The flight back home proved to be long and… awkward.

It was a few days into January now, and we were finally returning to the UK. ‘We’ being myself, my girlfriend Fleur, her sister Gabrielle and their mother Apolline, that is. Fleur’s father Philippe and his assistant Yasmine had already headed to Montreal the night before, aiming to finalize the hostile takeover of a rival company or some such business stuff. I hadn’t really asked for details.

Instead, my attention had been focused wholly on dealing with the aftermath of another, entirely different kind of unfriendly encounter.

While Fleur and Yasmine’s first clash of wills and bodies had been thwarted before it even had to time to properly begin, the two proud women, predictably, hadn’t given up so easily, biding their time and impatiently waiting for another opportunity to settle things. Their chance had come the day after New Year, when Philippe and Apolline left the family villa to attend their friends’ anniversary party together. Both anger and jealousy -driven females had made sure not to waste any time with niceties, moving straight to bashing each other’s tits to a pulp in what became a truly vicious, brutal showdown.

Now, less than two days later, I was sitting next to my girlfriend on an airplane, desperately struggling not to stare at her hoodie-covered bust. I’d seen Fleur’s tender, badly bruised breasts without any clothing that same morning, and could certainly understand why she’d chosen not to wear a bra. Her boobs had to still feel incredibly sore. The initial, bright red discolouration appeared to have made way for a mix of black, blue and green hues, and in contrast to their usual, pert and just about perfect shape, I’d witnessed my girlfriend’s breasts continue to droop noticeably, sagging down on her chest and looking soft and loose. Not to mention bouncy. Even now, with two layers of fabric hiding them from view, every bump and bit of turbulence caused my girlfriend’s normally firm flesh to shake and wobble perceptibly beneath her top.

Before their brawl, the Arab beauty had vowed to turn her rival’s prized set to mush. And she’d sure as hell delivered.

Glancing up towards Fleur’s face, I was relieved to see that her eyes were still closed. She hadn’t gotten much rest the last couple of nights, the pain and soreness in her poor, battered tits causing fitful sleep, and I was happy to let her nap on the plane.

I sensed movement to my right, and craned my neck to see Gabrielle leaning forward from her own seat directly behind mine. Like the gentleman I was, I’d of course offered the window seat to Fleur, and was sitting next to the aisle myself.

“How’s she doing?” the younger blonde asked me in a quiet murmur, keeping her voice down to avoid disturbing her sister. Gabrielle’s face was full of concern and empathy, and her beautiful, intelligent eyes seemed to almost bore into my soul as she studied me closely, looking uncharacteristically subdued.

“Better, I guess,” I replied, shrugging carefully and giving her a half-hearted smile. “She’s already plotting tactics for the rematch. To be honest, I think her tits are in worse shape than her head is.”

Gabrielle nodded slowly, pursing her gorgeous, plump lips and letting out a deep breath as her shoulders relaxed slightly.

“That bitch really did a number on ’em, didn’t she?” the blonde girl sighed, glancing at her big sister’s slouched form sympathetically. “I’ve never seen anyone just… pulverize Fleur’s boobs like that before. I mean, sure, they clearly hated each other’s guts from the start, but…”

Gabrielle trailed off, giving me a mournful look. I knew what she meant. Towards the end, Fleur’s tits had been a squishy, severely mauled and dreadful-looking mess, and I could vividly recall my girlfriend’s anguished, tear-stricken face as her once-proud mammaries flopped across her chest, loose and empty. Looking back, I didn’t think even Lavender had managed to wreak quite as much havoc on Fleur’s rack in their match a few months ago. I swallowed thickly, dragging my mind back to the present.

“I’m really glad you’ve been there for her, you know,” Gabrielle whispered, reaching out to touch my hand and giving it a soft squeeze. “I know it means a lot to her.”

I returned the gesture, cupping the girl’s small, delicate hand in my palm. “Don’t mention it. I know she’d do the same for me.”

Gabrielle chortled, giving me an odd look.

“Hmh, thinking of starting an underground cock-fighting ring, are you?” she mused, smirking saucily. “Be sure to reserve some tickets for me, too.”

I rolled my eyes at the gorgeous young blonde, silently happy to see Gabrielle returning to her usual, playful even if a bit immature antics. Then again, in her defence, she was barely eighteen.

“Keep your grabby paws off him, Gabs,” I heard my girlfriend mumble sleepily, and paled as Fleur suddenly changed her position and snuggled against me, lowering her head onto my shoulder. She cracked her eyes open just a bit, a grin tugging at the edges of her mouth as she glanced up at me.

“Besides, Ced’s cock is way too valuable to risk getting injured in a brawl. At least my pussy stays fully operational even when my boobs get knocked out of action.”

Gabrielle stifled a giggle with her hand, her eyes sparkling.

“Judging by the sounds coming from your bedroom…” she started, biting her lip impishly and fluttering her lashes in an exaggeratedly girly fashion. “…I’d say the downstairs department actually goes into overdrive then.”

“Oh shut up, Gabs,” Fleur yawned, raising a middle finger at her little sister and sliding her eyes closed again. “As if you and Becky weren’t going at it all night after your match as well. We could hear each and every moan through the wall.”

I snickered, nodding in confirmation to my girlfriend’s statement and grinning as Gabrielle stuck her tongue out, pretending to pout.

We landed at Heathrow pretty much on schedule and without any unusual incidents, saying farewell to the girls’ mother before continuing on North towards Scotland. It was the first time Gabrielle made this particular trip, and although Fleur had described the landscape – and especially the school itself – in fairly close detail, the younger French girl’s enthusiasm was tangible. And rather contagious, too.

Later that night, as I climbed into bed with my girlfriend (sharing the head students’ dorm definitely had its advantages), I had to admit that it was refreshing to see someone get so excited about a dreary, mist-covered lake and a bunch of old stone buildings.

“Well, that’s just the way Gabby rolls,” Fleur chuckled, rolling over to her side so she could hug me to her. “Always full of energy.” I could feel Fleur’s large, unusually wobbly jugs through the thin fabric of her nightgown, two large mounds mashing against my bare chest, spreading out and molding loosely. She immediately picked up on my distraction, letting out a sigh and slowly, very deliberately rubbing her bust into me. Her eyes had darkened visibly.

“They’re still so soft and comfy, aren’t they?” she breathed huskily, leaning in to nibble on my ear. I inhaled sharply, the combined sensation of my girlfriend’s mushy tits flattening against my chest and her hot breath tingling my skin proving a little too much to handle. As if to emphasize the point, my rapidly hardening cock made a mighty lurch inside my boxer shorts, swatting against Fleur’s lean, smooth thigh.

“Mmm, if I didn’t know better, I might think you preferred my boobs this way,” the modelesque blonde teased me, lifting my right hand and placing it onto her left bum cheek. “Loose, bouncy pillows. Not at all like this firm and toned ass, right?”

I cupped her supple behind gently, kneading its beautifully curved shape with my fingers and leaning forward to plant a kiss on my girlfriend’s parted lips.

“Not right now, no,” I admitted with a low, coarse murmur, enjoying Fleur’s small gasp as I traced her lower lip with my tongue. “But give it a few days, and they’ll be just as pert as before. Then you can get back to ruling the school with an iron first, flattening other girls’ best assets with your big, perfect boobs.”

“Hm, got any specific pairs in mind? Like, say… Gabby’s?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and clearly loving the way my face acquired a sudden, red tinge. My treasonous member made another jump at the mental image of the two gorgeous French blondes pushing their boobs together, and Fleur’s lips curled into a wide, knowing smirk.

“I fucking knew it, you perv,” she whispered, grinning madly as she pushed me onto my back and rolled herself on top. I grunted, feeling my girlfriend’s sleek thighs wrap around my hips while she mounted me like a cowgirl. An insanely hot, big-titted cowgirl with the body of a bikini model, that is.

“Sorry Ced, but you’re gonna have to wait at least a couple of months for that,” Fleur cooed, reaching down to grab the hem of her nightie. “She and another new transfer student, some girl in second year, will be busy battling a bunch of lesser pairs in the meantime.”

“Of course, there are good news as well,” my girlfriend added, winking down at me as she began to pull her flimsy top off.

“You’ll get to watch it all.”

*~*~*

The first few school days went by quickly, everyone continuing with their classes and falling back to the usual study routine. There was one… oddity, however. While Fleur and I didn’t have any lessons in art or art history this semester, those third-years that did go to Mrs Bunton’s classes were giving somewhat disgruntled reports of a new greeting ceremony the buxom teacher had introduced. Apparently, Mrs Bunton had made it a habit to start her lessons off by lining up all the female third-year students and demonstratively placing her substantial rack above each girl’s smaller bust (they invariably were that), forcing them to try and bear the weight of her huge, meaty jugs atop their own, ostensibly lesser breasts. The point of this exercise was no doubt to remind the young women of her victory over the third-years’ champion at the Christmas gathering – and of her place above them. Figuratively as well as literally.

One of my more artsy classmates had been kind enough to provide a comprehensive, rather vivid summary of the professor’s new ‘ritual’, describing how the voluptuous milf had slowly moved from one girl to the next, whispering something to them as she ground those hefty mammaries against each younger set below. According to my ‘informant’, Angelina had looked especially displeased at having to participate in the embarrassing show of force, even if the black girl’s face hadn’t seemed as visibly red and flustered as some (for obvious reasons). Naturally, this was all done fully clothed, with the girls’ grunts, winces and grimaces being the only way to tell how much discomfort they were experiencing.

So far the male students had been spared of similar hazing or humiliation, though based on the art teacher’s reputation, I strongly suspected Mrs Bunton would be approaching some of the more fetching boys later on – in private. It was common knowledge around the school that the buxom older woman kept at least one or two studs on call at all times, and rarely slept in her bed alone. Then again, she did have a steady, almost inexhaustible supply of fresh and very much willing young men to choose from.

