Patty and Maureen I was recently witness to a brawl between two feisty babes that I will not soon forget. It took place in my friend Jack's backyard. The battle involved his girlfriend, Patty, a raven-haired, olive skinned beauty evidently from either Italian or Spanish origin, and my date Maureen. Maureen is a hot tempered woman of Irish descent that I've been going with for about a year now. Maureen has a fine shape and nice, firm 34 inch tits. She stands about 5'6" and has shoulder length brown hair. Patty has long black hair, a perfect set of 38 inch tits, and stands about 5'4". It was hate at first sight for these two gals! For when Maureen, wearing a sheer, clinging red dress was introduced to Patty, Patty just giggled and pointed at Maureen's rock-hard nipples that were protruding through the sheer material of her dress. Maureen was about to say something to Patty when Jack asked Maureen to not mind Patty as she had been drinking a bit before we arrived. Maureen just sneered and whispered, "Bitch!" Maureen, in an attempt to make Patty jealous, gave my friend Jack a rather long and sexy hello kiss. Maureen made a point of grinding her hard-nippled breasts against Jack's chest as Patty obviously fumed. It was easy to see that this was going to be one hot and exciting summer afternoon. When Jack introduced me to Patty, Patty, in an attempt to provoke Maureen, gave me one halacious French kiss as she practically sucked my tongue down her throat. I couldn't conceal the boner I had, so Patty gently patted it and said, "Down boy!" I thought Maureen would jump her, but she managed to maintain her cool. But not for long, I thought. As the four of us made our way to the yard, I noticed Patty undoing a few of the buttons on her white blouse. As I glanced as her, Patty gave me a provocative wink and flipped open one side of her blouse to give me a glimpse of her beautiful right breast. Maureen caught all of this and she retaliated by tripping Patty to the floor. Patty landed face down and Maureen stood right above her, with hands on hips, legs spread slightly and ready for action. Patty turned over and very slowly began to rise to her feet. In one quick motion, Patty's right hand flew up Maureen's dress and started to squeeze her cunt. Maureen was stunned as waves of pain shot through her loins. With both hands, she tried to pry Patty's hand from her vagina. Patty now grabbed for Maureen's hair with her left hand and yanked vigorously. At this point, Jack and I separated the two girls as it was too early to end a fine day over a fight. Besides, we hadn't gotten laid yet! They could fight it out later if they wanted to, but we wanted to fuck them both first. Jack finally managed to remove Patty's hand from under Maureen's dress, as I held Maureen from getting at Patty. Patty then spit at Maureen and Maureen smacked Patty across the face. But we finally restored order and made our way to the yard. We spent the next few hours drinking and dancing. Both Maureen and Patty had had plenty of booze by then and soon lost all inhibitions. Patty's tits kept falling out of her unbuttoned blouse and Maureen showed us plenty of leg as she tried to get comfortable on the hammock across from me. A Latin song came on the radio and Patty got up and began to do a sensual striptease for me and Jack. She unzipped her tight jeans and slowly slithered out of them. She had on a pair of pink bikini panties that in no way could conceal Patty's healthy growth of pubic hair. She then removed her top and set free a pair of the finest tits I had ever seen. Patty's skin was coppertone and her nipples were large and dark. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Maureen getting tensed up. This bitch was putting on a show and Maureen's tits couldn't match Patty's fine set. Maureen was doing a slow burn as she finished yet another drink. In rhythm with the music, Patty swayed over to Jack and swung her right breast down onto his face as his tongue flicked out at the hard nipple. She then began to dance over to me and hung her left tit just above my eyes. Patty bent down a little lower till her nipple reached my open mouth. I took the breast in my mouth and began to suck on it. As Patty began to moan from my sucking, I saw Maureen's hands come from behind Patty and grasp one tit each. The fingers on Maureen's hands disappeared into the soft flesh of Patty's breasts as Maureen yelled, "Keep your big fat tits our of my man's face, cunt!" Patty was stunned by Maureen's sneak attack on her luscious globes. Patty's big brown eyes grew wild as she shrieked from the tit-torture Maureen was putting her through! She tried desperately to pry Maureen's