Alana Quill vs. Jennifer “The Better Woman” from FCF
Alana Quill:
There was literally no reality in which I would allow myself to NOT tease Jennifer. The chest blessed and constantly spun around hottie I’d chased all over a house party was currently struggling with the calf raises holding a kettlebell straight over her head. Sounds dumb right? It was. Unless you expected to fight in high heels in a boxing ring. I couldn’t say for certain that this particular exercise had ever actually saved me from having my mouth piece sent fucking flying when I crumbled to the canvas. But it sure as the sun rises in the east had made it easier to prance around in my strappy pink custom heels. They were technically ballroom heels which meant if Remington was to be believed you could land a fucking back flip off of them.
I’d never SEEN her do it but she had also apparently taken up doing pro wrestling as well which kinda made me all FOMOey given that apparently my hottie girlfriend was all the rage at that too.
Either way though I’d pulled out all my foxy boxing gym exercises today. There were things you were totally good at like arm presses and stuff like that but some of the stranger core, leg and back exercises were totally whipping your ass.
Not that they weren’t with me too but I for sure had the muscle groups developed. I’m sure I’d have died if you put me through one of your workouts but I was curious about something. We’d done a little playful wrestling and I could tell if you really wanted to you probably could tie me up like a pretzel. Titfights? I think I had your number pretty bad. Any time we went to press breasts? Done. I slapped you around pretty good and you were usually holding ice on your girls and suckling at Mama’s better boobs.
I flicked my eyes over to the empty boxing ring in the gym. It was late. I’d ran us late. There were like TWO more people that needed to GFTO and then the kid at the desk with his head phones in playing on his phone wouldn’t look up till the clock stuck midnight. Which should give us a good hour to play and clean up….
Jennifer “The Better Woman”
Things happened … QUICKLY. Our first meeting was an all or nothing catfight in your friend’s upstairs bedroom. One which took us from angry, catty bitches to the very edge of something else. Our passion and intimate struggle making us both see something in the other we wanted.
Something that enticed us so badly that we almost gave into it and each.
But somehow we resisted. Leaving me to come back for revenge. To demand the titfight I challenged you to in our first engagement. And how did that revenge go?
A dish best served cold? Not quite. Instead, we crashed tits until you pinned me to your bed and ruined me. But I didn’t give up. Not until after what felt like an hour straight of you dropping your gorgeous girls down on mine like bombs over boob-hgdad.
That should have been the end of us. A tit torture session that would have ended any thought of romance. BUT, I’m me and you’re you, and so even as my breasts ached and nipples throbbed, we kissed and you claimed me.
Making me your sucker-licking Ariana Grande, and you my totally not dead Mac Miller. Which for those who don’t know, means I fell in love with you. Not just you, but us. And so you led, and I followed. Everywhere, but today, that everywhere is this gym.
From one machine to another — from one exercise to another. Never questioning why, just doing. Your routine one that somehow, magically works out every muscle my pro-wrestling workouts never touched.
Leaving me spent, sweaty, and sore before you’ve even told me are done. But we have to be…. I can’t keep going. Can’t keep working out, or I swear I’ll pass out. The last few people in the quiet, far side of town gym leaving giving me a glimmer of hope that we’re finally done.
My mind feeding me nothing but images of the sweet moment when I will be able to sit down and rest.
Alana:
Dropping my own kettlebell I swat your butt and give you the biggest grin. “Come on. Last thing. You’ll like it.” I don’t even ask you to join me as the last person takes off out of the gym. Instead I drag you over to the open double doors that lead into the room with the boxing ring. Its actually a pretty nice ring. Smaller than regulation but nice. Technically you’re only supposed to use it if you’ve been cleared to or have a trainer. The guy at the front is OBLIVIOUS. Crossing to the ring I pull out a bag and dig out two pairs of gloves. One white. One pink. I’m not like the ultimate girly girl really at all. I have a fouler mouth than Remington for sure and I have zero problems pulling hair and playing in mud.
That being said I did have a thing for pink. “We are gonna box. Aaaaaaaand…..” Reaching up I unzipped the sports bra. Letting my rack bulge a bit before I drop it off and leave me in just the yoga pants. Those however are quickly stripped off and leave me in only a thong.
“Rules are simple. First person to get knocked down three times, submit in a clinch, or get KO’d loses.”
I waited for that to sink in for a bit.
“…..and also has to run by the attendant without her sports bra on!”
I bounce and it bounced my girls. “Come on!” Putting my gloves on I crawled under the bottom rope in nothing but a thong and gloves. Smacking them together a bit and walking over to the corner before I turned around and leaned in it. Rubbing my boobs with my gloves and giving you a teasing playful look.
“Oh and if you’re wondering how you’d submit in a clinch?!” I lean forwards and swing my tits around a little. “Be ready to titfight in them…”
Jennifer:
My hair is wet and stringy with a deep sweat that drips to the hard gym floor below with a slow, pitter and gente patter. A descent made less by the fact that my head hangs, and my back remains bent. My weary hands resting on my knees, as I lean against a squatting cage waiting for you to finish.
