shimmying up her torso until her boobs were level with Emma’s face. At this point, Maria pinned Emma’s head to the rug, by the turf of her hair, and then dropped her cum drenched tits over her pretty, snow-white face. ‘What’s good for the goose, is good for the gander…….’ She thought, rubbing her cum-covered boobs against Emma’s pretty features with a vengeance.
This time it was Emma’s turn to reach for panties, roughly grabbing the waistband of Maria’s panties and hauling them up high. Even trapped between Maria’s gooey cleavage, Emma felt a small degree of satisfaction, knowing the wedgie must be causing the Latina the same excruciating pain that she had just felt. Sure enough, Maria was forced to relinquish her tit-smother in favor of combatting the severe wedgie she was enduring. As before, this lead to the woman in the mounted position being unseated, as Emma manage to toss Maria to one side.
Although severely gassed at this stage, both women fought on. Lying side to side, they grabbed each other’s hair and pulled strongly. Their legs snaked together once more, their spunk-laden boobs were mashed together uncomfortably, as they rested momentarily on their shoulders, hissing and cussing into each other’s shiny, sweaty, cum-slick faces. Wet strands of jizz-stained, black and red hair clung stubbornly to Maria and Emmas’ faces. Once again, they launched into another tough, catballing duel, rolling on top of each other, locked together in close combat, hurting each other in any way they could. The sight of their contrasting skin tones mashed together, sending blood coursing to their husbands’ cocks, making them as hard and horny as before. The only sound in the room, the weary trashtalk of the catfighters, as they rolled to and fro, across the rug, over and back……
Emma: ‘You little brown whore….. You cock hungry bitch……Ow…….Fuck you!…..’
Maria: ‘ Oh yeah….Thats it……run your mouth, you pasty-white slut……It will be all over soon….’
Emma: ‘………Aww……I swear to God, if you scratch my ass one more time………’
Maria: ‘You’ll what?…….Cry?………Don’t like it, Do sumthin’bout it……’
Emma: ‘Do something…..How about this?……Not so fucking smug now, eh?’
Maria: ‘Bitch! Let go of my thong……..Let go…….. I mean it!’
Emma: ‘Ouch!……. Get your hands of my knickers first……Ow…..Fuckin’ cxnt!’
As the women battled, viciously ripping at each other’s underwear, the entire room was startled by the old, grandfather clock in the corner. Boing! Boing! Boing! The chime rang out loud and clear, heralding the arrival of 2014 and the end of tonight’s catfight. The women fought desperately until the last second, even with the chance to claim victory lost for this evening, they continued to struggle. As the bell rang out for the twelfth and final time, the women pulled apart with a tremendous ripping sound.
Both Steve and Tyrone rose from their chairs to embrace their weary, battle-ravaged wives. The final round of catfighting, proving a potent tonic for the after-effects of their respective orgasms. Their cocks were strong and hard, the catty behavior of their wives proving to have a powerful, arousing effect on them.
Emma strutted towards Steve, her red bush on display, matted with her sex juice. Naked, save for her frayed, fishnet stockings, Emma pressed her bulbous tits against Steve’s chest, kissing his cheek and whispering in his ear; ‘As requested, one slutty red thong…..courtesy of that whore……’ As she spoke, she placed the torn under wear on Steve’s dick, giving the tip of his cock a playful squeeze as she did.
Similarly, Maria sauntered over to Tyrone, clad only in what was left of her sheer, thigh-high stockings. Tyrone couldn’t keep his eyes off her shiny, wet bush and flowering pink, pussy lips as she approached. She too pressed her bronzed body against her husband, giving him an affectionate peck on the cheek, before lowly whispering in his ear; ‘There you go babe, a pair of skanky black panties…..
Enjoy…..The Bitch was reluctant to part with them…..’ As Maria spoke, Tyrone could feel the lacy, black material being placed on his dark, tumescent cock. It felt glorious, especially when Maria gave his erection a playful little tug.
Both women looked around at each other and visibly sneered, before turning and exiting the living room, through doors at opposite ends of the room, retiring to their bedrooms to clean-up and ring in the New Year in the martial bed, with their husbands between their legs.
Both Steve and Tyrone, stood awkwardly in the living room, alone now, save for each other’s company of course. What remained of the torn panties of their respective wives, hung loosely from the throbbing erection of the other man. Scratching his head, Steve spoke up; ‘Right…..Well……Happy New Year…. I guess……Looks like Emma would prefer if we celebrated in our rooms….’ Tyrone smirked at the understatement, and the oddness of their current situation. ‘You know what, man?…..I think Maria might have the same idea……I suppose we’ll see you in the morning……’
With that, both men retired from the living room, in pursuit of their wives. Both Steve and Tyrone looked forward to what should be a marathon fuck session with the women they loved, smiling as they strolled towards their respective bedrooms, the ‘spoils of war’ hanging from their raging horns……….