hands from her chest to no avail. Patty reached back over her shoulder trying to scratch at Maureen's face, but had to settle for a handful of hair. Patty yanked several times on Maureen's hair causing her to scream, but she wouldn't relinquish the tit hold she had on Patty. Patty then made an attempt to trip Maureen. She got her leg entangled between Maureen's and both girls toppled over to the grass, Maureen's hand still embedded in Patty's tits. the two combatant rolled over and over several times until Patty was able to catch Maureen with an elbow to the solar plexus. Maureen gasped for breath as she was finally forced to let go of Patty's red and swollen boobs. Both women, half exhausted and half drunk, were slow to move at this point. Patty, with tears in eyes and cradling her breasts, began to leave. But Jack persuaded her to stay by convincing her not to let "that cunt" Maureen get away with this. I heard Jack urge Patty to give Maureen a taste of her own medicine. Maureen stood in the middle of the grass, hands on hips, and looking sexy as hell in that clinging red dress. Patty, still clad in only pink panties, slowly made her way towards the other girl. The two women lunged for each other simultaneously; Maureen latching onto Patty's hair and Patty tearing away at Maureen's dress. The thin red material was in tatters in a matter of seconds, exposing not only Maureen's delicate tits, but also the fact that she wore no panties. Patty immediately began pulling at Maureen's pussy hair, viciously tearing the dark curly hairs from their roots. She then delivered a well placed punch right to the center of Maureen's vagina. The Irish girl's body stiffened up from the pain as she let go of Patty's hair and attempted to protect her woman hood from further attack. As Maureen's hands, covered her cunt, Patty sent a punch into Maureen's soft tummy, knocking Maureen onto her shapely ass with her legs spread apart. Patty wasted no time as she jumped on the other woman and rammed her right knee into Maureen's naked and unprotected cunt. At this juncture, Jack and I moved in for a closer view of this animalistic catfight. Jack told Patty to go for Maureen's titties, and she did! She dug her nails into Maureen's soft, supple tit meat. Patty's left hand pinched at Maureen's right nipple. She glared down at Maureen and snarled, "How does this feel, whore? I'm going to rip your nipples off!" Maureen's right hand now found Patty's drooping tit and pulled at it. I saw Maureen's left hand make its way down to Patty's crotch and disappear between Patty's legs. I went behind Patty for a better look at the action. I saw Maureen's fingers at work as she pushed aside the cotton crotch of Patty's panties and began tugging on the thick, bushy twat hairs that covered Patty's sex organ. Maureen yanked the short hairs harder now as I heard Patty yelp. Following Jack's lead, I told Maureen to go for Patty's cunt lips! Maureen heard me and responded by searching for the soft folds of flesh that were concealed in the black hair. I saw Maureen's fingers at work as she found the pink lips of Patty's cunt and tugged roughly at them. Patty's ass shook like Jell-O as she tried to get off of Maureen. But Maureen had a good hold on Patty and wasn't about to let go. Jack now put his two cents in and urged Patty to go for Maureen's vagina. It didn't take Patty long to get her right hand between Maureen's quivering thighs and began inflicting some more damage to Maureen's luscious twat. Maureen's cunt lips were more visible through her pussy and Patty's fingers located them easily. I could see patty's fingers pinch her rival's cunt lips and begin to twist them. The tender pink flesh of Patty's and Maureen's cunts was now protruding through the dark hair of their respective pussies. I had a bird's eye view as the afternoon sun shone down between their legs. At one point I saw Patty stretch Maureen's left cunt lip about three inches and Maureen shoved three fingers inside Patty and scratched away. Jack and I figured this was a good time to break it up. We were really both turned on by now and just hoped that the girls still had something left. Patty and Maureen seemed glad that we separated them when we did. Both girls were still a bit tipsy and almost worn out. We gave them each another drink and caressed their naked bodies. Patty and Maureen later led Jack and me to the center of the yard where they had fought and they proceeded to fuck our brains out! -- Catfights forever!