Because then we’ll be done, right? Finished with this first of what you tell me will be daily exercise routines. At least I’ll be in shape enough to look good on TV, I tell myself, as your soft, playful phrasing tells me we have one more thing to do.
It would crush my soul, if the sound of your voice didn’t keep it so alive. It would break my heart, if it wasn’t so happy to have found you. Despite both, I still groan, and ache, as I lift myself from my waist-level bend and then stand.
Listening to you explain what you have in mind as I follow you and then with a bitten bottom lip watch you strip down to your thong. My desire to feel your sweat-covered body pressed against mine pushing me to do the same, as you roll into the ring and equip your gloves. Smacking them together as I slide in after you and then stand.
Your swaying and bouncing tits calling to me, like a flute playing to a snake. Drawing me in and closer, as I struggle to get my own gloves on. Only half sure I will be able to keep standing, let alone beat you in a boxing match/titfight.
“You’re mean.” I reply teasingly, as I stick my tongue out at you and walk to the center of the ring to meet you.
Alana:
“Uh ya. That’s why you’re like madly in love with me right? It’s why I am super into you even if I did give you a bit of a wallop last time baby. Then again I saw your last match. The fuck was that thing off the top ropes?! Make me jealous, why don’t you. I’m such a fatty lately. At least I got legs and boobs. I can’t do that aerial stuff you and Remi are into.”
Walking out into the middle of the ring to meet you sweat soaked form I lick my lips and offer my gloves. As soon as you go to touch though I push my tits forwards and bounce our racks off each other. Smirking as I do it. For like a second though I falter just a little bit. You’re not quite the full Latina that Maria was but I get the strangest twisty dejavu and it makes me pause a little.
I shake it off and bounce back a little bit. “Kay keep your guard up or I’ll punch you in the boobs till you fill out a bigger cup size!” I’m only half joking. After all the stuff we have been through my whole world basically revolves around you and I’m not about to beat the shit out of you in some silly post workout boxing match but I have no problems making sure you have double ice packs on your boobs when we are laying ont he couch watching Netflix tonight.
As if to illustrate I put my gloves up and fire off a quick one-two. Right tit, left tit. If you don’t get those arms up its gonna make your girls bounce. Its nothing hard but enough to make sure you know I mean it when I threaten to mug your jugs.
Jennifer:
We’ve talked about how much I hate it when you call yourself fat, or even hint at it. And so your comment, intentionally or not, distracts me as I go to correct you and tell you how beautiful you are. But before I can even speak, you step forward and into me. The softness and fullness of our breasts creating just enough cushion and bounce to send is both back, but in my state of fatigue I drop down to a knee after my careen. Groaning, as I get back up to a stand, mid warning and just in time to find two punches thrown at my tits.
I should block them. I should dodge them, but instead they land gently on my D cups with a muffled splash. “Oooh, you little….” I mutter with a loving smirk, before I finally raise my arms and prepare myself to box. My feet beginning to step to the right cautiously, my eyes watching you like a hawk. The only two skills that can translate from a squared circle with three ropes to one with four.
“You’re always talking about Remi. Remi this and Remi that, I comment jealously as I continue to move about you, our eyes narrowed in playful glares. I guess I’m going to have to run into her someday, so I can tell her to stay away from my GIRLFRIEND.” As the final word comes out loud and accusatory, I throw the best punch I can, right at your own right breast. Knowing it will be sloppy, but still looking to land it.
Alana:
What I am not expecting when I bounce your rack is for you to fold like a lawn chair. Then you take the first two pops to the tits as you’re standing up. I’m not confident at this point and I vaguely consider telling you that maybe that should count as knock down one but you come back and start to move around me in a circle. I’ve seen this movement from you. I joke about watching you from time to time when you have a match.
It’s bullshit.
I don’t
I’ve seen every single match more than once. I have no idea what the rules are or what is happening but I’m fucking obsessed with you so bad it physically hurts me to be away from you. It’s gut wrenching and squirmy and I hate it. I pretty much invite myself to anything you don’t ask me to come to and I’m a ridiculous velcro girlfriend.
So when you make the comment about how much I talk about Remington I turn bright pink. “H-Hey! it’s not that OOF!” You sock me in the tit with the punch and I take two steps back and rub my punched orb. That one had some moxy to it and my chest aches more than it should.
I’m fine in titfights but boxing is a little different. It’s the depth of the impact from punches. The way the doctor explained it is that I have nerve damage and scar tissue that sits deep in my breasts from my last foxy boxing match. They could do surgery but there is zero guarantee it would work out and I’d probably look like I had some sort of plastic surgery. Either way.
I get my gloves up. “Or, you could just live in wonder of who this minx your girlfriend carries on about is and enjoy the fact that you’re the one whose pussy she is sucking.”
With that I step forwards and paw at your nose with my left jab before I give you a right uppercut to the tummy and then a l swing with my left uppercut looking to swat your tit from beneath and take any bend out of your back if the right folds you up at all.
