A Christmas Tale by Piers Knight

[PiersKnight]

A CHRISTMAS TALE

by Piers Knight

It was the start of the week before Christmas, and Frances, our 14 month old daughter Morag and I and our two dogs had moved into a new house only a couple of months ago and apart from settling in, finding the best position for the furniture and where to put all the sort of stuff which accumulates over time, as far as Fran was concerned most of that time was taken up with her fetching her beloved horses the 270 miles from their old livery yard down South, with hired transport. To add to the confusion Lyndsey, Fran’s younger sister by two years, wanted to come for Christmas with her husband Nigel and ten month old daughter (also named Lyndsey). The weather had begun turning really cold half way through December and Fran had telephoned Lyn to try to persuade her that she should not bring her young daughter with her, but Lyn and Nigel still wanted to come and stay with us.

I asked Frances if Nigel knew that she and Lyn did not get on well as teenagers sharing a bedroom in their mother’s small house. “Oh yes!” she said brightly. “And Lyn told him about our teenage cat scraps!” she added. “Says that he’s sorry he never saw any!” Fran concluded. “Sounds like I might get on with Nigel” I said. I had never actually met Nigel, I could not go to the wedding a couple of years ago, but obviously his taste in women was similar to mine. Of course, part of what attracted me to Fran was her big bust. As I got to know her certain faded scars, especially on her breasts, intrigued me. She told me that having such big breasts had attracted trouble from jealous rivals, the resulting fights leading to her breasts being targeted. This included numerous fights with her equally busty sister.

I felt that Fran had, perhaps, an unfair advantage over Lyndsey in their teenage catfights as she is older than her sister, but Fran assured me that what Lyn lacked in years she more than made up for in viciousness. I had heard from both women the lurid tales of their heated fights, Fran had turned thirty-one years old that summer and with Lyndsey just twenty-nine I mused that if they came to blows again Lyn might have the advantage: In terms of build there was not much difference between them, except that Lyn was an inch or two shorter than Fran’s 5 feet 7 inches and a little smaller all round. They both have big prominent breasts (which seems to run in their family as their mother and grandmother, and previous female relatives, which I’d seen on old photographs, were just as busty), and, according to Fran, both she and her sister began puberty early and began sprouting breasts, which just seemed to keep on growing.


By the age of 10 she had a 40 inch bust and 42” by the age of 12. The continued expansion and growth throughout her teenage years caused problems. When I first met Fran five years previously she took a size “FF bra cup” and I was surprised that such large breasts should be as firm as they were, and Lyn was just a size behind. I was aware of their breast size rivalry, but it seemed to me that Fran had taken the lead while she was pregnant with Morag, her cup size expanding three full sizes! I was disappointed when her ***** began to return to normal as Morag was weaned, but as Fran said: “I wish you could know how my back hurts carrying all that weight in front!” I could see her point, but she seemed to settle at a “H cup”.

I found myself looking forward to Lyn’s arrival so I could see if she had kept up with Fran after her own pregnancy. I did not have long to wait as our guests arrived that evening. Fran was on her best behavior and the two sisters seemed to be getting along well. Lyn and Nige toured the area, buying seasonal mementos of their visit and going for walks in the beautiful countryside surrounding us. Snow had begun to fall after a few days, and instead of the usual light dusting we had been getting in late November we were getting quite a deluge and by Christmas Eve the village and surrounding fields looked like a Christmas card. Still, both Fran and Lyndsey looked remarkably attractive even in their thick woolen sweaters.

I did not accompany the three very much because I was cooking something special for Christmas Eve. Fran is not a good cook, so it’s a good thing I trained in a hotel kitchen years ago or we would be living on carry-outs or stuff out of cans. The hikers arrived back crimson faced against the bitter weather and still in good heart, although the sisters had been bickering and squabbling a little over the past few days. It was nothing to be concerned about, as siblings little annoyances were quickly resolved, but this evening they kept sniping at each other. After the sisters had put their children to bed both women changed out of their hiking clothes and criticized each other’s dress sense.