--New York I know this is exactly the sort of letter your readers will love. My husband, Rick, is unbelievable. He is 6' tall, 195 pounds of solid muscle, handsome, blond, smart and one helluva lay. Half my girlfriends have come onto him. We've been married thirteen years, and I tolerate his sporadic infidelities as long as he observes three rules: a) no diddling my friends, b) no bringing home any diseases and c) he's gotta be ready to give it to me whenever I want it, usually three or four two hour tussles per week. Anyway, I recently got a call from the manager of our housecleaning service. She said, "Mrs. Harris, either you aren't paying us enough or Elizabeth is spending way too much time at your house. I've seen your husband. I think he may be the reason Elizabeth takes at least two hours more to do your house than she should." I was furious about this, especially since Elizabeth-my pal, looks very much like me. If Rick wants to jam some twenty-year old blonde's ass, well, that's one thing, but when he does somebody my age, my build AND presumably on my sofa-bed.I called good ol' "Liz" immediately. Friday night, Rick took our kids to the movies (he is a good father too). My friend Jennifer helped me clear the living room and when Liz arrived, I informed her she would have to fight for Rick. In fact, if she whipped me, I'd pay for the two of them to go to Atlantic City. If I won, she stopped coming over. We stripped down, naked except for our boxing gloves (8-oz. models to maximize punches) and high-top Reebok exercise shoes. Physically, we were strikingly similar. I'm 5'8'", 146 pounds, 39D-28-37. I'm no teenager, I have some flab. Liz is 5'6", 139 pounds, 36C-28-37, and no Jane Fonda either. We both have black hair and I had tied my longer hair up. My pubic hair is thicker, longer and extends up to my navel. Rick likes it like that. Other than this one fact, we looked like sisters. We started to fight. Liz came right after me, sinking her fist into my big, admittedly fat, right boob. I went down on my knees and Liz flexed her biceps and said, "Count the bitch out!" I got up and punched her in the tit. She hit me in mine and I hit her other boob solidly. Liz countered, driving her fist into my pubic hair between my navel and mons. I fell again to the carpet that I pair her to vacuum! Back on my feet once more, Liz slammed her left glove into and downward on my right breast. I staggered and she popped me on the chin with another left. I landed on my back, and Liz jammed her foot onto my poor aching right boob! Jennifer pulled Liz off. I got to my feet, my head reeling. I noticed, with some satisfaction, Liz gingerly holding up her own jugs with her boxing gloves. I shook my head and put up my fists. "What hotel are Rick an' me staying in, old bitch?" Liz taunted. I caught her left tit squarely on the nipple with a straight-on right that sent Liz sprawling. She sat down heavily, then examined her breast slowly, her breath coming in gasps. "This fight is far from over, you whore!" I told her. Liz and I pounded each other's bosoms with heavy, brutal blows. Suddenly, she scored an uppercut right on my pubic bone and before I could fall, she drove her right into the soft flesh of my lower tummy. This time, tears rolling down my cheeks, I stayed on my feet. We traded some more blows to the boobs, then I hit her right in the pussy, and Liz went down. I stood over her. "You're so tough, you slut? Get up and fight." "I'll kill you!" she gasped. "Get up and try," I sneered. Liz was not fully up when I sank my fist in the same spot she'd gotten me. She had no bush there to cushion the blow. She was on her back. I've gotta give her credit. Liz got up and we gave each other a beating, punishing each other's knockers mercilessly and trying vainly to land a killer shot to the other's twat. All at once, she grabbed me in a clinch, her sweaty heaving jugs crushed against my own. The dirty whore tried to knee me in my twat, but I shoved her away, smacked her tit with my left, then drove home my right, catching her solidly on her pubic bone. Liz was on her knees, whimpering. I stripped off my gloves, then yanked hers off too. I pulled her to her feet by her hair, then put up my bare fists. Liz lunged at me, as if to tackle me, but I side-stepped her, punching her in the jaw as she went by. Liz staggered one step then fell. I sat on my vanquished rival, smothering her in the hot forest of my pubic hair. After Jennifer snapped our picture with a Polaroid, I moved down so I was seated on Liz's boobs. "Who's gonna kill who, Liz?" I demanded. "Damn it, Angela, I give up!" she cried. "MY tits! Oh, God you win, I give up!" I let her sit up. Before Liz got back on her feet, I brought her clothes and tossed them on her. "Anytime you wanna fuck my husband, Elizabeth, just drop by. Winner takes him," I told her. That night Rick came home to fine me holding ice packs to my tits. The Poloroids Jennifer had snapped during and after the fight answered all his questions. Less than a month later, Liz came back for more. This time, she gave me a black eye. I've been thinking, she should tell you about that one.