Alana Quill vs. Jennifer “The Better Woman” from FCF
Standing at the counter with my hair pulled up in a ponytail by my left hand I leaned at the waist and rested the elbow on the counter. My right hand scrubbed a tooth brush over my mouth as I stared at my phone. It was just the news as usual, man the world was no fun nowadays. Not only that but I hadn’t been able to focus for shit lately on finding a fight. Most of the time when it came to looking for one I kept coming back around to the chick I’d fucked up at a house party last month.
My brushing slowed as I found myself back in that day dream. Reliving having her chest on my face smothering me out. Wrecking her pussy with my fingers. Tying her up….flattening her nipples….her wonderful breasts getting pushed around by my… “mmm!” I realized I’d moved from holding my hair up to squeezing my left breast. Frothy saliva dripped on the counter and that finally snapped me out of my day dream.
Scrambling over to the sink I spit it out and realized my nipples were starting to tent my tank top. Fuuuuck. It was gonna be one of those days. I had got new batteries for my vibrator. Thank goodness. I was gonna have that between my legs for a while given how much the memory for that night did a number on me. For the 30th time I kicked myself for not getting a way to contact you. Uhg! It could have been love!!! What’s wrong with you Alana.
Stalking to the bathroom I finished cleaning up and actually put my hair up with a clip. I was just about to go get my vibrator when the knock came.
“Sonofabitch” moody and annoyed at having my fun time interrupted I thumped down the hall. “This better be good…” unlocking the door I jerked it open “The fuck you- Oh!” I stood and stared…
It has been over a month since the last time I saw you. Since we met at that party and you made it a point to follow me from one conversation to another. Trying out talk me, out fox me, and straight up steal any spotlight I tried to find myself.
But that wasn’t where that night ended. No, I took you upstairs and we had it out. Like cats. Like the bitch you apparently wanted to be! And how did that work out for little ol’ me? Not well.
Ok, well, in that I had some great moments of making you scream for me. And also, admittedly, enjoyed the feeling of our naked bodies coiled up and writhing together. But at some point, I made it about our breasts. Mine vs. yours. Nipple to nipple and tit to tit.
And that’s how I should have kept it, but instead … when it would have been better for me to change the rules again, I did. Abandoning our focus on fighting with our chests so that instead, I could hurt you and win.
Until I didn’t.
Until you got me. Made me submit and then tied me to the bed. And once you had me there, trapped, and helpless, you returned to the focus I should have held to. Using pinching fingers to made hard nipples soft, before you did worse. So. Much. Worse to my beautiful Latina tits.
Well, now I’m back. Now I am here. Standing outside your door which I have just pounded on with the underside of my fist. Wanting you to be home and open the door so bad I can taste it. This time, I won’t make the same mistake.
This time, it’s tits to tits until you give in.
That last sentence echoing in my head like a mantra as I wait with a scowl. With a glare. One you give right back as soon as you pull your door open and in a flash, I step not only inside, but into you. My shoulders shrugging off my long, heavy, leather coat. One that once removed reveals my completely naked a body. My breasts slamming into yours as I knock you back a few steps — the door to your apartment closing hard behind me.
“Rematch, bitch. Right now. But this time, I am going to SHOW you how much better my tits are than yours.”
My day? Officially cannot get any better. I was literally about to go fuck my slit with a silicone toy until I popped from thinking about what I did to your chest after making you submit. And then I open the door and ohmygawdohmygawdohmygawd. BAM right in the tits. I’m not wearing a bra and it makes me stagger when you check me straight on. My nipples fucking tingle and my whole body goes from normal to tingly in like a second as my panties sodden and I realize. Hell the fuck yes. Rematch and you’re here in my appartment this time I don’t have to worry about you having to escape a party. “Mmmm Yeah you’re gonna show me? Come on princess lets fucking bash I’m going to smush your bitty titties just like I did last time get ready to fucking lick and suck my rack till its all you dream about!”
Reaching down I grab the bottom of my tank top. Hands literally shaking in excitement. I’m so fucking turned on and my nipples dont even need a second to come arond instead they are bullet hard as I strip the top off and toss it aside.
No waiting. No planning. Nothing I just fucking flying tackle you chest to chest looking to bust your lower back on doorframe of the doorway into the kitchen. I hit you like a tuck as I fling my body at you. Though instead of bothering to grip around you I go for the door frame.
Its so fucking on. The noises you made. The smell of your hair. The feel of your skin? Oh my fucking god this is the best thing that could have happened today. I want to smear my tits on yours so bad till you tap and beg to suckle my nipple while holding your beat down pair.
“Come on Jen! Lets see if they stand a chance this time! Hope you were eating your spinach!”
I thought I might have to convince you. To wrestle you until you gave in and agreed. Maybe even seduce you into it, relying on whatever it was that made you chase me that night at the party.
But instead, as soon as you see me and my naked tits bash into your barely covered pair, I can see it in your eyes. In your glare.
You want this. You want me. And you want both instantly. Just the thought of that willingness mixed with excitement turns me on, and yet there is no time for that now. No, as you’re already pulling your top up and bottoms down. Baring yourself to me just a blink before you lunge at me. Slamming your body into mine before we stumble back into the doorframe of the room we are in from the adjacent kitchen.
