That Seventies Story Number 1 by Mr. Cage

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My wife groaned as she was slammed backwards into the canvas tarp that had been nailed to the wall of the roofless shed. The sweaty tough Amparo rammed into her, one hand in my wife’s now dirty, tangled wild blonde hair, the other under her fat round left 40DD breast crushing it and pushing upward. A brown knee bounced of my wife’s already bruised thigh, just missing her blonde bush. Mel gasped and called the Filipina a cunt, which got a reply in Tagalog or one of the other 150 languages spoken in the country. I looked over at Amparo’s ex-sailor husband, Shorty, a tall skinny black guy originally from Jersey. He smiled at me.

The fucker already had his shoved his long thin cock down my wife’s throat after Amparo’s surprising first round submission. Mel had carelessly gotten caught in a reverse face sit near the wall. Amparo leaned back for balance enduring my wife’s blind gouging at brown thighs and belly. Eventually when Mel tried to kick out her left leg was captured and tucked under the brown woman’s armpit. That and the big ass face smothering might have done it, but Amparo had my wife’s hairy slit waving in the air in front of her unprotected. Using her free hand the Filipina chopped at the slit, crushing the fat lips. Then she ripped out some hair. And finally she went for penetration.

By then Mel’s muffled screams and helpless thrashing was enough for me. She had three minutes or more to endure and even if she did she would be “cunted” and that was something you didn’t want this early in a fight. I was about to give for her, but in her thrashing she got a hand out in the open and started tapping away. Red faced, oxygen starved, in agony from the crotch work she still managed to take that long, sweaty, black cock. It had taken him four minutes to squirt into her and she as per the bet had swallowed as Amparo taunted her in whatever heathen speech the savage beast was speaking. Despite her weakness she survived the last three minutes of the round to get a much needed rest. Mel had agitated for this fight and now it looked like she had literally bitten off more than she could choose. Her shame gave way to fury and by the end of the thirty minute break she was ready for the second round which ended in brutal stalemate.

Covered in sweat under the hot sun and heavy humidity both bitches gasped for air. This was the third ten minute round. Even with thirty minute breaks, water, food and I admit some special cocktail involving four or five illegal drugs and two misused prescription drugs Mel was tired and frustrated. You fight for ten minutes and see how tired you are. She used both hands deep in the brown woman’s mane of stiff, sweaty, dirt caked hair and bent her head backwards, straining the woman’s neck and back.

Mel was 5’6’’ and weighed 150 thick pounds, strong as ox for a woman and thick figured 40DD 28 38, blonde, blue-eyed, pale skinned, mean and twenty-five with three children – the last one four months old living with grandma for this vacation. Her opponent was dark brown tribal Pinoy, with thick black hair, long to her waist, about 5’3’’ 140 lush pounds with floppy 36C breasts a thick waist and big ass, maybe 36C 30 42. This was the seventies and women still had bushes. My wife’s was dirty blonde, thick and full with no bikini trim, but Amparo’s covered most of her lower belly and was fuller and stiff as a wire brush. Mel had used it to stay in the fight and the Filipina did not appreciate having fists full ripped out and left in the dirt of the shed. Mel did not appreciate her fat tit being mauled and pinched until it gave milk time and time again. Her redden swollen nipples were weeping now non-stop.

Amparo cried in frustration as she was bent backwards. She let go of my wife’s hair and drove her dark fist into the side of Mel’s round protruding lower belly. Mel gasped, but she had taken more than one blow there already as evidenced by bruises and the glowing red tent under her white skin. She replied with a sudden knee. Being taller with longer, thinner, and perhaps stronger legs her knee went up between the sweaty brown thighs. Amparo’s bare feet were spread wide, toes digging in as she strained against the hair pull. The Filipina groaned deep as my wife’s knee took her full on the hairy mound. It looked like a perfect clit crusher, and the woman had a huge wormy clit stuck between thick almost black hood and fleshy lips once that bush was pushed away. The groan turned to an agonized wail and her legs failed her. She went backwards and my wife landed hard on top of her, still ripping at the jungle mane.