-New Jersey. A bunch of guys in my fraternity, including myself, get a real blast out of your magazine. We really get a kick out of the "Fight Time" letters, especially those few and far betweeners covering mixed matches. A number of us have the same Pol-Sci instructor, Mr. Perkins, who is a real trip. The guy's totally hung up on male supremacy-at least he was. He continually parallels women's physical traits to their lack of economic and social status. The funny thing is, Mr. Perkins could be the model for that 97 pound weakling in those Charles Atlas ads. He's in his mid or late thirties, can't be more than 5'3" and probably weighs about 110 pounds when he's wet. He's got a receding hairline, a pot belly and wears thick glasses. The guy's a classic nerd. He was on one of his tirades, when my friend Chuck, who's on the football and basketball teams, couldn't take any more. "Shit, Mr. Perkins," he interrupted, "you're living in the Dark Ages," he shouted. "There's not only a lot of women out there who make more money than you, and have better jobs, there's a bunch of chicks who could whip your ass in a wrestling match if they wanted to." Mr. Perkins turned red with rage. He pointed his finger at Chuck and with his wimpy Eastern accent said, "Young man, if you can provide proof of any one of your allegations, you will have earned yourself an `A' for this course!" Chuck took on a humble demeanor, but shot me a quick wink. I knew what he was thinking. "Well, sir, my sister Amy just graduated from high school, but I would not doubt that she would prevail in a test of strength with you, sir, even though she's just a teenage lass." Chuck's condescending tone was so authentic sounding, I shot him the "gag me with your bullshit" sign. I knew Amy, and what Chuck was leading up to kept us both on the verge of breaking into hysterical laughter. Mr. Perkins swallowed the bait, hook, line and sinker. We arranged a "showdown" at our frat house on Saturday night. The word soon got out and that night there were three or four dozen guys, along with a lot of our girlfriends at the house. Amy was strategically hidden in the back room, awaiting Mr. Perkin's arrival. He finally showed up, wearing a nerdy polyester track suit and cheap tennis shoes. He looked a little nervous at first, but put on a good front saying "Well, I'm a busy man, let's see this young lady you've set me up against so that I can prove my point quickly." He rubbed his hands nervously, but didn't seen all that concerned. Chuck, who's 6'4" and weighs 230 pounds, said he would go get his sister, but using a nervous tone, said, "I hope you won't be too rough on my kid sister, sir." Mr. Perkins only sneered as an answer. Chuck went back to bring Amy out. When they came into the room, Mr. Perkins' eyes got real wide. Chuck's "little" sister Amy, eighteen years old, was nearly as tall as her older brother. She's a real knockout, with blue eyes and light brown hair. She smiled shyly at the group, even though she knew most of us pretty well. She was wearing a full length bathrobe (Chuck's) so her attributes were left to the imagination for the time. She walked up to Mr. Perkins and introduced herself. At 6'2", Amy was almost a foot taller than our teacher. Nevertheless, she acted very respectful. "My brother told me that you wouldn't be too rough, Mr. Perkins." He was zonked by her height, but cleared his throat and said, "I'll keep that in mind miss." When Amy stepped back and dropped her robe, all the guys started cheering and Mr. Perkins almost passed out. Amy's a bodybuilder and weight lifter, with a body that would blow any guy's mind. She was wearing a tiny yellow string bikini. Her tan and powerfully muscled physique is an absolute ten. There were probably a lot of guys in the room who wished they had arms and legs like Amy. Enjoying the crowd's enthusiastic response, Amy went into a bicep flexing pose, then showed off the extreme muscularity of her lower limbs by flexing up her legs at the same time. She asked Mr. Perkins to strip down to his "wrestling outfit," which he reluctantly did-it consisted of a blue set of gym shorts. He looked so pale and puny compared to Amy, that most of the audience started laughing. Chuck stepped up and started point out the comparative features of Amy's and Mr. Perkin's physiques. He was getting a real kick, while Mr. Perkins