Nothing is too hard but its stiff and firm. I want you to feel it but not HURT you other than to give your tummy and girls something to feel for a minute. If I get the chance to knock you loopy I may take it but only if you’re being dumb and need a lesson on keeping you gloves up.
Jennifer:
I have had girlfriends before, like, of course. AND, some of them I thought I was super into. But since the first moment we met, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. And now that you’ve let me in — now that we’ve each said the L word and called each other girlfriends, it’s almost scary how inseparable we are. How we finish each others sandwiches, quote Disney movies together, and find any and all opportunities to be together.
I mean, I moved in like a week after we spent hours going at it, tit to tit. Abandoning my own separate life and lease. Apologizing to Brooke, as she shook her head and cautioned me about life on the road with “an other”.
All of which means, when your cheeks turn rose-colored red at the mention of Remi’s name, I feel it in my soul. Jealousy. Anger. Rage. Not at you, you’re too cute to be mad at. And yet still, even as you yelp from my punch, and step back and away, I come after you. Stepping with suddenly returned vigor, as I try to get in range to strike again.
“Ooooh, she … she … she wants you doesn’t she! That blue-haired, viperous little BITCH!” I am the sweet one. The nice one. The soft one. And yet as I come at you, I picture hunting Remi down in the locker room and locking her in a hold so deep she won’t even wake up to submit until Christmas!
But just as I go to let a strike fly, you hit me PAP! PAP! The first shot rebounding off my tummy, and the second ascending into the bottom of my perky right tit. Blows that sting enough to make me stop, and then let loose a half-pained “owe!”
Your comment about sucking on my pussy hitting me like a third punch. BGoth the hotness of the image in my head, and also you daring to tell me not to worry about a woman who looks like a tattooed goddess.
Alana:
I’m not good at this. I don’t have girlfriends or boyfriends I have friends with benefits. You’re literally the first person I’ve dated since like…high school. Trundling along on my own is actually really easy most of the time but this is just so different I mean I even told you I was in love with you. I don’t DO that. Beyond that you are clearly having some issues with the idea of Remingotn and I think it’s really my fault but at the same time your demeanor makes me…giddy.
Excited.
Anytime anyone got possessive of me in the past I’d make sure to take another person to bed and fuck them hard and regularly just to make it clear that I was not anyone’s girl. Was it healthy. Probably not, I upset a lot of people over the years. I’m a sickly sweet and naughty bitch all in one but this is a real look don’t touch or touch don’t keep situation.
You’re so different that as I plaster you with the uppercut I realize that the feeling in my stomach is guilt. You are actually jealous of Remi. Like. Really jealous. You’re guard is open so I dive for you. Partly cause its a good time to do this but also. Secretly. I wanna hug you. Make you feel like you don’t have to worry. The funny thing is the last interaction I had with Remi was beating the shit out of her of course. Then her sociopathic wife turned up and…well….
The squish of boob on boob ends that line of thought as I hook my arms under yours and push on you. Squeezing my arms around you and rubbing my boobs back and forth smearing sweat and nipples across your chest. Putting my chin on your shoulder I kiss your ear gently. And then I poke the bear. Cause I’m an awful girlfriend.
“Careful she’s like…into the pro wrestling thing now. I heard she won a championship belt recently”
Jennifer:
The feeling of being punched in the tit, with no gear on is new. New and interesting. New and kinda hot. Just like the blow you landed on my stomach, that knocks the wind out of my already burned up lungs. And yet still, in that moment of new and fun experiences, I am still focused on you.
Trying to read your expressions and demeanor. Knowing for only a handful of months, and yet I have spent so many of them with you. And so, I can tell, as you my jealousy rages, that it excites you.
Cute little Jenn being mad and talking tough. That should make me even more angry, but instead, I love it. Making you happy. Making you turned on. Making you laugh and smile. And so I plane to play to it, to give you exactly what I think you want.
But all of that thought, analysis, intent leaves me open. To punch? Maybe, but instead of throwing one, you dive at me. Wrapping your arms around me, as I do the same to you. Our heavy gloves hanging on one another’s back, as once more we press chests.
I should be terrified of such an encounter after last time. Petrified of putting my girls up against yours, given the size difference and how clearly you beat me last time. But I couldn’t want it more. This is my favorite game. The highlight of any week in which it takes place. Our sweaty, fleshy, natural tits compressing and sliding between us.
Resting our heads on each others shoulders as we whisper. You about how I should watch out for your blue-haired mistress, before I offer my own reply. “I’ll take her down, I’ll take her title, and then when I sit on her pretty face, I’ll finger myself while calling you, baby.”
So sexy. So confident. And just as those words pass from my lips to your devious mind, I pull my right arm back, and drive a half-force body blow into your abdomen.
