#fem wrestling

As you fought with her, she tore cruelly at your pantyhose. And yet now, in the most intoxicating revenge, you use the hole she left to defeat her – placing your sex over both her mouth and nose, every gasp made by her effective only at sucking herself deeper and deeper into your smother . And as you smirk, and her hands cling faintly to your thighs, your rival drifts off to sleep – your moment of victory and chance to truly humiliate her not far behind.

A single comment about who makes better sweet tea, made in the kitchen as their husbands watched football, led these to southern belles to sneak out back screen door, and settle things in the old fashioned way.

And though they fight for honor and pride, neither willing to back down from the other, they must hurry, as to not miss their husbands’ calls for more beer.

www.KittyFights.com

Neither rival must tightly wrap their legs around those of their enemy’s, using calf and thigh muscles to grip and hold on to one another. For they each want this, more than either can say or admit. Needing to feel their tits press into their foe’s, and their stomach flatten against stomach. And though they may push and pull, rolling this way and that, locked together their bodies will stay, not because they cannot escape, but because they do not want to. They have found their heaven - their bliss, and it is in combat, and close-contact with the woman who plagues their every thought, and haunts their every dream.

It can take only one comment, or a single side-eyed glance, to forever put two women who work together at odds. From the very occurrence of it, tainting every sound made, every word uttered, every action taken, in the mind of the other. Each sitting. Thinking. Hating. Until they resolve it. Until they settle it. When the doors lock, and the supervisors no longer supervise. There they tear and torment one another – pulling hair, and ripping blouses – not just on one night, but on many, on any they can, until one rival can take no more – until one rival quits in tears, their cheeks flush with the red-stains of shame.

Glare for glare, nose to nose, chest to chest Karina was with Marlies, when together they arrived at the beach. She had claimed to be her better, her equal, her rival – and in truth she was, until the fighting began. Until body pressed against body, and muscle strained against muscle. Then, in an instant, all was revealed. All was clear. She was no rival. No threat. Merely a girl pretending to be a woman – a girl who will now set her tongue to clit, or wish she had, when the torture begins.

www.FoxyCombat.com

Into her ear you whisper, telling her everything you’re going to do to her.
All the pain you shall inflict.
How you will grind her body beneath yours, and use your every muscle in your goal of torture.
How you will twist her nipples without mercy, and claw at her clit till it bleeds.

But it is only when you tell her that no submission will be accepted, and no surrender will be heeded, that she begins to sob in terror, your hand still wrapped around her throat.

www.DTWrestling.com