A cougar’s dream come true. Well okay, many guys’, too. Even I had to admit that Mrs Bunton didn’t look half bad for an old bird. The art professor’s ample, voluptuous curves had featured rather prominently as inspiration for more than a few wanking sessions over the years, and while I’d never actually gotten ‘up close and personal’ with the mature man-eater myself, it’d be a lie to claim I didn’t find the idea tempting.

Given what Mrs Bunton had said to Fleur right after the buxom teacher’s match against Alicia, there might be chance for that yet…

Anyway, other than that little novelty feature, everything seemed to have picked up right where we’d left, and things were running with an almost tedious degree of smoothness and predictability. My gorgeous girlfriend was back where she belonged: the head girl and – much more importantly – the ruling titfight champion, being acknowledged as not only the hottest girl in the school, but also the one with the best pair of boobs. Since Fleur and I were pretty much tied as the most academically gifted third-year students, it was fair to say the blonde was well and truly on top.

Yes, there were serious challengers to her reign in each physical category; both Ginny and Angelina had looks and boobs that closely rivaled my girlfriend’s, while Lavender and Susan mostly threatened her in just the latter department (though they, too, were plenty hot enough to get a guy going, thank you very much). Several other females here were more visibly toned or athletic than Fleur, and there was no denying that some of those sportier girls – namely Cho and Megan – could offer Fleur stiff competition in terms of figure, attractiveness and beauty as well, even if their racks weren’t quite a match for the French girl’s epic set. Well, I couldn’t really be sure about that as far as Cho’s boobs were concerned, but the girls’ respective track records did suggest that the Chinese hottie would be starting out as the underdog.

But the point remained. My incredibly sexy, modelesque girlfriend was the number one girl in the school. The boob queen. The alpha female.

Now, if only she’d be able to maintain that position until graduation…

*~*~*

On Wednesday, just as Fleur and I were leaving the great hall after lunch, we bumped into Hermione. With a bright smile, the full-figured second-year hugged us both enthusiastically, and made sure to thank me for the rather pricey Christmas present I’d gotten her by giving me a quick peck on the lips. I could feel my cheeks begin to burn, and Fleur cleared her throat meaningfully, shaking her head at the younger girl’s audacity. Hermione had of course done much more than just kiss me before, but we were in public now, and I wasn’t sure if my girlfriend was okay with advertising that ‘lease’ to the entire school. Judging by the sly grins both females were wearing on their faces, though, the second-year hadn’t stepped over any red lines for the time being.

As usual, the cute, curly-haired brunette had a pile of books under her arm, and being the courteous, chivalric knight in shining armour that I am, I of course immediately offered to carry them for her. Wanting to break the tense silence might’ve had something to do with it as well.

“So, what’ve you been up to ’til now?” Fleur asked her brown-haired friend, wrapping an arm around mine as she leaned against me. “Apart from being too busy to even come say hi to us, of course.”

Hermione’s small, wry smile mirrored my girlfriend’s. She shrugged, making a show of reluctantly handing her precious (and surprisingly heavy!) books over to my care.

“Well, the headmistress tasked me with showing the new girl around,” the brunette explained, brushing away a couple of stray curls with her hand. “So this is pretty much the first bit of freedom I’ve had all week. She’s a bloody nightmare, that one.”

Fleur raised an eyebrow, regarding the brainy second-year with amusement. “While I’d be happy to agree with that assessment, I’m guessing you’re not talking about Gabby?”

Hermione chuckled, tilting her head to the side slightly and making a face. “Nah, they picked another firstie to tutor her, as you well know. I, on the other hand, was unlucky enough to end up with Miss Bossy.”

The brunette quickly filled us in on the second-year transfer student – an Italian girl by the name of Isabella – who apparently liked to have everything done her way. Or rather insisted. Hermione had spent Monday and Tuesday trying to help her get settled in, but given how stubborn the resident bookworm was herself, I could see how they might have a tendency to rub each other off the wrong way. As it turned out, Isabella’s father was a diplomat, and had recently gotten a new posting here in the UK. They’d previously lived in Chile, where the school year ends in late December, hence the girl’s late enrollment.

I noticed a strange expression appear on Fleur’s face, almost as if she’d seen a ghost. Hermione seemed to pick up on it as well, since the brunette quickly trailed off.

“What?” she asked carefully, giving the French blonde a curious look. “Do you know her?”

My girlfriend took a while to reply. “I hope not,” she muttered, slowly pursing her lips. “I did know an Isabella, back in France. She too was Italian. And her dad a diplomat…” Fleur sighed, giving me a quick, almost apologetic look.

“We used to, uh… date for a few months,” she continued, grimacing slightly. I felt a sudden realization dawn on me.

“Ooohhhh,” I breathed out, trying to recall all the details of a conversation we’d had about a year ago. “You mean ‘Bella? That bitchy, manipulative girl you dumped after she -“

“Yes,” Fleur cut me off in a sharp tone. “Her.”

“But I seriously doubt this is the same girl,” the blonde waved it off, doing her best to sound indifferent as she extracted her arm from mine and began to fumble with the shoulder strap of her bag. “Besides, that was all years ago, so even if it is her, the odds are she wouldn’t remember me anymore.”

Personally, I had trouble believing that last bit. Anyone who’d been together with Fleur wasn’t likely to forget it. Especially if they’d gotten past first base…

Hermione, who’d been observing us intently, was quick to come up with a helpful suggestion. They didn’t call her borderline genius for nothing.

“Well, why don’t I just ask her where she’s lived before, then?” the brunette offered, looking at both of us in turn. “You know, as part of making simple conversation. If France is not on the list, we’ll know it’s a different Isabella.”

Fleur made a small grunt, nodding. “Fair enough. Not that it matters much, really. But thanks anyway.”

As we said bye to the curly-haired girl and allowed her to finally go grab some lunch, I couldn’t help but make note of Fleur’s pensive quietness. Whoever that Bella girl was, she clearly hadn’t been just some minor fling.

Later that day, while everyone was busy packing up their books and getting ready to head off to the next class, our form tutor stood up to make an announcement. According to the professor, two foreign exchange students would be arriving soon to further boost the Academy’s ranks for the Spring term; a girl from a private, highly prestigious Japanese boarding school was going to join the second year, while we third-years would welcome a Russian student into our midst.

Most likely the spoiled offspring of some oligarch, I thought to myself. We’d find out more upon their arrival next week.

It wasn’t exactly unusual for the school to host an exchange student or two. There’d been a couple of boys from Malaysia and some Gulf country (maybe Kuwait?) when I was a firsty, but I couldn’t recall anyone from last year. Oh wait, yes I did. A pale, timid-looking Canadian girl had joined the third year in mid-January, but hadn’t taken part in any of the ‘special events’ that Spring. Fleur had of course snatched the championship away from her predecessor Penelope only a few weeks earlier, right before Christmas, and the whole titfighting scene had been somewhat hectic for both of us back then. No wonder I’d forgotten about the mousy exchange student.

I struggled to hide a smirk as my girlfriend and I began to make our way back to the dorm.

*~*~*

The week had already reached Friday morning, and I was happy to notice that Fleur’s prized rack was starting to look a lot better. The bruising had faded away almost completely, and though her breasts still appeared to sit a hint lower than I was used to, the French girl’s ample, dense flesh jiggling deliciously as she got up and began to put on some clothes, it was easy to see they were well on their way to full recovery. I wasn’t sure I’d encourage her to fight this Saturday, at least not against one of the tougher opponents, but felt confident in my girlfriend’s ability dominate the next week’s event. Mentally, she was already fully pumped up.

Though for the moment, her focus did appear to be less on her rivals here at the Academy, and more on the woman who’d recently done her tits in.

“I’m not sure which would be better,” Fleur muttered as she picked up a pair of figure-hugging navy jeans up and started to slide them up her lean thighs. “Papa dumping that slimy, gold-digging skank like the piece of trash she is – in which case I’d probably never see her again,” my girlfriend added bitterly. “Or that bitch continuing to leech on him until Summer, when I can pummel her sad, ugly udders to paste and feed them to her. Maybe even in front of papa. That ought to send the horse-faced slut packing.”

Yeah. Instead of getting rid of a rival like she’d no doubt planned, Yasmine had instead succeeded in making a determined, life-long enemy.

I stared at my girlfriend’s firm, round posterior, admiring the way it filled out the denim garment and created a truly delicious-looking curve to the stretchy fabric. While Fleur didn’t have a biggest or the most toned bum around, its shape was highly attractive.

I cleared my throat, trying to act like I hadn’t just blatantly ogled at her ass.

“Well in that case, I hope for Philippe’s sake that we’ll be able to spend the Easter holidays with your family. It’d cut the ‘leeching time’ by about half,” I winked, getting a small chortle from Fleur.

“Always with the compromises,” she smiled, touching her chin thoughtfully. “That might actually work – assuming papa doesn’t get bored of her first, of course.”

“Of course,” I grinned back as I hopped to my feet and walked up to my gorgeous girlfriend. I leaned in to brush my lips against hers, giving Fleur a small peck and sliding my hands into the back pockets of her jeans. She gave me a mischievous look and flexed her bum slightly, laughing at my incrasingly hungry expression. Through the thin denim, I could feel her firm glutes swell and strain against my palms. I cupped both butt-cheeks, squeezing and massaging them gently. As Fleur hadn’t put on a top just yet, she decided to up the ante a bit by pressing her naked torso against mine. I couldn’t hold back a grunt as the blonde’s large, round Double D jugs rubbed against my equally bare chest, my vision blurring as blood began to race down towards certain parts of male anatomy.

“God, you’re way too easy,” my girlfriend smirked, pulling back and grabbing a blush pink demi-bra from the bedstand. The sensation of her breasts compressing against my hardened torso had confirmed my earlier observations: Fleur’s set had just about healed, feeling thick, dense and deliciously springy. Maybe she would be ready for a match after all?

“Hey, don’t blame me,” I grumbled playfully. “It’s not my fault you’re so insanely hot. How’s a guy supposed to keep his hands to himself when he’s dating a freaking goddess?”

