Bikini Tussle – Debbi Chan's Foxyfighter

Debbi Chan's Foxyfighter

Bikini Tussle

She skates, her rollerblades thrumming over the boardwalk and coming to a stop just outside the door. Long, brown hair tussles as she jumps the lip of the door and rolls into the store, gliding towards the rack of bright, tiny bikinis and beachwear thronged by young girls, all looking for a sale.

She spots it across the room. A pale and freckled blonde holds up the prize: three shiny triangles of blue fabric, hardly enough to sew a napkin from, dangling from a hanger held up by slim, tapered hands with long, red nails.

She hates blondes.

The fair, golden-haired girl smiles happily and whisks the prize away to the dressing room, and soon slips out of view. She dashes to where the girl once stood. Hangers bang and fabric flies as she searches for another.


She can feel the outrage build inside her. It would look far better on her, and it ought to be hers.

A small dressing room. Blue straps glide over soft skin, and are drawn taut against full, round breasts. More straps hug the creamy curve of thighs and arc over full hips until plunging deep into the steep”V” between racy legs. The mirror shows the blonde’s reflection; smug satisfaction.

It fits. Barely.

She enters unnoticed, the cloth drapes whispering softly as she passes through them. She lets her full momentum, powered on rolling discs of plastic, crash into the stunned blonde bitch.

Breasts flatten painfully against mirrored glass. A black glove pins the blonde’s head firmly while another tugs down the blue thong, a price-tag marked “SALE” still dangling, spinning from its scanty straps.

Words, then shouts are exchanged. What’s mine is mine. The blonde is struggling; breath mists the glass even as lips streak crimson on the mirror. A cry and a shout. A blue heel kicks back and connects with the skater’s armored knee.

Betrayed by her balance, her legs slip and she slides to the floor. Her nails scratching down the blonde’s back as she falls. Her arm lashes around a toned calf, hauling her adversary with her to the cold concrete floor.

Hands buried in hair, curling tight. Smooth legs and thighs kicking, searching for pain, tangling and untangling. Knees bang against sides, stomachs. Sharps heels and spinning wheels clatter as they roll. She bangs her rival’s head against the wall. Give it to me!

Dazed. The blonde slumps in the corner. White legs sprawl openly, without life, until a hard plastic knee connects with the girl’s crotch. A scream, and the legs curl up defensively, but the knee is still there, grinding down. The hard nubs of plastic scrapes painfully against the tight blue fabric that can do little to protect the blonde’s soft lips and clit.

Hands scrabble against her black shirt. Long red nails rend desperate tears through yielding cotton until she is topless.

She ignores the pleading wailing of her blonde foe as she relishes her attack against her rival’s pussy. But bright red nails soon latch onto her tanned breasts, clawing and digging into the bared, jiggling flesh.

Pussy versus tits. She grinds. The blonde squeezes. The battle waged against intimate places takes its toll, evident on their faces. They are panting, sweating. Finally, she is pushed back. Retreat. She falls backwards. Her hands cup her swollen breasts, nicked with small cuts and scrapes. The blonde nurses her wounded pussy, moaning softly.

They stagger to their feet, hands curled into fists. She rips the blue top from the blonde. Watcha gonna do now?

The answer is a firm fist connecting to her raw breasts, knuckles scraping against nipples. She slams back, punching the blonde’s tits with uppercuts and crosses. The blonde retaliates. Small hard fists rock each other’s tits as the tit-punching war begins.

Fists give way to fingers, pinching and prying at pink areolas. Hard twisting draws forth whimpers and cries from tortured lips. Latched onto each other, they fall to their knees; death grips on each other’s nipples, slippery with sweat.

A change of tactics. Hands once again yank at silky tresses. Fingers slip underneath tight spandex bikini bottoms. They start to wage war against each other’s sex, probing for weakness.

Backs stiffen and arch and heads are yanked back by handfuls of hair. What gives the most pleasure also creates the most pain. Fingers dig deep into unyielding pussies, and thumbs press on, searching for clits to batter and rake.

They lean on each other. Faces streaked with hot tears press against each other, cheek to cheek. Their raw nipples fence painfully. They are close enough to kiss, but instead they bite. Pearl white teeth nip painfully against ruby lips, drawing small trickles tasting of blood and tears.

Down below, their fingers have succeeded in invading each other’s slits. The blonde claws her hand, digging her sharp nails into the soft insides of the skater. She screams, unable to match the move, her gloves betraying her attempts to maul her opponent.

Oh God, no!

She is forced back, her grip on the blonde’s sex relinquished. Fingers pinch and tear at her pussy lips. She can’t pry them loose. She is on her back, legs thrashing as she is violated. Her hands grasp her tormentor’s wrist, but the blonde has a firm grip which is soon joined by her other hand.

With two hands the blonde continues to maul the skater into a screaming, helpless mess. She can no longer fight back, she cannot defend herself. The blonde stops and rises to her feet, but the pain will not subside. She curls into a ball, moaning and rolling.

She feels her hands pried roughly away from her crotch, and then bound by her own black top. Her feet are trussed with her bikini bottoms. The blonde hangs her by her wrists from one of the dressing hooks, naked except for her skates and sobbing hysterically.

Turning to the mirror, the blond slips the blue bikini back onto her lithe frame. The moaning and crying finally attracted a salesgirl who has screwed up enough courage to come see what the fuss is about.

“I’ll take it,” is all the blonde says.


Categories:   Catfight


  • Posted: September 20, 2015 20:13


    I like this one, both the action and the somewhat Hemmingwayesque style of writing.
  • Posted: September 20, 2015 20:49


    TY! I actually am more Hemmingway in my more recent writings. I very much like his style in "A Movable Feast"
  • Posted: September 21, 2015 13:20


    Mmm, this was very sexy too! Loved how the skater was stripped, except for her skates, and left tied! :-) - Sonja
  • Posted: September 21, 2015 14:27


    I think we need more bondage in wrestling/catfights!
  • Posted: September 23, 2015 14:13


    You must love the old Blond vs Brunette type stories, sometimes cliches but always hot. You have any work where the brunette or black haired girl wins?
  • Posted: September 23, 2015 23:58


    There are a lot of stories, it will come up.