If this had been a street fight Mel would have punched the woman to death, but this was a catfight maul, Shorty’s name for the rules. No punching, kicking, biting, clawing, or choking above the shoulder permitted. No biting and free stoppages for bone breaker holds were the only rules for the rest of the body. As strange as this may sound, it was not unusual for our happily ever after marriage. Fighting brought us together and kept us there now for many perverted years.

Mel and I had essentially found each other’s other half. I loved watching women fight and she had a perverse need to fight and be seen fighting. She got off torturing women and even got off thinking about it prior to a fight. She was hot for violence, but was a woman thing for her and she had to be involved. For the Sixties and Seventies it was quite unusual and the bad films and pictures I sometimes was allowed to take sold for big bucks through snail mail and friend of a friend non-electronic networks. There was no internet no commercial VHS tape producers, even.

I had married a knocked up Mel when she was 14 and I was 22 to stay out of jail and moved in with her fierce mother and hard-working father. Needless to say I was not highly appreciated for knocking up the under-aged girl, but in my own defense she had not been a virgin since the sixth grade and she had 40DD boobs in middle school. Had I known those boobs and that younger figure had been jailbait I might have restrained myself. But I had just seen her beat the shit out of my nineteen year old girlfriend in a street fight and I was helpless to resist. Surprisingly I adapted well to the world of work and took over the business when the old man blew a gasket. We sold out shortly after his death to a giant company. Mel’s Mom and Mel split the money and now we were relatively well to do for a high schooler and drop out. I even had a knack for investing my ill-gotten gains. Money was good, but we were not rolling in it. However, I had plenty of time for finding opponents and Mel was always hot to fight with another woman. Some switch inside her that was welded in the off position for most women was clearing set in the “on” position in my wife.

Finding matches was never easy but after ten years she had a record and a following of admirers among males and enemies among females. Mel was 9-4-6 in submission wrestling, 2-2-1 in boxing, 4-0-0 in bare fist almost no rules fights and 9-3-3 in modified catfights of various rules. Mel was happy to fight by any rules even taking boxing matches against those rare trained women boxers and wrestling matches against body builders. We got matches by word of mouth and a hard copy listing that came in the mail once a year with mail boxes attached to names with descriptions of matches. Most listings were crap, but a few panned out. And Amparo the Mauler had intrigued us enough to do the snail mail back and forth to the Philippines, then overseas phone calls. It had taken three years to reach this tiny farm in the country where Shorty had retired from the navy to live with this rough and tough one time base bar whore.

They had six kids running around one still nursing, but the kiddies were not allowed near the old shed. It had lost its roof in a storm years ago and then been hit by a mud slide which had fortified it by burying three feet of wood walls in mountain mud and ash. So the fight arena was a wooden walled arena, the wood covered by tarps nailed to the top of the wooden walls and the floor was three feet of soft, but usually semi-solid muck. The women were covered in dirt, but not muddy yet. It was the most unusual place Mel had fought and was proving to be a very tough arena for her.

Amparo bucked and slammed punches into my wife’s back and side. Mel road her hairy crotch on the brown woman’s sweaty belly, legs spread, white toes deep in the dirt holding on. Mel got a hand in the rat’s nest of black hair, but brought her right down. She shifted around and managed to find the black, wrinkled aureole of Amparo’s left breast. The thick wet black nipple stuck out like a thumb. During this fight Amparo had milked my wife continuously and Mel was determined to get some revenge.

She fastened on the thick rubbery black nipple and crushed pulling the big soft tit into Amparo’s hairy armpit and wetting the muck with Pinoy milk. Amparo stiffened unleashed a torrent of angry words which Shorty tried to translate, “Cunt. Whore. Dirty cocksucker. Let go of my nipple you White Devil Cunt!” Mel twisted the nipple and Amparo wailed arching her body upward almost throwing my wife off. Mel had to let the nipple snap back in place and continue to wrestle to say on top.