Alana:
Truthfully when I smacked your tits into complete submission with mine a few months backI thought you’d never wanna put up your rack against mine again. It made me sad to think it because I had loved the experience. I mean obviously i’d won right? But that wasn’t the reason. I just….really enjoyed pushing my boobs over yours into yours, around them. And yeah I loved how you mewled and begged for mercy and suckled my boobs when I forced them on you (well it wasn’t MUCH force). But no. You wanted more. It was like you knew you were outmatched and were probably gonna lose but you were just happy to battle and struggle and put your chest against mine.
So when you mirror my position and we push each other around the ring while grinding our chests on each other I can’t help but smile as your words form into a fantasy image of Remington under your ass and your masturbating on her unconscious body. “oooooh fuck yes baby I’d UNG!” You swing your punch into my tummy and i slip a little bit and then you give me a hit to the chest with your smaller pair. It overbalances me and then.
Bam.
Butt first on the canvas for me. “Wah…oh you minx! Fine. That’s my first knock down. Two more and you get to see me run out the door topless.”
Standing back up I move to the center of the ring. A mischievous look in my eyes. “Okay, lets see if you can keep up.” Lunging slightly forwards I whip my left jab out to just gently tap your nose before I go low with a right left hook and shift to a right left uppercut looking to make you bend over so I can juggle your boobs again and make you moan.
Jennifer:
I remember the first time I wanted more after our titfight. You were laying naked on the couch, and I snuck over, equally disrobed, came up behind the couch, and then pounced on you. Making sure our bodies and breasts were aligned when I landed.
I could see in your eyes, you were uncertain. Why would I be willing? Was I just doing it for you? Those questions made you try to stop me. To talk to me about what I was doing and to assure me I didn’t have to.
But as you spoke, I kissed you. “Telling you to hush, as I planted my lips on yours and wrapped our tongues together. Shifting my tits against yours until you gave in and fought me. Hours later, when you had finally pinned me against the shower wall and made me give, I made you promise to always titfight me. God, it was magic. That moment. The tears in our eyes.
And though it was spectacular and probably untouchable, I can still see it from the rung on the ladder of joy where I stand now. Feeling your tits slip down my body before I hit you one last time and you fall.
I got you. I ACTUALLY knocked you down in your game! Ha ha! I smile wide, as I raise a fist into the air in victory. Your explanation of what the knockdown means barely penetrating my brain matter, before you’re back on your feet, and I am at you. A lunge from you closing the distance and letting you strike, with a hook and then an uppercut, each slamming into my boobs causing a ripple of flesh and my lips to open in a moan of pain. My feet, still quickened by our early discussion about Remi taking me back and away, as I massage my tits with my still cold gloves.
Alana:
Mentally I think I still have the sense that you are not actually real. I mean a lot of people ithink believe I’m not actually real either. I’m blonde. Stacked. I bounce off the walls like the energizer bunny. I have a history of doing titfights and a career in foxy boxing which is admittedly behind me but all the same. The fact that I get to be with you is absolutely amazing and I love it and it just brings me such joy. So when you punch me out of the titfight and onto my ass it’s a little stunning but I get right back into it and goodness does it have an effect on your lovely rack.
I can’t help the smirk that crosses my face. If I could I’d have held it back. I know I have a lot of experience and skill and time on you when it comes to boxing but I do wanna make sure you know that I’m not totally washed up at this point.
Seeing you rubbing down your girls with cool leather I decide that maybe right now is a good time to teach you a lesson about foxy boxing.
It’s a mental game as much as it’s about making your opponent turned on and confused. The hottest knockouts are not delivered suddenly and by a blaze of prowess. They are actually delivered only as a capstone to a fight. The perfect knockout is something the opponent sees and knows is coming.
When she’s barely staying on her heels. Knees knocking together. Saliva dripping down her lips. Tits popped out of her top. Wobbly, glassy eyed. And gloves down or holding her chest. That’s the best time to take her off her feet. It’s never been about the blazing display of skill in a regular boxing match. It’s a show. The goal is to truly dismantle your opponent. Leave her disheveled. Turned on. Humiliated and hurting before you switch off the lights.
That’s why hitting to the chest is so important. It forces your opponent to protect part of what makes her woman. It also takes away her ability to defend herself. Forcing her to cup her smarting chest. Smooth it. Protect it. And as a result leave her head and body open to punishment.
SO that’s what I do. While you’re soothing your breasts with the cool leather I cock back my right hand and shoulder smirk at you and swing a right hook at your jawline. It’s telegraphed for sure but I want it to be. If you’re capable enough to block it then I want you to block it but if your rack hurts enough or you’re too distracted then the hefty hook will be all the more satisfying if it lands and makes you either fall or stumble.
Jennifer:
There are so many things about you I love. So many aspects that have taken us from party enemies to cuddling girlfriends. But one of those elements that makes us such an intensely addicted couple, is how when our eyes lock together, we seem to rev each other up. All of our excitement, energy, attraction, and desire are not only visible but unmissable. Which leads us to feed off each others already immeasurable vivaciousness.
In fact, there have been moments where we have gone from across the room, doing something entirely unrelated, to sprinting towards each other and then lunging into a kiss, a tackle, and a session of whatever wickedness crosses our minds. Why? Because our eyes just so happen to meet.