When she came down the stairs Lyn was wearing a shiny velvet bottle green top with long sleeves and a daring, plunging V neck, exposing her surprisingly long cleavage, held in a lacy cut away bra, the full, rounded top of her breasts bulging out of her bra betraying the fact that, like Fran, her beasts were somewhat larger and fuller from nursing her child. Her top was tucked into the waistband of a paler green skirt, which stuck out like a ballerina’s and was short enough to leave little to the imagination. She had green woolen tights on and fashionable ankle length boots on her feet. “You look like a Leprechaun,” Nigel observed. “Hmmm. A Leprechaun ****!” Fran disdainfully remarked leaning on the mantle shelf of the fireplace. “You worried that Piers is gonna find my cleavage better than your big fat ****?” she snarled back from her position on the sofa, her legs pushed out in front of her and crossed at the ankles as she slouched back in the sofa eating a bag of peanuts. I must admit, I had to consciously direct my eyes away from the sight. “Mine are better than your weedy **** LITTLE sis any day!” Fran countered clapping her hands either side of her expanded ***** in her maroon dress. I must admit that it rivaled Lyn’s outfit. It was stylishly cut and hung to just below her muscular calves and ******d in tight at the waist with a same colour tie. The dress was shaped in front to accommodate large breasts and was clearly chosen by Fran for that feature, but it did have the effect of making her ***** seem to stick out yet further.

Fran sat down in the armchair by the fire and glared at her sister, glancing at both Nigel and I from time to time. “You’re just jealous!” Lyn exclaimed, breaking the uneasy silence, then flicked a peanut from the packet she had been eating them from directly into Fran’s cleavage. “How about that for a shot?” Lyn said. “Don’t be so childish!” Fran scolded her. “Let’s all see you fish that out then!” Lyn teased. Fran pushed her fingers into her own cleavage to try to rout out the peanut. “Do you bet I can do that again?” Lyn pushed and caught sight of Fran’s matching red bra. “Just stop it, or I’ll give you a slap!!” Fran surprised us all in saying.

“Did I ever tell you about that fight Fran and me had over my new red bra?” Lyn asked. “MY red bra!” Fran corrected her. “I bought it and you stole it to impress your boyfriend - well, no, MY boyfriend actually! You stole him too!” she said. “Whatever!” Lyn said. “Anyway, she tried to rip it off me and I slugged her and the silly cow fell down the stairs!” Lyn added. “No. - You pushed me!” Fran accused. “This ***** tried to kill me!” she added with a note of incredulity. “But I taught her! I grabbed her and pulled her down with me!” Nigel looked goggle eyed: “Is that when the red bra got ripped off?” he said. “Oh no, it came off long before that!” Lyn said, staring at Fran. “She grabbed me and we fell across my bed fighting like cats! She tried to rip the bra off but she grabbed my *** through the thing instead and nearly ripped my ****** off!” she exaggerated.

“Anyway, we crashed over the bed and wrestled around the floor ‘til she’d ripped the bra off and we tumbled through the doorway, then Fran tried to sit on me to punch my face, but I got a good punch in and she tumbled off, over the top step and dragged me with her. - Guess what she grabbed to drag me by? - Yeah, - she got a really good squeeze on my ****, but I squeezed hers too. Anyway, We bumped down every single step and Fran hit her head on the wall at the bottom,” she continued, “and we kept mauling each other’s **** until SHE gave in!” she finished. “No, it wasn’t like that!” Fran interjected. “We were wrestling face to face and this ***** banged my head on the doorpost then deliberately pushed me down the stairs!” Fran said, glaring with some hostility at her sister. “So how did you explain your injuries to your mother when she got back from work?” Nigel said, fascinated by the story.

“I told her that Fran fell, but I don’t think she believed me,” Lyn said. “I think the bite marks, bruises and scratches gave the game away,” she concluded. “Yeah, well. I left home shortly after that to go to Uni” Fran said. “It’s a good thing she did!” Lyn scowled. “It stopped her stealing my clothes and my men!” she said. “It’s you who was the thief you cheeky cow!” Fran snapped. I thought I’d cool things a bit at this point: “I hate to break this up, but I need help getting things onto the table. - Dinner’s ready,” I said rising briskly to my feet.