“Aww, poor Ced,” the blonde cooed, shaking her head in mock consternation. “Maybe you’d prefer I found another boyfriend to torment, then? As horrible as being with me undoubtedly is, there’s bound to be someone who’ll want to give it a shot…” she teased me with a playful grin.

I growled, grabbing Fleur by the waist and pulling her towards me possessively. Her eyes widened, but before the French vixen had time to even open her mouth, I’d lifted her off the ground and toppled both of us onto the bed, landing on top of my suddenly rather breathless girlfriend.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, babe,” I whispered, locking my gaze onto Fleur’s and enjoying the way she squirmed and wiggled under my larger, heavier, much more muscular frame. “I’m plenty brave enough to take one for the team.”

“Besides, do you really think any of the other guys here could handle you?” I asked in a gruff murmur, lowering my lips onto the blonde’s and kissing her, long and hard.

“No,” she gasped, looking up at me through hooded eyes. I saw a familiar, intense fire burning in them. Fleur licked her lips, starting to grind herself against me and whipping off the bra she’d only moments before put on.

“And you know what, Ced?” she breathed into my ear, causing me to groan against her collar bone as the modelesque blonde twisted and turned below my body. The sensation of her hard nipples brushing against my skin was distracting to say the least.

“You can’t either.”

Fleur’s smooth, shapely thighs suddenly closed around my midsection, wrapping me up and starting to pull me in. The blonde beauty wasted no time in grabbing my rock-hard dick with her right hand, gently but firmly, tugging it out of the loose boxer shorts I was wearing. I grunted as I felt Fleur slide my pulsating member right into her snatch. She was already wet – and so very, very warm.

Not to mention tight as hell.

“Fuck,” I moaned, my breath hitching as her vaginal muscles began to contract around me, massaging the entire length of my cock with slow, measured squeezes. The French beauty was a grade A sex bomb, and knew exactly how to drive a guy wild. While I wasn’t too shabby in the sack myself, there was no denying that I’d gotten lucky with Fleur. She was way out of my league. Anyone’s, really.

I saw a confident smirk appear on my girlfriend’s lips as she began to work me over, keeping my torso trapped between her lean thighs while her incredibly soft, velvety pussy took care of the rest. Holy shit she was good. We both knew I wasn’t going to last long inside her.

“You okay there, lover? Hope you won’t mind me rushing things a bit today,” she smiled in a throaty murmur, cupping my face and giving me a seductive, almost smoldering look. “We wouldn’t want to miss breakfast, would we now?”

*~*~*

In the end, we didn’t quite make it. Though the gorgeous blonde was successful in making me shoot my load in under five (okay, more like three) minutes, I’d decided to repay my cheeky – and entirely too smug-looking – girlfriend with some rapid fingering, managing to coax a series of loud orgasms out of her, and only agreeing to let the pinned, panting girl up from underneath me after she’d promised we could have a proper tussle later in the evening.

Sometimes size really did matter.

As it was, Fleur and I were forced to resort to grabbing a pair of sandwiches straight from the kitchen as we sprinted towards the day’s first lesson. Double history. Luckily, one of the younger cooks – a plain but pleasantly plump brunette – had a serious crush on me, and was always eager to supply leftovers in return for a charming smile and some quick flirting. Fleur was of course sensible and discreet enough to wait around the corner to avoid invoking the sous-chef’s ire. We reached the classroom a few minutes late, earning a reproachful tut from the professor, and more than a few smirks from our fellow students, who’d no doubt noticed our mussed appearances. Ah well, them knowing what we’d been up to didn’t exactly harm my street-cred. Quite the opposite.

A few hours later, while I was making my way back from Advanced Statistics (which Fleur hadn’t opted to take), I stumbled upon a peculiar scene. In an otherwise empty hallway, two blonde-haired girls were tucked into a window alcove, and appeared to be locked in a close embrace. By their lips.

It was difficult to make out any finer details in the dimly-lit corridor, but each had their arms wrapped around the other’s back and waist, taking turns to control the kiss. A rather deep, enthusiastic one, by the looks of things. Even from my vantage point, thirty-odd feet away, I could make out the girls’ soft, muffled moans as they continued their tongue-duel, seemingly trying to suck their snogging partner’s breath away. They certainly were doing that to mine, even from a distance.

I stood still for a moment, wondering whether I should make a sound to alert them to my presence, or try to sneak away silently and find another route to take. Or maybe just stay where I was and enjoy the show? Without revealing exactly which option I was beginning to lean towards, my internal struggle was decided when the girls suddenly pulled away, breaking off their kiss.

Though the window didn’t let through all that much light, the girls’ fair skin easily showed their flustered state – an observation that was only reinforced by the audible pants as each student sought to steady their breathing. It took all my willpower not to gasp aloud myself. I’d instantly recognized both.

Ginny’s thin, almost pixie-like friend, whose name eluded my just then, was resting her forehead against Gabrielle’s. Both were gazing at each other through hooded eyes and smiling goofily.

“Mmm, not bad, Luna. You’re actually a pretty good kisser,” I heard Fleur’s little sister compliment the other girl as she started to fix her shirt collar.

“Toi aussi, Gabs,” the skinnier blonde murmured in a characteristically dreamy voice, pursing her lips as if trying to taste Gabrielle’s aroma on them. “Even better than I’d hoped. What’s that thing you did with your tongue at the end? Ginny’s never snogged me like that.”

“Huh?” came Gabrielle’s slow, puzzled reply. The French girl’s facial expression was equally confused as she stared at the petite first-year. “Didn’t you say…” the blonde trailed off, suddenly scrunching her nose in what looked like indignance. “Hey! You tricked me! You told me you’d never kissed a girl before!”

Even when annoyed, I noted to myself, Gabrielle looked almost criminally cute and adorable.

“No I didn’t,” Luna countered happily, sounding serene as ever. “I said that I wanted to see what it’d be like to kiss a girl. You,” the eccentric firsty pointed out helpfully. “But I never claimed to not have kissed any other girls, earlier.”

Coming from anyone else, that statement would’ve made sense only if they were deliberately trying to piss you off. But given it was Luna, I suspected the blonde was being completely sincere.

“I… you… that’s not… arrgggh!” Gabrielle objected with a groan, apparently struggling to form a coherent sentence. Not that I blamed her.

“Oh dear, I seem to have done it again,” Luna said quietly, looking apologetic. “Ginny sometimes becomes a little tongue-tied as well,” she admitted, leaning in to pat the French girl on the shoulder and giving her a small smile. “Though usually only after I’ve kissed her downstairs, not up,” Luna mused, shrugging slightly. “No matter. I’ll let you gather your thoughts for a few minutes. See you at lunch!” With that, the odd, slight-figured girl turned and began to traipse off in the opposite direction, humming happily. And leaving her dumbfounded French companion to stare at Luna’s receding back in silence.

I was still rooted to my spot at the other end of the hallway when Gabrielle let out a sigh and whirled around. Towards me.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and I winced. This should be fun to explain away…

*~*~*

In a different part of the school, another student was observing their target from the shadows. Only they were much more serious about remaining inconspicuous, taking care not to expose any unnecessary body parts as they studied a certain shapely, modelesque-looking young woman through a gap in the intricate stone balusters of the main staircase. The blonde beauty in question was chatting with that annoying, bushy-haired tour guide from hell, and seemed to be on quite familiar terms with her.

Interesting. Maybe getting stuck with the know-it-all would prove useful after all…

*~*~*

“Umm, Fleur?” I called out carefully, hoping I wouldn’t regret this. We’d just returned to our head students’ dorm, and had about half an hour to burn before the next lesson. “Just how many girls here do you think are into… other girls?”

I watched my girlfriend raise a finely sculpted eyebrow, leaning back on the sofa as she gave me a brief, rather shrewd look. “Exclusively, or in addition to boys?”

“Either,” I swallowed, feeling my face begin to get hot. Fleur always loved making me squirm.

The gorgeous French blonde grinned at my flustered state, but stayed silent for a moment, appearing to contemplate the question. “Probably around a third, I’d say. Maybe even half, if you count all the bi-curious ones,” she said after a moment. “And obviously the percentage is higher among the girls who take part in the titfighting events,” Fleur added with a grin. Yeah, that made sense, given what my girlfriend had told me about the motivation behind her own participation in that scene. “I know that a few are strictly lesbian, but far more swing both ways. Mostly with a male preference, though.”

“Like you?” I asked, doing my best impression of puppy eyes and looking exaggeratedly hopeful. Fleur awarded my antics with a melodious laugh.

“Yes, lover-boy. Just like me,” the beautiful blonde smiled.

“Anyway, when it comes to titfighters, it’s probably easier to list those who aren’t at least bi,” Fleur continued, chuckling.

“Oh?” I replied, trying – and failing – to hide my curiosity. My girlfriend gave me an exasperated look, but soon relented, sighing slowly and dramatically.

“Ahh, fine. You’d obviously pester me about it all day if I stopped there.” I didn’t bother denying it, and simply gave my girlfriend a sheepish smile. She immediately replied with a smirk of her own.

“Okay, so… Pansy for one is definitely a purebred cock cruncher, and I strongly suspect Cho and Marietta bat for that team as well,” the French girl pondered. “With Katie, Parvati and Alicia it’s harder to be sure, but if they do like to munch on muff occasionally, they’ve certainly managed to keep it quiet. And as for the majority of the first-years, it’s still too early to say.”

“I take it that Ginny’s…” I started, already knowing the answer.

“Very much into girls, yes,” Fleur nodded, licking her lips and flashing me a wolfish grin. “But no need despair just yet, Ced. If the rumours about that doe-eyed Italian boy are anywhere near true, she enjoys cock, too,” my girlfriend cooed, resting her head against my shoulder and patting me on the thigh in mock condescension.

“Why’d you ask?” Fleur murmured huskily as she nuzzled my neck.

“Well,” I croaked, clearing my throat and doing my best to sound nonchalant. This part was crucial to get right. If I didn’t want a certain cute little blondie to skin me alive, that is.