It hurts, that crashing wood and plaster. And yet I do not shove you away, or look for a moment to recover. No, instead, as your arms wrap around me and grip the door frame, might wrap around your mid back and then pull you into me. Our breasts splashing together and then flattening as we each begin what will no doubt be a long war of attrition.
The sounds springing from your lips, and the feeling of our naked flesh making contact after what has felt like an eternity makes me almost faint. But I battle that feeling, just like I do your tits. Each of us burying our faces in the others neck as our perfumes mix and our legs spread and fight for space.
“Fuck you, Alana. My tits will NEVER give in to yours.”
“They already did, loser. I fucking destroyed them and I’m gonna do it again only this time I’m going to drag you to bed and fucking tease and torture them till you scream fro me to suck your cunt till you pop. Welcome to the lion’s den bitch. Oof!” You suck me in hard as you wrap your arms around my lower back and squeeze me HARD! Making my tits balloon as yours flatten out as well. “Mmmf. You like em. I bet you’re fucking soaked huh?” I illustrate that by sliding my right leg up between yours trying to rub on your pussy lips.
More than that though try to use the leg between your thighs to trap you so that my arms around you gripping the dorr frame and the thigh between your legs gives you no place to escape. “Ready to get squashed you red hot Jobber?!” I bite your ear and suck before I pull back. Jerking back with my arms on the door frame I suddenly yank on it. Sending bother out bodies out and then crashing back into it. Once, Twice, Three times. Bludgeoning our tits together and making me moan from the squeeze and the smash. Hoping you are getting the worst of this particular exchange before I slam you into the gram again. Trying to use my grip to grind left and right. Counting on your arms around my wasit to keep me from effectively loosing connection with your breasts.
“Gawd you’re literally my favorite fuck toy. Or well. My favorite thing to get off to. And I was just getting wet thinking about how bad I messed up your chest last time. I bet you were pouring it into your bra for weeks. I thought I’d have for sure permanently buried your nipples in your tits but nnooooo…” My tips flick over your hard pair. “I get to knock the stiffness out of them again and listen to you pant like a whore in heat, biatch! mmmmm” The adrenaline absolutely buried all my sense of time and anything other than you and this fight. I want you so bad but first I’m gonna show you how better my tits are as I try to flatten yours on your chest.
Were I an experienced titfighter, or even someone who had titfought before in my life, I would know that I need to get out of this trap against the wall. If I were focused and skilled — unaffected and used to your body and touch, I would be working to escape the same. But instead, as you come at me like a lioness on the attack. Hungry for me. Desperate for me. And with my memory on your mind before I even arrived, I get caught in something else.
Your beauty. Your passion. And your competitive spirit, all of which compel you to not only press and slam your tits into mine, but also to slide your right thigh between both of mine. It’s soft space, just above the knee pressing into my already wet sex and dragging. Forward and back, and then in that small space betwixt my inner thighs, from side to side.
God, I want it. To just melt into you like a caramel kiss. But instead, even as you grind my clit with your leg, and pull back and then smash forward into me with your heavy tits I hold. My grip around you tightening as I pull you harder into me. Cutting off your room to expand back, to keep your body pressed against mine. All as I try to focus on our tits and not the legion of other desires that call to me like the song of mermaids to a lost sailor at sea.
My only reply to your taunts being a muttered and yet steadfast. “I’ll make you WORSHIP me….”
“Yeah? I’ll remind you of that when you’re holding your beat up boobs and begging to suck my tits in submission. Mmm fuck you’re wet!ooooooo nnnngh…” being crushed against you makes me gasp no just because of how muchI I want to touch your body but because I love that you don’t just crumble like a dry cookie. No you come right back at me squeezing and fighting.
Your perfect chest slides back and forth across mine and its like being touched with a wand. The soft electric zap making me shiver. A little pain and a lot of pleasure as you squeeze and grind into my chest. I’m going to be sore after this without a doubt. I just need to make sure its you crying for ice packs. I can tell this may not be your first rodeo and for like a second I feel a little bad but then I realize it maybe giving me a solid advantage and I’m not above that. Not above making you submit based on rookie moves and mistakes. I just want your body against mine and I want to smash my chest into yours till you drop. Honestly it’s the fantasy that makes me the most wild and here we are. I’m literally shaking in your arms.
Dropping my own arms from the door frame as you squeeze me I moan and gasp and it’s not fake it’s your tits and your vice like arms. GAWD please fucking hurt my tits. Days after our fight my best friend’s wife beat the fuck out of me in a boxing match then left me hanging tits over the top rope dripping milk. I realized in that moment that I wanted to have someone to peel me off the ropes and carry me home. Someone who sat and watched me fight and gave a shit. I had no one at all. I’d hung there until I could walk about and then managed to get myself home.
This was the first outing my chest was going to have since that beating and it was performing just fine. SO naturally I jerked my right leg into the calf of your right leg trying to tangle it as I twisted trying to take us to the ground. My tits on top of yours. Looking to smash you with my bigger bust and the weight of my body.
At first we press. Hard. Smashing tit to tit. Trying to feel each others pairs our and to find any clear weakness that might making moving forward a moot point. But mine hold up, and so do yours. Each pair standing up to the test, even though yours are bigger than mine by a cup size or two.
