Rent Money Moms by Mr. Cage

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The grunting and groans punctuated the sound of two women breathing deeply as the struggle entered its second hour. I stood propped on the back of the couch looking into the ad hoc fight pit. My underwear had been pulled up so my hard cock was threatening to find the fly and expose itself. Sweat poured down my body. I looked across the pit at Paulie Roma. He was smiling and his eyes were predatory expecting to get another go at my Mom. Sweat ran down his face from the rough fucking he had finished giving my Mom at the end of the last round. He fully expected to have at her asshole when she lost the third round. She was down two to one in this rent fight and had already sucked him off and then took his cock in the missionary position while his fat ass mother had ground her big, hairy cunt back and forth across Mom’s sweaty face.

Mrs Roma’s olive brown big ass was almost on top of Mom’s firmer white ass. The Italian Mom had a twenty pound advantage over Mom’s 165 pounds and was two inches shorter than Mom’s 5’9’’. Both women were considered extremely tall in the early 1960s and both were far more aggressive than women were supposed to be. Mom gasped as Mrs. Roma found her badly bruised hanging right 40D tit with a reach across her back and under her armpit. The brown bitch had bigger softer tits, but her nipples must have been made of tire rubber because as swollen as they were they had yet to bleed or leak, I couldn’t say the same for Mom’s now bright red, normally pink, thick and rubbery fat nipples. Even her heavy aureoles were marked up. Mrs. Roma had really worked them over getting the second submission twenty minutes ago in fight time.

Black and blonde hair covered the floor and matted on the women’s skin, more black than blonde. Mom’s thick blonde hair was not nearly as thick and big as Mrs. Roma’s glistening black hair. Mom cried out and cursed, “You fucking bitch!” Her attacker had just got the nipple again and pulled her fat swollen pale white tit back and up to where it was under her armpit. “Give it up whore. Let your son see his mom take it in the ass. I remember you from the PTA, you mouthy whore. Tearing off your nipple would be my pleasure, Mrs. Orleans.” Then she laughed nastily. I had been more than shocked when my sixth grade teacher had turned out to be this month’s opponent.

Mom screamed and bucked, stretching her tortured tit even worse as she rolled under my ex-teacher. Mrs. Roma’s fat tits rolled on Mom’s back and suddenly she slid over the top of Mom head first onto one of the two dirty mattresses the floor had been padded with. She was still stretched across Mom’s side, but her fat ass was up in the air on Mom’s hip. I wanted to shout out, but if the seconds made a sound, Mr. Johnson would fine you ten bucks. He was up on his platform with his super-eight camera on a tripod. A microphone had been placed in between the couch corner so it could pick up the sounds of the fight. He owned the apartment we rented, the house Mrs. Roma rented, the empty home they were fighting in, the shirt factory Mom worked at, half the bank, the big grocery store, and a dozen other things. He had the gold and he made the rules.

They fought for two hours total with ten minute breaks between submissions. During those ten minutes the loser serviced the winner’s second, usually a husband or boyfriend, but in our case the sons. My Dad had been killed in Korea shortly after I was born and Mom made it on her own, working hard at the shirt factory. My older sister fought too and I had been her second since the sixth grade. After two hours the woman with the most wins got three months rent credit, in credit or cash. The loser got a month. Also, Mr. Johnson got to fuck the loser any time and anyway he wanted during the month. That usually amounted to four times at the most since he had a wife, a girl friend and all these working women in his Mom’s Rent Club.

Mom rolled over and slipped around Mrs. Roma’s body, propped up on her left arm, her tits hanging onto Mrs. Roma’s jiggling ass. As the teacher tried to recover her big ass raised up and Mom’s right hand snaked straight for the fat hairy lips that were temporarily exposed. Mr. Johnson’s rules guaranteed long brutal fights with lengthy pain and exhaustion as the deciders, not rapid fight ending tactics. They could not even slap or claw the faces. Blows were unrestricted below the neck, but joint locks were only permitted in passing. Mr. Johnson would whistle when he wanted a hold broken. Break it quick or it cost you a month’s rent. However, brutal attacks to the belly, boobs and crotch were not only allowed but sometimes got a bonus.

Mom’s right hand grabbed the fat cunt lips, digging in to the outside, squeezed them together so the gaping hold disappeared. She pinched brutally and twisted. Mrs. Roma screamed and squirmed forward and off Mom’s body until her head hit the corner between two couches and stopped her retreat. She tried to push up but Mom’s left elbow and body slammed across the olive skinned shaking ass and smashed Mrs. Roma into the mattress. She grunted with impact and then screamed. Mom had four fingers inside the hairy hole and a thumb digging at the puckered almost blackened skin around her asshole. I wanted to shout, but I stayed quiet. I looked over at Paulie and smirked. At least he knew I was enjoying his Mom’s agony as much as he had enjoyed mine.