“It’s just that I overheard Luna telling someone about her, uh,… escapades with Ginny. Apparently those two are regular shag-buddies. Have been for a while.”

“Hmm,” the French girl mused. “Doesn’t surprise me, really. They’ve known each other for a long time, and who better to fool around with than your very own BFF? Can you imagine those two having a hot, long bath together, relaxing after a long day and working out all the kinks in each other’s slender, nubile bodies…” Fleur whispered into my ear, her warm breath causing me to shiver. Which was exactly her intention, no doubt. She was such an evil little tease sometimes. Okay, pretty much all the time.

“Come to think of it, Luna’s might well be one of the few exclusively gay girls outside the titfighting circle. Call it a bi-woman’s intuition if you want,” my girlfriend grinned, “But I’m pretty sure she’s not at all interested in guys.”

“With a pal like Ginny, is it any wonder?” I shot back, winking slyly. To my surprise, Fleur’s only response was a pensive, somewhat mischievous smile.

“No, I suppose not. Ginny’s plenty hot enough to turn even a straight girl gay.”

I watched the blonde’s smile slowly turn into an outright smirk as she eyed me through her long lashes slyly.

“You wouldn’t mind if suggested her some… raunchier stakes when she challenges me to a rematch, would you?”

*~*~*

A veritable swarm of students filled the corridors once again, signalling the start of the afternoon’s batch of lessons. As usual, some appeared to have cut it a little close, zooming past their less-panicked classmates at full pelt.

One such individual, it turned out, was almost as bad at body coordination as they were at keeping time. The tall, lanky first-year rounded the corner in a brisk jog and spotted two brown-haired girls blocking his way only at the very last moment. He quickly swerved off to his right, managing to avoid the thicker brunette completely, but brushing against the other’s large, prominent bust with his left arm.

“Ugh, watch where you’re going, you gangly oaf!” the offended party exclaimed, shoving the boy away angrily. She brought her hands up to steady the jiggling of her chest, and, after pausing to give the clumsy – and suddenly rather distracted – male student another nasty look, marched off with a huff.

The girl’s companion, on the other hand, seemed to be struggling not to laugh. She glanced at the tall, shell-shocked firsty, chortling at his vacant expression as he continued to stare after the brunette he’d collided with.

Hermione shook her head wistfully. What was it with boys and their obsession with big tits?

Well, okay, in this case the rest was pretty ogle-worthy as well. But her own bum was just as nice as the one disappearing into the crowd, yet failed to get anywhere near as much attention. It couldn’t be the clothing, since they both wore pretty similar, form-fitting jeans. And while she knew that her own figure wasn’t as impressive overall, the difference wasn’t that huge. Was it?

Muttering something about ‘busty, hyped-up bitches’ under her breath, the second-year took off after her new dormmate.

At least Cedric seemed to appreciate her fuller, meatier physique. Just as much as he did Fleur’s ‘perfect’ hourglass body, in fact, if their night together was anything to go by.

Which reminded her. She really needed to start pestering the French girl for a second date.

*~*~*

It was well past ten in the evening before we were able to get back to the head students’ quarters. Seeing how it was the first Friday of the term, a bunch of our classmates had decided to put together an impromptu party, complete with snacks, music and even a few smuggled bottles of grade-A contraband. Namely Pimm’s and vodka. Fleur and I had only drunk enough of the stuff to get a small buzz, but more than one third-year had proved to be in a more festive mood. I didn’t envy the cleaning ladies who were bound to happen into the mess in the morning.

Without naming any names (*cough* Megan and Nat *cough*), some type of talking-to for the usual suspects was sure to follow.

In any case, once Fleur and I had settled down onto our comfy little sofa, I finally had a chance to talk to her about something that’d been burning a hole in my pocket all night. And not just figuratively.

“Okay, I know this probably isn’t on your list of favourite things to watch,” I started, discreetly reaching into my right trouser pocket and fishing out a small, thin SD card. “But even if you’d just rather burn the thing, here it is.”

I placed the memory card onto the table, knowing that there was no need to explain what it contained. We’d both seen Gabrielle record her sister’s fight against Yasmine with her smart phone, after all. I could feel Fleur’s inquisitive, rather piercing gaze on me, and slowly turned to meet her eyes.

“She asked me to pass it on to you earlier today. Apparently that’s the only copy.”

My girlfriend glanced at the tiny black object, blinking, but didn’t say anything. I really hoped I hadn’t made things worse. She’d seemed to be getting better the past few days, both mentally and physically, and I suddenly realized that reminding Fleur of the bloodbath of a match with her father’s mistress could easily backfire. To my relief, however, the blonde looked more puzzled than anything.

“You mean… Gabby just gave it away? The original?” Fleur asked, sounding sceptical. “Why?”

“Well, maybe she thought you should be the one to have it?” I offered nervously. “Besides, it’s not like she can’t ask you to borrow it.”

“Even if I do decide to throw it in the fireplace?”

I grimaced. “I was kinda hoping you wouldn’t.”

Fleur chortled, shaking her head and looking amused. She could probably tell that there was more to it, but had no way of knowing whether I’d be aware of the details. Being an oblivious guy had its upsides. Gabrielle had of course made me swear not to divulge anything about her embarrassing encounter with Luna, and in return, offered to hand over the recording. Tit for that, so to speak.

In any case, Fleur didn’t seem intent on pressing the matter for now. With any luck, she’d ask about it directly from her little sister, who was significantly more talented at lying than I was.

“Hmh. Alright, then. Turns out you’re in luck,” she said after a while. I watched my girlfriend pick up the SD card and and hold it up in the air.

“Well? What are we waiting for?” she asked, her tone getting a touch impatient. “Aren’t you going to put it on?”

*~*~*

Some distance away, in another section of the dormitory wing, a lone fireplace was cracking quietly in the second-year girls’ common room. While the building had more modern forms of heating as well, there was something undeniably cozy about real flames.

“Hey, Herms?” a soft, pleasantly accented voice called out.

“Hmm?” the full-figured brunette replied absentmindedly. She didn’t bother to lift her gaze from the massive book on her lap, seemingly engrossed with its contents. If she wasn’t, the girl would’ve in all likelihood objected to the nickname.

“There’s this thing I’ve been wondering about…”

“Yes?” Hermione grunted, reluctantly glancing up from the tome.

“Seeing how it’s my first match here tomorrow, Tracey said I could pick an opponent,” the other student stated. “But does that mean I can fight against anyone I want?”

“No, not exactly,” Hermione corrected, her posture straightening instinctively as she assumed her ‘lecture’ mode. “New arrivals can only select a girl who’s fought in public before. And not someone in the top ten, since the idea’s to make your way up the ladder like everyone else.”

“Blast, there goes my plan to take on the reigning champ,” the girl sighed, flashing a quick grin to make sure that Hermione knew she was only joking. Still, there was something strange about her expression. Had the brainy second-year not already inquired Isabella about where she’d lived before, and learned that France was not on the list, Hermione might’ve even started to get a little suspicious. As things were, however, the girl’s next question quickly diverted her attention.

“How ’bout you, then? Those cute puppies up for a scuffle?”

*~*~*

Those interested in getting a bit further ‘into the mood’ may wish to skim through the relevant portions of Chapter 10, where Fleur and Yasmine clash for the first time (namely the end of Part A, and the start and end of Part B).

I quickly did as I was told, getting up and sprinting to my room to fetch my laptop. Once I returned, I placed the computer on the table, carefully inserting the small memory card into its side.

“You sure?” I asked my girlfriend as I sat back down next to her. Fleur’s only reply was a telling roll of the eyes. I shrugged, leaning in to select the correct file and then pressing play.

The screen was immediately filled with bare, smooth flesh. Fleur’s creamy, lightly tanned skin contrasted beautifully against Yasmine’s duskier, more olive-coloured tone as the two women faced off tit-to-tit. As I’d remembered, they were quite evenly matched in terms of size, each sporting a firm, pert-looking pair of Double D jugs. Fleur’s boobs were rounder and fuller, and maybe just a tiny bit bigger, appearing to sit somewhat higher on her chest than Yasmine’s, while the Arab beauty’s darker set had an interesting swooping shape, being nice and round at the base but becoming more and more pointy towards the peak. Though they seemed to have slightly more visible sag than my girlfriend’s gorgeous teardrop breasts did (that is to say, not much), that gradually sharpening contour caused Yasmine’s nipples to actually point a hint upwards, and made them look undeniably perky.

Even knowing the result, I found the visual face-off between their racks highly interesting. It wasn’t often you saw boobs that could rival Fleur’s perfect pair.

Though the current level of zoom didn’t allow me to judge the rest of their bodies, I knew from previous ogling that Yasmine had a slightly softer, more luxuriously seductive figure, which made my girlfriend’s equally curvaceous but more toned physique look positively sculpted in comparison. Neither girl was really what I’d call ‘sporty’, but Fleur definitely seemed to be the more athletically inclined of the two. Or at least paid closer attention to what she ate. The blonde’s body was an absolute work of art, combining lush, feminine curves, a narrow waist and slender limbs in a way that most lingerie models could only dream of.

Then again, Yasmine was also about a decade older than her 20-year-old rival, and the limited amount of extra meat she carried had mostly gone to the right places. It certainly provided a delicious bounce and jiggle whenever the brunette moved around. Most notably, I’d challenge any straight man not to gawk at Yasmine’s long, thick killer thighs, which were some of the best in the business. Oh yeah. Even if I didn’t consider her to be quite as jaw-droppingly gorgeous as my girlfriend, she still had a highly shaggable figure.

The curvy, dark-eyed Arabian seductress looked particularly captivating just then, her face set into a mask of cool fury and unwavering confidence as she examined the young blonde before her. Even on the recording, you could tell there was a tangible sense of danger in Yasmine’s gaze.