It is that same visual stimuli that make me smile, and ready myself as you step closer. Your eyes telling me you will attack. That you want to give me another test. Even as sweat drips down my tits and to the mat below. My aching, tired body telling me to call this off and roll out of the ring, even though my heart replies NEVER.
As that dialogue of thought and passion plays out, you step closer and swing hard. I could block the blow, but instead, I duck it, and then step in. Your quickly moving arm, skimming the top of my sweaty brown hair, as I shift left, and then drive my gloved right fist into your tummy. Hard enough to steal a little of your wind and leave you beant over on my punch which remains in place and pressed against your skin.
“Mmmm, feel it, Alana.” I whisper into your ear, as I grind my glove into your tummy. “Fuuuuuuuck.” I mutter, telling you how turned on I am at the thought of all of this and you.
Alana:
Sending you to the mat in a drooling heap would definitely have been a highlight of today and it still very well could be as my right punch swings over your head. It does however also make me giddy to see that you are perfectly capable as you get the hell out of the way of a punch that probably would have sent you loopy. Instead though you duck it and retaliate and I have to say. I’m not much of a pain slut. But.
You bury that glove on my tummy and tell me to feel it as you I hunch over. Skeewered on the punch and groaning. My right arm finds your shoulder and I stagger a little. It’s intoxicating. Doing anything like this with you. I think it’s the physical exertion that is really what turns me on about this whole thing. That…sense of testing and pushing and working with each other and against each other. It’s a wonderful feeling. So much sensation packed into it.
At this particular moment though I know you’re winding up to give me some of my own medicine and if I was Remington then this would be the time she went for a low shot or a clever attack or something like that. I’ve never been the first to throw a pussy punch though.
That being said…
As I sag a little I lean my lips down to your perky slightly reddening right breast and put my mouth right on the nipple. Sucking firmly and running my tongue around the nipple. At the same time I slide my glove up between your legs and press the leather on your naked hot snatch. Rocking the rub of the glove between your legs as I switch from punching it out with you to a sexual line of attack. It’s not what I’d call orthodox even for foxy boxing but there is always this sense I get with you that just the barest little spark can send us into a lust fueled spiral. This is just me saying hello aaaaaaaand….. I push on you a little.
There maybe a ooeey gooey trip to the ropes in your future. That being said I can feel you digging that glove in and another punch to the gut like this will make me spit your nipple right out and stumble.
Jennifer:
In our first fight we were serious. In our second we were desperate. But ever since then, our every battle has been lusty and playful. Not that we don’t try. Not that we don’t strain to win and then struggle against the threat of losing. But the role we play in each others lives has changed. We are fighting to some moment of climax, with the winner leaving and loser staying in a clump on the floor.
We’re bound. We’re staying. We’re connected. And so we focus on enjoying our battles, in all there many forms, like an extension of sex. Frisky little hobbies. Sexy little games.
And this is no different. Yes, you tried to knock me silly, but even in the shadow of that blow, I moved in and then hit you in just such a way that I could make you freeze, lean, and breathe hard as I play with you. Rubbing my glove against your lower tummy and pubic mound. Whispering in your ear, before my lips move to your neck to kiss, down to your shoulder.
“Is this what you wanted, baby?” I ask, sweetly and sincerely, just before your lips seal around my nipple and begin to gently suck. Your own glove moving to my thong-covered sexy and rubbing, as all of my focus on punching and dodging begins to evaporate.
Needing a brace, my left arm wraps around your shoulders, and then lays down for a rest. Pulling you close, as I bring my head up, and then bend my neck, letting my eyes close and hair hang. Simply enjoying and moaning softly as you suck.
But even in that heaven, I begin to pull my right glove back, meaning to hit you again if you let me. If you don’t take the reins and fight back.
Alana:
There is just something deeply compelling about you and fighting with you. Its just so bound up in the sex now. I will admit that personally I have this little baby chip on my shoulder. I know pro wrestling is for the most part staged but there is definitely athleticism and skill and technique to it. And you do it regularly and well. The few times in bed we have played around with wrestling I can tell you’d totally tie me up. So I think in a way for me there is a little bit of an urge to make sure that you don’t ever look at me as some defenseless thing. Obviously your inability to overcome me in a titfight is a huge ego boost pretty much every time but I do want you to think of me as more than your sexy semi athletic girlfriend.
I’ve yet to tell you how my foxy boxing career ended. I think I’m a little ashamed of it and if I told you then you might refuse to get in the ring with me and here in this moment as I suck your nipple and push you back into the ropes setting you up for a sexy little flurry of punches.
It would devastate me to lose this…this avenue of foreplay. This…..wonderful mildly competitive happy fun but challenging moment.