“Ugh! Oh god, no. I give! I give!” were heard from the muffled shouts from the face buried in the corner of two couches. Mom’s thumb had disappeared into my ex-teachers asshole. Mom’s four fingers had curled up inside the Italian’s cunt and with the thumb threatened to rip you the back of her cunt. This was Mom’s favorite finishing hold.

Mr. Johnson whistled and turned off the camera. As he put in a new real I hopped over the couch shedding my stained underwear, my six inch middle-school cock hard as a rock. Mom rolled Mrs. Roma on her back and said, “Now you eat it whore!” and took revenge reverse face-sitting my ex-teacher. She had me lift up Mrs. Roma’s thick ankles. Mom grabbed them, spread her enemy’s legs wide and then tucked the heels under her armpits rolling Mrs. Roma up into an olive brown ball, black hairy cunt pointed up at the ceiling. Spit on my sticky cock and pushed into her. The Italian groaned under my Mom’s big ass and hairy blonde cunt as I pounded in and out of the meaty pussy feeling like I might explode. Then suddenly I was pulsing filling her cunt with squirt after squirt. I was afraid I’d pass out, but when it was over I looked up, sweat stinging my eyes. The first sight was Mom’s red, black and blue swollen tits and the bad bruises on her belly from the ex-teachers fists and knees. Paulie’s cum stuck to my Mom’s bush and the inside of her legs, I liked the idea his Mom tasted his cum now as she forcibly mouth fucked my Mom. Mom rode Mrs. Roma’s face for nine minutes of the break and then got off almost as exhausted as she had been before the break.

Mrs. Roma rolled over and crawled, my cum dripping down her legs, and rested on all fours for the sound of the next whistle, the break often went longer than the ten minutes. Before Mr. Johnson turned the camera back on he announced, “Tied two to two after 75 minutes. Both women have earned a month’s bonus so far: Mrs. Roma for bloody nipples and Mrs. Orleans for bloody crotch. I’ll double it for a bases-full bleed.” I checked my cock. It was strained pink with Mrs. Roma’s diluted blood. I hadn’t even noticed, but now I could see red tints on her brown thighs. Mom had cunted her good!

My ex-teacher finally pushed up using a couch for the start. She snarled, “I’ll tear those fat udders off you bitch. Trailer trash whore, you keep your filthy hands out of my crotch or I swear I’ll take your nipples.”

Mr. Johnson gave the one minute woman and both sweaty, exhausted women glared across the stained mat. Their bruised and swelling boobs rose and fell with each gasp as sweat ran down their bodies and stained their foot prints into the already filthy mattresses. Mrs. Roma braced her hands on her knees sucking in air her fat tits hanging and dripping sweat. Mom stood straighter with her left arm under her tits trying to keep the quickly swelling, bright red to dark red once pale white orbs, from pulling painfully at the connecting tissues so much abused by the Italian mom’s brown fingers. I had no idea who would win this, but doubted it would go more than one more fall.

Mr. Johnson clicked his timer and shouted, “Fight!”

Mrs. Roma suddenly exploded into action. She went from hands on her knees bent over gasping to a straight lunge toward my Mom. As she charged her hands shot forward and upward. Mom’s tits were the targets. They had matched tits twice earlier and both times Mom had lost the mauling contest, but she seemed intent on not backing down. Mrs. Roma’s hands smashed into Mom’s tits driving them upward towards Mom’s shoulders. Mom’s fingers sank into the softer, fatter flopping bags on my ex-teachers chest. Both women grunted, but Mom was forced back five quick steps by the forward momentum of the teacher and the lifting torture of her swollen boobs. Mom moaned and gasped, trying to match the olive brown fingers digging into the sides of her tits from the bottom as her tits stretched upward pulling the underside connection tight.

Mom was forced back step by step. I wanted to warn her how close the back of her legs were to the couch, but silence was the rule. She must have realized it because she tried to step to the side and throw Mrs. Roma by the tits onto the couch. It didn’t work. Instead the heavier woman pushed Mom by her tortured tits up on her toes. Then one more lunge and Mom’s calves hit the couch and she fell back onto the already stained and torn upholstery. Mrs. Roma went down on top of her. A brief struggle ended with Mom on the couch on her back.her left leg trapped by Mrs. Roma’s right knee and the back of the couch, her left leg hanging off the couch kicking frantically for leverage. The Italian Mom bore down on Mom’s tits, crushing and twisting them pushing them into her chin. Mom wailed in agony. Mrs. Roma endured a savage nipple twisting from below and stayed in a dominant position. Leaning over Mom propped by her knee on Mom’s left thigh, her hands on Mom’s now dark red tits and her left foot out straight to the side braced firmly on the dirty mattress serving as a floor mat.

“Give it up you trailer trash whore! It’s time for your boy to see you get it in the ass!”

