After the narrow loss to young starlet Ariel Winter, Sonia was itching to get back into the titfight game. With the contact info that Ms. Winter provided, Sonia was able to contact her first choice via email with a CC to Ariel for verification of her legitimacy. A few quick discussions, followed by a video chat that devolved quickly into a topless taunting fest, led to a trip to Metairie, Louisiana shortly before Fat Tuesday. Starting our trip this way, and finishing with our first Mardi Gras in New Orleans, seemed like the perfect plan.
Having access to the exclusive Metairie Garden Club neighborhood, and especially the $12 million dollar mansion of real estate mogul Joseph Canizaro, was a treat even if we can't stand his politics. The best part was that there would just be three of us in the enormous home for the night. Obviously I'm one. My beautiful bride Sonia is another. The third is her opponent, a quirkily attractive and hauntingly pale blonde who has survived being a child star and is currently part of a network TV ensemble.
With my bride's standard fight style and stakes agreed to (no hands, loser gives verbally then pleasures the winner's tits to satisfaction), the three of us now stood in the middle of a ridiculously large great room. Sonia was her usual self, decked out in her fighting suit of a skimpy leopard print thong and barely there black kimono hanging open. She was 5'2", 120, with her big 36D bombers looking fantastic, the half dollar caramel areolas bumpy with excitement and anticipation and pinky thick nipples standing at their half inch erectness. Her opponent stood completely naked, her skin absurdly pale, a cocky grin on her face as her large tits (she said 34C or D depending on the bra) rose and fell with each breath. She was slightly shorter at 5'1", only a single pound heavier than her foe, and at 20 years old she was half the age of the Colombian cougar I called my own. Her areolas were a medium pink and only the tiniest bit smaller than my wife's, and her nipples looked to be nearly the same length with only slightly less thickness.
"Lose the kimono you old hag and show me your worn out old pussy, pussy."
"Oh, Little Miss Sunshine, talk all you want but I'm going to make you scream and call me your queen by the end of the night."
"That's hilarious. I'm sure in your day people nearly fell off their horse and buggy when you so cleverly worked in little tidbits of their lives into your feeble taunts. You can call me Abi for now, and the better woman after I'm done crushing your fat sacks in front of your husband."
******
As I backed off to give them the space they would need to fight, I began to truly appraise the situation. Sonia relieved herself of her kimono, and her thong, and stepped up to the young blonde. I noted that the younger woman's body seemed somewhat thick, but soft. Her legs, hips, ass, stomach, arms, etc all seemed less fit and defined than my bride's. The difference in tits also appeared to be surprisingly obvious. While Sonia's nipples seemed to be just a miniscule bit thicker, everything else was in her favor. The actress's tits were definitely smaller and, in what had to be a huge ego boost for my wife after she encountered Ariel Winter's jam packed wrecking balls, the visible firmness seemed solidly in the favor of the older woman.
With newfound confidence, Sonia stepped into Ms. Breslin and brought their nipples into contact. Both women seemed to inhale a yelp at the electric first touch, with my bride continuing to initiate the action and pressing her breasts slowly but firmly into the pale globes that dared oppose them. She smiled, seeing the famous glands give way to her own, with my estimate being about 75% of the space between them belonging to her tanned orbs. The blonde finally did something other than talk and stand there, as she began moving her torso in an oddly angled manner, not so much avoiding contact as inviting it in a way I had never seen before.
I was obviously not the only one who was confused by this as my wife's face went from a smile to a look of shocked discomfort. The actress switched her angle every few movements, seeming to aim to the right for a few strokes and then the left for the next few. Sonia finally reacted and reached out like she was going to go for a bear hug, only to have her forearms caught by the young boob battler. This allowed a greater range of motion for the TV hottie and she used that to withdraw her breasts almost out of contact with their opposition before each angled motion stabbing back in. The pace was deliberate and the pain became so much that Sonia let out a guttural growl and dropped her head with her eyes closed.
I still had no idea what the devil was going on. I had seen those BMDs destroy some truly phenomenal tits, and hold their own against the impossible tits of Ariel Winter, and every indication was that they should be dominating tonight. I had never seen the panic, and confusion, that my bra busting babe was currently exhibiting in any of her fights before. As she whimpered at whatever the discomfort was, I saw a cruel smile on the ends of the lips of her tormentor, as she continued to almost saw away at the tits she was inexplicably beating.
Suddenly, the aggressor spoke, "Should we show your man what I'm doing to your pathetic tits? I wonder how he is going to react when he sees the first step in your eventual demise? Get your answer ready bitch. When I pull away he's going to want to know where those fat nipples of your went."
I couldn't hold back my shock, and blurted out "what?!" as the blonde pulled her tits back far enough to separate the two pairs. Right there were my bride's beautiful bombers, showing some serious reddening around the areolas and with her always proud nipples having gone into hiding. They were barely bumps on the front of her boulders, apparently sawed into submission by the unique strategy of her opponent.
******
The blonde wasted no time taking advantage of my wife's inability to wrap her head around what was happening. Maintaining her grip on Sonia's forearms, the actress began firing uppercuts into the bottom of the firmer globes. She settled into a rhythm, that wasn't a rhythm, firing one tit at a time without a true pattern to it. Left, left, right, left, right, left, left, right, right, right. While doing this, and keeping up her truly unusual approach to fighting on full display, Abi did mimic Ariel's move of driving my wife back into a wall.
Providing even more evidence that the roles she had taken through most of her career are indicative of the oddball she is, Ms Breslin decided against keeping my wife pinned to the wall. Instead, she used her grip on Sonia's forearms to pull her off the wall, stick her meaty hip and thigh into the midsection of my bride, and twist her torso to throw Sonia to the ground. No sooner had my wife landed, with an oof suggesting the wind was at least partially knocked out of her, than the blonde was sitting astride her waist and using her hands to keep the older fighter's arms pinned down. "I guess in this position you would say something cheesy like 'I'm the bomb', so here goes."
The young blonde slid back enough to line their tits up and began dropping boob bombs down with sneaky quickness. Her handhold was such that she essentially dropped a boob bomb, did a pushup to get back into position, and dropped another. She was able to show surprising fitness, considering how soft yet thick her body appeared to be, and was showing little sign of slowing down with a good 3 or 4 bombs being dropped per minute. My wife was in agony as it became difficult to distinguish where the rattling of the floor from each boob bomb began and the rattling of the walls from Sonia's screams ended.