Remington refused to fight with me again after Bailey knocked my glands loose and milked me dry. I had to go back to the doctor after that and they gave me the same lecture about how if I wanted to go back to doing that Ineeded a surgery and PT otherwise fights that went that way were just going to be worse and worse. I’d begged and pleaded with Remington for months while I healed. We got in the ring and I got sent back to the Doctor who had basically told me if it happened again she was going to have to take me off of her patient list because I was purposefully harming myself. It had been humiliating and hurt me on a lot of levels. Particularly after I’d just come off the heels of giving Remington a proper beating.
All my thoughts are interrupted by your next punch to the tummy. It frees your nipple and it frees you sending me back a few steps rubbing my tummy. “Mmph. I thought you liked it when I sucked on your nipples. Maybe I need to rub them a little more raw with my leather huh?” My guard is over my body and mid section careful to keep it over my rack while I sooth my tummy.
Jennifer:
I would GLADLY, while standing here, sitting here, or even laying here, trading punches. Grabs. Holds. Keeping each other on a swinging pendulum of suffering and weakness – control and dominance.
It is one of my favorite kinks. Being in firm control with another woman at my mercy, and then losing it all, just to find myself river deep in their own inflicting grasp. An intimate exchange of pain and passion — subjugation and dominion.
And so I keep you on the soft, rounded tip of my leather glove. Listening, watching, and loving the sound of you groan, waiting for all such signs to end before I force you to give me the same again.
Yes, I would love for you to suck on my nipple forever. Yes, I want to fuck you — my cute, blonde, peppy little lover. But right now, we have a game to play. And as you stumble back and away from me, guarding your body, I come after you.
Soft, lovey, hyper Jenn demanding with her left glove raised to her nose and tapping with it’s back end. “Hit me, Alana. Don’t be afraid you’ll break me. I can TAKE IT!”
Alana:
I’m being absolutely punked by my skillless girlfriend. This is actually kinda hot if it wasn’t totally humiliating… but maybe that’s what makes it kinda hot? Either way you grind that leather a little and then send me back to cover up. Things are not going as planned and the panting easily crumpled Jenn from the start of the fight has been replaced by this wonderful creature on a second win and a sex high. Fuelled by what I can only imagine is your irritation that there is another woman’s name that occasionally leaves your lips.
I understand if the roles were reversed I’d probably be trying to sock you around the ring while telling you how I was going to own the bitch in front of you.
What you do next is just absolutely humiliating. The playground “free shot” the cocky ‘I’m in control and you’re a beat up mess’ line of the foxy boxing world. If you’re being given a free shot chances are good you’re naked and fucked up while she hasn’t even smudged her makeup.
Staying with my gloves a little low I groan and slowly stand back up straight milking this a little. Shaking out my breasts and cupping them before letting them fall to bounce and its then.
Right there in that moment that I snap off with my right cross it’s a wicked little thing aimed for the spot you pointed at.
I really wanna shut you up not because I’m mad but because I want to see if you’re as good as you think you are. If not I’m gonna smack you around this ring and you’re going to wake up wondering which way is up. But if you baited me…. I shiver internally as I let the punch fly wondering if I’m about to get taken apart by a total new girl in the ring.
Jennifer:
I have trained since I was seven years old with Chavo and his other students. Learning how to block and tackle, hit the ropes, and get it again. To master my footsteps, at first in boots, and then after wrestling Kat in my bare feet. So I am not only used to navigating a mat, I own them when I step on.
And yet still, boxing is new to me. Closed fists are usually illegal in pro-wrestling, and I’ve never really been heel. So the concept, as odd as it sounds, is foreign to me.
Still, I have this thing where I need to keep pace with you as good as I can. Never wanting you to see me as a pushover or a weakling. So if it’s a titfight? I will titty fight you until I can’t take a second more of it. A sexfight? Yes, please, forever. A footfight? Oil wrestling? Any of it. All of it. Bring. It. On….
And so even though boxing isn’t my jam, I am trying. Trying to the point of getting you once. Getting you twice. And now, when catch even a whiff of you taking it easy on me, I demand you come at me. That you hit me. That you let me struggle with you. FOR REAL. And not let me land easy shots, just because you think I am skill less.
And though that was an easy thing to do. Challenge you to hit me. When you come at me, with an angry twinkle in your eye, and then flash leather, hitting me right in the face, my vision blinks out. My knees go weak. And I drop to those same knees right in front of you. My hands going to your thong, looking for a grip, but when they give way, I fall face-first into your pubic-mound. My nose sliding between your wet pussy lips as the fabric of your bottoms drop to the ring’s floor.
Alana:
There is an INSTANT moment of concern when I smack you in the face and then you drop. I over did it. I’m a terrible girlfriend! I let it get to me that you were challenging me like that and I just punched you in the face! Resisting the urge to coddle you I am suddenly taken by surprise as you strip me naked on the way down. Face to my pussy I moan out loud with little reservation at all as you bury your face in my sensitive snatch. Clean shaven and glistening from how wet I am from this fight.
The funny thing is this would be so much more in my favor in heels. I mean like really in my favor. I’ve seen you move in boots and barefoot and you’re amazing. Stunning. Awesome. Just capable beyond belief but as I put you on your knees face in my pussy I can’t help but picture you with heels on. THAT thought makes me shiver for real.