The timer went off. Shorty motioned and I reached in to pull off Mel and he reached for Amparo. Thankfully this time the women were too exhausted to hold onto each other like starving ticks. They came apart clutching tuffs of hair and cursing, but they slumped in our arms as we pulled them to opposite corners and poured water over their heads and then into their mouths. There was little talk. Both women were used to winning or having their opponents refuse to continue and honor terms.

All three of Mel’s draws in modified catfights occurred when her opponents just refused to continue or pay the consequences of losing. What can you do? I called the wins by default, but Mel said that made her sound like she was desperate or a rule breaker that caused a fight to end early. In these agreed meetings there was a lot of diplomacy involved and if a women found her husband or herself had gotten in over her head it could all come apart in tears and recriminations. Marriages had come apart and in some cases shit had gone public that could have ruined everyone if the press had been as tabloid as it is today. So to protect myself, I have found its best to let Mel make the decisions and stay in the background as a dutiful voyeur.

So they had been fighting for a total of thirty minutes and would now rest for another thirty minutes. Bruises on Mel’s body were coloring and her muscles threatened to stiffen but after five minutes of deep breathing she started stretching and rubbing out the kinks. Shorty did as much for Amparo. When we had finally heard what type of fight they liked Mel had been so hot we fucked while on the phone. This was a savage maul fight with the winner being the toughest and cruelest woman. Effectively you got four breaks. First break cost a blow job. Second break got you fucked in the dirt in front of your husband. Third break got you ass fucked in the dirt in front of your husband. Fourth break made you a slave for the weekend where you would serve both husband and wife suffering any sexually or humiliation they could devise while your husband waited for the call to come and pick up what was left.

I whispered to her, “Why are you going for her belly?”

My wife snarled, “Because she’s killing me with belly shots.”

“Yet she is going for your tits four out of five times. You obviously you can take it there better than her. Her small tits are hanging down and concentrated in that hanging bag and your tits are spread all over her chest and sloped not hanging. I think your tit shots are killing her and her belly shots are getting to you and that is why you are hitting her belly and she’s hitting your tits. Go back to her hanging bags during the opening fist fight.”

Mel grunted and poured water on her crotch working some of the dirt Amparo’s gouging fingers had slipped inside her. I did my best to advise her, but with Mel during a fight she only heard what she wanted to hear and if you insisted she just might go off on you. As the sun beamed down from on high they got ready for the fourth round. Both women stood and stalked each other with fists at their side. So far each round had opened with body work until they got tangled up.

Mel’s right and left breasts took hooks as expected. They pounded boobs until both women were sweating and grunting. I thought Mel was getting the better of the exchange even if she was taking more shots. After about three minutes, a long stand-up period up to now, Mel fired straight right downward catching Amparo’s left bag at the top of the swell and then crushing it downward against her rib cage. The Filipina squealed and covered the left balloon with her right hand. Mel struck her right tit twice and Amparo reached out to grapple. Mel pushed her back with both hands on the brown woman’s shoulders and then slammed an uppercut into the underside of the left orb sending it upward. Amparo’s eyes closed for a minute and she staggered backwards spreading her legs so her brown toes could dig into the muck for balance. I wanted to shout kick her in the cunt, but so far both males had followed the general rule of appreciative silence other than Shorty’s helpful translations of Amparo’s curses.

Mel’s right knee came up to her waist, her right foot angled downward. Then she stomp kicked to Amparo’s bush covered lower belly. My wife’s dirty foot hit perfectly in the middle of the lower belly swell. Her heel dug in above the pubic bone while the ball of her foot and toes sank into the brown gut almost leaving an imprint of dirt looking like someone had walked up the belly. The blow was so hard that Mel staggered backwards almost falling. Amparo gasped and flew backwards slamming into the wall before pitching forward onto her hands and knees, gagging for air, moaning deep but barely moaning because all the air had left her.