“Okay, barbie bitch. Time of truth,” the brunette sneered. “You finally ready to get those limp, floppy fat-bags turned to mush? I’m going to beat your precious little princess-tits right off your chest, and then feed them to you,” Yasmine promised with a growl, cupping her tanned, somewhat pointy-tipped jugs and giving them a quick bounce. Despite having just a bit of visible hang, the Arab beauty’s tits didn’t move much, each tanned, obviously natural breast looking dense and proud.

Fleur laughed, but her tone was cold and derisive.

“As if you had the goods to do that, skank,” the blonde replied disparagingly. “My girls will have no trouble pounding those ugly second-rate sacks flat.”

“Like this!” my girlfriend yelled out the last part, lunging forward before her opponent could react. Yasmine groaned as the modelesque French blonde made the first move, slamming her large, firm tits into the dark-haired woman’s meaty boobs. Even with their striking shape, I saw Yasmine’s tits flatten noticeably at the meeting point of their flesh. Each pair of tits did regain much of their usual, prominent form quickly, but continued to shake and wobble for a moment as the contact was prolonged by my girlfriend, Fleur grinding her solid jugs against Yasmine’s and giving the executive assistant an unfriendly smirk.

“Not quite what you expected, whore?” Fleur asked, clearly satisfied to see a look of pain and surprise on the Arab beauty’s face. “I’m not some dainty Disney princess, too delicate to get her tits a bit dirty. Or bruised.”

“Normally, this is the point where I offer my opponents a chance to give up. But considering it’s you, why bother,” my girlfriend snorted. “I’m going to enjoy demolishing these fat udders,” the blonde hissed through her perfect, pearly white teeth. “I don’t know why Papa liked them in the first place, but rest assured, after I’m done remodeling your rack, he won’t give you even a second glance.”

“I will end you for good tonight, Yasmine. You, and your sad, saggy tits.”

Anyone wondering about the wisdom of taunting the older woman so early on in the fight would’ve been proven right as the brunette let out an angry growl, slamming her own, clearly very potent boobs into Fleur’s set. I saw my girlfriend wince as she felt her rival’s more pendulous but also pointier-looking tits meet her own with what was obvious a lot of force. The smack of their heavy mammaries molding together was sharp and loud, and I watched both women take a step back, kneading their stricken, likely still-stinging boobflesh gingerly in their palms.

“She’s way firmer than I’d expected,” Fleur murmured, nearly causing me to jump in my seat. Somehow, I’d forgotten that she was rewatching the match with me. Then again, my girlfriend had been unusually quiet, appearing to follow the action in deep concentration, almost like she was reliving the events inside her head. She almost certainly was.

“I mean, the skank’s jugs do seem to droop more than mine, so I thought there was no way they’d be as densely packed,” Fleur continued with a wistful smile. “But that ridiculous shape does a lot to even things out.”

As I turned my attention back towards the screen, I noticed that the two women had begun circling each other slowly and carefully. Their smooth movements reminded me of predators looking for an opportunity to attack, and I had to admit that Yasmine’s physique, while not quite as lean or toned as my girlfriend’s, was far from pudgy. She was obviously pretty fit, and may have simply preferred her body with a bit more padding. Found mostly in those thick, meaty legs and ass.

Fleur’s dad certainly didn’t seem to mind his lover’s generous curves, and looking at the brunette just then, I couldn’t really bring myself to disagree.

After a few small feints and aborted lunges, Yasmine leaped forward, her heavy tits swinging away from her chest like boulders as Fleur narrowly sidestepped the blow. I watched the leggy brunette’s tits bounce back to her chest, not having time to fully regain their usual shape before Fleur made a similar move. My girlfriend missed, too, as her dusky opponent jumped backwards. As Fleur’s tits swung back, Yasmine slammed forward, this time successfully splashing her big, perky boobs against my girlfriend’s more rounded jugs.

I watched Fleur’s magnificent DD orbs balloon out from the impact, though they regained their shape quickly. They were still shaking when Yasmine landed another blow, sending her left tit into Fleur’s left breast by swinging her chest. Fleur’s left breast slapped into her right, causing both massive teats to ripple. Yasmine pulled her boobs to the side, scraping her hard, visibly engorged nipples across Fleur’s equally bloated counterparts.

“Merde,” Fleur moaned, her face seeming to flush a bit as she felt the olive-skinned beauty’s tips brush against her own. I could only imagine how sensitive their nips had to be.

“Oh, do you want me, you dirty little slut?” Yasmine teased, glancing down to watch their flesh struggle for dominance. “It’s your lucky day. After I’ve flattened your sorry little barbie-tits, you’ll get to put that tongue to good use. I bet you’re a real pro at licking pussy.”

“Of course, I’m going to tame your boyfriend’s big, hard cock first,” the Arab beauty smirked on the video, glancing over to her side. Towards me, I knew. “But I guess you can suckle on my superior rack while I ride his brains out. Once Cedric’s blown his load inside me, you’ll get to move on to the main course. Alpha cunt with cream filling,” the smokey-eyed temptress cackled. I could hear a voice mutter something that sounded a lot like “holy shit”, and quickly realized it had be Gabrielle’s.

The older fair-haired sister, visible on the recording, didn’t reply immediately. Instead, Fleur glared at the shapely executive assistant for a moment, clenching her fists in unmistakable fury. When she did react, however, I had to wonder if she’d intentionally waited to do the maximum damage. As Yasmine was pulling her meaty tits across Fleur’s chest, my girlfriend dipped her chest and shot upwards, sending her full breasts into the underside of her rival’s just barely smaller jugs. I loved watching Yasmine’s pointy-tipped mammaries flatten from the bottom and fly up toward her face. The brunette’s smirk was promptly wiped off her face.

“Dammit,” Yasmine hissed as she felt her perky tits shudder and shake. Fleur delivered another uppercut before her busty rival could recover, and Yasmine swore again before pulling back, her proud, meaty teats sliding over Fleur’s before falling back against her chest with a delicious wobble. Fleur stepped forward to follow up, only to be met by a sudden haymaker from Yasmine. This time, the swing connected, with the brunette’s hefty right tit slamming full-on into Fleur’s left boob.

“Fuuuuck,” Fleur groaned, her momentum completely halted. I flinched as I saw Yasmine lean back, and by the time she slammed both of her large, dense breasts forward, Fleur hadn’t recovered in time to evade. I watched my girlfriend’s gorgeous rack get drilled again, her flesh spilling outward as a result of a well placed blow from Yasmine’s hefty but gradually sharpening tits. I recalled that at the time, the sight had caused my mind flash to a mental image of Yasmine straddling Fleur’s hips, dangling her olive-coloured breasts above my girlfriend’s mouth and forcing the blonde to worship that supple, rather unusually shaped pair. As much as I might want to, there was no point in denying that I found the idea of Fleur submitting to a more dominant, physically superior woman intensely arousing. On the screen, the curvaceous brunette grabbed Fleur’s shoulders and lined up their tits again.

“Here we go, princess. Can you feel my stronger, better, more attractive breasts just spearing your squishy set?” Yasmine hissed. “Oh yeah. Watch me reduce these weak, bouncy pillows to rubble.”

The brunette thrusted her large, obviously thick tits against my girlfriend’s, and I grunted involuntary as Fleur felt another blow slam into her breasts. I watched with constantly growing arousal as my girlfriend’s boobs shifted more from the impact, it seemed, before reforming back into their natural, just about perfect teardrop shape. The rounded edge of her breasts was visible as Yasmine pulled away, obviously ready to send another shot into Fleur’s firm rack.

As Yasmine pulled away, Fleur reached up to grab the slightly thicker-bodied woman’s arms, and holding her still, managed to send her own, visibly dense chest forward. The sudden boob-ram caused Fleur’s tits to compress as well, but the this time advantage belonged to the blonde. The leggy Arab hottie gasped in anger and surprise as my girlfriend’s powerful blow stopped her assault. Yasmine’s heavy tits were pushed backwards, wobbling as she stepped away, though I noticed that both women held their respective grips. The buxom brunette regained her footing quickly and sent a swinging strike at Fleur’s left side. Yasmine’s blow seemed targeted to send her own left tit into Fleur’s left orb. Fortunately for my girlfriend, she was able to adjust just in time. The result was Yasmine’s heavy boobs distending, seemingly flattening a bit as the tissue was pulled away from her body. Her nipples, still raging hard, barely missed connecting with Fleur’s boobs.

As committed to the blow as the dark-haired fighter had seemed, her reflexes were impressive. She was able to step back, allowing just the tips of the two women’s breasts to come into contact. Both meaty pairs bent and flexed as they made contact, each forcing the opposing breast to move in the opposite direction. Undaunted, Yasmine slammed forward, and this time Fleur’s move was timed just badly enough that the brunette’s left teat crashed into Fleur’s right. I watched helplessly as another violent blow splashed against my girlfriend’s boob. Fleur’s big, round mammary jiggled from the impact, and as Yasmine pulled back, I saw my girlfriend’s sore teat slip down, apparently having been pushed up slightly from the assault.

“I still think mine are better,” Fleur muttered beside me, watching glumly how her boobs quivered on the screen. “Even if the difference is smaller than I’d initially thought. She’s just really, really good at titfighting.”

I nodded in agreement. The smokey-eyed Arab had boasted about having flattened dozens of other women over the years, all without losing a single fight. It wasn’t difficult to believe her claim.

As Yasmine swung again from the left, my girlfriend tried to regain her momentum. Whether the blonde beauty had intended to meet her rival’s rack head-on, or just try to disrupt Yasmine’s timing, I wasn’t sure. In any case, she was unsuccessful. The leggy brunette seemed to have found her rhythm first, and the blow she delivered was a direct hit from her right breast into Fleur’s softening right boob.