Fran helped and Nigel tried but mostly just got in the way. Lyn remained seated, scowling to herself and not moving until it was time to eat. The sisters continued their debate at the table, both drinking copious amounts of wine and getting more uninhibited. “I bet this flabby milk-cow still thinks she’s tougher than me!” Lyn challenged. “No. I don’t think I’m tougher than you. - I KNOW I’m tougher!” Fran stated baldly. “So prove it!” Lyn said. “Yeah!” Nigel joined in, having drunk a whole half bottle of red wine and draining the remains of the bottle of white into his glass. “Show us who’s the best!” he goaded. Fran looked around the spacious room. “Well, if you all help me move the furniture I’ll wrestle this cheap **** on the rug!” she said.

Fran had invented a competition for me and herself to enjoy which involved each competitor squatting at either end of the 8 feet x 10 feet rug, the aim of each competitor being to get to the opposite side and to prevent her / his opponent from doing the same. This was usually best achieved by forcing your opponent backwards until the objective was reached; but in practice, this usually resulted in wild, desperate, no-holds-barred wrestling in the middle of the rug. The result was that I collected quite a catalogue of nasty injuries. I never let her win, but she proved that she could really fight. I was looking forward to seeing her beat her equally busty sister on the rug. But Fran warned me: “I was just being gentle with you!” she said. “It won’t be like in the fantasy stories you know!” they both said. “When women fight and really mean it, they fight with their fists!”… “Well, with their fists, feet, nails, teeth, - anything they can really!” Lyn added.

Nigel and I grabbed each end of the heavy sofa and moved it against the wall, while Fran and Lyn moved the big table. I watched each of them as they moved the arm chairs, comparing in particular their thrust out breasts straining the material. We were all quite hot after moving the furniture, the blazing fire in the grate adding to the heat. “Well, I’m not going to let you ruin my top!” Lyn said to her sister. Fran knotted her brows in thought. “I’m not letting you ruin my new red bra either!” Fran said. She hadn’t considered that neither of them were dressed for fighting. “Well take ‘em off!” the drunken Nigel slurred happily. “Well it is pretty warm in here!” I added. After we had all moved the dogs from in front of the fire the girls stood at either end of the richly decorated rug. “Okay; You first!” Lyn suggested to Fran indicating for her to strip as far as necessary. “No. After you!” Fran said. “Alright. I’VE got nothing to hide!!” Lyn said and pulled her top over her head. Her lacy bra looked almost overwhelmed by her vast ***** straining the garment to it’s limits, her big dark areolas showing clearly through the white material. Her long brunette hair was all over the place and I could see that they both needed to tie their long hair back so I opened the sideboard drawer where Fran keeps her hair ties. I handed them each an elasticated material covered hair tie.

Pulling her pony tail to the front, Fran asked for her back zipper to be undone. Grinning all over his face, Nigel volunteered, but I stepped in to undo the zip. Fran peeled the dark red straps from her broad, well muscled shoulders and sliding the dress down, stooped forwards to remove it, ensuring her 12 inch long **** swung forwards in her bra, exposing her massive cleavage, her familiar, hard ******s pushing through the material. Her three-inch areolas were not as big, or as dark as her sister’s but still pretty impressive. When she stood up again I began undoing the bra clasp for her, pulling the resisting material closer together to unhook it.

The two halves of the strap flew violently apart and she cupped her hands under her voluminous ***** to ease the capacious cups from her orbs. Easing her bra forwards she pulled it off and her massive breasts tumbled out, where they rolled on her chest and lower ribs for a couple of seconds and, standing up straight letting their natural firmness and surprising pertness display them to their best advantage. I had seen Fran’s breasts firm up and fill out when they became engorged with milk during pregnancy and while nursing Morag, I had also seen them become excited and pebbly in anticipation of sexual activity with me, or during the act, but I had never seen them become this firm in such circumstances.

Not to be outdone Lyn reached behind herself to undo the clasp of her clearly inadequate bra, her breasts thrusting out in front of her as she did so, a determined look on her pretty face. At this angle it looked like her hardening ******s were trying to tear through the material, but a few seconds later the strap popped undone and she eased her outsize lacy bra off her big breasts. Because Lyn was a little smaller that her sister and her torso slimmer the illusion of her **** being bigger than Fran’s was achieved. But her ******s and areolas were certainly no illusion! They were clearly bigger than Fran’s and looked just as firm.

