#cat fight

Akari-chan use “sneak attack” on Kizuna-chan 

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Does she know how angry you are?
What you intend to do to her?
How much you hate her?

As you look into her eyes, you can’t tell….

As you look into her eyes, you don’t care….

www.FoxyCombat.com

Last time they were together, they fought about sweet tea, this time, they fought about nothing – or more accurately, because they wanted to. And though they would never admit it, to each other, or anyone else, they have found that something about fighting with the other turns them on. The feeling of denim sliding against denim; the way the other whimpers softly when struck; the smell of their perfumes and hair products mixing as they wrestle body against body; the sound of the other’s heavy breathing as she tries to escape from a well-applied hold; the way that battles are their dirty little secret; and the thought of what their husbands would do if they ever came to know.

It is for all of those reasons that they have met on the stair to their apartments, and for all those reasons that they fought, dragging each other up, until as they reached the top, they suddenly separated, fixed their hair, and as they walked into to greet their husbands, pretended like nothing ever happened – each counting the seconds until the next time they find themselves alone.

www.KittyFights.com

It had taken every year between the age of 12, until 43 for Dominique (brunette) and Sandra (blonde) to get to this moment. They had always been rivals. Always been enemies. Going to the same schools. Working in the same offices. Chasing after the same men. Never letting an opportunity pass to insult each other, one-up each other, embarrass the other in the worst ways possible.

Finally, it had all led to this – a catfight on the carpet in Sandra’s living room. A conflict planned over text message, in the two women’s first conversation since junior high school. They each promised that they would hurt and wound – pull hair and scratch – smother and strangle the other … and they will. Of that there is no doubt.

But as their fight begins, they do none of those things – finding themselves compelled by desires they do not understand to hold onto and press into each  other – slowly grinding their breasts together – first to the left, and then to the right. And though they have always wished for the other to be gone from their life forever, each cling tightly – clasping their hands around the back of their rival – desperate to keep them there – terrified that they might run. Terrified that whatever their feud has meant, after all these many years – that all the passions and hate they have each felt for each other, will be suddenly stolen away. That this moment, whatever shape it may take, will end without satisfaction – without their demons being purged.

It was supposed to be a morning like any other. Set up the play area before the children arrive for their day at daycare. Simple. And yet, even a simple task can be hard to accomplish for two rivals, forced to work together. A truism shown as Rachel and Anna, two usually well-tempered girls, find themselves nose-to-nose, mocking, condescending, daring each other. And dare they did, as each let their anger and passion get the better of them, forcing themselves on each other there on the multi-colored playmat. Slapping. Grabbing. Until Rachel caught Anna in a perfectly applied full-nelson. There, within that suffocating hold, she shall keep her, whispering threats and promises into her captive ears, until the first little knocks can be heard at the door to the daycare.

www.KittyFights.com

A rival’s inability to retaliate does little to lessen the joy of hearing them scream and beg.

www.KittyFights.com

In the second after the words become action and threats become reality, there is a certain peace, even amongst the violence of landed blows and expelled air. For no longer must you or she wait. The time is now. the moment of settlement is here.

www.KittyFights.com

Not every battle starts with pulled hair and fury, some start with an agreement to test one another.

https://www.catfight-connection.com

It is so easy to rid yourself of the pain of joint and finger, the fatigue of muscle and will, in a test of strength. All one must do is concede. Give in – admitting that your opponent is stronger than you. Better than you.

But instead you hold the line. Pressing your palms into hers. Trying to break her, even though your teeth grit, and your biceps burn.

But as you doubt, so does she. As you quake in her hands, she shakes in yours. For your suffering and hers is no different, apart from the fact that when it ends: one will have won, and the other withdrawn their challenge in defeat..

http://www.SleeperKidsWorld.com/

This was a special day. You had planned a surprise for your boyfriend, intending to arrive at his apartment at around 10:00 AM, on cooking him dinner, cleaning his apartment, and then, preparing yourself for a incredible night of sex, to reward him for all that he does for you. But when you arrived, and after having disrobed, you found her in his bed – a girl – a stranger to you – sleeping peacefully and unaware, he having already left for work hours ago.

