The Woman a cockfight story Part 1
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The Woman (a Cockfight Story) Part #2 free porn video
....And She moved to me. In my turn, I mocked him with my smile, as She rubbed and slathered her oiled body on mine. I closed my eyes in the ecstasy of contact. She moaned with pleasure as my fingertips found and furtively fondled Her so wet pussy. Through her gasps, I could sense, I could almost smell, Her growing excitement at the thought of what was to come, of what She had wrought. Then, just as I could take Her touches no longer, she stepped away.
Raised her arms.
We moved back.
The yard around us now was silent. All the other party goers had gone home. It was all us now. It would be decided here.
My Rival and I looked upon The Woman.
She gazed at the moon, a half-smile on Her face, knowing She was the centre - the Queen - of our regard. Her hands traversed Her oiled up body - breasts, hips, loins, sex, back up to caress Her breasts again. Unhurriedly pleasuring herself. Measuring and enjoying the moment. Knowing, soon, she would have what she craved, what She yearned for, inside her. Drawing out the delicious tension that She had so wantonly created – created for the pure enjoyment of herself. Revelling in the angst, the fear, the burning desire, that She knew my Rival and I must now be feeling.
She turned and looked at each of us.
A shivering took hold of Her. A thrilling, gleaming new light seemed to come to Her eyes. She moaned softly, moving into a little dance, breasts swaying, Her mound thrust forward, oiled palms falling to Her hips, Her thighs. Fingertips finding and teasing Her labia, gently caressing that spot most sensitive of all, then rising to Her stomach, Her breasts. Again and again in an endless circuit. Until ...
"Now," She breathlessly whispered, "Fight."
We surged forward and collided in an oiled tangle of arms and legs. One instant we were apart and the next, our bodies were wrapped and grappling in a hot coil of determination and muscle. I closed my eyes, ground my body into his, felt his hot breath in my ear. A spasm of desire ripped through me – a desire to fight him to the last ounce of my strength, never to part from his rough embrace until I had mastered him. My desire for combat was a sexual charge. A current of energy joined us, making us one. When he growled, I growled back at him, fought to get my arms around his waist. My Rival's hands moved to block my bid to bear-hug him, but the oil on my forearms made him lose his grip and he failed, snarling. A moment later, we were chest to chest, pressed.
Our eyes locked from a distance of inches.
We both sensed Her standing there, mere feet away. We could hear Her hot breath, gasping in and out, heard the sweep of Her hands over her own body as She pleasured herself to our strife. I braced my bare feet in the sand, seeking to move my weight to unbalance him. But my Rival was skilled. He made a countermove and so re-established equilibrium. I moved again and he moved. A dance, a grim dance. I closed my eyes more tightly, gritted my teeth ... and lifted.
He came up from the ground, hands dropping to try and break my hold. But I had him aloft and was fighting to squeeze the life out of him. He twisted and almost broke free. But I hung on. He gasped.
I have you now, I thought. Cunt.
He squirmed against me, succeeded in wrapping his legs around my waist. I felt his erection pressing against my belly. Dropped my weight into horse stance and maneuvered the point of my own so it was directly below his body. Like a spear. I wanted to impale him on it! His hands came to my throat as his thighs flexed, caving the breath inside me. I growled and tightened my embrace. He groaned softly. But he would not give up the fight. We were locked together like this at some length, each seeking advantage, each collecting his strength and recovering breath.
He's strong, I thought.
A worthy opponent.
Our stalemate-like, still locked together pause seemed to bother The Woman. She gave a pettish little whine, shuffled her feet in the sand. Impatient. She wanted us to get on with it. But we knew, as warriors, that battle - like love - takes time. Things would take their own course. My face was pressed against his chest and I inhaled the strong musk of him. His erection throbbed against me. He gasped ... and I felt his legs loosen.
Garnering my strength, I twisted my body and threw him to the ground. A “YES!” from Her.
He landed in a crash. I heard the breath leave his body. Glad to be free of him, I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs back with the oxygen he had starved out. This instead of throwing myself on top of him. I stepped back, fell into a crouch. Waited for him.
He rolled to his feet, sand clinging to his body where the oil had soaked it firm. Our eyes met and we began to circle, arms up, eyes locked. Flexing and posturing. Showboating for The Woman. I caught a glimpse of Her out of the corner of my eye. She had that same mocking half-smile She'd had on her lips when I'd caught Her gazing at the Moon. She had paused in her self-caresses. Let Her hands drop to her sides. There She stood, plainly enjoying herself.