I can tell something in that is a surprise to you. Something in your eyes, as the excited glimmer in them grows. Something in your lips, which smirk and snarl, as you growl at me in a low rumble. My tits not breaking on contact or smashing on shift showing you that this will last. That this will continue. And as lustful and gleeful as that makes you, it makes me tenfold.
My smile widening just as my confidence multiplies. My muttered responses replaced by a full one. “Do you know how many nights I’ve thought about this, Alana? How many nights I’ve thought about you…?” The questions sound week. Sound like those of a woman giving in. And yet the very moment you release the door frame behind me, and go to hook your calf and foot, I roll us.
Into the kitchen with your bare back slamming against your refrigerator door, as in that new placement I pull back and slam my tits into yours hard. My still youthful pair hanging and then flattening against my ribs before they, at the moment before they crash into yours, fly forward and bury your bigger tits. “You’ll beg me….” I hiss, as I pull back and then come again. My tits already beginning to ache, but in the best of ways.
The pull back to sweep your leg is enough for you to roll me into the kitchen. I stumble and then wham right into the refrigerator before you check my tits head on and I let out a groan like I’ve just taken a hard cock between the legs as you mash my chest with your pery dense pair and I can’t help but bite my lower lip. Thighs quivering as the combination of pain and pleasure slap my brain around and leave me open as you continue to pound me into the fridge. Fuuuuuuck. You smaller tits are working me and I want to get dirty and kick you between the legs to turn the tables but I don’t. I want you to know you lost because your tits and your skills are inferior to mine.
I take the second hit and I just wanna go down like a boxer taking a lifting shot to the stomach that leaves them. Groaning and unable to suck air. You rear back for that third shot. Mmmm fuck no! I grip your shoulders and shove downwards looking to hike myself up as you rear back. With a push off the fridge with my food I pop up higher so that when your tits come in they hit my rib cage and the lower part of my rack. It makes me hiss in pain but I suddenly grip around your shoulders and drop my weight.
Using the fridge to keep me upright I drag my chest DOWN. Trying to smear and stretch your perfect tits looking to pull on them and over extend the flesh of your breasts. Trying to stretch it painfully as I sllllliiiiiide down it. “You’re gonna make me worship huh? Just fucking admit you wanna suck my tits, Jen. You came here naked and literally threw yourself at me. Don’t worry. I’m single, you don’t have to beat up my girlfriend or share with my boyfriend. Not that you could after that catfight let alone a titfight.” I run my mouth a lot and its hella mean when I do but it’s true. I am single.
With every collision I start to feel the pendulum swing to my side, further and further. I’ve got you. Your spurts and sputters of air and sound telling me that these aren’t feigned moments of weakness. But real ones.
Each making me feel more sure of myself, as my smaller tits crash into and down on your bigger ones. Hitting them just right to cause you pain and leave mind affected only by the slow ache of contact that happens with any such blow.
But finally, when I go back to truly wind you. To slam my breasts into yours so hard the fridge might tip over and on us. You brace, lift, and then leap into mid air. It is a move I had never seen before, and certainly did not expect. The weight of your heavy breasts crashing down on mine and then with our still sweatless skin catching, you strrreeeeettttcccchhhh my tits hard. The complete combination of placement, pull, and push of your body keeping me perfectly positioned to experience the full impact of the maneuver. My lips opening to let out a loud and devastated moan as my legs try to buckle and knees to bend. My arms wrapping around your waist in desperation to try and keep myself from dropping to a kneel before you.
Oh my fucking god I want you on your knees in front of me so bad it hurts. I can see you getting ready to buckle as you cling to my waist. Looking your right in the eyes. My lips curl into a smile. It’s not that wicked thing that Remington does when she’s getting ready to throw someone head first into a meat grinder. This is a genuine cheeky thing. Something that I reserve for clever lovers and opponents that I really have a thing for. Does my chest hurt? Oh yeah for sure. Aching like a bitch but is it out of the fight. A-fuck no. Sliding my arms down to your grip on my waist I get my fingers in between sweaty naked flesh and sweaty naked flesh. Gripping I yank outwards hard. Looking to try and disrupt your ability to stay up.
At the same time I suddenly arch forwards off the fridge and drive my tits down into the top of yours before rolling my body a bit and then pounding down with the tits. bouncing my rack up. Down. Up down. Up down. Like I’m one of those annoying amatuer our girls on a porno that is being told to jump naked so her tits leap around. The result however is me slapping the tops of your tits with my weightier pair as I lean towards you and trying to jack hammer you to the floor.
“Get on your knees, Jen might as well get used to it!” There are plenty of advantages to having you on your knees but the only one I care about is the psychological one mostly because if I can get you down there I’l going to smack the fuck out of your face with my rack.
I barely have time to even come to grips with my new position. One which leaves me reliant on your body, and my arms around it, to keep me from dropping down to my knees. Something that wouldn’t quite be the end of our fight, but would be a sign. To you and I, that perhaps on my knees is where I am meant to be. Just like I ended up when we got into that catfight at the party, and now again in this titfight, if I don’t do something.
But even that idea, me acting, assumes you do nothing. That you just smirk and trash talk me as I try to get back to a full and instead stand. But no, you aren’t that type of girl. In fact, I don’t know any of those types of girls on purpose.