My glove naturally comes to the back of your head and I cup it to softly grind on your face as you kneel there. Bending down I whisper in your ear “One………Two……….threeeeee…….” I draw the count out nice and slow for two reasons. One I want this to continue and two I am enjoying using your lips and nose to get myself off a little. Even going so far as to kick my thong off completely and stand naked holding your head to my womanhood.
“Gotta be careful when you give free shots baby. That’s how cocky girls get KO’d in a single punch.” I’ve seen it before. A total amazon with a massive wrack was slapping this stripper around in one of the fights when the NAFBL first formed and she got cocky before her opponent was totally out. She bent over and gave the girl a free shot on the jaw. Her opponent knocked her out cold with HUGE right hook that fucking splattered her and left her totally out cold.
Jennifer:
Stars. Birdies. Specks and shimmers. I see all of them, as I feel your kitten’s dripping ooze down my nose and onto my lips. My already tired body only held up by your lower half and womanhood. The latter grinding on my face as I mutter incoherently.
Mmmm, you have me so good. I am down, after a single punch, and you count to me in a voice that sounds like a coo. You know I love you. That I already worship you. And if you asked for it, I would…. Suddenly, my thoughts clear, eyes focus, and I realize where I am.
I should pull back. Pull away. And get back to my feet. But instead I drag my nose along your clit, and then seal my mouth to your bare sex. One so ready for action, I can feel it’s radiating heat warm my face. My tongue attacking your clit, not unlike a boxer with hooks, jabs, and pulling uppercuts.
I hear you moan and feel you stumble. Trying to keep to your feet as I pleasure you on my knees. Until finally, you step back just far enough for me to move quickly up. To a stand, from which I throw two quick uppercuts of my own, awkward and ill-aimed though they are, which I intend to land on the undersides of your tits to get back in this game. And to prove to you I will take you on in any competition. Yours, mine, or anyone else’s.
Alana:
This may have been a mistake. You proceed to start eating my pussy and boxing my clit with your tongue! My legs immediately go gooey. You are so amazing and in such a short time you’ve become so fantastic at doing what you are doing. It’s like we both have an intuitive line to each other’s pleasure centers so when you go to work on my pussy mid ring I get out the count of five and then start panting in heat. Loving the feel of that tongue swirling around my clit, working it and rubbing it. If you keep this up I may just take an orgasm in the ring and that is something I Haven’t done in a while for sure. I’m not sure I’m opposed.
I waver on my feet and you suddenly go from eating me to standing. Which leaves my hands still in open space near my crotch. “wha-Jenn?! OOOOOHAAAAAAH!” Fuuuuuuck. You stand up and use my tits like speed bags with those uppercuts. You sink the shots on the underside of my boobs and lift and drive. That’s the sort of thing my tits can’t take anymore. Those kind of hefty sinking punches mash the damaged internal glands, mess with the scar tissue, and futz with the damaged nerves.
I stagger back onto the ropes moaning in a surprising combination of heat and pain. Arms securely across my painful rack. That. Fuck that hurt and took me from edged orgasm to cupping my girls from the sudden stand up uppercuts.
“oooooh fuck. Owowowowow. That was…ooo…a good one babe.” Trying to play down how bad you caught me on it. “Well don’t just stand there better get me before I do the same.” I start to peel off the ropes gloves FIRMLY defending my tits. Head left exposed.
Jennifer:
Your pussy is sweet, that it has become the absolute top of my food pyramid. Sometimes, I just slowly sink down in bed, when you’re awake and on your phone — and even when you’re asleep. Sliding quietly, lifting our blanket gently, and then slowly placing myself your thighs. Claiming for myself the pussy that I feel so incredibly lucky to call MINE. As weird and possessive as that is.
And so when I go from sucking, licking, and nipping on your clit to standing and throwing punches at you, my heart almost breaks. Still, I find a way! To hop up, and with two quick PAPs, slam my gloves into the basin of your tits.
In an instant you retreat, and though it should enter my mind, how quickly you are pulling away, and how you aren’t striking back, I miss it. Instead, I charge after you, with the image of Remington and the threat she poses still in my mind.
Your words telling me to come landing in clouds of invisible oxygen I tear through as I look to flatten you against the ropes. Keep you pinned and then hammer you with shots. But instead, as soon as I arrive, you absolutely bury your left glove in my tummy. Your right arm wrapping around me, and pulling me close, before you hit me again and again. Winding me, as I groan out and hang onto you. My chin coming down for a rest on your left shoulder, as I try not to collapse.
Alana:
Being the right size to handle women even though you are a substantially skilled wrestler is lovely. So when I bury my glove in your tummy I don’t stop and I give you several more shots until your beautiful body slumps on mine. It makes my poor tits ache but I absolutely need to get some fighting back in on you so as you sag I don’t stop the piston like punches to your tummy. The idea of playing tag with an ice pack on your red and slightly bruised stomach tonight sounds lovely.
