Tastes Great, Less Filling by Dradis

Picture yourself in a courtyard by a fountain on a warm and sunny day without a cloud in the sky. The setting is reminiscent of a small oasis tucked away in an otherwise vast cityscape – the tranquil aquamarine waters of the fountain’s pool are all but inviting you to unwind and while away your time here. The shallow pool itself is quite expansive and is ringed in a square shape by short hedges with a small concrete lip on either side of the plants. The courtyard’s centerpiece is surrounded on all four sides by wide stretches of pavement – on one particular side you find a string of tables arranged in a row. They seem to belong to a chic bistro of some kind – each one is white with matching chairs, and a few are capped with blue and white parasols.

Your attention is soon drawn to a beautiful sight – there is a pair of lovely women in their mid-twenties seated together as they enjoy a late lunch. Quite propitiously, you have found them at just the right time, as a single one-sentence question and an equally brief one-sentence reply are about to change the course of their entire afternoon.

One of the two is a statuesque blonde who stands at 5’8, weighs 125 lbs, and is amply curved – she is dressed in a white blouse that has a criminally low neckline and light tan miniskirt. Her companion is an exotic-looking brunette, perhaps an inch taller and ten points heavier with similar body proportions, who is wearing an equally low-cut black blouse and black miniskirt. The particulars of their conversation are lost amid the hustle and bustle of those around them, but as you focus in you can tell that their tone is cordial like that of lifelong friends or close sisters.

With one exchange of words, however, years of goodwill and amity are about to be erased to nothing in a matter of seconds.

Holding a glass bottle in her hand, you see the blonde as she seems to marvel innocently at the cold beverage in her grasp. “Doesn’t Miller Lite taste great?” she asks.

“Yeah, but I drink it because it’s less filling,” you hear the brunette reply. Her comment is as equally innocent as the blonde’s, but it’s obvious that the tenor of the conversation has been irrevocably changed the moment the words leave her lips.

The blonde shoots an irate glare at her counterpart as she slams the bottle emphatically down on the table. “Great taste,” she insists.

“Less filling,” the brunette states as she throws her napkin aside, her opinion on the matter firm and unyielding.

“Great taste!” the blonde angrily shouts as she rises to her feet.

“Less filling!” the brunette shouts back with equal furor as she stands up as well, clearing the space between them by knocking the table over sideways with a firm thrust.

“Great taste!” the blonde yells as she presses her hands forcefully against the brunette’s shoulders – push has finally come to shove.

You watch as the brunette’s response comes in the form of a vicious backhanded slap – you can hear it easily as it cracks violently across that blonde’s cheek. The blonde gasps as she staggers a step away, cradling her face with her hand as she receives her first taste of violence. As her foe struggles to recover from the unexpected blow, the brunette quickly closes in and encircles the blonde’s neck with a tight headlock – the blonde shrieks as her head is shaken back and forth and squeezed in the brunette’s tight grip.

A stiff elbow driven backwards into the gut draws a groan from the brunette’s lips as it forces her to relinquish the headlock and drives her away from her quarry. Turning to face her foe, you see the blonde immediately lunge for the brunette’s black locks with her hands; recovering quickly, the brunette reciprocates by taking firm hold of the blonde’s flaxen hair and you watch as the two begin to pull and tug for all that they are worth. For about a minute they are stalemated as they stumble to and fro across the pavement in their high heels, each yanked off balance for a moment before doing the same to her opponent in return.

The brunette makes the first attempt to break the impasse, letting go with her right hand and lashing it across the blonde’s face with another slap. The blonde shrieks in pain but retaliates in identical fashion and is immediately rewarded with an anguished cry from the brunette The repetitive sound of fierce claps is followed by one woman or the other’s scream filling the air as each fights to subdue the other. Watch as the battle careens towards the fountain – the blonde cocks her hand back, but this time instead of throwing a slap she instead balls up her fist.

“Great taste!” you hear her shout again as she throws her best right cross to the brunette’s mouth.