Fran stood at her end of the rug with her hands on her hips, her abdomen drawn in. Lyn looked odd with her equally big bust dominating her figure and her sticky-out skirt, woolen tights and ankle boots still on. “You can’t fight in those!” Fran pointed out to her sister. Lyn sat down in the armchair behind her and removed her boots and tights, then stood up to drop her short skirt to the floor. Nigel picked it up and put it on the chair with the rest of her clothes. “You ready now?” Fran asked in an exasperated tone. “Yeah. Ready to kick your ***!” Lyn snarled. Fran ran briefly through the few rules and both women got to their hands and knees on the rug, ready for battle, their long ***** almost touching the rug as they hung down.

“Whoever gets to the other side (of the rug) is the winner - no argument. And all disagreements will be cancelled!” Fran said as she faced Lyn on the rug. “I’ll enjoy seeing some humility from you, you arrogant *****!” Lyn said then began striding cautiously forwards, diagonal pairs of hands and knees giving her stability, her huge hanging ***** swinging in circular motions, while her pony tail hung down to one side. Fran moved forwards and crawled towards Lyn to block her, but Lyn dodged to one side, then the other, Fran swinging from side to side in front of her to block her. Then Lyn tried to rush past on the edge of the rug but Fran grabbed her left arm to stop her as she tried to slip past.

Now both raised up vertical on their knees the pair grappled each other’s hands and arms, their big **** rolling and swinging around all over their chests, their long pony tails swinging behind them. Their knees were spread wide for balance on the rug as Fran tried to use her weight to push Lyn backwards and still gripping Lyn by one wrist and one hand, their fingers interlaced, she barged her chest into Lyn’s. Their breasts met with a loud slam and Fran advanced one leg forwards planting her foot flat on the rug and trying to use the resulting leverage to crush her sister to the floor, but Lyn’s strong back resisted, then she began raising herself on her toes and coming upright again, almost raised Fran to her feet and Fran’s left foot placed so far forwards put her at a disadvantage and her back unable to resist headed for the rug.

Lyn landed on top of Fran, her arms still outstretched pinned Fran’s hands either side of her head and her ***** swung back and forth over Fran’s. But Fran immediately rammed her thigh under her sister’s crotch and sent her flying over her head. This seemed to be doing Lyn a favour as she was now on Fran’s side of the rug, but as she scrambled up to make for the far side she was suddenly yanked backwards by her ponytail. She tried to turn to attack her, but Fran’s right forearm rammed into her throat and began dragging her backwards. “Oww. *****! You’re throttling me!” she gurgled.

Fran pulled the back of Lyn’s head against her chest, pressing it between her basket ball sized *****. “Give in, or I WILL throttle you!!” Fran demanded. “Never, you ****ing cow!” Lyn snarled and, reaching backwards over her own shoulders, grabbed the sides of Fran’s head by the hair and began sawing her head from side to side, her own thrust out **** viewable along their full length from under-arm to her ribs, rolling from side to side. Tugging Fran’s head from side to side like this unbalanced her, so raising herself on her knees, threw herself forwards to lay on Lyn’s back.

Lyn’s hands returned to the floor immediately and in this ‘four-square’ position she realized she was vulnerable as Fran grabbed both of her **** and began twisting her ******s. Lyn realized she also had an advantage and, dropping to her elbows, her *** raised, tumbled Fran forwards and off her to land on her head just in front of her.

Fran completed the fall and lay flat on her back clutching her head. Lyn took advantage and began crawling furiously for the far side of the rug, but was stopped dead after Fran rolled onto her front and grabbed one of her legs. Laying flat on her stomach, as she was, Fran tried to dodge Lyn’s foot kicking back at her face. This afforded Nigel and I a great view of Fran’s big ***** squeezed out at her sides between her ribs and the floor. I was shocked when a “SMACK” resounded and a pained grunt from Fran a second later. I was on the verge of stopping the fight when Nigel grabbed my arm and said: “No. Let ‘em settle it their own way!” I paused and thought that that was perhaps the most sensible thing he’d said all evening. Lyn had turned her head, partly twisting her body to take aim at Fran and as Fran struggled to get her knees beneath her she received another slap from Lyn’s sole directly to her face.