The modelesque blonde groaned as she felt her orb take yet another huge shot, but she twisted around, and as Yasmine pulled away, my girlfriend slammed forward. The darker-skinned woman didn’t have time to move during this strike, and her big, meaty tits took the brunt of my girlfriend’s assault. Yasmine moaned as she stopped her attack, most likely taken aback by both the power and the suddenness of the blow. Fleur capitalized on her rival’s momentary stillness straight away. This time, Yasmine’s olive-toned tits splashed outward, each breast compressing at the point of attack. Which looked to be almost dead center. A wave of tanned titmeat spread out to the sides, relinquishing space to my girlfriend’s ever-so-slightly larger, more rounded globes. The density of Yasmine’s somewhat pointy tits was evident, however, as the movement quickly came to a halt, the older woman’s thick breast-tissue resisting my girlfriend’s perfect boobs. Both pairs shook enticingly as Fleur pulled back, but the look of relief on Yasmine’s face seemed to inspire my girlfriend.

The shapely French blonde took half a step back before planting her left foot behind her and thrusting forward with what looked to be substantial force. My assumption was confirmed as the blow connected, Yasmine’s heavy tits slamming up. Somehow Fleur had dipped during the strike and given her big, firm jugs just the angle she needed to send her Yasmine’s stationary pair up towards the woman’s face. I watched Yasmine’s tits shake violently for a moment before they came to a rest atop my girlfriend’s gorgeous rack. Fleur seemed to realize that she had time for one more move before Yasmine recovered, and pushed her tits up, even standing on her toes to try and stretch the tissue at the base of the brunette’s abused chest.

“Daring bitch,” Yasmine groaned, sounding a touch breathless. “You really think those puffy little udders can match mine?” she growled. Fleur let her hands snake around the darker-skinned woman’s waist, pulling her opponent closer.

“Oh, they’re more than a match for your fat, ugly udders,” my girlfriend smirked, her voice tinged with familiar confidence. “In a few minutes, my big, bad set will have flattened these floppy sacks like the marshmallows they are.” I saw the muscles in Fleur’s arms tighten, and knew she was using as much strength as she could.

“Daring, but delusional,” Yasmine hissed, sliding her hands down to the interior of my girlfriend’s elbows. “Your bouncy cow-tits are nothing special. Here, let me show you what a real pair of breasts can do.” The Arab beauty slammed down, and Fleur groaned as her arms gave way. The older woman’s thick, heavy teats slid over my girlfriend’s boobs, and both women grunted as their flesh melded together briefly. I could only stare how two sets of big, gorgeous Double D tits shook on the fighters’ chests, softened from their initial, gravity-defying state but still looking quite impressive. Yasmine held onto Fleur’s arms, tightly gripping her elbows, and pulled my girlfriend in, causing the younger female to stumble. I watched the lush-figured brunette land a huge, battering ram shot into my girlfriend’s thick teats.

The thudding blow hit Fleur’s breasts head-on, making them flatten at the point of contact. I swallowed, watching how Yasmine tried to work her set further in, the brunette’s signature pointy-tipped boobs slowly pushing my girlfriend’s jugs outward. Yasmine didn’t let go of Fleur’s arms, instead using them to push away to set the blonde’s red, tender boobs up for another hard blow. I could only look on as Fleur’s breasts took another aggressive shot from Yasmine’s set, sending the blonde’s firm, ample flesh shaking all over her chest. The Arab beauty held her tits in place for a second, ensuring that both Fleur and I could see her rack displace my girlfriend’s boobs for just a moment.

“That’s when I started to get worried,” Fleur said quietly, causing me to glance over to my side. She was studying the action with a tense expression, her breathing fast and shallow. “For such saggy udders, hers are surprisingly good at stabbing. It’s the shape, has to be. Fucking swoopy-boobed skank,” my girlfriend grumbled under her breath.

On the screen, Yasmine was leaning back, obviously preparing for another blow. I saw Fleur’s hands curl up to grab the back of the brunette’s arms. The dark-haired woman started to laugh until she felt Fleur pull, yanking on Yasmine’s arms while curling her own. The move caused the older fighter to lose her grip on my girlfriend’s elbows, and apparently took Yasmine completely by surprise.

“What the..” the brunette’s question was cut off by a quick, strong blow from Fleur, who rolled her back to bring her tits low, then up, slamming into the underside of Yasmine’s perky boobs. The leggy Arab temptress’ breasts sprang upward, her eyes slamming shut from both the shock and the pain.

“Oh fuck,” the curvaceous, smokey-eyed woman groaned. My modelesque girlfriend stepped back, her arms finally free, and lined up for another shot. Yasmine was adamant not to lose her advantage, however, stepping forward and shoving her heavy right boob into Fleur’s left teat. My girlfriend’s dense, tightly-packed boobflesh pushed out briefly, and Fleur winced. Yasmine ground her unusually-shaped jugs against the blonde’s more spherical pair for a moment, smirking malevolently.

“Don’t you just love the way these weak, pillowy beach-babe udders bend to mine,” the dusky-skinned fighter whispered, licking her lips like a hungry predator. “Can you feel it, princess? All the boys may lust after your precious, pretty little barbie-boobs. But we both know that mine are better.”

On the screen, I saw Fleur glance down. She could no doubt see Yasmine’s pointy breasts denting her own, rounder and fuller boobs a bit, forcing my girlfriend’s thick, creamy flesh toward the outside curve of her compressing breasts.

“Looks so fucking hot, doesn’t it? Your big, arrogant teen tits pushing in, yielding to a real woman’s firmer and stronger pair of breasts,” the dark seductress breathed out huskily, regarding her younger rival with a mix of glee, lust and malice.

“Wrong, bitch,” my girlfriend growled, rolling her back as she struggled to regain the lost ground. “On every point. I’m not even a teenager anymore.” I watched Fleur force her boobs against Yasmine’s with dogged determination, both fighters making soft grunts as their powerful racks strained against each other. To me, it did look like the blonde beauty was making some progress, her redoubled efforts – and famously powerful boobs – causing the Arab woman’s perky set to displace and compress more obviously, pretty much matching my girlfriend’s breasts’ retreat.

“I’m going to grind these drab, ugly udders flat,” the blonde beauty hissed, her voice tinged with promise. “I’m going to rub them away, so that the next time Papa gets a look at you, he’ll see you for what you really are. An uppity, horse-faced gold digger of a skank.”

Yasmine’s eyes flashed. She twisted her shoulders, throwing her left teat into Fleur’s right and forcing both of her big, tanned boobs against my girlfriend’s firm pair. The blonde gritted her teeth and shoved back, refusing to give an inch. While I remembered feeling a bit surprised (not to mention concerned) over Fleur’s eagerness to face her pointier-boobed opponent in such an intimate way, Yasmine clearly welcomed the challenge with open arms. I watched the thicker-thighed, older fighter spread her feet to give herself a wider base. Both women kept pressing and grinding their big boobs together with increasing vigor, sending each of their tits up and over each other. At some points, the blonde’s firm boobs looked as though they were going to overwhelm Yasmine’s darker pair, pushing aside much of the latter’s flesh while her own maintained their full round shape, while at others, Yasmine’s ever-so-slightly smaller tits seemed to shape Fleur’s mammaries, burrowing into my girlfriend’s ample breasts and pushing them up or down depending on where the pressure from the dark-haired woman’s dense, perky jugs was placed. It was impossible to tell how long this gradual back-and-forth grinding contest lasted (I made a quick mental note to check the time stamps later), but it sure felt like an eternity. A very good, highly arousing eternity.

Eventually, both women, appearing to grow frustrated with the stalemate, pulled apart. I felt my breath hitch for a second, watching how each pair of large, meaty Double D tits sprang back, jiggling deliciously as the two fighters pulled away.

“I’m going to wipe those sorry excuses for tits right off your chest, you saggy whore,” Fleur said, her voice low. While she hadn’t been able to flatten the Arab woman’s remarkably-shaped jugs in the close grind, neither had Yasmine succeeded in penetrating the blonde’s big, firm orbs.

“And just what were you planning to do that with, Barbie Bitch?” Yasmine sneered back. “Your fat, puffed-up titties don’t pack nearly enough punch to even dream of beating my rack,” she snorted. “But I guess you could always try asking daddy to buy you a new set. That’s what rich little girls like you do, right?”

Fleur flipped her father’s secretary / much-younger mistress off angrily, stretching her back and neck muscles as she used the brief pause in hostilities to freshen up a bit. Both pairs of boobs had been tenderized by the beating they’d sustained from one another, shaking and jiggling noticeably as Fleur and Yasmine caught their breath. I could tell that besides the obvious discolouring, the dense inner tissue in each woman’s breasts had also loosened up significantly from its usual, resilient state.

Fleur didn’t wait for her smokey-eyed rival to voice another insult, twisting her hips and sending her meaty orbs into the brunette’s with a wicked swing from the left. Yasmine groaned as my girlfriend’s blow sent her breasts into and through the dusky woman’s sizable set. Fleur’s boobs bent visibly, but pushed Yasmine’s pointier jugs away from the swing. I watched the momentum force the dark-haired woman’s hefty titties to drop back with a quiver, wobbling deliciously on her chest. Yasmine turned for her own strike, but Fleur’s big, round globes collided again from the other direction, this time repeating with contact from her right. Fleur’s right breast slid over Yasmine’s corresponding tit, bending and slipping over the older fighter’s jiggling teat before gliding into Yasmine’s cleavage and molding back to its original shape.

“Your pointy sacks are fading, skank,” Fleur hissed, sneering at her opponent. Yasmine huffed, narrowing her dark, smoldering eyes dangerously and moving back a half step to reorient herself. My girlfriend struck again, but Yasmine moved back another half-step, and Fleur’s big, reddened jugs swung through the air in an arc before crashing back onto her chest. The blonde winced, but slid out of the way as Yasmine launched a counterattack. The Arab woman’s slam grazed Fleur’s left breast, forcing it inward to her cleavage. I watched my shapely girlfriend grab Yasmine’s waist with her hands and drag her thick, meaty teats over Yasmine’s set.