As only a man can, I could smell Her, smell the juices from Her sweltering snatch. And it drove me wild with desire. Desire to fight, to win, to fuck.
My Rival and I circled in. Slowly. Bare feet hushing in the sand, oiled bodies gleaming in the moonlight. I wanted to rush into his arms, longed to match his strength against mine again. I was mad with desire to wrestle. But we took our time, each knowing the strength of the other. And when we met a second time, it was more slowly.
We came in, locking up in the classic wrestler's stance, hands sweeping lightly as we found our purchase. I let him come, felt his grip on me as we shifted our feet. Found our balance. When we were set, and still both hard, we began.
The Woman gasped.
He came in low, looking for a leg sweep. I danced back, denying him the throw. I caught him around the chest. Sought to twist a leg around his. But now it was his turn to deny me. He danced back. I came in. His hands came to my chest, pushed me back. And then we were locked again, chest to chest before falling sideways to the sand.
We twisted in the dirt like a couple of enraged pythons. Sand in the oil now, abrading our skin. Our movements were quicker, lighter. Speed was everything in this game. Legs g****-vined, we rolled and furiously fought. I felt his face pressing into my neck, his fingers clawing for my hair. But that was oily now, too. I smiled. And allowed myself a moment of pleasure at the feel of his battling body against mine, locked together as we were, in bitter struggle, in almost sexual embrace. The Woman whimpered. Her all too obvious relish of our struggle giving me a pulse of desire, an almost electric thrill . She was beautiful. And when our fighting manhood’s slicked together, Her eyes sparkled and flashed.
Seemingly of its own volition, my hand slipped down to seize his balls.
For a startled instant, he paused, confused. I heard a sound from his lips - a questioning grunt. But then I began to squeeze. His breath hitched and he fought to squirm away. But I had him. By the balls - I had him by the balls. And I wasn't about to let go. The Woman squealed – a high-pitched squeal of utter delight.
His hand dropped to my wrist. Locked around it. Pulled.
No luck.
I pulled back my face and smiled into his eyes. I saw the confusion - the fear that was there. He was gasping now. I was crushing his sack - twisting. I rolled him onto his back, wrapped myself around him and, to protect it, ground into his body with my cock. My sweaty, muscled chest was firmly against his, and, there was still my ever squeezing hand.
Got you. Fucking got you!
And then The Woman was standing over us, kneading her tits. She wanted, it seems, two things, to see more closely what we were doing to each other in our clinch, and also to prolong our bout by seeking to inspire him to greater exertions - to thus implore him to fight on. And for an instant, it worked. He managed to twist free. My hand slid from his testicles. But as he rolled, I pounced on him, cat-like. Wrapping myself around him, I got him in a choke-hold.
Weakened now, his erection had begun to droop.
Seeing this filled me with fire. Yes. Yes! I wrapped my legs around his waist from behind, sealed the grip around his windpipe. Brought my lips to his ear.
"Give," I whispered.
He made a sound of negation. Grunted, and, in vain, tried to twist himself free.
Sensing the end, “Finish him! Finish him!” The Woman screamed. Now enraged, and almost beside herself with bloodlust, She again quickly closed on our grappling forms, hectic in her apparently desperate desire to ‘be in at the kill’. “Finish him!”
I squeezed. A sound began in my throat - a guttural, primal gasp of victory. It escaped my lips in a windy rush as I felt my Rival madly thrash one final time before going limp. His body sagged against mine, his once hard and impudent cock became now flaccid. I felt a momentary sadness that the battle was over. He had fought well. But I had WON. I loosened my grip. And when he did not twist free, I knew he would rise no more. I brought my lips to his ear, an ear now deaf forever, and whispered “to the Victor the spoils”, lowering his still body to the ground.
The Woman, Her bright eyes shining, almost wild with pleasure and yearning, stood awaiting me.
The prize.
I went to Her. We stood together in the moonlight, I mired in oil, sweat, and sand. She gazed upon my body, worshipping it with her eyes. Delighting in her champion. She stepped forward. There was some blood from a scratch to my shoulder. She licked it off, and then placed a hand first to my heaving chest, and then to my cock.
"Mine," She said.
Bruised and battered, I took Her in my arms ...