A splash of blood from Fran’s nose suddenly set my adrenalin surging, but I controlled myself. Now on her knees, Fran kept a tight grip on the leg and forced it up and backwards over Lyn’s butt and keeping her in this hold, bore her to the floor. Lyn was now lying partly on her chest and partly on her left side reaching desperately for the edge of the rug, which was just two feet away from her, while Fran tried to force Lyn’s leg against her back. Lyn was yelling out in pain as she felt the muscles in her thigh tearing. Blood dripped onto her from Fran’s injured nose. “Give in *****!” she demanded. “**** off!” was all Lyn had to say. For that - Fran grabbed Lyn’s head with her spare hand and slammed it to the floor and trying to hold it there until she could get a submission, but Lyn had other ideas and, swinging her right fist backwards over her own head and shoulder, punched wildly at her sister’s head, but missing miserably. Fran caught her wrist and yanked Lyn’s own arm across her throat.

“There are no submissions in rug wrestling!” I reminded Fran. “If she does submit that is only one point which will add to the total at the end,” I said. Fran grunted loudly, letting out her breath in a shout (of both effort and frustration) as she twisted her around bodily and rolled her part way back to her own side of the rug. Fran then backed off and sat on her heels to get her breath back as Lyn got first to her hands and knees, then sat back on her heels. Both women were heaving for breath and their hair had come out of the ties and it hung like damp curtains around their shoulders, rivulets of sweat cascading down their torsos. “You almost broke my leg you *****!” Lyn gasped. “You almost broke my nose!” Fran said dabbing at it to see if it had stopped bleeding. “Don’t ever twist my ******s again, *****, or I’ll rip yours off!” Lyn growled. “You‘ll do what, *****?” Fran said unpleasantly.

“You heard, you fat titted cow!” Lyn snapped back. “Well, you can try!” Fran countered. “If I don‘t rip yours off first!” she added. “Oh, I intend to!” Lyn said as she dropped to her hands, preparing to go at her sister again. “I’ll leave you a mangled mess in the middle of the rug!” Lyn threatened. “Well come on and try!” Fran growled back dropping to her hands. Both women’s huge ***** swung gently as they stared with animosity into each other’s eyes, their ******s hardening up from all the threats. This time Lyn ‘ran’ at Fran on her hands and knees and Fran aimed straight for her sister. Their shoulders, well padded with muscle from carrying the weight of their breasts, collided with a sickening “WHAP!” like two rutting stags ramming each other.

The pain in both girls collarbones was excruciating as they fought. They flung their hands around one another with loud slaps and the girls were soon gripping one another around the torso and chest. Each woman’s **** swung from side to side gradually spreading out as they flattened against the floor. The sisters had almost pushed each other’s head to the floor before first, Lyn’s right hand groped for and gripped her sister’s left **** on the rug, gripping it by the distended ****** and areola, then Fran immediately reciprocated, tugging on a fistful of Lyn’s left breast, their hands swamped by the huge breasts. Both women snarled blood curdling threats at one another as they raised themselves on their left arms, swearing to twist one another’s ****** right off, as they each tugged the other’s stretching breast towards herself as the other swung wildly.

It looked pretty painful to Nigel and I but, the women now moved off their supporting left hands to grip each other’s right breast, not caring whether they gripped ****** or deep flesh. Their arguing became more vehement the harder they pulled, their voices strained by the obvious pain. Now gripping both of each other’s breasts, they began to pull backwards, twisting areolas and ******s as they did so, both yelling out at the pain. Their ******s and areolas were stretched out and their big breasts stretched out a long way before their hands began to slip off, having reached the full length of each breast, lubricated with sweat. The result of this vicious tugging was that Lyn flopped backwards, her *** landing on her heels while Fran went sprawling backwards across the rug, her left knee raised against the front edge of the sofa, while her ravaged ***** flopped out to the sides. Lyn scrambled onto her knees and tried to make a dash past her sister sprawled spread-eagled. But Fran was up on her left elbow and made a grab at Lyn as she drew beside her, flinging her right arm around Lyn’s slim waist.

Lyn’s right knee came down against Fran’s crotch, intending to grind it into her ****, but Fran pistoned her knee up at this point towards Lyn’s crotch, but her knee lifted Lyn’s butt instead and, rolling to her right, threw her onto her back on the rug then, throwing her right leg across her, sat on her abdomen. “Okay; get out of that one, *****!” Fran sneered, grabbing Lyn‘s wrists and pinning them to the floor. Lyn rolled her legs from side to side, twisting her torso. At first, Fran, still stooping forwards had difficulty keeping her balance. Nigel and I had a great view of her breasts swinging from side to side though, but Fran had to adjust her position if she was not to be dislodged and, letting go of Lyn’s arms, sat up straight and lightly rode the motion like a horse and laughing at her sister’s efforts.