Fleur’s left breast folded over Yasmine’s tit, pushing the brunette’s thick, perky boob down and back, but the displacement of their sweaty breasts looked about equal. Both women groaned as Fleur tried to grind out her older rival, shoving her big boobs into the dusky woman’s rack. Yasmine ground back, shifting her hips left and right to create opposing contact. Within moments, their sore breasts were colliding into each other in a steady rhythm, both large, ample sets of mammaries wobbling and waving mightily with every thud. I let my eyes glide up to Fleur’s face as I watched the contest. She was clearly experiencing significant discomfort, but looked very much determined to pound her rival’s set flat. As I observed her, Fleur seemed to alter her strategy, lifting her tits up by standing on her toes.

My girlfriend’s large, round boobs slid over and atop Yasmine’s somewhat more conical-tipped rack, and the gentle smacking sounds mixed with grunts and groans from the two women. Fleur grunted with each pass of her tits, and Yasmine quickly began mirroring the blonde’s strategies. With each pass, the fighters alternated their position. When Fleur’s pair was on top, her firm, full jugs pushed down on Yasmine’s perky pair and caused it to sag visibly. When the brunette’s heavy jugs fell atop Fleur’s rack, my girl’s normally perfect teardrop-boobs seemed to yield, compressing from the top. When the pressure was gone, they sprang back, but the relative laziness of the rebounding movement told me that Yasmine’s tits had weakened my girlfriend’s rack considerably.

After a while, Fleur broke off the grind. Both women rubbed their tender, now somewhat droopy-looking teats, and I couldn’t help but stare at how freely my girfriend’s proud orbs seemed to move and jiggle as she tried to massage some of the soreness away. Yasmine’s darker tits bounced and shook visibly as well, even if her skin tone hadn’t reddened as impressively as the blonde’s. After a short breather the two women began to circle each other once more, both clearly much more impressed with their opponent than they’d ever be willing to admit.

My gorgeous blonde girlfriend struck first, and I felt an odd flush of pride at how fast Fleur was able to move even this late into their long and gruelling match. My girlfriend might not look like your typical jock, but her conditioning was superb. I watched Fleur’s tits slam into Yasmine’s rack again, the impact making both loosening pairs wobble across their respective chests. The blonde beauty slung her tits from the left next, and the leggy Arab seductress grunted as her left boob took a huge smack, sending the big, perky teat into her cleavage and brushing it against her thick right jug.

With a satisfied smirk, my girlfriend swung again. Yasmine managed to step back, however, and when the blonde readied for another shot, she was hit by her rival’s potent jugs head-on. Both sets of large, firm tits pushed in noticeably, sending shock waves of loosened titflesh across each woman’s bust. Fleur’s face contorted into a grimace, and her tight-lipped opponent stepped back before slamming forward again. I watched my girlfriend’s big, perfect boobs splay outward, looking even redder than before. Yasmine hit them with another shot that sent Fleur’s tenderized mammaries shaking wildly, her flesh seeming to weaken further with every shot.

“That one fucking hurt,” my girlfriend admitted quietly as she leaned her head against my shoulder. “Yasmine’s tits may be ugly, but they’re also tough as nails. Those smacks felt almost as bad as the ones I got from Susan’s mammoth wrecking balls. And Susan’s a Triple D, goddammit!” Fleur shook her head, a dose of disbelief colouring her voice. “Hers are only a low-end Double D, tiny bit smaller than mine!”

On the video, my girlfriend groaned again as the shapely brunette sent a half swing at her right breast. Both pairs were glistening in the bright sunlight, looking exceedingly sore, sweaty and red. Another blow connected, sending Fleur’s full teat swimming across her chest. Yasmine grunted as she swung from the other side, and my girl’s left boob followed a similar path, wobbling in the wake of the older woman dragging her heavy right breast across Fleur’s softening flesh.

My modelesque girlfriend stepped back as Yasmine swung again, and the dark-haired executive assistant swore as her tits whooshed past Fleur’s, missing any contact. The blonde fighter took the opportunity to strike a blow of her own, a dipping undercut. Fleur’s attack hit dead-on, and while her own breasts dented upon impact, Yasmine’s tanned tits were shoved toward her face with the force of the blow. The dusky woman moaned and stepped back, barely dodging a second uppercut attempt. My girl’s boobs flew up and flopped back against her chest. Rather painfully, judging from the look on her face, both on the screen and live right next to me.

It didn’t keep Fleur from staying on the offensive, however, since she quickly moved forward. This time my girlfriend managed to anticipate the direction Yasmine tried to evade to. As the leggy brunette stepped to the left, Fleur swung toward her, mid step, and the huge slap of sweaty tits crashing together caused two clearly audible gasps. The visual effect was quite stunning as well.

For a fraction of a second, Fleur’s tits seemed to stop as if they’d hit a wall. And then the line her big, ample breasts had formed with Yasmine’s suddenly suddenly gave. I watched my girlfriend’s lighter, fuller boobs push into Yasmine’s tanned teats, the busty Arab’s large mammaries folding gently around the invading set, even their pointy tips seemingly overwhelmed by Fleur’s dense breastmeat and forced to withdraw inwards. While I knew that the effect was largely due to the force and precision of the blonde’s blow, I couldn’t keep a proud smile from taking over my face.

“Yeah, I know,” my girlfriend chuckled next to me, having apparently noticed my expression. “I got her weirdo titties pretty good there.”

Fleur landed another solid blow from her right breast, and Yasmine groaned as she felt her right tit get forced outward from the center. The first half of Fleur’s tit exploded outward with nearly the same force, and she cursed, but the impact seemed to affect the brunette on the receiving end more.

I was grinning even more widely as Yasmine looked up from her wobbling, badly abused tits and paused to shoot daggers at her rival with those dark, smoldering eyes. Fleur met the older woman’s gaze evenly, a small, menacing smirk forming on her lips. My girlfriend jumped forward, slamming her big boobs into the brunette’s still quivering rack. Both perky, olive-toned teats again slashed out, displaced by the opposing mass of titmeat. The blonde beauty didn’t appear to have any intention of letting up, swiping her hips from side to side and driving her jugs into the opposing set time and time again. A steady thud of thick, sweaty flesh smacking together drowned out my hoarse grunt as I watched Fleur batter her father’s mistress’ pride and joy with her perfect tits.

Both women were breathing heavily, and I admired the way their curvy, worn-out bodies glistened with sweat in the Caribbean heat. Clearly reeling from her rival’s brutal, persistent attack, Yasmine let out a groan and retreated back a step, causing Fleur’s smirk to grow into an outright predatory grin. I’d seen it on her face before, and until then, it’d always meant that a victory was imminent.

I swallowed as I watched my girlfriend move forward, her arms snaking out around Yasmine’s shoulders. The dusky woman tried to move away, but Fleur had apparently counted on it, and slammed her big, round orbs against the Arab woman’s heavy-looking breasts.

As my girlfriend slapped on the hug, a new grinding contest was on. The last stand. I watched their large, fleshy breasts fight for supremacy over the space between them. The women turned and rolled their shoulders in the embrace, each fighter mirroring the other’s movements so that their ample but unmistakably sore and sweaty chests remained in constant contact. Yasmine huffed with each shove of her wide hips and flex of her meaty thighs, and one had to wonder if her slightly thicker, less visibly fit build was going to be the difference. Both women were obviously tired, but Fleur’s leaner yet equally buxom figure looked somewhat more toned than the brunette’s, and should be able to outlast her in terms of stamina.

Of course, I already knew how this was all going to end.

“She’s not as flabby as she looks,” my girlfriend muttered, mirroring my own thoughts to some degree. “God knows how she does it, I’ve never seen her work out or jog to say in shape. The only type of exercise Yasmine did at the villa was yoga, and even that was mostly to flaunt her body at papa. Or to annoy me and maman,” the blonde huffed, rolling her eyes.

I watched as each set of young, firm breasts molded and shook in the tight embrace. To me, Fleur’s groans sounded a bit less breathless than Yasmine’s, but neither set could be seen yielding more than the other. Though I definitely could see my girlfriend’s boobflesh spill out a lot more than I was used to, Yasmine’s tanned jugs weren’t doing any better, reshaping just as much as Fleur’s did. Each pair of tits also wobbled and shook equally noticeably, I noted, looking closely as the Arab beauty leaned away slightly.

I saw sweaty, red-faced Yasmine grit her teeth as she watched her large, powerful jugs quiver, and didn’t even try to hide a groan once Fleur and her father’s mistress started to slip and slide their massive breasts across and through one another. On one pass, it looked as though the brunette’s pointy-tipped tits had the leverage, displacing my girlfriend’s pair and making the lighter-toned orbs to yield to her own. On the following pass, however, the blonde’s ever-so-slightly larger, rounder tits took the top position, and caused Yasmine’s perky rack to push down and out. Noticeably.

In unison, Fleur and I leaned forward, staring the computer screen intently. On the video, Yasmine’s tits had returned to the top, sliding from left to right. As the tanned pair rode above my girlfriend’s big jugs, pressing down on them, we stared, unblinking, how Fleur’s tits compressed slightly. Less than Yasmine’s jugs just had.

“Oh fuck yes,” Fleur moaned on the screen, relief evident in her voice even through the considerable exertion. I didn’t miss the fact that it was precisely relief, rather than triumph or glee, that my girlfriend had felt at the moment she sensed Yasmine’s breasts making way to hers. Fleur must’ve been genuinely afraid that the Arab woman’s rack might end up taming her own.

But it hadn’t. Not yet, anyway.

“There we go, you dirty, saggy-titted bitch. At-fucking-last. I’ve broken your pathetic sacks with my better boobs,” the blonde sighed, sliding her tits down so that their boobs met tip-to-tip and pushing forward.

“The fuck you have,” Yasmine snarled, looking down angrily and grinding harder against her opponent. Even on level ground, the darker-skinned woman’s big, perky breasts were slowly, almost imperceptibly so, starting to lose ground to her rival’s younger set, ballooning out to the sides and morphing into a less prominent shape. Yasmine’s eyes widened, and I could see her expression grow alarmed. But only for a short moment. Within seconds, another, more powerful emotion took over her face. Rage.