This was Mom’s ninth fight. She had lost only seven total rounds. This was the first time she had been fucked and now it looked like it was the first time she would get ass-fucked. Mr. Johnson had said this was the Westside Championship. Mrs. Roma had won seven straight fights and Mom had won nine. I wasn’t aware he was doing this on the Riverside or the Southside of our small southern industrial city. Two rivers divided the city into three sections someone had named long ago and not too consistently. Riverside was the rich area. Westside was the working class and factory town. Southside was even worse than our part of town, or so everyone said.

“Give it up or I’ll tear them off!”

Mom screamed in total agony. One of her nipples had stopped leaking pinkish fluid and was now bleeding freely coloring my ex teacher’s fingers, Mom’s tit and belly. Mom gasped and groaned, but she kept working on the olive brown woman’s hanging boobs. Finally Mrs. Roma screamed and Mom had her left nipple bleeding freely. The dominant woman did not falter. She just continued to maul away and Mom thrashed her free leg trying to get some kind of leverage. I had no idea how long she had left to suffer. A tie would just give her a break and force her into a single sudden death round. At this time I saw no way she could fight on, but she would not give.

Frustrated Mrs. Roma rose up higher to put even more weight on Mom’s crushed tits. Mom’s right heel started kicking at the back of the dominant woman’s lower back and ass. Both women had used their heels like this and both had bruises over their kidneys. Mrs. Roma grunted but merely rose higher. Mom squealed as both nipples squirted blood and lymph. Mrs. Roma raised higher and added even more pressure to the brutalized once pale white orbs. Mom whimpered. Tears and sweat pooled on her reddened cheeks.

“Give it up you white trash cunt!”

Mom’s kicking stopped. Her right heel traced down across Mrs. Roma’s jiggling ass, down the back of her thick thigh and came to rest on the back of her knee. I thought it was over, but then Mom’s right leg straightened and rotated slightly. Her heel smashed into the back of Mrs. Roma’s stretched out, firmly planted, load-bearing left knee. The leg folded. In a sudden flow of motion, Mrs. Roma hit on her left knee and then rolled off Mom to thud onto her back on the mattress with Mom rolling off, tit dragged, on top of her the formerly dominant woman. Both grunted from the impact, but Mrs. Roma was under Mom’s 165 pounds.

Several seconds, maybe a minute or two elapsed with the battered blond lying on top the breathless raven-haired. Sweaty, bloody, covered in wisps and tuffs of blonde and black hair they merely moaned and gasped. Mom attacked first, slamming her forehead down between Mrs. Roma’s sweaty swollen tits. She did it two times, Mrs. Roma’s hands went to the back of Mom’s hair. Mom’s dark red tits ballooned out under her arms as she laid on top of the heavier woman. With her tits freed, Mom suddenly raised up on her knees, her head flat against my ex-teacher’s breast bone. She made to quick moves with her knees driving them into the meat of Mrs. Roma’s fat inner thighs. Mrs. Roma groaned and cursed as her thighs were penned to the dirty mattresses.

Mom’s big ass was up in the air, but her body was flattened for the most part on the Italian’s lower body. Before Mrs. Roma started to buck, Mom’s hands were in the other woman’s crotch. Her left hand had a fist full of glistening black pubes pulling the attached cunt lips upward. Her right index finger and thumb found Mrs. Roma’s leathery clit hood. She peeled back the hood and pinched on the bud of the wormy bright pink clit bud. And Mrs. Roma went stiff screaming so loud I glanced over my shoulders as if the police might be breaking down the doors.

Screaming wildly, Mrs. Roma ripped at Mom’s hair trying to pull her head off its support point between the rolling olive brown tits. Mom lost tuffs of blonde hair, but she kept her forehead fixed to the breastbone. Mrs. Roma squirmed violently trying to get her legs free or Mom’s body shifted. Earlier her strength might have succeeded, but despite her obvious agony she was tired and like Mom at the end of her tether. Mom slipped and bounced, but she kept her weight on the woman’s breast bone and thighs. More importantly to Mrs. Roma and our eardrums, she kept crushing and gouging at that moist, tender bundle of nerve tissue that was the center of the screaming woman’s universe.

Mrs. Roma pounded Mom’s back, scratched her, then went for the injured tits pinching and pulling them outward from Mom’s chest trying to use the tits to pull the arms, but Mom endured and worked on that clit. Squealing, Mrs. Roma continued to buck and squirm, but the motions became less and less powerful even if more frequent. Soon it looked like more trembling than bucking.

“Oh god you bitch! Please, no more!”

“Do you give?”


More screaming and more begging followed.
“Do you give?”

“No! Oh god, please stop.”