Mel stepped to the side and punt kicked Amparo in the left tit, crushing it and finally getting a scream out of the downed Filipina. Holding her tit, Amparo came to her knees and grabbed for Mel’s thick bush with her free hand. Mel stepped to the side again and grabbed the back of Amparo’s thick dirt matted black hair dragging her backwards and toward the center. With a sudden surge my wife jerked Amparo up straight on her ass, stepped up behind her and sat down, snapping her strong legs around the hurt Filipina from behind. Mel’s legs crushed the fight out of more than one woman, even body builders with bellies like a man’s.

Jerking back on the long black hair with her left wound in deep, squeezing the woman’s bottom ribs with ankle locked legs I thought it was a matter of time until my cock was down Amparo’s throat. Incredibly Shorty merely looked at his wife and she endured shifting to avoid ribs breaking but not lessening the boa constrictor scissors hold. When she didn’t get an immediate frightened submission my wife waited until Amparo reached over her head grabbing for blonde hair. As soon as the arms went up, Mel cruelly reached around from behind and grabbed Amparo’s right nipple from behind, crushing and twisting it until she was milking the screaming woman like a cow.

I’ll give Amparo credit she endured. She tried to break the leg hold by pressure point gouging but the angle was wrong. She tried to get to my wife’s cunt blindly reaching behind her. She ripped out wads of blonde hair. She elbowed blindly. Nothing broke the hold, but incredibly she did not give. Her nipple started squirted pink milk and that wasn’t strawberry flavoring. Mel had drawn blood from either the tortured nipple or the gland beneath. Shorty saw and looked ready to give. Amparo screamed something at him and he looked at his timer and held up two fingers. Amparo cursed. Her hands finally went to my wife’s torturing hand and started pulling the fingers away, opening herself to a quick reversal, right hand in hair, left hand on left nipple, milked again. Yet she endured and the round ended.

Mel crawled to me, “What the fuck do I have to do tear off her nipple?”

Amparo wailed as Shorty poured cooled water on her incredibly swollen nipples. Mel had really hurt the bitch, yet she had endured. Putting on a leg scissor that long had exhausted my wife. I worked on her thigh muscles to keep them from knotting up. I was out of ideas so I just suggested she keep working on the nipples. The drop dead look I got from my exhausted wife silenced me. I thought about offering a draw.

Mel must have read my mind because she snarled, “I’ll cut off your balls if you stop this before I make this bitch give. I got her tits swelling and bleeding. I’ll get to her smelly cunt sooner or later. I want to ruin this third world cum bucket.”

And so a fifth round began. Amparo cursed steady as she circled fists up elbows covering her tits. Mel managed to taunt her. Despite the language difference whenever Mel talked about Amparo’s swelling, leaking mauled breasts she snarled back. One misconception I have found watching women’s fights, no matter how friendly and sporting the women are when they begin they are mortal enemies at the end. Now maybe some of that is my wife’s essential bitch coming out and infecting the other. But just saying, even when they handshake you can tell they remember every hurt and take it personally.

Amparo was on pure defense so Mel feinted a kick then when Amparo reacted, threw a right hook to the swinging left orb. Mel’s fist hit and smacked the tit into its twin. Amparo moaned but instead of swinging back or retreating she brought her left arm down to capture Mel’s right forearm. The brown woman moved incredibly fast given the mutual exhaustion and her right hand fastened on Mel’s elbow. Then faster than my wife could react, the Filipina twisted into Mel’s body ramming her hip into Mel’s belly while bending over for leverage. Mel snorted in surprise as her feet lifted out of the dirt and she flew over the brown bitch’s hip. It was an awkward throw, no judo master would have approved, but it fucking worked! Up and over the hip. My wife’s legs waved in air for a moment then she crashed to the ground.