Then when you are all squirmy and happy I’ll just drop down and LIiiiiiick that kitty since its become my favorite flavor of ice cream. Well favorite flavor in general. Either way I can already see you nice and achy spread on the bed for me to take care of after I give you a proper punching.
After a few more of those hits I roll you over so you’re on the ropes pressing my head and nose to yours breathing sharply I smirk at you. Pushing your gloves apart with mine and then… SPLAT. BAM. WACK! I start to give you little short range punches to your ribs. Tummy. Underboob working your hottie body and even sneaking a few punches low and close to that thong line but nothing too low as to hurt your cunt.
I still can’t bring myself to punch you there. Not after the absolute pussy claw I gave you in our first fight. I’ll never forget how you screamed and it saved me from being smothered out by you. I shake off my visions of our past and move to give you a few more solid hits for good measure. Looking to step you up for a punch to drop you on the canvas. I can feel the workout fatigue and the fight fatigue dragging at me.
Jennifer:
Winded. Groaning. Useless. And yet I LOVE every second of it. It is exactly what I want from this. To take ungiven turns being at each others mercy. Leaning on each other when we are too weak to stand. Too hurt to attack.
God, then you press your body and breasts into mine, and roll me onto my back the ropes.I am trapped, and battered to the point where you split my guard easily and then pepper me with short range shots that sting. Each making my body tense and jerk, as my poor tummy, ribs, and tits ache. My legs burning, as the one flowing adrenaline of jealousy thins in my blood.
Then I feel you come in and come close. Looking to land another series of shorts, but I use my raised, split arms to catch yours. Pulling my own limbs in to pull you into a tight clinch against the rope. Each of us letting out a pained howl of pain, from our breasts as they smash together and flatten. We’re suppose to titfight. To clash with our breast flesh and hard nipples, but I can’t. The pain of it, I can tell at that very moment, before even a single drag, would be too much.
In a flash that same truth in your eyes, and so I let go of your arms, and with that sudden freedom, we each throw punches. Up and over hooks. Your landing on my effort and lust reddened cheeks as on the rope I reel, trying not to drop to the mat once again.
Alana:
On the ropes I literally have you on the ropes bouncing that body around and punching it out on your ribs, tummy, and tits working you over with my punches. I love the feeling of you groaning and shifting under the smacking I am giving you. Yes yes yes! As much as I love you and what we are doing I do actually want to win. Then you clinch and the noise you make tells me that you’re not going to be able to titfight without submitting to me. I’m almost glad though because I can already feel my orbs swelling. You caught my tits just right with those uppercuts. I’m going to be tight in my bra for a while.
That’s when you shove back and out come the hooks. I plant mine on your cheek and see you-
“Wha…”
The lights are blurry above me. I feel like my ears are full of water and the whole room is just kinda swimming. The canvas is smooth on my back and my head kinda hurts. But at the same time it feels like its full of cotton. What…Where…I place my gloves on my forehead they feel cool. My feet sort of absently slip on the canvas.
“ooooooooh….” I’m just gonna hang out here for a second until the room stops spinning. What happened? I remember punching you on the cheek and then nothing. There is a shadow between my vision and the lights. It resolves into the face of my beloved girlfriend.
“Wha-what happened….oooooooo my tits and my head hurt….” I put my gloves on my chest and sort of rock from side to side. Nevermind the count.
Jennifer:
The overhead gym lights seem to blur into a moving circle, as I try to keep from falling. Reaching for the ropes, the corner, you, but all of it is gone. How? Where? We each landed every punch we threw, and in the process, battered one another. A double knockout would have been our fate, but we both fell backward. You to the mat, and me to the ring’s ropes. Ropes that held me up, for one second and then two — two and then three — until finally I collapse like a sack of potatoes on my knees, just over your right leg.
There I wobble and teeter, until finally, I have just enough focus and strength to crawl forward. Grabbing your head awkwardly with my gloves thumb and then pulling you up to a seated position as I drop into your lap. Pulling your lips to mine in a soft, still-dizzy kiss.
“Don’t make us go for three, Alana. Please…” I plead with you, knowing neither of us are in the state to keep going. Your eyes glassy, just like mine. Our tits swollen and bruised. Our tummies red and sore, like we had just spent hours catching medicine balls with them.
I hear you mumble in our kiss. “We have to. We can’t quit. Not yet. One more….” You try to push into me, past me, and though you are delirious, stand up. As if you are only half aware I am in your lap. But when you do, I bring my right hand’s glove to your chest, shove you back and then as you try to come back up, punch you as softly as I possibly can while still knocking you down to the mat.
“Three…. Three, bitch…. Stay down….” I mumble, as I use my teeth to tear off my gloves. One after another, before climbing atop you, and then in a single blissful pressing my lips to yours both above and below. Locking us into a soft scissor, as I fuck you there in the center of this boxing ring. Your glassy eyes looking up to me, as in half-conscious haze, you mutter. “Remi? with a loving and excited smile.
This Story Continues in Chapter 7! Coming soon!