Wild screaming as Mom dug into the now bloody hood and the thing it once shielded. Mrs. Roma made and attempt to get to Mom’s asshole but her arms weren’t long enough and she had the wrong angle to reach Mom’s crotch. Whimpering, then trembling, Mrs. Roma started punching the back of Mom’s head, a violation quickly noted by Mr. Johnson. Mom endured it without complaint and actually twisted the clit meat.

“Give! Give! Give!”

Mr. Johnson shouted for Mom to break. She rolled off and lied beside her victim gasping with her hands gingerly cupping her very swollen boobs. Mr. Johnson reminded Mom it was consequences time.

Mom pointed to me and gasped, “Fuck her in the ass until she bleeds!”

Mrs. Roma had curled up into the fetal position on her side with her hands holding her cunt. Mom was on her back gasping with both hands cupping her dark red, almost purplish boobs, gingerly trying to work the pain out of them. Mr. Johnson mumbled five minute break for the bathroom, his break not theirs. The old pervert wanted to give the fighters a chance to recover so Mom could properly humiliate her rival. After three or four minutes she sat up, gasping as her tits rolled on her chest until she got her left arm under both of them, holding them against gravity and movement. She struggled to her knees, again groaning, grabbed the back of Mrs. Roma’s matted black hair and jerked.

“On your knees you fat ass ugly cunt!”

Mom jerked and kicked at Mrs. Roma until she was crawling on her knees like a dog mewling like wounded pig. Mom grunted, stood up and then sat down on the couch with her sweaty legs spread. She pulled Mrs. Roma’s face into her blonde bush and yelled for her to start eating. I got behind my ex-teacher, smiled at her son over both women’s heads, and then spread her trembling ass cheeks apart with both hands. I spit on her almost black puckered hole and then shifted my right hand to my rock hard cock and forced it in quarter inch by quarter inch. Mrs. Roma grunted into Mom’s cunt. Mom still kept her left arm under her swollen tits, but she used her right hand to direct Mrs. Roma’s cunt eating with hard tugs on the matted black hair.

Finally in I started moving in and out slowing. It was tight, not as tight has the last Mom’s ass I’d fucked, but still tight enough. Mrs. Roma suffered for a bit until my spitting at the end of each back stroke got her lubed. Then with my hands on her hips I pumped away until my load shot deep inside her asshole. I pulled out dripping. Mom released her hair and Mrs. Roma rolled onto her back and examined her clit for permanent damage. Mom pushed up and experimented walking without her left arm propping up her heavy, hot fluid filled orbs. She finally let the tits drop and waited for Mr. Johnson to start the fight again.

He got his camera ready and announced before turning it on. “Mrs. Orleans leads Mrs. Roma three falls to two with 12 minutes remaining in regulation time. Ladies you have each earned another month’s bonus. Now prepare yourself. In the event of a tie, after the consequences round there will be a thirty minute rest followed by a chance to give up the fight or fight on.”

Mrs. Roma got up. Her thighs were red, blood staining the sweat all the way to the insides of her knees. Mom had really cunted her this time. She wobbled. But, I was afraid Mom would collapse if Mrs. Roma got her fingers into Mom’s swollen tit meat again. Twelve minutes is a long time in this kind of ruled match.

Mr. Johnson yelled, “Fight!”

Mrs. Roma staggered forward reaching for Mom’s tits. Instead of trying to tough it out in another tit mauling session, Mom snapped her right foot up between my teacher’s bloody thighs. Smack! The instep hit perfectly. Mrs. Roma continued forward looking for a place to fall. Mom almost tripped getting out of her way. The Italian Mom’s knees hit the floor just as she fell onto one of the stained couches. Mom grabbed the woman’s hair from above and behind, jerked her up and drove the right knee into the middle of the downed woman’s shoulders. Instead of forcing a submission, Mom held the hold on and on. Mrs. Roma reached behind her trying to reach Mom’s tits or hair, but the most she could do in this situation was claw at Mom’s leg. Her fingers fell an inch short of Mom’s hairy crotch. Again, earlier in the fight the strong woman would have broken the hold, but now she just flailed at the air for the most part and cursed.

Finally Mr. Johnson whistled. I think he had let it go on a bit longer than regulation hoping for a fourth submission. The consequences for a fourth submission included total fucking and humiliation, up to and including the loser taking mouthful of piss. Mom had done that only once so far to a woman who had really talked a far more brutal fight than she could actually deliver.

When the time was called, Mr. Johnson announced that Mom was his Westside Champion and that her next fight would be against the Southside Champion who would be decided tomorrow. Mom hesitated. She started to say the N-word which was far more used in those days, but at the last moment said, “I don’t know about fighting a Negro woman, they are nasty, smelly and cheat like Nig-Negroes.”

Mr. Johnson frowned, but then said, “I intend to match the two leagues by rank in strict ruled one on one fights just like this one, but given possible objections or fears I’ll double the prize money on both ends.”

And so ended that battle for the rent money.

The End

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