Amparo landed cross body my wife’s tits slamming another gush of air out of her lungs. Mel grabbed for the woman’s hair and closed her legs twisting at the hips to roll. But Amparo was moving as well. She jerked my wife’s already trapped right arm up as she rose onto her knees. Mel’s attempt to roll was thwarted. Her left hand grabbed a brown ass cheek and tried to push, but Amparo’s left knee slammed down on Mel’s left bicep and nailed her arm to the ground. In horror I watched the Filipina’s right knee pass over Mel’s screaming face. Mel got an up close view of the black fur covered brown lips passing over her face. Amparo’s dirty right knee slammed down on my wife’s right shoulder. Then slide down crushing the right bicep as Amparo forced the right arm downward with two hands. Everyone knew what would happen next. As Mel’s body kicked and thrashed the Filipina settled her big sweaty ass down on my wife’s screaming face. “Get off me you dirty cunt!” sounded like, “Get muff me ugh duty cough.”

Amparo bounced hard twice and then wiggled in place spreading her hairy crotch over my wife’s face. Mel’s hands were held at the wrists as the brown knees ground into her tortured biceps. Having learned her frantic kicking was not the best early move, she tried to bridge up and overbalance Amparo. It almost worked because unlike the first time they were in the middle of the now softening muck. Amparo let go of my wife’s left wrist as and hammered my wife’s belly just before falling off backwards. The hammer blow to the middle of my wife’s still softened empty baby belly caused the bridge to collapse and the sound of air expelled into a hot hairy crotch.

Mel’s legs thrashed in agony, her heels plowing the muck. Now Amparo freed both wrists and bore down both hands going for my wife’s swollen nipples. I could barely here Mel’s screams under that big brown ass. I determined to give her another minute. Suddenly two streams of milk squirted and Amparo shouted in triumph. Shorty helpfully translated, “I am milking this white cow. Look at her squirt!” She had two streams going and with each ejection you could see Mel’s body spasm in pain. A milking machine would have been kinder to my wife’s big tits.

Mel’s fingers gouged blindly at Amparo’s thighs, then tried to reach her cunt but failed, then grabbed the outside of both haunches and pulled. I heard Mel suck in some air as her thrashing got the sweaty ass cheeks to part for a moment. But then Amparo brought down another hammer on Mel’s belly. Mel’s attack collapsed and the Filipina reseated herself spreading her flesh over Mel’s face, sealing her in a darkened sweaty sauna. Worse, Amparo’s fist did not leave Mel’s reddened belly. Instead she opened her hand and grabbed a full fist of Mel’s crotch hair and fleshy lips. You would be amazed how much a woman’s vaginal lips can stretch when pulled without mercy. Mel’s crotch and belly appeared to be like some dog’s stretch toy. As her essence stretched and stretched her hands started to wave and I knew it was time to give it up.

Shorty called out, “Six minutes and ten seconds! She’s got only a minute to understand what’s coming. Then I fuck her brains out. Then a minute to stand and they finish the round.”

Amparo pushed up smiling at me. She said, “My man is going to breed your wife, make her a black baby. I beat her. I own your whore wife.” Then she stood over Mel giving her husband instructions that to my foreign ears sounded brutal. Rivers of sweat ran down her flesh almost washing the sheen of dirt from her flesh. She looked down as Mel gasped and clutched at her pussy, her face twisted in shame and agony. Amparo taunted and then spit, splattering Mel’s face with distain. Shorty moved into place.

Mel was still thrashing when Shorty tried to fuck her missionary style, when she wouldn’t stop thrashing so he rolled her over on her face. His black hands pulled her hips up opening her for a brutal penetration. Once his long cock was in her and she was sobbing he pounded her for three minutes. Each thrust deep inside her got a moan. Mel’s face rubbed a channel into the muck. I had never seen a more completely humiliating penalty fuck.