Before you could think of how to react or begin to cry at your lover’s act of betrayal, you jumped atop her, and shoved her face into the blankets bunched beneath her. She struggled, and squirmed, and yet still … you did not release. She tried to force herself up, but you straddled her, making sure that she could not escape, or raise up enough to even breathe.

Now, after minutes of she thrashing wildly to free herself, all movement has stopped, she no longer resisting your hold upon her. From the feel of your hands around her neck, you can tell she is not dead, only sleeping, and so you again set yourself to prepare. This time, not for a night of sex with your boyfriend, but instead, for a day of torture and torment.

Removing her clothing, and yours.

Binding her hands behind her back with knotted pillowcases.

Tying each of her ankles to the bedpost on either side of the foot of the bed with bed sheets.

Then, when she has no chance to escape you, you crawl atop her, and let hover your pussy, just inches above her face. Once there, you wait….

For her to wake, for her eyes to open, and for exactly the right moment to lower yourself upon her, so that her punishment and your fun may begin.

What if you told them they could stop?

That they could release each others nipples, and end their twisting and pinching?

That they could stop hurting each other, stop hating each other, and just move on with their lives?

That they didn’t need to dig their fingers into each others hair, and drag each other across the room?

That they didn’t need to send each other catty emails, and threatening texts, as their oblivious boyfriends watched football every night?

That their dreams need not involve images of forcing the other lick their sex, and their nightmares involve being made to do the same to their rival?

But such questions presume falsely that they do not know – that they do not see that their feud is one they alone control – one they feed – one they foster.

Catfight Superstars

Whose thighs are better?

Watch for it, as rivals tangle, how often they – in the midst of their writhing, wrap their thighs around the other’s body, and pull them close. Not in an attempt at some form of scissor or submission – not because it is part of a coming reversal or escape, but instead because between their curses and cries, each longs for the contact. Every brush of clit against clit, every press of stomach against stomach, and every feeling of breast smashing into breast, intoxicates them. Not because they are lovers or friends – not because they are lesbians or even bi, but instead because every such contact means that they are each truly battling the other. That their bodies are at war, from head to toe, and that in the end, the victor can claim victory of the soul, the mind, and body, against the woman they loath most in the world.

www.KittyFights.com

It is the moment after the first slap – after palm has slid harshly across cheek, that a woman must decide if she will allow herself to become victim, or strive to become victor. Often, the choice comes down to what the woman struck wants. Does she want to best her rival? To punish her? Humiliate her? Or does she simply want the rivalry, the competition, the hatred shared between each to end. In pursuit of the latter, allowing herself to be attacked, wounded, and embarrassed, to such a degree that her enemy will have purged the demons that plagued her.

Make no mistake, however, there is courage to such a decision, as there is no promise of mercy – no guarantee of a guilt-driven softness, only of pain – only of tears, and a demand of subjugated service, of a type the lesser woman cannot know until it is upon her.

www.DTWrestling.com

Close friends. Ones on the very verge of becoming lovers. And yet one moment – one mistake has brought them both here. To this room – to this couch, to settle things. They could talk it out, but more than enough is being said without the uttering of a single word.

By their eyes, as find themselves affixed to each other, fire etched in each.

Their breasts, as they call to and dare each other, bulging in brag, trying desperately to free themselves of the slim cloth that confines them, and meet in contest.

Their persons in whole, as they drift closer and closer to each other, whether standing or seated, their bodies only barely able to resist the urge of pressing together.

No, there is no need for them to speak, for their every curve challenges, and every asset argues – as if the universe would accept no other fate but they two writhing together – testing, struggling, and wrestling each other till submission – via pain or ecstasy.

www.pantyhoselane.com updated with conclusion of @AkiraLane and Louisa Lanewood pantyhose catfight video!