looked like he wanted to crawl under a rock. Chuck then said that it was now Mr. Perkins' opportunity to demonstrate his concept of "male supremacy." I have to admit Mr. Perkins show some confidence. He swallowed, then said to the observers, "Well, I'll just get this over with quickly." With surprising speed, he lunged at Amy and grabbed her. He used several moves to try to get Amy off balance, but she held her ground. She blinked youthful and innocent eyes at her brother, as if to say, "What should I do now?" Chuck gave a thumbs up sign, and Amy seemed to gain a totally new level of confidence. She smiled, and at Mr. Perkins' next lurch, she grabbed him around the middle, and with no sign of effort at all lifted him up into her arms. She held him that way until he somewhat regained his composure. Amy, like her brother, was quite a showoff, and she was obviously having a good time. She laughed, then looked over at Chuck and said, "I've always wrestled big mooses like you before. I don't really know what to do with this little guy." Chuck told her to use some holds he had taught her. So she maneuvered Mr. Perkins in her arms until he was upside down, his legs hanging across Amy's shoulders and his head level with her knees. She had her arms wrapped around his stomach and she started to squeeze him. Mr. Perkins was wiggling like crazy and started gasping for air. Amy finally let him slip to the floor and she put her foot on his back and grabbed his arms, pulling them up until he screamed in pain. Amy made him admit to defeat for the first round. She let loose of his arms but kept one foot on his back. Looking around proudly, she flexed up her muscular arms and said, "College professor zero, teenage student one." Everyone applauded. Mr. Perkins was allowed to stand up, and he looked a little wobbly on his feet. Amy asked if he was ready for round two to start, and once again, she let Mr. Perkins make the first move. He grabbed Amy by the upper arms, and it looked like the move he was using was an attempt to trip her and he tried to push her back, while moving one of his feet behind her. Amy probably outweighed him by forty or fifty pounds and she didn't budge. Slowly, she flexed up her arms, her biceps expanding so much, that Mr. Perkins couldn't maintain his grip. He let loose, a bit winded and not knowing what to try next. Amy stepped back and with a look of mischief across her youthful face, put her arms behind her back. She tensed up her abdomen so that the muscles beneath her tan smooth skin rippled noticeably. "Mr. Perkins, you can punch me three times in the stomach as hard as you want. If it hurts, then you win this round." Mr. Perkins hesitated, then wound up and punched with all his might. Amy didn't even flinch. The two following blows had the same effect. "Now it's my turn," Amy laughed. Mr. Perkins wouldn't open himself, so Amy drew both his arms behind him and held him by the wrists with just one hand. He struggled but couldn't get loose. Amy looked over at a couple of girls in the room, and with a wink, said, "Hey guys, this opens up some interesting opportunities." To make her point, she reached down and gave Mr. Perkins a squeeze on the crotch. Everyone went wild! Mr. Perkins stammered, "Young lady, you're taking this too far." Amy made a fist, and delivered a modest punch to Mr. Perkins' gut. He immediately doubled over. Amy allowed him enough time to recover then helped him straighten up. Then she reached down and grasped either side of Mr. Perkins's gym shorts and she lifted up, pulling him off his feet. The pressure on his crotch made him start yelling, and holding him aloft in that painful hold, she made him acknowledge defeat for round two. By now Mr. Perkins was ready to give up, but there was one round left and Amy wanted an uncontested victory. This time, she made the first move, grabbing Mr. Perkins up in a bearhug and squeezing him so hard, he looked like he would lose consciousness. She carried him around until he voiced his defeat. To put icing on the cake, Amy kneeled down on one leg and draped him across her left thigh. This move made several guys in the audience moan, because it looked like she was going to break the man in two. She kept the pressure on until Mr. Perkins's pleadings made her let up. She casually reached down and started tugging his shorts off. He started to resist, but a quick squeeze of his gonads made him resign. Amy finished stripping him, and held his shorts up like a trophy, for all the audience to see. She gathered Mr. Perkins into her lap, sitting down cross-legged and reached into his crotch with both hands, clasping his nuts in one and his dick in the other. Before the crowd, she proceeded to publicly jerk him off. He let out a final moan when she succeeded in completing her task. Mr. Perkins left without another word, and since that time, his class lectures have been much more "by the books." We will all fondly remember that encounter. I've bet a lot of the guys wished they could have been in Mr. Perkins shoes-at least for a while!