My husband brings home your magazine regularly, and I have read with interest the letters about fights between girls and how excited some guys get when women fight. Pete, my husband, had gone with another girl for the last year of college and a year after that, then met me, went with both of us and then married me. I was always very jealous of this girl, and through girlfriends I found that the feeling was mutual. She felt that I stole her guy and I resented her friendship and intimacy in the past with Pete. My worst fears were proved true when by accident I saw the two of them in his car go into a local motel one afternoon last spring.
I was crushed. I thought that Ginny was a thing of the past, and I made up my mind to put an end to it right away, even more so when I found out through the other girls that Ginny had decided to win him back for herself. I wasn't afraid of her, we're both blondes, twenty-two years old and equal in size, weight and height.
I called at her apartment on an evening I was supposed to be visiting my mother and while Pete was working. Ginny was surprised, but insolently motioned me inside, when I said I thought we should talk. I told her to lay off, and she told me she wouldn't and that I would have to give him up to her. I told her she was full of shit and we quarreled vigorously. At last in exasperation she said, "Look, I'll fight you for him." And it was what we were both leading up to but didn't know it. I almost smiled as I said yes I would fight her. Ginny looked almost happy when I said yes to the fight. ''I'm glad, Carol," , she said.
She was wearing a robe and slippers which she started to take off as I slid out of my shoes and stripped my panty hose down and slid out of my dress that I didn't want ruined. I turned to face her in my panties and bra, only to find her topless with her boobs pushing out big and round and wearing only panties. It was a woman's challenge to a woman.
"Come on, let's see your tits," she said and I accepted, stripping my bra from my breasts and letting it all hang out, mine are as big as hers and as round. We grappled barefoot on the rug, grabbing arms and tangling legs as we struggled and shoved trying to move each other around. I couldn't keep my eyes off her tits, and her glances were glued to my boobs, both of us jealous and mean, determined to beat the other and hurt her doing it.
I finally made first grab, going for her tit and giving it a hard digging squeeze. Ginny yelled and jumped away, her boobs bouncing. She screamed that if that was the way I wanted to fight she would make me pay for it and she lashed out with her fingers as I recoiled. She gave my left nipple the most painful pinch I had ever got. I shrieked because it hurt so much and then I returned the favor. For several minutes we stood toe to toe, shoulders hunched forward trying to cover our breasts with our upper arms as our hands dug through each other's defenses to scratch and pinch tits as hard and meanly as we could. It really hurt me badly and I knew Ginny was suffering too so I didn't mind it. I said to her that if Pete ever kissed her tits again he would see my marks on them, and she said she wanted to leave her marks on my boobs so that he would always think of her when he made love to me. I was furious at this, and she was in a rage at my remarks to her.
Her left hand got inside my guard and her fingers closed around my tit like a vise causing me so much pain that water flowed out of my eyes. I was so quivering, tense with the agony of this terrible clamping that I couldn't even scream. I just gasp and trembled with the hurt, letting my arms fall to my sides and standing helpless as she put her other hand onto my free tit and doubled the pain with a savage double-handed tit grip. She dug in, holding hard, and I wept as the pain went right on up the scale and right off the charts.
And then a numbness replaced the agony, I had passed the limits of feeling, the shooting agony, even though the tears still ran down my face. Ginny was astonished and dug harder as my hands came up and found her tits (she was too surprised to move) and then I dug into her tits with my fingers and nails, sending shock waves of torture throughout her tits, forcing her to loosen her hold on mine as she screeched and cried, the tears welling from her eyes and down her cheeks. And I enjoyed repaying her in suffering pain, Pete was worth it!
Then Ginny got her pain under control and said, "Carol, I'm going to leave my tracks in your boobs." "No more fingernail marks than I'm going to leave in yours," I replied. These words were exchanged nose to nose, each holding the other's tits painfully in our hands. It doesn't sound nice, but we abused tits head to head, looking down' at our hands scratching and pinching, twisting and bruising the other's breasts like two animals in a death fight. No mercy, hardly feeling the pain because we were both so intent on hurting the other, leaving our marks forever on the other girl for Pete to see. No defense, no stepping back or shrinking from the pain. I was marked, and I marked her with my nails. Pete calls my tiny scars "decorations of gallantry."
How long this went on I don't know, but I brought her to her knees and her tugging at my tits brought me down with her and we began to wrestle and strain together forcefully on the floor. We struggled, wrestling hard against each other and I liked pressing against her with all my parts, sort of letting her know and feel the weight and strength of my body. It was the first time in my life that I pressed my tits against anything other than a hairy chest, and it sure was a funny feeling to have soft boobs like my own to push against and flatten. It was a test of strength between us and a duel of determination too, because it is very humiliating and embarrassing to be locked together almost naked with another person and not be making love, but fighting.
What happened next I've never told anyone else but Pete. Men wouldn't understand I don't think (maybe they would after all), but women are very curious about the bodies of their rivals, and with our hands Ginny and I satisfied our curiosity about the other's body. I had never put my fingers into either place before, and I had never had a woman do it to me, but I wasn't embarrassed and I relaxed and opened to her hands just as she did to mine. and we explored each other slowly and thoroughly for many, many minutes.
Pete always asks how we two girls who absolutely hated each other and were in a vicious fight to a finish could so intimately fondle each other during a fight. I say he just doesn't understand women and that if men touched each other in that way it would settle a lot of jealousy between them too. During the penetration and manipulation, I tore off Ginny's panties, and I suffered nakedness at her hands too. Curiosity satisfied, we strained together wrapping legs tightly into entwining body locks, pulling hair, crushing sweaty boobs together, swearing and struggling and scratching bloody furrows into shoulders and backs and upper chests and it hurt!
It was really a question of whose determination, guts and willpower would prove to be the greater. I have never given or received such bruising pinches and clawings all over either before or since the fight. We rolled and scratched and struggled and clawed and bit and fought for a very long time entwined together on the floor, until I heard Ginny gasp "I quit, I quit!" And the steam went out of her and I knew that I had won.
I pounded her some around the tits and stomach until she was very close to vomiting, and made her swear to let Pete alone. She swore to stay out of my hair forever and what do you know, I won my first fight for Pete!
He was and is very proud of me, and never gets tired of hearing of the fight. I fell pretty damned good myself, I licked her and satisfied the natural curiosity one woman has about another. I used Pete and Ginny for the names of my husband and rival only to prevent embarrassment where I live. - C.W., Massachusetts.