My girlfriend continued to pump her breasts into the brunette’s gradually weakening bust, twisting and coiling her back like some constrictor snake trying to crush its prey. Fleur’s eyes were firmly on their ample, enticingly contorting bosoms, watching how her own boobs, bit-by-bit, gained more ground against her opponent’s best assets. Even though Yasmine’s boobs continued to resist Fleur’s every inch of the way, forcing the blonde’s already worn-out teats to strain and struggle to earn more purchase, they were no longer acting as an equal counterforce.

It was clear to both me and Fleur that the brunette’s oddly-shaped, undeniably formidable breasts had finally begun to fail. Yasmine must have felt her tits slowly giving up the fight, too, as she growled and pressed forward, forcefully shoving her meaty jugs against Fleur’s, and grinding with all her might. I watched as more and more breastmeat was shoved outward, the two fighters’ big tits molding together and their dense – though now comprehensively tenderized – flesh pushing away from the center, flowing out.

But despite Yasmine’s best efforts, her younger rival’s breasts continued their stubborn, painfully slow and laborous advance, forcing the brunette’s jugs to compress more and more obviously with every passing second.

“So hot, isn’t it?” Fleur mocked in a throaty voice, her eyes still glued to the struggle between their sore, sweaty chests. “Watching another, superior woman conquer your soft and ugly whore-tits, that is,” she continued spitefully. I’d rarely seen my girlfriend be so… venomous in victory, but then again, she and Yasmine really didn’t get along.

“I’m going to grind them out, now,” Fleur grunted, appearing to savour the sensation as well as sight of her badly bruised but still proud-looking rack pushing further and further into the Arab beauty’s terrain, gradually forcing the darker set of jugs to yield and to reshape, displacing their thick flesh.

“I know you can feel it, bitch,” the blonde said with a hiss, closing her eyes as her set inched forward a bit more, Yasmine’s titmeat slowly melting around hers and oozing outward. “Mmm, fuck yes. My ‘perfect barbie breasts’ are pressing your weak, old udders flat. They’ve crushed your floppy set.”

Had Fleur been looking at her opponent, she would’ve seen the smokey-eyed woman’s face contort with rage. Pure, unadulterated rage.

“You little shit!” the Arab beauty screeched, her entire body shaking with barely controlled fury. “I’ll fucking end your precious teen udders! I’m gonna pound them to mush!”

Yasmine leaned back as far as she could, and then suddenly thrust forward in a violent ram. While her tits distorted much more than Fleur’s, the blow took the blonde completely by surprise. And apparently caused quite a bit of pain to her tender, quivering jugs. The enraged brunette pulled back again, aiming carefully. Her eyes were focused on the two large, young teats in front of her, and she slammed her own rack against them as had as she could.

“Oh putain!” Fleur moaned as she felt her boobs splay out violently, releasing the hug. Yasmine, on the other hand, didn’t seem to feel (or rather, to care about) the pain. She immediately began hammering Fleur’s red, jiggling orbs with her own, raining blows from the brunette’s large, floppy tits and clearly inflicting considerable damage to both sets. Fleur’s stunned shock allowed Yasmine to land two more wrecking-ball blows from her now somewhat droopy tits, and I heard my girlfriend moan as she tried to fight back. A quick, poorly aimed thrust from Fleur connected, but had clearly been intended just to buy the blonde some time to recoup. Yasmine groaned, her damaged jugs pushing in severely, but refused to let go of Fleur’s shoulders. She seemed absolutely driven to annihilate her rival’s big jugs.

“Fuck you, yellow-haired bitch! We’ll see whose tits are ugly after this!”

The obviously enraged, dark-haired woman landed three ramming blows onto my girlfriend’s chest before moving into a more quickened pace, punching at the blonde’s shaking breasts with her own, visibly loosened pair. Fleur yelped, grunting or gasping with each hit that shook her bright-red breasts.

“She’s a fucking nutcase,” my girlfriend whispered next to me, looking at the scene with a mix of apprehension and awe. “Completely out of her mind.” I didn’t disagree. I realized that this was the first time Fleur got a good look at what’d happened, her concentration during the match having been understandably compromised.

We watched Yasmine bend down and slam her tits upward, the brunette’s softened titflesh distending away from her torso and slapping against Fleur’s stationary pair with a vicious-sounding smack. The full impact of the older woman’s pride and joy slamming into her own, no doubt pained tits caused Fleur to curse, and the blonde actually cried out when Yasmine followed up by throwing her sagging udders into my girl’s pair from the side in a wild haymaker.

I winced, watching Fleur’s sore, bruised tits shake and even slap against each other because of the collision. Yasmine’s heavy, loosened and rather pendulous-looking mammaries slung forward again, but the blonde at last managed to shove her own jugs towards them in a counter ram. A clearly audible, wet slap could be heard and both women groaned. Fleur’s recent recovery allowed her to be quicker to the punch this time, and my girlfriend sent two quick blows, her left breast swinging first into the brunette’s right, and then her right slamming against Yasmine’s battered left boob. I watched all four tits flatten where they met, only slowly morphing back into their original position. While it was difficult to be sure because of the nature of the contact, to me, Fleur’s boobs still seemed to be holding their shape better.

Whether it’s because she shared my assessment, or was simply consumed by rage, Yasmine charged forward with a roar. Fleur barely had enough time to open her mouth in surprise as the leggy, thicker-bodied older woman rammed her chest first. The body slam was so fiercely delivered that the blonde-haired girl, groaning in pain, stumbled backwards. To make things worse, her feet seemed to catch on the corner of a chair, and caused my reeling girlfriend to fall down on her bum.

Yasmine was upon her instantly, lunging at Fleur and slamming her tits straight into the blonde’s wildly shaking, suddenly prone rack. Violently. Air seemed to escape Fleur’s lungs in an audible wheeze, and I winced in sympathy. The brunette let out a borderline-maniacal cackle and began dropping her heavy, once pointy but now visibly sagging tits onto Fleur’s badly reddened orbs, and my girlfriend wailed as she felt their grievously injured racks spread against each other. I could hear her moaning grow more and more intense with each brutal boob-slam her boobs received. She was clearly stunned by the ferocity of the attack, and really, who could blame her. Yasmine was using her loose, already ruined set to pummel and wreck the blonde’s ‘victorious’ boobs, turning both once-powerful racks to a shivering mess.

“You feel that, barbie bitch?” The dark, smokey-eyed beauty half-laughed, half-cried. She was panting heavily, and I could see tears streaking down her face as her crazed assault finally began to fizzle out. There was a longer and longer pause between each boob-bomb, and every time Yasmine lifted her torso off Fleur’s, her arms trembled with the effort. The only thing preventing the blonde from shoving the older woman away seemed to be her oxygen-deprived, thoroughly shell shocked state. Not that it would’ve mattered at that point. Yasmine had already achieved her goal.

“Go on, you dumb slut. Look at them,” Yasmine cooed in a disturbingly honeyed voice. It was practically dripping with venom.

“I’ve fucking destroyed your cute little tits, princess. I pounded every last bit of firmness out of them with my jugs, and turned them into total fucking jello. They’re nothing, now. You’re nothing.”

Fleur was sobbing quietly below her father’s dusky, curvaceous lover. She cupped her black-and-blue, now completely liquefied teats and cradled them in her hands, trying but failing to hold back her whimpers. It was impossible not to notice my girlfriend’s loose breasts wobbling and rolling around lazily as they molded to her touch like half-filled water balloons.

“Please, Yasmine, get off,” the blonde choked out, swallowing a sob and blinking furiously in an effort to clear her blurred vision. I’d never seen my girlfriend is such a pitiful state, and hoped I never would again.

Yasmine sneered at her prone, weeping rival through her own tears, but rolled off to the side, apparently satisfied with her handiwork. I watched the brunette carefully palm her equally wiped-out teats, the older woman’s soft, mushy flesh oozing over her fingers, looking limp and empty. Had either woman been standing up, I knew there would’ve been some serious droopage.

Just as the scene began to fade into black, I saw myself rushing towards Fleur’s sniffing, prostrate form, a truly horrified expression adorning my concerned face.

*~*~*

“That smug… fucking… bitch,” Fleur whispered, sucking in a long and shuddering breath as she fought to regain control of herself.

“Oh, the things I will to do to her fat, ugly sacks when we meet again… I’m going to annihilate her even if it’s the last thing I’ll ever do,” my girlfriend vowed, her shaky, hoarse voice cracking slightly as she wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye.

“You already did, Fleur,” I replied quietly, causing her to turn to look at me. “You flattened her boobs just as badly as she did yours. She didn’t beat you, not really.”

“That’s not the fucking point, Ced!” my girlfriend yelled angrily, setting her jaw and clenching her fists. “She stole my victory!”

“I’d already ground her saggy udders out,” Fleur continued in a more even voice, though her eyes were still full of anger. At least I knew it wasn’t targeted at me. “That skank’s vile, mushy tits had already failed her, and we could both feel them yielding to mine.”

“Heck, even now, on the video, you could see her floppy sacks molding around my firmer jugs. Right?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I did. And she was definitely able to tell you’d bested her boobs as well.” It was true. Yasmine’s facial expression at the time didn’t really leave much room for interpretation.

My girlfriend grunted quietly, taking another calming breath before she continued.

“Anyone else would’ve given up,” she said, giving me a torn look. “The match was already over. I had tamed her set.”

My girlfriend sighed, sinking back into the sofa slowly. “I already knew that Yasmine was a sick, egoistical little slut,” she muttered, shaking her head. “But you need to be special kinda crazy to be able to work through pain that severe, and to keep slamming tits like she did there at the end.”

“She just… went berserk. Like a total fucking psycho,” Fleur whispered, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them again. In her gaze, I saw nothing but steely determination.

“Oh, Cedric. I’m going to fuck her up so bad.”

This Story Will Be Continued in Chapter 12 — Which Can Be Found Here!

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