The punch’s effect is instantaneous as the latter woman stumbles backwards and trips over the fountain’s concrete edge, falling on her back into the hedges. Ignoring the pain in her hand, the blonde leaps forward and throws herself atop her rival’s prone form. However, with a surprisingly rapid recovery the brunette gets her leg up in time and pushes it firmly into the blonde’s bell – one flexible pivot later and the blonde is sent flying through the air and crashes into the fountain’s pool with a loud splash.

Both ladies get to their feet quickly as the battle shifts to the new arena – the brunette marches boldly into the shallow water as the blonde resolutely stands her ground. Their clothes are quickly soaked through with water as they wrestle and struggle with each other, but it matters little as they both begin to jealously disrobe one another in violent fashion. Two sets of hands go for shirt collars as fingers rip and yank, and moments later each has her blouse torn open in a shower of buttons. The brunette is wearing a black satin bra which appears slick and shiny when wet; the blonde’s magnificent rack, meanwhile, is encased in an alluring leopard print bra. It takes little encouragement for them to go after each other’s outer garments below the waist as well, revealing the brunette’s matching black panties and the blonde’s contrasting red pair respectively. Both sets of shoes are lost in the chaos. The two lunge at each other again, torsos colliding with a wet smack – they briefly grapple for control before the brunette’s fist buries itself into the blonde’s stomach. The blonde gasps as she sinks to her haunches, but in doing so drags the brunette down with her.

One set of hands finds its way to rival chest, and the other quickly follows suit as fingers curl and tight grips squeeze – even without knowing the two women you can feel the jealousy that had previously been unspoken between them manifesting in the form of a vicious attack on opposing jug. Their cries, sharp and to the point up until that moment, now take on a tortured quality to them as flesh is gouged and bras offer little to no protection from marauding clutches. You can see the blonde cringing with eyes shut tightly as her tits are mercilessly crushed by her foe’s hands, and she throws her head back with a loud wail – her distress is mirrored by the brunette’s own grimacing expression as her head lolls forward, the pain emanating from her chest threatening to overwhelm her completely.

The blonde seems determined to turn the tide of the battle in her favor before she herself succumbs to the torment being inflicted upon her chest. Letting go of the brunette’s left breast with her right hand, she balls it up into a fist and drives it forward into the heavy orb. You hear the brunette’s agonized scream ringing out across the courtyard as the punch pounds her breast with tremendous force – while her own hands are still clenched onto the blonde’s jugs, she is now merely holding onto them instead of squeezing and clawing. The blonde lets go with her left hand and instead grabs the brunette’s bra strap as she continues to rain blows onto the hulking hooters – the brunette’s cries are growing louder and more plaintive as the wind has clearly been knocked out of her sails.

The blonde grasps her foe’s shoulders and gives her a firm shove, pushing her onto her back. Crawling forward, she straddles the brunette’s waist and continues to press the attack from a seated position. A cruel slap to the left cheek; a matching blow to the right; a mindless punch to the left breast; a loud cracking smack to the right tit; another slap to the left side of the face; the brunette can do little but cry out in pain as she takes the blows. Reaching down, the blonde again grasps as much of the brunette’s chest as she can take in her hands and, with a tightened grip, yanks upwards on the jugs as far as she can stretch them. The brunette screams in agony as her breasts are torn to their limits and her bra miraculously continues to contain those in their charge – her hands go to the blonde’s wrists as she vainly tries to free herself from her rival’s talons.

“Say it!” the blonde screams at the top of her lungs, “Say it now!”

You can hear the defiance in the brunette’s response. “Less filling!” she shouts back.

Getting nowhere with her current strategy, the brunette lets go with her right hand to produce a fist of her own. Her first punch lands squarely and solidly just below the blonde’s navel, stopping her in her tracks – the second and third to the same spot result in a pair of agonized wails escaping from the blonde’s lips. Hunched over by the painful blows, the blonde’s hair is now in arm’s reach for the brunette – seconds later a vicious yank on the golden locks pulls the blonde off from her perch and onto her side next to the brunette.

