Diane threw herself at the bitch, landing on top of her. The two women rolled across the floor, thrashing, clutching with their nails, punching and entwining their legs. She jerked the bitch’s head back savagely by the hair. “Oh fuck, that feels sooo fucking good”, she
thought. Diane allowed herself to totally lose control, wrapping her legs around the bitch and punching away. The two women lay tangled on the floor for several minutes, slugging each other and jerking their hair.
Diane had totally forgotten her surroundings. She absolutely had no thoughts of the damage to her expensive party dress, her panties being exposed to all the people crowded around them or to her naked breast that had fallen out of the dress. Her heart was beating like a drum and her pussy was flowing juices and drenching the front of her panties. She was thrilled by the struggle and abandoned herself to punching and pulling hair.
She didn’t know the name of the woman she was fighting with, nor did she care. The bitch been staring and sneering and provoking her all evening. Diane was used to being the center of attention at parties such as this. She was one hot babe. She knew it and liked it. And she didn’t appreciate this bitch, flaunting herself about. All evening the two had competed. They showed increasing amounts of leg as they were seated across the room from each other. They gave each other catty, glaring looks. They even bumped into each other accidentally on purpose when passing in the kitchen. Diane became more and more angry. The two began a stare down from across the room. Then they slowly came closer and closer as they glared their hate and envy at each other. Finally almost nose to nose, they glared wordlessly as the other party guests noticed and gathered around them.
As if on invisible queue, the two moved suddenly to sink their hands into each other’s hair. The party crowed cheered as they were quite happy to watch the two women fight and had no plans to interfere. Maybe five minutes later, they were tangled on the floor, rolling back and forth, trying to hurt each other as much as possible. Both had their dresses up around their waist. One pair of red bikini panties and one black pair were bumping and grinding together as they wrestled. Diane clutched the bitch’s hair as tightly as possible and wildly threw punch after punch. She had no particular target. Her fists landed on the ribs, tits, cheeks, neck, back. It didn’t matter where, she just wanted – no she needed, to hit her over and over. The bitch was a worthy opponent. She was giving as good as she got. Diane was pleased that it was not going to be over too soon.
Her panties were soaked. She had her legs clamped around the bitch’s thigh. They had torn their dresses so they just clung around their waists. Their bare tits were mashed together as they jerked hair and punched it out. She was already building toward an orgasm. Fighting always made her cum. Again and again she slammed her fist into the bitch. She tried to do it harder and harder as the sexual pleasure built up. The two were beating and bruising each other really good. Finally overcome, she clutched hair with two hands and pulled with all her might. She humped the bitch’s leg furiously and moaned with
pleasure as the climax rolled over her. “Oh fuck! This is soooooo good”, she thought. That’s partly why she loved to do the party scene so much. It was a great place to get in a fight.
After the orgasm began to subside, the two slapped, punched and kicked at each other, eventually pushing apart. They sat on the floor panting for breath. Diane’s red panties were obscenely soaked and juices were running down her leg. She didn’t care. She noticed the bitch had a wet spot over her cunt. But it was clear she was not yet as sexually excited as Diane. The two had scratches on their breasts and bruises on their necks, forearms and faces. The crowd was murmuring in approval of what they had seen so far. Many of them figured it was over. And if it was, certainly it had been the highlight of the evening and probably the week and the month. If not, … well then this was going to be one of those very special evenings that they tell stories about for years.
As Diane’s breathing was settling down into the quasi normal range, she swung her legs around and rose to her knees. The bitch struggled to her knees as well. The two women glared at each other. Diane raised her fists and began to inch forward. The bitch raised her fists as well. But then a couple of people burst through the crowd ring. Diane was grabbed and held. She heard cries of “break it up” and groans from many others. There was a confusing jumble of arguing voices; “get the fuck out of the way”, “stop this now”, “let them fight”, “are the cops coming?”.