This infuriated Lyn and she tried raising her legs to try to grab Fran with her legs, but only succeeded in pounding her knees into Fran’s back. After a couple of sickening thuds I knew Fran was not going to take that and she moved her *** backwards to sit on Lyn’s pelvis, thus preventing her from using her legs. Lyn yelled out as Fran’s 175 lbs compressed her pelvis, then reached up and grabbed both of Fran’s breasts, squeezing the thick orbs, the flesh oozing out between her fingers, the ******s protruding stiffly between her fingers. “That doesn’t’t hurt!” Fran lied, grinning at her sister. “It will!” Lyn groaned as she gouged her fingers more deeply into the soft flesh.

Despite the discomfort, Fran coolly reached for Lyn’s **** which had flopped out to her sides and grabbing a handful of each areola and ****** heaved them to the front, then leaning backwards, achieved two things, - crushed Lyn’s pelvis more and, - began to stretch the big areolas out by the ******s. Lyn let out a low moan as they stretched out a couple of inches into cones, ******d at the ****** in Fran’s strong fingers. It was obvious that Lyn was in great pain and her hollering “I give! I give!” was not unexpected. “Hey!” Nigel call to Lyn as Fran slid off her and sat back on her feet. “Fran’s gonna win this on points if you’re not careful.” Lyn pulled her aching, sweat drenched body into squatting position on her heels and glancing disdainfully at Nigel said: “Well YOU fight her then!” - “Yes please!” Nigel said rather too keenly. But the girls knew he would rather watch. Apart from which, if he was anything like me, standing up could be something of an embarrassment.

Straight away Fran was on the attack again and crawled forwards to grab Lyn by the shoulders in an effort to push her backwards, her right shoulder pressing into Lyn’s breasts. Lyn felt herself slide back a little and came up onto her toes to push back. Now looking down on Fran’s broad back, she was in a position to get her in a right arm head lock and, as Fran gurgled and clutched at the arm squeezing her neck Lyn used her left hand to punch at her sister’s big **** - setting them swinging. “Sickening “SMACK!” after “SMACK!” followed by grunts of pain had me shaking uncontrollably as for the first time I worried about Fran.

“I’ll beat the pulp out of your ****,” Lyn breathlessly snarled. I took that to mean that she’d pulp Fran’s **** to the point of emastectomating one or both of them. Tearing my eyes away from the wildly swinging breasts, now red raw from the pulling squeezing and pummelling. I noticed that Lyn’s arm gripping my wife’s neck was scratched and bleeding from Fran’s nails. In the next instant she wrapped both arms tightly around Lyn’s waist and began trying to push her over backwards, aided by pulling on her long hair hanging wet with sweat down her back. This pulled a yowling Lyn far enough back to stop her from punching Fran’s ****. Instead, Lyn grabbed Fran’s hair as it hung off her outside shoulder and began tugging it across to her own hip. Fran’s neck twisted as a result.

In the next second Lyn crashed onto her back, breaking her hold on her sister’s neck, but not until Fran’s head had hit the rug. This left Fran sprawled partly across Lyn, her face by her sister’s *****. Lyn began to yell out as Fran took a mouthful of Lyn’s left Areola and ****** between her teeth and began pulling back, stretching the thing. Lyn grabbed Fran’s hair in her right hand and began punching at her head with her left to try to persuade her to stop. Fran responded by gripping Lyn’s face in a clawed left hand, gouging her fingers into Lyn’s flesh, eye’s and nostrils and rabbit punching her in the stomach just under her ribs. Fran’s face was by now red and her right eye was cut pretty badly as she dropped her sister’s ravaged breast.

Now just a couple of feet from her goal, Fran rolled off Lyn onto her left hip then, flinging her right leg over her, tried to scramble over her to gain the sanctuary of Lyn’s side of the rug, her big ***** twisting and squashing out of shape as they dragged across Lyn’s chest, then face - as her fingers touched the edge of the rug. “AAAGGHH!!!” Fran yelled as her sister grabbed both of her **** and began tugging them down towards her waist. Fran’s outstretched left arm quickly retracted and she sat back unsteadily straddling Lyn’s right thigh and quickly realised she was in a better position to win and sprang for the edge of the rug.