Watch as the brunette rolls over and attempts to claim the dominant position atop her rival. The blonde, however, will have none of it as she tugs and pulls on her foe’s sable hair in return. The two roll and thrash about in the water as they wrestle and struggle for the dominant position, breasts and bellies pressing together in close but unfriendly contact. Somehow the brunette winds up on her belly with the blonde lying on top of her. Pressing her mouth into the brunette’s wet shoulder, the blonde cinches up her arms around her enemy’s midsection and squeezes with as much strength as she can muster.

The brunette feels the effects of the back-to-belly bearhug immediately and screams aloud as her hands go to pry the blonde’s arms apart, but to no avail. Watch as she makes it up to all fours, hoping either to crawl away from her tormentress or otherwise improve her position, but the blonde stays hugged up with her in a doggy-style tableau. Groaning as her waist strains against the crushing pressure of the hug, the brunette manages to push herself upright and onto one knee in spite of the weight bearing down on her, but still she cannot dislodge her foe. To her relief, the blonde finally relinquishes the bearhug, but the respite is short-lived as the same right arm that had squeezed her waist now coils itself around her neck with the same brute force wile the left loops around her own to restrain its movement.

“Great taste,” the blonde purrs as she grins proudly. Somehow, despite the soft tone of voice, you able to hear her just as well as the brunette as the words are being whispered into her ear. It’s a taunt coming from a position of confidence as the blonde squeezes the brunette’s throat without mercy. It doesn’t matter for her that the brunette has managed to make it all the way up to her feet, or how persistently she pulls at the blonde’s forearm, or how much she stumbles around in a pitiful bid to escape – the blonde is in total control and it will only be a matter of time before she grinds the last dregs of resistance out of her former friend.

It’s then that you hear a sharp shriek ring out across the courtyard, but from an unlikely source – the voice is unmistakably the blonde’s. It seems that the brunette, in her desperation, had driven the heel of her foot straight down onto the dorsal aspect of her rival’s, causing the blonde to instinctively let go and hobble a few steps away as the pain gets the better of her fighting sensibilities. Seeking to capitalize quickly on her newfound freedom, the brunette turns to face her foe and deftly snaps out a quick front kick to the midsection, doubling the blonde over with a pained groan. The follow-up comes with almost no delay as she kicks again in identical fashion, only this time aiming for the point of the blonde’s chin.

“Less filling!” you hear the brunette shout as her foot swings out quickly to find its target. The blonde offers no reply as the impact of the blow first straightens her out and sends her crashing to her back with a dramatic splash of water.

Marvel at the brunette’s magnificence as she stands in all her glory over the fallen form of the blonde. She’s taking a moment to catch her breath and seemingly trying to decide what to do next to her prone opponent. The blonde, for her part, moans softly as she struggles to shake off the blow and regain her senses. However, she is given little opportunity to recover as the brunette soon reaches down for her ankles and lifts her legs into the air, spreading them apart in a V. The look you see on the brunette’s face is not wicked glee, but grim determination to break her opponent down as she begins to stomp on one of the blonde’s inner thighs and then the other. The blonde’s voice is clearly starting to crack as she lets out one cry of pain after another.

Finally, the brunette brings her foot down to the front of the blonde’s panties, pressing down with enough force to make her threat amply clear. “Say it,” she demands, “Tell me what I want to hear.” Yet despite being in total control at the moment, there’s no hint in the tone of her voice that she’s gloating – there’s only her grim determination to triumph at any cost in this battle of bodies and ideologies.

It takes the blonde a moment to gather enough composure to respond. But even on the verge of tears her words are perfectly audible: “Tastes great!” she emphatically replies with every fiber of her being.

What comes next is an exquisite demonstration of feminine savagery. The brunette is still holding the blonde’s legs spread apart when she lifts her foot off of her foe’s pelvis and bends her own leg as she extends it outwards. She holds it up in the air for just a second before dropping down and driving her kneecap straight into the blonde’s womanhood. The accompanying scream that reverberates across the courtyard is the loudest of the afternoon thus far as the blonde seems totally overwhelmed by unending physical anguish while the brunette’s viciousness seems equally limitless.