In a minute, Diane was grabbed by the crowd. She could no longer see the bitch for all the people in the way. Someone threw a coat around her and walked her toward the stairs. She struggled to get back, to get loose, to find and sink her nails into the bitch. But she couldn’t. It was sort of a blur for the next several minutes. But soon she found herself out on the street by her car. Several people had offered to take her home. She told them she was all right and could drive herself.
Later, driving though the city aimlessly, she tried to collect her thoughts. It was always hard for her to come down from the high. She loved all of it – the physical competition, the uninhibited, emotional release, the exhibitionism, the sexual excitement, the violence. It didn’t make any sense, but it was real. She was sooo pissed. Why did those assholes have to stop it? She wanted to cruise the city looking for another fight. But she knew that every minute that passed would bring her further down from the high. She knew she should crash at home and nurse her wounds. But that’s not what she wanted to do right at this moment. She could still remember the feel of their bodies as they thrashed and scratched and wailed at each other.
After a hot bath, Diane lay on her bed and allowed herself to drift toward sleep. She was 33 years old and had increasingly and dramatically changed her lifestyle in the last three of those years. It all started when she began dating a guy with a fetish for catfighting. She discovered his obsession and found that it titillated her strangely and powerfully. He turned out to be a bum. But she kept browsing more and more websites devoted to female fighting.
She found that it was popular with a lot of men and women. There were those into all facets from teenage girls to old women; from wrestling to fistfights; from sexual competition to real violence. Of course there were many pictures and videos. Some were obviously staged. Diane found herself drawn to the realistic ones. She spent more and more time online looking at this material. As she became more and more excited and preoccupied with the whole scene, she grew bolder. She found she just couldn’t put it aside. This offered an emotional and sexual release that she just couldn’t find anywhere else or in any other way.
She remembered the first fight with a woman in the park after a late movie. They had argued. She challenged her to come to the park where they could be unseen to settle it. Diane’s heart had been in her throat. But she swallowed hard and went though with hit. The two of them pulled hair and punched and wrestled in the dark in private. And it was so very good for Diane. She loved it. Afterwards, her panties were wet. She relived every moment of it for weeks. And she knew that she had to do it again. There had been countless fights since then. She was a fighter.
The rest of the weekend was boring. At midweek she was preparing to attend a two day conference. It would be a mind-numbing affair filled with talk of corporate strategy, policy, procedure and budget details. But she couldn’t get out of it. At 11pm she lay down and masturbated for an hour or so. Finally she fell asleep, hoping she could find some entertainment after the work sessions at the conference.
By 10pm on Wednesday she was checking into the Marriott after spending a day on the plane from Baltimore to Kansas City. She was tired and desperately needing to stretch her legs after spending many hours seated in planes and cabs. After getting her luggage into the room, she wandered back down to the lobby. For the next half hour she walked aimlessly around the hotel, taking notice of the other bored patrons. The business center was deserted. The lobbies were practically so. There was one rather attractive gentlemen in the exercise center who looked very fit for someone who she guessed would be on the north side of 50. As she turned the corner there were fleeting fantasies of the two of them naked on the floor with her riding his cock while he moaned and pawed her tits.
Continuing to the hotel bar she found the folks who preferred to drink if they had no choice but to be bored. There was one couple huddled in a corner table making out in the dim light. Diane guessed they were 30 something. She could make out his hand moving up under her skirt as they wrestled tongues. As her crotch dampened she imagined once again being on the floor riding the man’s cock. But then the fantasy quickly flipped to her pulling the woman up by her hair and the two of them jerking hair as the man watched and stroked his cock. That particularly fantasy would invariably end in a hot fistfight that was broken up by the man dragging them back to his room for more private enjoyment. Crap. How was she going to make it through the boredom these next 3 days? As she turned to leave the bar she gave one final glance at the kissing couple and entertained a fleeting thought of actually walking over there and jerking the woman up by the hair. Now her crotch was very wet and she cursed with frustration as she headed for the elevator.