Preferring the bitches like you who look to seize control, tearing it from my hands as you try to break my grasp on your waist. Your arms sliding under mine, gripping, and then trying to pry them open.
It should work, but I hold with all my strength. Clinging to you desperately, knowing you are my only hope to not drop to my knees. But in that resistance you add another assault. One of lifting and then dropping breasts. Your mighty basons slamming down on the weakest part of my breasts like wrecking balls. One simultaneous crash after another, each tearing a whimper from my lips as I try to withstand and withhold.
I am trapped. I am helpless. And my only chance is to try and reverse our fortunes. An attempt at just that coming as on your last and no doubt hardest attempt at tit-bombing. One I evade my releasing my grip, pressing my palms into the fridge just hard enough to let your body go so that it drops in front of mine on your downward momentum alone.
Then with you there, I once more wrap my arms, this time around your neck as I pull you back into me. My tits setting down atop yours, as together and in unison we drop to our knees in your kitchen.
“Bitch!” I hiss, just as my tits start to drag over yours again, keeping you close to me, to keep your tits trapped beneath mine.
You cling and cling and cling and you just take the fucking bashing to the top of your tits. Gawd, I am just fucking up your tits and it makes me smirk at you and toss my hair before Iift my ches to give you a massive smash. At the last second you push free. Grabbing my neck and hauling me to the floor. Tit to tit staring into your eyes. I just wanna fucking crush you. I want to bend you body and pull your hair. I want you to scream my name and cry slapping the ground till I let you go and climb on you to kiss you better and fuck some endorphins into your system. My nipples tighten even more from these thoughts and I can’t help but mewl from my knees with your rack piled on top of mine. Oh my fuck. Please I want you so bad but I also want to bust your breasts till you collapse. Both I want both oh fuck I want both.
“Uuuuuuuuhg!” You drag your breasts over mine pulling and mashing them while you kneel across from me. “Mmmmmmfuck! Jen!” I need to stop this. I need to keep you from hurting the connective tissue in my rack. Its come a long way from my boxing match with Maria but its still not perfect and I know that ultimately? It never will be and that sucks. Dropping my hands suddenly I grip the back of your smooth perfect thighs and jerk hard. With your arms around my neck I have the free reign to do this.
With a heave I try to jerk your legs out from under you as I bully forwards and upwards. Trying to knock you on your shoulders and slam my rack up under your pair. Looking to pin your smaller rack to your chest. Stretching it up towards your face and mashing it from underneath with my bigger boobs. Trying to get into position to absolutely steam roll your tits into oblivion if I can.
There on our knees, suddenly back in the thick tits of things, we gaze into each others eyes. It should be a glare made of fire and hatred, and yet…. For the first time, I can see how much you want me. How much you want us to abandon this game and just be.
That story is not told just by your eyes, which glisten with sincerity and need. Or your face, which softens and struggles to cling to any expression but utter lust. But also your lips which tremble and quiver, and then as your teeth bite at your lower lip call for me.
To lean in. To lean down. To bend my neck and then kiss you. All of which I do. Our lips meeting, parting, and then tongues escaping into each others mouths to meet. But I don’t stop dragging my tits over yours. Wanting this moment, this kiss, and you, but needing to finish this battle — no matter what we have to give each other on the way to survive it.
It is then, in that fiery kiss, that your hands move to my thighs, and you lift, drive into, and then flatten your body atop mine as my back lands on your kitchen floor. Your tits, in the collected sweat beneath them and on top of mine, sliding up.
You mean them to keep going, to crush mine, but I use my arms around your shoulders to stop you. Keeping them aligned at the nipple. An aim that should leave those fleshy, pink daggers near, but instead ends with them catching and then driving into each other. Each pair perfectly invertingt for the other, as in that contact we both freeze and moan into our kiss which then breaks, leaving us forehead to forehead and breathless. “Cunt….” I hiss, as I nuzzle my nose against yours gently.
It feels so good. Kissing you. Working your lips feeling your body react as you just press back into me. Moaning softly and mewling as breasts drag over breasts. I want to crush you flat but the urge to kiss you is so fierce I Can’t fight it anymore so as you lock your lips on mine and we go to the floor I groan out in pleasure. Scraping my tits up yours as I try to plow them up under your chin and leave you pinned and helpless. You get your nipples in line and proceed to stab me.
The result is a near mutual inversion of rock hard nipples. Oh my..fuck! The feeling is indescribable beyond the fact that it hurts and its egregiously, mind numbingly, pleasureable to the point that I pant and moan harder into the kiss with you on your back. I still want to flatten your nipples and batter your breast but you’re putting up a hell of a fight and it makes me want to just rut you into the floor. I can’t though. Not here. No. Gripping your wrists. I sit back suddenly coming to my feet.
“Slut!” My tits check yours and I send you stumbling out of the kitchen and into the wall. leaping after you, you roll and my poor tits mash the wall where you were. I feel you close in and get your girls with a swing of my rack sending you into the corner of the wall making up the hallway towards the bedroom and bathroom.
I pounce again but you meet me and muscle back. Making me stumble down the hallway towards the bed room. I hit the doorway and step aside just as you try to tit check me. As you whip by I catch your hip and pull you around before trying to deliver an absolutely SLAM of a chest to chest hit looking to knock you on your ass at the foot of the bed so I can smirk down at you for a moment. Baring that I want to move this to the bed. I want to fuck when this is done and if that means beating your tits black and blue that is what I’m gonna do. “Down bitch!”