And then we were a tangle of arms and legs, crashing to the sand. She was hungrily opening her legs wide, welcoming my first thrust like one famished. As I firmly drove myself inside Her aroused love, I howled in victory as I powerfully thrashed myself to orgasm inside Her sweet, soaked, silken and cruel quim - whilst all the while, overhead, the moonlight burned and burned ...
Fin.
Raised her arms.
We moved back.
The yard around us now was silent. All the other party goers had gone home. It was all us now. It would be decided here.
My Rival and I looked upon The Woman.
She gazed at the moon, a half-smile on Her face, knowing She was the centre - the Queen - of our regard. Her hands traversed Her oiled up body - breasts, hips, loins, sex, back up to caress Her breasts again. Unhurriedly pleasuring herself. Measuring and enjoying the moment. Knowing, soon, she would have what she craved, what She yearned for, inside her. Drawing out the delicious tension that She had so wantonly created – created for the pure enjoyment of herself. Revelling in the angst, the fear, the burning desire, that She knew my Rival and I must now be feeling.
She turned and looked at each of us.
A shivering took hold of Her. A thrilling, gleaming new light seemed to come to Her eyes. She moaned softly, moving into a little dance, breasts swaying, Her mound thrust forward, oiled palms falling to Her hips, Her thighs. Fingertips finding and teasing Her labia, gently caressing that spot most sensitive of all, then rising to Her stomach, Her breasts. Again and again in an endless circuit. Until ...
"Now," She breathlessly whispered, "Fight."
We surged forward and collided in an oiled tangle of arms and legs. One instant we were apart and the next, our bodies were wrapped and grappling in a hot coil of determination and muscle. I closed my eyes, ground my body into his, felt his hot breath in my ear. A spasm of desire ripped through me – a desire to fight him to the last ounce of my strength, never to part from his rough embrace until I had mastered him. My desire for combat was a sexual charge. A current of energy joined us, making us one. When he growled, I growled back at him, fought to get my arms around his waist. My Rival's hands moved to block my bid to bear-hug him, but the oil on my forearms made him lose his grip and he failed, snarling. A moment later, we were chest to chest, pressed.
Our eyes locked from a distance of inches.
We both sensed Her standing there, mere feet away. We could hear Her hot breath, gasping in and out, heard the sweep of Her hands over her own body as She pleasured herself to our strife. I braced my bare feet in the sand, seeking to move my weight to unbalance him. But my Rival was skilled. He made a countermove and so re-established equilibrium. I moved again and he moved. A dance, a grim dance. I closed my eyes more tightly, gritted my teeth ... and lifted.
He came up from the ground, hands dropping to try and break my hold. But I had him aloft and was fighting to squeeze the life out of him. He twisted and almost broke free. But I hung on. He gasped.
I have you now, I thought. Cunt.
He squirmed against me, succeeded in wrapping his legs around my waist. I felt his erection pressing against my belly. Dropped my weight into horse stance and maneuvered the point of my own so it was directly below his body. Like a spear. I wanted to impale him on it! His hands came to my throat as his thighs flexed, caving the breath inside me. I growled and tightened my embrace. He groaned softly. But he would not give up the fight. We were locked together like this at some length, each seeking advantage, each collecting his strength and recovering breath.
He's strong, I thought.
A worthy opponent.
Our stalemate-like, still locked together pause seemed to bother The Woman. She gave a pettish little whine, shuffled her feet in the sand. Impatient. She wanted us to get on with it. But we knew, as warriors, that battle - like love - takes time. Things would take their own course. My face was pressed against his chest and I inhaled the strong musk of him. His erection throbbed against me. He gasped ... and I felt his legs loosen.
Garnering my strength, I twisted my body and threw him to the ground. A “YES!” from Her.
He landed in a crash. I heard the breath leave his body. Glad to be free of him, I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs back with the oxygen he had starved out. This instead of throwing myself on top of him. I stepped back, fell into a crouch. Waited for him.
He rolled to his feet, sand clinging to his body where the oil had soaked it firm. Our eyes met and we began to circle, arms up, eyes locked. Flexing and posturing. Showboating for The Woman. I caught a glimpse of Her out of the corner of my eye. She had that same mocking half-smile She'd had on her lips when I'd caught Her gazing at the Moon. She had paused in her self-caresses. Let Her hands drop to her sides. There She stood, plainly enjoying herself.
As only a man can, I could smell Her, smell the juices from Her sweltering snatch. And it drove me wild with desire. Desire to fight, to win, to fuck.