As her ankles are released the blonde rolls over and curls up into a fetal position, sobbing as she clutches her injured crotch, but unfortunately for her the brunette isn’t done with her yet. She slides her body behind the blonde’s on the ground and hooks her leg over her foe’s flank, then rolls them over 90 degrees into a secure back mount with the blonde in a precarious position on top of her. As her other leg snakes around so that both extremities are wrapped around the blonde’s waist, the brunette locks her ankles together and then plants the palms of her hands on the ground behind her, raising them up to a semi-reclined position. In doing so, she finds the leverage she needs in order to use her strong and sexy legs to squeeze and crush the blonde’s midsection with everything she has left.

The blonde’s tortured wails as she suffers between the brunette’s constricting thighs could well be the most heartrending sounds you’ve ever heard in your entire life. Every breath is a battle to draw air into her lungs as the scissors seem to inexplicably grow tighter and tighter – the blonde is writhing for position and alternately trying to pry the brunette’s legs apart or beat on them with her fists, but none of these things succeed in winning her freedom. It’s now that the brunette rolls them over so that they are once again lying on their sides – her hands come off the ground and find their way to the front of the blonde’s body as she pulls herself in to close belly-to-back contact. Those hands quickly find their way to her foe’s chest: a fresh round of cries escape the blonde’s lips as her breasts are once again subjected to unfriendly kneading, gouging and squeezing.

Desperation is written all over the blonde’s face and in every move she tries to make. Her eyes are brimming with tears as the brunette’s attacks steadily sap her of her strength – very rapidly running out of options, she frantically throws her head backwards. It’s a last-ditch attempt to win the blonde her freedom, but it pays off as the back of her skull collides forcefully with the brunette’s face. The brunette’s own sharp cry of pain fills the air moments later as the blow disorients her, causing her to immediately release her quarry as the two women roll apart from each other.

Watching them as they both try to recover is a heartpounding scene. It’s a race to see who can make it to their feet first – at this point, given the state that they are both in, even the smallest of advantages can have significant consequences. On one hand is the brunette, who is on her back trying to shake off the headbutt that has badly dazed her; on the other is the blonde trying to push herself up to her hands and knees with one arm clutching her stomach as she still feels the aftereffects of her opponent’s leg scissors.

It takes about a minute or two, but both ladies slowly make it to their feet. There’s something incredibly beautiful about their appearance as they face off against each other again – each woman has been drained by the ordeal, each has suffered greatly at the hands of her former friend, and each looks to be on her last legs, but the fire in their eyes is unmistakable. You can tell just by looking that neither the blonde nor the brunette have any intention of backing down or giving up, and each is determined to give everything she has left to subjugate the woman who, without a doubt, has become her most hated enemy.

Watch as the two women lunge forward at each other falling into an embrace that is as sensual as it is violent in appearance. They are pressed together chest to chest, cheek to cheek, each with her left arm wrapped around the other’s neck like a grappler’s lockup – their free right hands are being driven into opposing tummy with slow-paced yet brutally forceful punching. It has all boiled down to this one last battle of attrition, with glorious victory and shameful defeat hanging in the balance. Both ladies fight with everything they have left: listen to the blonde’s groan of anguish as her flat stomach takes a compact blow, echoed soon after by the brunette’s achy gasp of pain as her own midsection is subjected to a malicious strike. Both are clearly struggling keep their feet as their svelte legs tremble in the wake of each punch – their clinch is as much a matter of practical necessity as it is a manifestation of their hatred for each other.