We are losing it. Our focus. Our fight! Somewhere in the kitchen’s center. Our lust for each other, and growing crush on the same leading us to kiss instead of curse. Mewl instead of mash. Whimper instead of war.
We can both see it. Sense it. We want to fuck so bad, we can taste it. But you move to defend our competition. To protect our battle of breasts, but pulling back from me and dragging us up. You to your knees and then both of us to our feet.
With our desire to do more than just struggle ebbing, we rengage. Not in some hug, meant to lock us once more into a long game of attrition and tits. But instead in a lunge and then a crash. A dodge and then a parry. A stumble and then a chase.
Until finally, with our tits aching and entire bodies covered with sweat, I step backward. Hissing at you. Snarling at you. Knowing that THIS will be where our fight ends. Not now. Not for minutes or maybe even hours, but in this bedroom. YOUR bedroom.
And I want it. I want to fight in the sweat and cum stains from your last lover or pleasure session. I want to squirm and writhe while dislodging your sheets. And yet, before I can lunge at you, or try to make that dream a reality, you leap into me, chest-first, sending me back in a stagger. My steps awkward, my legs giving, and my footing giving way.
The edge of the bed coming so quickly, I cannot prepare or even expect it. And so into it I crash with the small of my back. A collision, soft as it is that was meant to come with another. As you once again dive, trying to catch me and tackle me onto your bed. But I duck, and when I do you flip!
Onto your back, with your head just in front of me facing up! I could smother! I could facesit! I could do so many wicked things to you, but unwilling to break like last time, I reach for your hands, lace our fingers, and then with bent over at the waist, looking down into your belly button, and you looking up into my own, we lock tits again. Mine crashing down in loud, heavy splashes of flesh. “Give up, Alana! Give up so I can fuck you!!!”
Oh gawd you look so good down like that I could just walk over and press my foot on your face. Make you my bitch like I did before. And I want it, I so want to that it hurts me to not do it. No, I need to finish this chest to chest like it started and like we are going to end it so as you struggle to find some footing again I go for you to give a massive hit and them. THUD. The end result is me on the bed head towards and for a second I can see it in your eyes. A titsmother. A face sit. I’d be done. You’d have me so trapped and I’d be in trouble. You don’t.
Gripping my fingers in your hands you proceed to stand up and smash your chest down on mine and it makes me moan as you abuse my breasts. Tits up and trapped with my legs towards the end of the bed. I need to get out of this bad or you’re going to leave me holding my tits and licking your nipples. “Uhg! OOf! FUCK! No! Nnnnrg!” You smash your rack on mine over and over again leaving me gasping and hurting. Finally when you go to slam me I take it and then jerk towards the right.
Taking you off your legs I roll you over and pin your chest under mine. “Mmmm your turn and you can enjoy it while you’re sooooooo close to my dripping cunt.” With you pinned under my chest and stomach I give you a taste of your own medicine. Crashing down on your boobs using my wrists and the edge of the bed to push up before I drop them like boulders falling from a height onto your chest. I can still see you tied to the bed. Splayed out for my enjoyment. I can still feel your nipples giving into my fingers. I can still remember your smell. Your feel. It’s all the same it makes me shudder on top of you.
I halt the pounding and drag my nipples backwards. Looking. Hunting. Wanting to find your pair and press ours together again. Looking to bend yours back as I drag my chest and body upwards on the bed. Holding on to yours hands and wrists looking for the connection of sensitive nipple on sensitive nipple. Where are they? Those perfect little tips….
With every drop of my upper body, and slam of my tits into yours, I groan. Even though it is my offense. My attack. We are both too far into this battle of breasts to not have every contact hurt and hurt BAD. We’ll both be bruised. Both be cradling our tits softly, and kneading gently whenever we have a moment to do so after this.
Whatever THIS is….
Whatever THIS becomes….
And though we will both end up with throbbing, swollen tits, neither of us stop now. Instead we continue. My body bending up and then coming back down hard as our tits come together in a sweat-wet and echoing clap of flesh that makes us both moan. Both groan. Whimpering into each others tummies, as we try to endure.
But after one of many such slams, you rock and then turn us. Pinning me down to the bed and then paying me back. Giving me all that I gave and then some. Until I can tell even the effort required to keep hurting me without reprisal is too much for you. And so you drag. Up and then down. Up and then down. Like you are giving me a full body massage in the nude, but never letting our breasts part.
Your every effort meant to recapture our nipple to nipple contact. And though I struggle to free myself and avoid as much, suddenly I feel it. Our nipples meet. Our nipples press. Our nipples try to invert each other once again, but to our mutual dismay they flick past one another. Once and then again. Neither set willing to give in.
“Fuuuuuuccckkkk…..” I moan beneath you, as you continue to search for the right angle to break my tips with your own.
The other thing that I remember about you from our initial encounter is your ability to take punishment. No one likes pain (accept maybe Remington) but you are a total trooper about it and as I finally lay off the blasting of breast flesh into breast flesh I settle into the scrub up and down on your body. What a wonderful feeling that is minus the dull ache that I have accepted as part and parcel to the end stage of a titfight.