--Phoenix. I often find your letter stimulating and erotic. I'm a male, with probably far greater mixed boxing experience that all but a few Cavalier readers. From the time Taryn, my older cousin, was age seven, and I five years old, we regularly put on boxing gloves and fought one another with merciless earnestly. At that age, Taryn was about my height, and for several years, she gradually went from six pounds heavier that I to about ten-fifteen pounds lighter. I've no real notion of how we first got started, except to recall us, two pint-sized battlers, clad only in white undershorts, wearing huge brown boxing gloves. We got together in Taryn's basement in cooler months, stripped down, laced on the gloves, and beat each other without respite until one of us gave up or was "counted out." At first, Taryn clobbered me in less than five minutes, but gradually our bouts became more closely contested. By the time we were in junior high school, our fights usually lasted twenty to twenty-five minutes, and often we simply agreed to a draw after battling over half an hour, throwing leather non-stop. By the time my fourteenth birthday drew near, I was beginning a spurt of growth which would make me too big for my pugnacious cousin; however, even after we achieved sexual maturity, we fought our clandestine basement bouts clad only in undershorts-Taryn, now sporting firm 34C tits, as barechested as I. In fact, she won our last fight, putting me down for a ten-count, precisely because I, a horny young man, concentrated on her jutting round boobs while Taryn punched me resolutely in the chin! Naturally, all this interfamily boxing made Taryn and me exceptional fighters when facing others. From the time I was ten until I was fifteen, I knocked out two dozen other boys in the boxing ring in my garage; most of my victims lasted less than two rounds. After that, I moved on largely to other sports, although on six or seven occasions, I'd return to Taryn's basement, don the gloves, and take on one of her boyfriends, who was often three or four years older and out-weighed me by up to twenty-five pounds. Ultimately, Taryn went off to college. Two years later, I did too, though I went to a different school. It was during my freshman year at Ohio State I fought my last match, also my first and only professional match. Climbing into a ring in some small Indiana town, I knocked out a veteran of three pro bouts ( a 225 pounder) in the second round. In college, Taryn, like me, intended to move into other athletic endeavors. She chose basketball; at that time a woman 5'9" and 144 pounds (a ripe 36C-25-35) was considered pretty tall, not like today's very tall women hoopsters. Taryn quickly demonstrated quite a knack for roundball, and became a "pet" of her coach. Unfortunately, this created friction between my cousin and a senior who'd been the only real star before Taryn arrived. An elbow here, a shove there, some juvenile pranks aimed at Taryn, like nailing her sneakers to the locker room floor, soon led to a confrontation between Taryn and the other girl, Lenore. Leaving the court after practice, Lenore told Taryn that my cousin was in danger of getting a "whipping." Taryn told her adversary to go to hell, and they tore into each other. The coach separated them, informing the two players that if they wanted a fight, the coach would fetch the boxing gloves the football coach kept for similar disputes on his team. As Taryn's roommate told me, the two girls squared off in huge 16 oz gloves, still clad in their basketball uniforms. Lenore, a volatile redhead, was only 5'6" but 160 pounds. Also, she was quite buxom. Lenore's measurements were estimated as 38D or E-27-38. The redhead was eager and confident; Taryn no doubt seemed cool, perhaps a tad nervous. They traded body blows, then my cousin assumed command! Taryn caught Lenore full in the face with a left; the redhead's hands came down, and Taryn decked her with a right. Back on her feet, Lenore attached like a wild woman, time and again charging her taller rival, punching wildly. Inevitably, Taryn's practiced fists found their mark, and Lenore's attack was turned back. After half a dozen of these vain assaults, Lenore at last got close enough to mix it up with Taryn, and at that point, both girls showed