But Lyn twisted round quickly and grabbed her waist to pull her back. Fran landed flat on her ****, the big rounded mammaries squashing out from her ribs. Her forehead struck the floor as Lyn pulled her backwards a foot, dragging her **** along the rug giving her carpet burns on the sensitive undersides of her ****. Lyn used all her strength to try to drag the 175lbs of Fran further back, knowing that she would have to make sure Fran had no chance of reaching Lyn’s side of the rug before making a dash for Fran’s side of the rug. The waistband of Fran’s thong snapped at this point and Fran propped herself on her right elbow and began slapping at Lyn’s hands grasping her hips, her big ***** hanging towards the rug across her chest. Suddenly, Lyn was crawling furiously away from Fran towards the far end of the rug, her ***** swinging wildly.

Fran now had the tough choice of making for the edge of the rug in a race to beat Lyn or chase after her. Fran raised herself on her knees and hurled herself at her sister’s back, her ***** hitting it with a “SLAP!” then spreading out. Both women crashed to the floor on opposite sides, facing one another, their big **** spread in front of them. As they came up on their knees Lyn had plainly lost her temper and, teeth clenched, with an angry scream, furiously punching Fran in the face. Reeling on her knees, blood from her lower lip spattering her breasts and stunned by the attack for a moment, Fran shook herself into action and attacked her sister in a similar manner ramming her fist into her sister‘s forehead. Lyn fell backwards, saving herself from going right over with her hands.

Upon righting herself Lyn immediately grabbed her sister’s hair in her left hand as she made for the edge of the rug. Pulled up short by the hair Fran spun around slamming her right fist into Lyn’s left side ribs. There was a sickening “THUD!” and a sharp gasp but Lyn instinctively punched back at the only place she could reach ramming her right fist into Fran’s left side, her fist skimming into the meat of her sister’s abused breast. Another sickening “THUD!” - then Fran replied with a wide sweeping haymaker punch, her fist connecting with the side of her enraged sister’s face. Lyn partly collapsed to her left side, forcing her to let go of her hair but, despite reeling from the viciousness of the assault and spitting blood she punched Fran in the stomach which knocked the wind out of her, immediately following up by pounding her on the top of her right breast. Fran came back with an upper-cut that knocked Lyn’s head back and seemed to break her nose. Swaying backwards, then forwards, her face covered in blood, Lyn dropped to her hands on the rug, then Fran kneed Lyn in the face.

The women had not been kidding when they said that when women fight and really mean it, they fight with their fists. Nigel and I had to stop this before it went any further. Neither woman had successfully reached her opponents side of the rug, but at this point, hard erections or not, Nigel and I decided to break up the fight….

After the fight Fran was a terrible mess with her right eye swollen shut, her lips swollen, her face bruised, scratched and blood all over her face and hair. Lyn was in an equally bad mess, her nose swollen with a nasty bruise where the cartilage had ‘broken’, her face similarly bruised and both women’s large breasts red raw, grazed, scratched and generally ravaged. I fully expected the next morning that Lyn, her daughter and Nigel would be leaving to drive home, but no, - the girls were actually seated at the breakfast table nursing hangovers and their injuries, both wearing loose fitting T shirts swollen out by their braless breasts which were still sore from the fight, and actually laughing about their drunken fight. “I hope no one thinks I beat you up!” Nigel said, unnerved at the sister’s bizarre friendliness. When I mentioned to Fran that I thought they would be enemies by now she merely said: “Naaw! Blood’s thicker than water. - As they say!”

Piers Knight.


PERSONAL DISCLAIMER:
THIS STORY IS A PART FICTIONALIZED ACCOUNT BASED UPON REAL PEOPLE AND REAL INCIDENTS. I HAVE CHANGED SOME PEOPLE'S NAMES TO PROTECT THEIR IDENTITIES AND SO THAT I DON'T UPSET THEM. I DON'T REALLY WANT TO GET THUMPED BY MY SISTER IN LAW OR BROTHER IN LAW!