I finally locate your elusive nipples and flick right over them making me groan and you do so as well but its far from enough for me. I need and want more. More of that electric contact more of the vicious spine arching feeling that I know comes with this particular form of combat. I want it so badly as I reverse course mid rub and come down on you from above looking to stab into the base of your areolas to move them that way to try and push them over.
Your body though is viciously distracting, feeling your face against my stomach. I have to resist my own urge to suck on the smooth flesh of your tummy. To run my tongue over it. To nip and bite and leave little red love marks all over it. The last girl in this bed was here months ago. The last guy was mere weeks. You? I have no interest in letting you leave ever again if I can help it! Never mind my need to bludgeon your tits into submission.
“Mmm Fuck come on Jen give me your nipples you know you loved it last time you total minx. Stop running away from me!” Groaning as I drag up and down looking for the perfect hit. Still too sore to probably slam your chest from on high with mine. I just hope you don’t flip me over cause I’m poorly balanced at this point.
At first I dodged. Parried. Shifted and squirmed beneath you to deny a contact of nipples, knowing your position on top would make inverting mine easier. But with every drag of tits, I lose more and more of my focus. Giving into the slow, heavy drags, that still hurt, but also in their own way, salve the pain we both feel.
Your perfectly fit tummy sliding up and down, just in front of my face. Your sweat sliding down your skin, following the curve of your abdomen until one by one they drip on my cheeks. Some continuing their journey down to your sheet and others moving into my mouth. The salty taste of your effort making me drip pleasure essence onto your carpeted bedroom floor.
That’s when I hear you call for it. Ask for it. For me to let you align us and stab, and though I shouldn’t. And though I should keep trying to avoid you, you lower and I still. It is then, in that unison of purpose that our nipples finally meet head-on and then drive into each other. Each pair remaining stiff. Remaining defiant. And yet in that equal resistance we each shake.
And moan for each other.
Sounds and tremors that only worsen as slowly, and once more, our nipples invert in equal mass. Each giving into each other at exactly the same time and in the same way, with every sliver of space given causing the pleasure to increase exponentially.
It is a feeling that makes me bite at your tummy. And your hands release mine. We two spending our every effort and attention on withstanding a pleasure like no other. One that grows and grows, threatening to overwhelm us and bring us both to tears. But before either of us give in to it, or each other, our rigid nipples break apart and the sensation ends.
It is a despair and yet a freedom, that causes us each to move. You to your knees and me into the bed to meet you. Body to body and lip to lip in a hard passionate kiss. One that takes place as we struggle together, each trying to shove the other down to the bed. Knowing that whoever takes top position, in our mutually exhausted state will no doubt have the advantage and will likely take the win.
And though that battle for placement is fierce and fiery, finally you toss me down and then throw yourself atop me. Eye to eye. Tit to tit. With our mounds pressed together, with you between my legs.
You struggle up but its hardly something I stop as you make it from the bed to your knees and proceed to go after me. Pressing against me and locking lips with me. This is not really how I pictured this would go down if we were to battle a second time but clearly I was wrong to think that you felt any different than me. No It would seem that my feelings were far from misplaced foolishness. In fact as I struggle with you on my knees I have a moment where I consider going over and letting you take me on my own bed. I want you and I have a moment of doubt. Will this result in you fleeing me if I defeat you again?
I linger on that thought for a while before I make my decision. With a twist of my hips I yank back like I’m going to fall for you and at the last second I roll you with a splat and bounce of the bed that tells me you’re going to feel that. “Mmmm say goodbye to your rack baby…” Sliding my hands up your arms I pin you down and instead of the slams and bounces I begin to scrub. Breasts high and then down. My whole body sliding up and down you as I do it. Up over you chest. Back down. Pushing your softening sweat stained orbs around with each pass.
My dew coated kitten kissing your lower lips with each pass. Each movement. Each undulation of my body across yours. I whimper and coo and moan. My own bust has started to swell from the impacts and the grinding and I know it’s going to hurt terribly afterwards. I don’t care though I want you done. Defeated. Out of it. Completely exhausted and spent with no way to do anything other than admit defeat to my chest. That’s all I wanted the first time and this time I definitely want it if you had the nerve the audacity! The sheer ovaries to come crashing through my front door naked.
No now I want you more than any other fantasy beforehand. Any silly inclination that you were just a hot body and a fun fuck of an idea is gone. I want you. I’ll tie you to this fucking bed if I have to. I’ll do it again and I’ll show you whose tits are the better pair. “Mmmmm fuck do you feel them softening Jen? Your boobs are done i’m going to make them into pancakes…”
I feel it. Destiny crashing down with me to that bed. I am too tired to surge into you and turn us. Too weary to suddenly wrestle with you and turn us over. But I won’t give up. I won’t give in.
No matter how our attitudes have changed towards each other, or what our relationship might be after this battle.
And so I fight. Hoping to beat you from the bottom. Dragging my tits against yours, just as you drag yours against mine. One way and then the other. Your left tit bunching up my right and then painfully dragging over it until it oozes back into placed. Only for the same whimper inducing scenario to play out on my opposing side.