My Rival and I circled in. Slowly. Bare feet hushing in the sand, oiled bodies gleaming in the moonlight. I wanted to rush into his arms, longed to match his strength against mine again. I was mad with desire to wrestle. But we took our time, each knowing the strength of the other. And when we met a second time, it was more slowly.
We came in, locking up in the classic wrestler's stance, hands sweeping lightly as we found our purchase. I let him come, felt his grip on me as we shifted our feet. Found our balance. When we were set, and still both hard, we began.
The Woman gasped.
He came in low, looking for a leg sweep. I danced back, denying him the throw. I caught him around the chest. Sought to twist a leg around his. But now it was his turn to deny me. He danced back. I came in. His hands came to my chest, pushed me back. And then we were locked again, chest to chest before falling sideways to the sand.
We twisted in the dirt like a couple of enraged pythons. Sand in the oil now, abrading our skin. Our movements were quicker, lighter. Speed was everything in this game. Legs g****-vined, we rolled and furiously fought. I felt his face pressing into my neck, his fingers clawing for my hair. But that was oily now, too. I smiled. And allowed myself a moment of pleasure at the feel of his battling body against mine, locked together as we were, in bitter struggle, in almost sexual embrace. The Woman whimpered. Her all too obvious relish of our struggle giving me a pulse of desire, an almost electric thrill . She was beautiful. And when our fighting manhood’s slicked together, Her eyes sparkled and flashed.
Seemingly of its own volition, my hand slipped down to seize his balls.
For a startled instant, he paused, confused. I heard a sound from his lips - a questioning grunt. But then I began to squeeze. His breath hitched and he fought to squirm away. But I had him. By the balls - I had him by the balls. And I wasn't about to let go. The Woman squealed – a high-pitched squeal of utter delight.
His hand dropped to my wrist. Locked around it. Pulled.
No luck.
I pulled back my face and smiled into his eyes. I saw the confusion - the fear that was there. He was gasping now. I was crushing his sack - twisting. I rolled him onto his back, wrapped myself around him and, to protect it, ground into his body with my cock. My sweaty, muscled chest was firmly against his, and, there was still my ever squeezing hand.
Got you. Fucking got you!
And then The Woman was standing over us, kneading her tits. She wanted, it seems, two things, to see more closely what we were doing to each other in our clinch, and also to prolong our bout by seeking to inspire him to greater exertions - to thus implore him to fight on. And for an instant, it worked. He managed to twist free. My hand slid from his testicles. But as he rolled, I pounced on him, cat-like. Wrapping myself around him, I got him in a choke-hold.
Weakened now, his erection had begun to droop.
Seeing this filled me with fire. Yes. Yes! I wrapped my legs around his waist from behind, sealed the grip around his windpipe. Brought my lips to his ear.
"Give," I whispered.
He made a sound of negation. Grunted, and, in vain, tried to twist himself free.
Sensing the end, “Finish him! Finish him!” The Woman screamed. Now enraged, and almost beside herself with bloodlust, She again quickly closed on our grappling forms, hectic in her apparently desperate desire to ‘be in at the kill’. “Finish him!”
I squeezed. A sound began in my throat - a guttural, primal gasp of victory. It escaped my lips in a windy rush as I felt my Rival madly thrash one final time before going limp. His body sagged against mine, his once hard and impudent cock became now flaccid. I felt a momentary sadness that the battle was over. He had fought well. But I had WON. I loosened my grip. And when he did not twist free, I knew he would rise no more. I brought my lips to his ear, an ear now deaf forever, and whispered “to the Victor the spoils”, lowering his still body to the ground.
The Woman, Her bright eyes shining, almost wild with pleasure and yearning, stood awaiting me.
The prize.
I went to Her. We stood together in the moonlight, I mired in oil, sweat, and sand. She gazed upon my body, worshipping it with her eyes. Delighting in her champion. She stepped forward. There was some blood from a scratch to my shoulder. She licked it off, and then placed a hand first to my heaving chest, and then to my cock.
"Mine," She said.
Bruised and battered, I took Her in my arms ...
And then we were a tangle of arms and legs, crashing to the sand. She was hungrily opening her legs wide, welcoming my first thrust like one famished. As I firmly drove myself inside Her aroused love, I howled in victory as I powerfully thrashed myself to orgasm inside Her sweet, soaked, silken and cruel quim - whilst all the while, overhead, the moonlight burned and burned ...
Fin.
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