About the Author
I grew up in the 60s and like many from that time was fascinated by the apartment house wrestling stories that once ran in Sports Review Wrestling magazine.
This evolved into a lifetime fascination with
My stories are primarily focused on jealousy and competition, looking into the primal passions and animal-like struggle of one female competing with another, whether it be for status, a mate, or who is the alpha bitch.
Contact: This author can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org
Grinning demonically, Ellen moved forward, straddling her fallen enemy as she bent forward to seize her by her breasts. Her face covered in blood, Julie howled silently as Ellen’s nails sank deep into her tender boobs. Grabbing at her rival’s hands, Julie’s foot shot up and planted itself hard in Ellen’s exposed snatch.
In a soundless scream, Ellen stumbled backwards and fell, clutching at her injuried sex. Julie was up in a flash and lunging at her enemy. Ellen rolled to her knees only to have Julie land fully on her back, taking them both down to the floor again in a tangle of flailing limbs.
Julie wrapped her long, pale, legs around the waist of her rival as the left arm snaked across Ellen’s throat. Ellen’s hands quickly shot up to try and pry the arm away, but Julie hung on with grim determination as her right hand slipped forward and began to crawl the brunette’s right boob.
Drawing to within a couple of feet of each other, the two girls lunged their arms pulling them together to fall back to the cement, hissing like to cats.
Legs quickly snaked out, drawing each other in and winding around and around each other until the two rivals were nearly welded together from the waist down. Leaning away from each other on their sides, the two warring females, engaged in a tense and vicious nail duel. Their hands blocking when they could only to snake through any openning to scratch at face, breasts, or thighs.
After several minutes of bloody nail work, Eliza propped herself up on one arm and braved the flashing maze of Kirsten’s nails to fall full length upon her enemy. Clinching chest to chest, they quickly began to roll back and forth, clawing each other’s backs raw as they snapped at each other’s ears, necks, and faces with their small white teeth.
Their legs continued to twist and slip around each other struggling for a secure grip, when suddenly their sex’s come once more into hot, moist, contact. The touch of the other woman’s crotch seemed only to enrage the two combatants even more and their thrashing only became more pronounced. Hips thrusting against hips, each girl ground her vagina into her rival’s, each trying to overwhelm the other’s womanhood.
Stepping closer again, Grabriel stared deep into Janet’s eyes, then reaching lower, she gripped the hem of her dress and slowly pulled it higher until her bare thighs where completely exposed in the flickering light. Holding the dress up with one hand, she reached down with the other and carefully tugged the crotch of her white lace panties aside, revealing her pale blonde bush and tight pink sex.
“You’re woman enough to fight me with your fists”, Gabriel continued in a whisper, “are you woman enough to bare yourself to me and meet in sexual battle for the lover we both desire?”
Janet stood frozen for a moment, shocked by the boldness of this woman, then slowly her hands dropped until they found the edge of her skirt and raised it up. Fumbling with her free hand, she pinched the crotch of her black panties between thumb and forefinger and pulled it aside. Baring her thick dark bush and full sex, to the cool night air and the devouring eyes of her foe. In a voice both remote and detached from herself, she answered Gabriel’s question with a single word, “Yes”.
Slamming together breast to breast, in the middle of the pool, the two warring females sent water crashing over the sides and up onto the deck. Grabbing handfuls of hair they began dragging each other back and forth across the bath. The water was whipped into a frenzy as they screamed, slapped, and pulled hair. April glanced back, afraid the noise would attract the cleaning crew, but the sounded never carried beyond the locker room door.
Soon they slipped off their shoes and began to leg wrestle, locking their legs over and around each other. Both women were wearing pantyhose that day and the nylons slipped and slid as they intertwined their legs and began squeezing and squirming. As the two fought, they slipped lower and lower in their seats. This made their skirts ride up higher and higher on their thighs freeing more and more leg for the fray below. At this point, there was no point in denying the obvious, Sheri and Gail were fighting. The long-held hostility between these women could no longer be restrained. As the company bigwigs continued their conference at the top of the table, the two female managers were fighting it out at the bottom of the table. Unknown to anyone else in the room, the two women were locked together in brutal combat. Thigh to thigh, with their legs crossed and recrossed the two women strained against each other in a vicious contest of strength and stamina. The only sound was the occasional whisper of rubbing nylon as they wiggled and squirmed in each other’s grip.
Scrambling to their feet the two women throw themselves at each other. Clinching, they fall heavily to the dirt and begin to roll slowly back and forth across the floor. A tangled heap of arms, legs, and naked flesh, the two warring females wrap themselves together, fighting it out as the crowd cheers them on.
Laying on their sides, legs intertwined, Sally and Conchita madly clutch at each other. Drawing back a fist, Sally smashes her foe in the face while holding her head still by a handful of hair. Conchita strikes back, raking her nails down Sally’s arm. Sally strikes again, splitting the Latin girl’s lower lip. Conchita punches back, blackening the stripper’s left eye. Back and forth, nails and fists, blood drips slowly to the sand as the two women tear at each other.
Jalilaa allowed her tongue to …SWIRL… a moment in her husband’s ear and then let her hand …steal… over his hip to caress his swelling manhood. Glancing over at Afina with …burning eyes.. .she replied, “You are the lucky one haggard witch. Eagerly would I pit my body against yours to …prove… that my Love for my Sultan is strong and yours a sham.” As her fingers …stroked… his manhood from base to tip and back she whispered, “Send her away, my Prince that I may show you the Love you truly Deserve.”
Ali lay silent on the bed, feeling their hands move over him even as they quarreled. His body hungered for theirs but he knew he could show no favor this night. The next day seemed most far away when two eager lovers …Beg… for him to be inside them. Also, their quarreling brought back …other dreams…, desires he tried to best force aside, but that came bubbling back up and into his mind, like the black tar that sometimes wells up unbidden from the sands.
The two women …circled… each other for a moment, their eyes locked together as if staring deep into each other’s very souls, then the Imperator’s woman stepped closer, bringing her arms upward and stretching them out to either side. It appeared almost as if she invited my mother to hug, but the expression on her face seemed less than kind. My mother raised her arms as well and stepped closer, her breasts bouncing slightly as she did so. Both paused then …stepped… into each other, chest to chest and bosom on bosom as their arms folded gracefully down and around each other, clasping their bodies together. As they met I heard a faint …gasp… and felt the reassuring hands of the Imperator tighten on my shoulders.