“God…..” I mutter, as we settle in. My breasts aching and throbbing. Swelling and reddening more and more with each passing minute. My eyes moving back and forth from your steely glare, and our warring breasts. No effort spent on escaping or countering this pin. Knowing that any such attempt would be a waste of what little strength I have left.
But you aren’t just using your perfect tits to wear me out. No, instead, as you brush and shift, you grind your mound into mine. Not quickly like a freshman in college, who is fated to cum in 30 seconds to a minute. But slowly, and agonizingly in time with your destruction of my chest. Knowing it will distract me. Not only distract, but push me to give into you, in every way that phrase can be meant.
It is that hellish heaven that you keep me in. For minutes that multiply and then extend. Your desires not pushing you to hurry, but to drain me of my will to resist you. My ability to escape your trap.
There are some fights that are simply reduced to pounding on each other until someone collapses. It happens. It’s rare between skilled fighters but it happens. A startling number of titfights come down to this sort of slugging match and as my bouncy bubblegumlicious body scrubs you like the last pan in the kitchen sink in need of cleaning I have to admit that this fucking hurts. It hurts in the way that probing a toothache with your tongue hurts. The way a really sore muscle hurts the way that you just want to rub a severe bruise. So I buckle down like the queen titty battler I am and keep on going looking to make your sweet rack call it quits in opposition to mine. Rubbing body to body.
The effect of this though is two fold in that my cunt smears your crotch up and down with every pass and I would be hard pressed to say I can ignore the pussy I just wanna trib on right now. I can’t it’s pretty simple at this point that I can’t do that but I still can’t resist the urge to run my lower lips over yours. Against and again and again. No soreness down there, no just the need for your womanhood. The burning desire inside of me. The realization that while I will happily smash your tits flat over and over and over. I want more than that. I want to lay here with a big bowl of popcorn between us and watch a kids cartoon or a thriller or some docudrama bullshit that lets me have an excuse to shove butter covered carbohydrates down my face with a gorgeous and enthralling woman.
I finally look down on you and smile. It’s again that cheeky grin. I pause on a down stroke and just figgle on top of you. Making your breasts wiggle beneath mine as my whole body moves. “I’m not going to let you tap out. I’ll decide when you are done. Unless you ask really nicely. Until them I’m going to smoosh your girls around like my favorite play toys.” With that I slide down off them again and give you a series of scooting bumps from underneath pushing them upwards so that I can rake their underside with my tight nipples. “I also want a kiss. I want let you go till you kiss me.”
Before it was wild. The two of us locked in a hurricane of action and reaction, slams and then subtleties. So there was no time to look, to think, to hear. Nothing but the next move and the next meeting of tits mattered. And yet now, fathoms deep into this battle, I simply lay. Shifting my tits against yours, yes. In whatever angles I can to match your own attacks, but weakly.
A silence falling around us, as we have finally, in this intimate moment of endless attrition, bring our battle towards its conclusion.
Not with words, but with action. Your hips taking from me the toll they require. A quick thrust and then a hard one. Each ending with our labial folds meeting, splitting, and then beneath them, our clits grabbing onto each other in a desperate attempt to hold on.
Our soft moans mixing in the air with the sound of a fan just beside your bed running, and a neighbor’s dog barking. They are sounds that are part of your world. Your life. And after having played my card, to come to your home to get revenge, I find myself trapped in the same. Sweat pooling between us, and beneath my upper body, as our desire-made drippings collect beneath our lower halves.
But into that curtain of moan-torn normalcy, you set the terms. Not at submission. Not at begging. But at a complete and utter surrender. A kiss. One to symbolize my giving into you.
To my horror, I watch your lips as you speak. Bite my lips as you speak. Wanting that. To kiss you. To fuck you. To stay in this bed — your bed until it is OUR bed.
But with such an act playing the role my accepting defeat, I close my eyes. Turning my lips from yours, as I continue to push my chest up into yours. One hard, painful thud of flesh after another. Each spraying a layer of sweat up and into our faces. All as I try to hold on.
I have a very distinct and formative memory of Remington standing matching me hit a bag and I was fucking exhausted by this point. So I was ready to quit. To stop and call it a day and she just looked at me and in her nast yass tone of voice goes: Hit it again. Like bitch, I already hit it like a thousand times. So she goes, so what’s one more. So I hit it. We played this fucking exchange out no less than ten more times at which point she just walked away. When I finally hauled my sweat dripping ass after her and asked her (and I’m quoting) “What the fuck?!” She responded with: See, you had at least ten more punches in you. When your opponent is ready to quit you need to be ready to hit them ten more times cause your fat ass she doesn’t have the agility to score a clean knockout.
She wasn’t wrong per se but it still stung to hear it. Conquestly, as I see you turn your lips away I pout. Smack in the middle of this titfight. One huge lip quivering pout. It’s not just that I wanted you to give in to me. I really do want you to give in to me but you just rejected making out with me and that sucks. Sliding my hands around your ribs I inch forwards this time making sure that my orbs bulldoze up under your own rack and I increase the pressure slowly but surely working my way upwards and over your magnificent but much softened breasts. Squeezing and plowing you. I really just want you to acknowledge that I have won but I also want to have control. Its silly nad stupid but the reality is that I don’t want you to escape again. Not that you did last time. I was actually the one escaping because at the end of it I had to scamper. I still don’t know if you actually got free or if someone found you topless and tied up. Either way the thought makes me pink.