courage and punching power that drew cheers from the burgeoning crowd of male and female students. All of Taryn's unanswered blows has punished Lenore, of course, so much so, that within moments Taryn was once more in control. Both girls spotted blossoming black eyes as they circled on the hardwood floor. Lenore, however, was bleeding from her nose and a split upper lip. Taryn socked Lenore squarely on the chin, knocking the busty redhead down. The coach intervened, declaring Taryn the winner. Neither girl was happy with the outcome. Soon after, now nude, they continued the fight in the showers, with only their teammates watching. Lenore was more in her element in a catfight, biting, clawing, pulling hair, and kicking. Taryn knew she could triumph by staying with what she knew best. No longer cushioned by big mitts, Taryn's fists worked their wicked toll on Lenore's bare breasts as well as the redhead's face. It was all largely a repeat of Lenore's futile attack strategy when they boxed. Then minutes after they'd stripped down, Taryn knocked Lenore quite literally out cold. Before the season ended, Taryn fought Lenore on three other occasions, all "street fight" brawls. Their last match, which left Lenore with a broken jaw and cracked rib, caused both of them to be expelled from their college. Ironically, they recently met at a convention, and Lenore introduced Taryn as the "only woman I couldn't whip in a fight, fair or not." Over the course of dinner, they agreed to another go (though both are now forty). Taryn and I have been weight training and sparring, and Lenore is expected to come East for July 4th weekend. I shall report the outcome.-New Jersey Hi "Fight Time!" My name is Roxanne, my sister, Rhonda and I were featured in a letter in the January issue. We were training for a match against Jeff and his friend Curt when we met two women who were also into wrestling. Carol and Michelle helped Rhonda and me get prepared for the match. We mentioned to Jeff that we had found a couple more wrestlers and he said they could join our side in the match if they wanted. Michelle and Carol were all for that. When we arrived at Jeff's the day of the match, Jeff seemed a bit surprised to see the size of Carol and Michelle. Curt had never seen Rhonda or me so he was quite surprised to see what his buddy had gotten him into. He's about 5'8" and weighs about 160 pounds. I have to guess because he went into the kitchen to talk to Jeff and that was the last any of us saw of Curt. After that, it seemed as though Jeff was trying to get out of the match, suggesting Rhonda and I wrestle Carol and Michelle. Carol didn't like that idea saying she came to wrestle men. I could understand why Jeff would be hesitant to take on the four of us. Rhonda and I are now twenty-seven years old, we are twins, we are both 5'11" tall and weigh 265 pounds give or take a pound. Carol is twenty- four, she learned to wrestle from her brothers and at 6'3" tall weighing 280 pounds, they must have had their hands full with her. Michelle stand 6'1" tall and tips the scales at 305 pounds. Surprisingly, she is quite agile and an excellent wrestler. Michelle is twenty-nine. At 6'3" tall and 195 pounds, Jeff was on the short end of any matchup. Jeff started getting a little belligerent, calling us names and ordering us out. We decided to just leave since it was obvious Jeff was turning chicken on us. Carol and I were out the door when Jeff pushed Rhonda in the back into Michelle to get them out. Michelle bumped into the doorway and was none too happy about it. Rhonda turned towards Jeff and said, "You can apologize or get your ass kicked. Which will it be?" Jeff started to say, "Fuck you," but only got out the "Fu-" before Michelle gave him a forearm in the chest, sending him reeling back. Jeff stumbled back into the living room with the four of us right behind him. Jeff tripped over the corner of the mats he had laid out in the living room and Michelle was right there to jump on him. He tried to escape, but Michelle wrapped her big arms around his legs and held Jeff down. Michelle worked her way up onto Jeff's back and sat down asking him to apologize. Jeff made some comment about cows and that was all Carol, Rhonda and I could take. Carol and I grabbed one of Jeff's legs apiece and bent them back in a two man Boston Crab while Michelle bounced on his back. Rhonda straddled Jeff's head and pulled up on his arms in a surfboard hold in combination with Michelle. The moaning and groaning coming from his mouth was annoying to me so I gave the leg I had to Carol and moved around and having Rhonda move a little, scissored Jeff's head between my meaty thighs. Peace