Inevitably, one of these beautiful battlers must falter. It’s subtle, but you pick up on it right away as a single blow goes unanswered. This nuance becomes amply clear to both women as a second punch isn’t countered, and more dramatically, as it sends the lady on the receiving end stumbling backwards. You can see it in their eyes as they exchange stares – one of these two has become too exhausted to fight back or hold her ground; one of these two is already beaten, and both of them know it. A distraught whine fills the air as a third, then a fourth punch pounds the losing woman’s belly – her voice reflects both the intense pain of the blow as well as her despair at her own helplessness. She’s poured so much of her heart and soul into this fight, but she’s going to come away with nothing to show for it but heartbreak and physical suffering. The spirits of the winning lady, however, seem to be lifting: the knowledge that she is now in complete control of this fight seems to invigorate her and brings a smile to her face as she sets about bringing this duel to its climax.

The seemingly endless impacts of fist on taut belly have finally driven the fight all the way to the fountain’s central dais. One lovely lady takes the time to uncoil the other’s arm from around her neck and then presses her against the concrete, leaving the other woman with her back to the proverbial wall and with nowhere to go. Her left hand is palming her opponent’s shoulder – she’s measuring her foe for a coup de grace.

Watch as a magnificent right uppercut carves upward towards a vulnerable chin. As her knuckles slam into their target, you hear the dominant woman’s voice ring out across the courtyard with a triumphant shout: “Great taste!”

The brunette has finally come undone: her legs give way and she slides past the blonde to sink to her hands and knees. She seems absolutely destitute as she lies prostrate on the ground and as her sweat- and water-dampened hair obscures the dazed look in her eyes. As you watch intently you can sense that she’s trying to rally whatever reserves she might have left, but her take is bone dry – there’s not enough left in her to get off the ground under her own power, much less continue to fight against her enemy.

The blonde has other ideas. Reaching down, she pulls the brunette back up to her feet and pushes her against the concrete once more; she takes a firm grasp of the brunette’s right bra strap in her clenched left hand and pushes against the shoulder to stack her foe upright. She seems reinvigorated as the body punching resumes – it’s no longer an issue of survival but now a matter of exerting will and putting her foot down on her rival’s throat. The brunette, on the other hand, looks absolutely wretched as her midsection suffers the blonde’s abuse. She’s powerless to stop it at this point – all she can do is groan in agony and perhaps, somewhere in the back of her mind, wonder where things went so terribly wrong.

One of the blonde’s punches strays upwards and collides with the underside of the brunette’s left breast, drawing forth a tortured cry – the next finds the same target with purpose, followed by a third. You watch as the blonde zeroes in on the brunette’s rack, relinquishing her bra strap hold to mug opposing jug with both fists. Look at the agony written all over the brunette’s face as her tits are sloshed back and forth in their cups by the blonde’s fists. She’s sobbing piteously as she slumps back against the concrete, unable to do anything but sit there and take it. Finally, the blonde swings a vicious left hook to the brunette’s jaw – the punch produces a gorgeous head-swivel as the brunette spills to her left with water splashing around her as she crashes to the ground on her hip and shoulder.

Standing over the fallen form of her former friend, the blonde is at the ready with her fists clenched just below chest height when her opponent seems to start to stir. However, the brunette merely rolls to her back and groans softly, lying still except for the rise and fall of her chest with each breath – she’s been totally used up.

“Say it,” the blonde demands. When she gets no reply, she insists with even more menace behind her command: “Say it!”

The brunette’s voice is barely above a whisper, but you can hear her reply as clearly as if she’d screamed it at the top of her lungs: “Great… Taste…”

The blonde smiles and plants her foot on her opponent’s chest and raises her arms in victory. Never before has a woman looked as magnificent as she does now in triumph. Nor have any words ever felt as true as when she repeats them emphatically for everyone to hear: “Great taste!”

Now that would a great commercial. Who wouldn’t want to watch that?

The End

Thank you for reading! For more of Dradis’ Stories: Click Here!

3 thoughts on “Tastes Great, Less Filling by Dradis

  1. apenman says:

    I have briefly lampooned the “Great taste” “Less filling” line in a couple of my stories, but only briefly. Not to this extent. A delightful read. Great job!

    A. Penman


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