Amparo shouted at me in tortured English, “He breeds your ugly cunt!”

Mel had found her match for sure. This bitch was even worse than my wife! Finally his ass clenched and he literally exploded, pumping cum into my wife’s cunt. It took him four contractions to empty his swinging balls into my wife. Amparo was rubbing her mound like it was on fire, coming as Shorty pulled out and dropped cum on my wife’s white ass. Mel curled up in the dirt. I had a minute to get her ready for the rest of the round. Amazingly she understood what she had to do. She stood up, her wet thighs adding syrupy cum to the sweat and dirt. She got to her feet like a warrior queen and put up her fists. But her legs were trembling. Tears poured down her face leaving tracks in the dirt smeared on her from the brutal face down fucking. This was over and everyone in that hot, dank, shed knew it.

Amparo attacked with fists and feet chasing Mel backwards until Mel’s back hit a wall. Then Amparo slammed into her, pinning her to a wall. The Filipina started mauling at my wife’s swelling tits, using them as handles to keep Mel from falling. Mel managed to get to Amparo’s damaged tits. Amparo cursed in surprise and nailed Mel in the mound with a knee. Mel moaned and her legs turned to rubber. Amparo stepped back and my wife sat down in the corner her legs spread, one along each wall. She held up her hands defensively but a dirty brown foot sped between her sticky thighs and slammed into Mel’s battered cunt. Mel’s mouth made an “O” sound but nothing came out. She grabbed for her crotch. Amparo grabbed Mel’s hair with her left hand and kept Mel upright on her ass. Mel’s hands were on her mound, they provided some protection as dirty heel after heel crashed down on Mel’s hand and mound. It was a brutal finishing beat down. I had to call for a second surrender.

Shorty had not recovered so Amparo jerked and sucked him hard, then helped wedge his cock into Mel’s spread ass cheeks. It wasn’t a brutal fuck as he could not stay hard, but the point was made. But Mel took another humiliating face down in the dirt fucking, this time in her unprepared ass. Amparo celebrated in an obscene dance for my appreciation. She was a fucking bitch. I so wanted Mel to teach her a lesson, but this fight was over. I didn’t know if my wife understood it or would need a final beating. She had thirty seconds left in this two submission round.

I helped her up but she should her head and mumbled, “I’m done.”

We gave up a fourth time without a fight. I made sure she would live and then per our agreement left my battered and broken wife with strangers. I suspected Mel would pay for every time she had humiliated a woman after a fight. I thought she was the cruelest bitch in creation, but now I knew she was second best.

I worried she would be homicidal when I picked her up. Amparo met me smiling. “I really fuck up your bitch wife. Oh, we did her again and again. I pissed on her face. I pissed in her pussy. I made her drink me. You know drink my piss.” And on and on she taunted me as Shorty walked my wife to the car. She was wearing the clothes she had stripped out of for the fight, but they did not look natural on her now.

Mel was vacant eyed and silent. Her body slumped into the front seat of the rental car without comment. For once she was quiet and dutiful. She picked no fights with waitresses, shop girls or ticket takers. The long flight home passed without her starting a verbal joust with a stewardess or a passenger. Amparo had broken my wife’s spirit.

I took her to our doctor who was used to seeing her bruises and not calling the authorities on me. I had her checked out for diseases and pregnancy. Thankfully she had neither. Her breast swelling went down. The tearing of her vaginal and rectal tissue healed without infection which I considered a blessed miracle. Her hair grew back. The bruises went from black to yellow and then faded.

Still she wasn’t Mel. Two months later she had her first argument with a waitress. Even then she waited four months before she even thought about pursuing a fight. But when she did, it was a doozy. After that she wanted to pay for Amparo to visit us and fight in our air-conditioned basement fight arena.

The End.

Thank you for reading! For more of Mr. Cage’s Stories: Click Here!

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