and quiet. Jeff's struggling had just about stopped completely after only a few minutes, so I released my hold followed by Rhonda letting his arms fall to the floor. Carol dropped his legs and helped Michelle to her feet and the four of us stood over Jeff's battered body. Jeff rolled over onto his back and Carol yelled "Pile on!" before flopping on top of Jeff. It seemed like a good idea so I jumped on Carol's back. Rhonda followed on top of me and Michelle capped the pile. I felt like a grape at the winery and there were only two on top of me, so I can imagine how Jeff felt with 1,115 pounds on him. We were able to stay balanced on the pile for a few minutes. The we rolled off and each of us gave Jeff a farewell kick in the ass before leaving. We haven't heard from Jeff lately. Are you out there Jeff? For the next few weeks the four of us got together at least twice a week to workout and do some wrestling, then Carol missed a couple of days and we all wondered where she was keeping herself, but she was very secretive about it. Finally, Carol told us that she had been dating a friend of her brother's and in the last few days, told him about how she wrestled with us. She was wary of what he might think about her wrestling, but Carol was surprised when Ron said he would like to wrestle us as well. She decided to wrestle him first to see if he would be up to it and to make sure he wasn't some kind of a nut. After a couple of matches, Carol came to the conclusion that Ron, at 6'2" tall and weighing 230 pounds, was not a nut but a good wrestler who loved getting his hands, and other things, on big beautiful women. Now she wanted to ask if we wanted to take him on. We all yelled at her for waiting and told Carol to get him over here on the double. Later that week, Carol brought Ron over and he was pleasantly surprised to meet his new friends. Since Carol had already had the pleasure of wrestling Ron, Rhonda, Michelle and I drew straws to see who would take him on that night. I think Ron would have tried to wrestle us all that night, but he was too valuable a commodity to risk breaking on the first day. Michelle drew the long straw, Rhonda drew the second longest and chose to referee, I got the short straw and am writing this letter to "Fight Time". Twenty-eight year old Ron changed into a pair of red running shorts and wore no shirt or socks. Michelle, also barefooted, had on a red and white striped leotard, she looked like a giant candy cane. Rhonda reminded them of the rules: no choking, hits below the belt or eye gouging, a three count pin or submission, no time limit, no rounds or time-outs. Michelle met Ron at the center of the mats and the two locked arms at the shoulder. They pushed back and forth about even then Ron started to move Michelle back a little. Suddenly they broke apart and Michelle ducked under and grabbed Ron on his back with Michelle on top of him. Michelle went for the pin, but Rhonda only made a one count before Ron was able to roll over on top of Michelle. They rolled over each other back and forth several times before they broke apart and got to their feet. They came together again and Ron trapped Michelle in a side headlock. Ron attempted to execute a hip-roll but when Michelle's considerable weight shifted onto his hip, Ron stumbled forward. Michelle slipped her head free and jumped onto Ron's back. She wrapped her arms around his head as Ron bent over and Michelle rode her opponent in circles around the mats. I was surprised at Ron's strength being able to stay on his feet with Michelle on his back. Finally Ron dropped to his knees, Michelle pushed hard and drove him down on his stomach. Ron was worn down from having Michelle on his back for quite awhile. Michelle just lay on his back for a few seconds plotting her next move. Raising up on her hands and feet, Michelle pushed up off the floor and crashed with all her weight on Ron's back. She repeated this move four more times and by the fifth big squash, Ron was all but finished. Michelle rolled off of his flattened body and pushing Ron over onto his back, lay across his chest for the pin. Carol and I had to help Ron over to the couch but after a few minutes and some cold water splashed on his face, he was getting back normal. He said he was glad he came and asked if he could come again and wrestle with us. He got no objections to that idea, we get tired of wrestling each other all the time, and it's fun to get your hands on a man. We're eager to find other women to wrestle and even guys, if they turn out to be as nice as Ron. Until next time, that's all from Roxanne, Rhonda, Carol and Michelle, and Ron a.k.a., The Pound Patrol, Chicago.