I proceed to double down on the boob squish. Not so much a finisher as it is the next tool to bring some pain and grinding to your rack as the sweat lets us slowly ooze past one another. My breasts mounting the peak of yours headed for a nipple to nipple collision again as I head towards kissing range again. Sweat dripping onto your perfect lovely skin.
At first I hoped that somehow, from the bottom I could beat you. That I could muster just enough strength to make you give. I’d done it enough in sexfights. Fucking up and making my opponent cum, just when they thought they were untouchable. So why couldn’t I do it here? Against you? Why couldn’t my beautiful tits find a way to break yours from beneath?
They were questions I asked silently, and answered just the same when this long stretch of the battle began. But that was when I could keep fighting. Keep dragging. Keep thrusting my chest into yours.
Beneath your body weight and your breasts, I can only lay. Only suffer as you punish me with both pain and pleasure. My head turned from yours, with eyes closed, when I feel you adjust and reposition. Centering on me, and releasing my arms to reach beneath me. A dual-sided grip you then use to surge forward and smash my tits with your own. At the sensation of having my tits completely deflated in one, long, crushing push I wrap my finally upheld arms around you. Bending my neck, so that my face nestles into your shoulder.
Muffled though it is, you can hear me start to cry. Softly. Weakly. And though I can tell it makes you pause, still you pull back and then come again. Flattening my tits with your own, though this time you make sure to find the right contact below. Fucking me as you finish me. Finish this. The pain so great, I can barely take it. Barely think. Barely breathe. And yet, I hold on. Even as another and then another thrust of tits and clit obliterates me. My head finally pulling from your neck to bend in. Leaving our lips only a centimeter apart, as we share the same air. I want to kiss you.
To give and let you rule me.
And yet, somehow — someway, I hold on. Just lingering there on the very verge of ending this painful, passionate game.
I think in a way this is less so about the titfight and a deep seeded need for people to pay attention to me. For goodness sake I have a huge rack and a beautiful face but sometimes that is all I think the world sees is a blonde fuck toy. The next pair of tits to play with. The Next pussy to put a dick in. So when you get to within inches of my face as I bulldoze you yet again. My own sweat slick tits aching from this I can’t help but linger. Staring, wondering, waiting to see what move you will make. If you will make one. How this is going to play out. Come on Jen….I can see the wet streaks from your tears and that makes me pause again but this time. This time it’s like the slow methodical beating at the end of the fight. I don’t even have the strength to get up off the bed. I cannot heave my bombshells and drop them on your rack. So instead I get my arms under me.
With that I lean my lips mere centimeters from yours and I begin to drop my tits. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. They don’t even leave yours. There is no lack of flesh on flesh. No, instead it’s enough that the sweat causes them to stick and pull them squish back together. Then again. And Again.
I want this, I want you to stay and be a part of my life. It’s clear as day to me as I look down on you but I know that this won’t bring an end to our struggles. But I have to balance these feelings towards you and my own convictions about this stuff. Things that have kept me out of and gotten me into trouble many times. No, I need to keep beating you down till you willingingly give me this. I don’t force you. I don’t demand or plead or rage for your surrender. Instead I just move on to the next part of degrading your chest to the point that you can’t use it as a weapon. You won’t put it on display with its splotchy bruises. You won’t fit it in a push up bra. You won’t use it in bed and it is now a glaring weakness in your fighting. No, this is going to be me taking away your power as a warrior female for a time and the longer you demand the contest continue the more humiliating and long lasting the effects will be.
Hold on, Jenn. Hold on. Don’t give up. Don’t let her beat you! Don’t let her pin you! I remember it like yesterday. My wrestling coach screaming at me, in his loud, bulldog voice.
The rest of the team had gone home hours ago.
And yet here I was, with the only other girl on my high school’s wrestling team. He called it make up practice. Not because we had missed a practice, but because as girls we had to make up what we didn’t have in genetic strength, he’d tell us.
And so every day, with just me and Haley, he’d tell one of us to lay down, and the other to try and pin us. All as he watched from only a foot away. His hand on his crotch as he screamed directions at us. Telling us how to escape and why we should never give in.
‘The match’ would go on for hours. The AC turned off. The lights turned down low. Until finally, after Haley and I were covered in sweat and tears, he would take his hands from his lap and send us home.
I can hear that coach’s voice in my head now, as you lift and then drop me. Lift and then drop me. Again and again into your wet sheet. My tits crushed. Bruised. Sweaty and swollen. My every last ounce of energy spent. And my mind a fog of memories and fears. Needs and prideful stubbornness.
But somehow, I keep your lips close to mine. My breath hitching and chest expelling air between us with every slam you give. Until finally, you stop. Collapsing down onto me.
Neither of us able to move.
Neither of us able to fight any longer.
We gave every drop of sweat and spent every last bit of our reserve, and yet here we are. Motionless and weak. Wounded and bruised.
But you won’t allow it, such an ending after that long epic struggle. And so you try to lift your body once more. To pull me up for one final smash, but just as you do. Fighting a crippling fatigue that would have no doubt gotten the better of you, I press my lips to yours and kiss.
Not wanting you to suffer the same madness that had taken me. My surrender given. My defeat complete. And our battle of breasts finally ending with a bested pair.