Family Tit Fight

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“Wendy, I’ve told you before. You are NOT going out
without a bra on, and that’s final,” said Wendy’s
mother, Bea, as she caught her daughter sneaking out
of the house for school. One glance at her daughter’s
tight school blouse had confirmed that her
fourteen-year-old daughter had not put one on, again.

“Oh mom, c’mon, I’m late for school!” complained
Wendy, looking down at her own chest – was it that
obvious?

“Not my problem. I told you before that you’re not to
go to school without one.”

“Aw, mom, no-one will know!”

“Wendy,” sighed Bea, she’d been through this argument
many times, “I told you before – you’re a big girl
now. You can’t go out like that, it really does
show.”

“I’ll put one on tomorrow, promise. It’s just that
I’m late now,” said Wendy trying to get away.

“No!” yelled her exasperated mother and grabbed
Wendy’s arm. Pulling her back into the hall she
closed the front door firmly.

“Look!” she said, pushing Wendy in front of the hall
mirror. “Can’t you see?”

“See what?” said Wendy in an annoyed, bored tone.

At that moment, Mark, Wendy’s younger brother came
through the hall on his way to school.

“Nice tits!” he said, cheekily.

“That’s enough of that!” called Bea at his retreating
back. Mark slammed the door noisily.

Wendy sulked in front of the mirror. Bea tried a
conciliatory tone. “Look Wendy, it really does show.”

She pulled Wendy’s tight-fitting school blouse in
slightly at the waist making her breasts stand out
even more. The nipples poked the material into small
peaks. Wendy was large breasted, like her mother, and
her breasts, that months ago had seemed like puppy fat
were now becoming all too apparent as she slimmed
down.

“It’s my body – I don’t have to do what you say!” spat
back Wendy.

This made Bea angry – she had tried being nice with no
result.

“Wendy! You are NOT going out without a bra and
that’s my final word!” she yelled.

“Screw you!” hurled back Wendy.

Bea looked at her daughter, shocked. Her daughter
stood before her, chest thrust out defiantly. She had
never heard her daughter use such language or that
tone on her before. Enraged, she lashed out and
slapped Wendy firmly across her breasts with her open
hand. Wendy screamed in surprise and the stinging
pain but was so angry with her mother that she slapped
her mother back. Bea had not yet dressed and Wendy’s
hand slapped her straight across her large breasts
that were covered by nothing except the flimsy
material of her night dress. The slap caused tears of
pain to run down her cheeks. Bea was livid.

“How dare you slap me young lady!” she roared and made
a well-aimed slap connect with Wendy’s breasts again.

Wendy clutched her chest in agony before launching
herself at her mother with fury. Grabbing handfuls of
her mother’s ample breasts she squeezed the flesh
hard, making her mother gasp with pain as she pushed
her back against the wall. In retaliation, Bea
reached out and grabbed her daughter’s breasts,
tearing open the buttons of her school blouse in the
process and exposing the smaller, but well-formed
breasts of her daughter.

Now mother and daughter engaged in a battle of will
versus pain. Staring defiantly into each other’s eyes
they kneaded, twisted and pulled at each other’s
breasts as pain seared through their bodies.

Eventually, due to her superior strength, Bea began to
get the upper hand. Sensing near victory she pushed
her daughter to her knees by her breasts and leant
over her, victorious. Wendy, sensing that she was
about to lose her grip on her mother’s jugs, leant
forward and bit into the flesh dangling before her.
He mother screamed in pain.

“You vicious little bitch!” she screamed and released
her grip on Wendy’s young breasts immediately.

Wendy savoured her moment of victory over her mother
and bit harder into the tender breast whilst
simultaneously reaching up and tugging viciously on
the exposed nipple of the other. Her mother now
sobbed in agony, begging her daughter to release her
tender breasts from her clasp. Wendy was unsure
whether to trust her mother yet and held on a little
longer but once she was certain that her mother had
given up the fight she let go and stood defiantly in
front of her, her own sore breasts pointed naked and
proud in front of her.

Bea clutched at her reddening sore breasts, scooping
one up to examine the damage left by Wendy’s vicious
mouth. She felt a little faint as the waves of pain
receded. Wiping away a tear she said, “You were
always biting me when you fed from these too.”

Wendy suddenly felt very guilty at what she had done
to her mother. The woman who had given birth to her
and had fed her at her own breast.

“Oh mom, I’m so sorry….” she started, looking down
at her mother’s exposed breasts that were reddening
from the pummelling they had received at her hands.
Instinctively she reached out to touch one, to make it
feel better, but her mother flinched away as she
reached out.

“Oh mom, I’m not going to hurt you any more. I just
wanted to make you feel better!”

Slowly, cautiously, Bea dropped her hands from her
sore and aching breasts as Wendy reached up to gently
hold them. She gently stroked the area that she had
bitten, her face wincing with imagined pain at the
hurt she had just caused. Bea smiled and reached up
her own hands to cup her daughter’s tender breasts and
gently stroked the red streaked flesh better.

Bea grinned broadly. “Look at us,” she said and Wendy
had to laugh at the ridiculous sight they made in the
mirror – mother and daughter, stroking each other’s
bruised and battered breasts.

“Come on,” she said, “Go and sit down and I’ll get
some ice – you can’t go to school like that!”

While Wendy went and flopped on the sofa, Bea went to
the kitchen and fetched some ice that she rolled up
inside a cloth. All the time she felt a strong
throbbing ache from her own breasts.

Kneeling beside Wendy she first told her to remove the
ripped school blouse she was wearing. Wendy winced as
she tried to undo the remaining buttons so Bea helped
her daughter with it, undoing the buttons down to her
waist then finally pulling it off her arms, leaving
her daughter’s chest fully exposed. Gently she put
the ice-pack to her daughter’s sore breasts and dabbed
at the tender teats very carefully.

“Ooh!” shivered Wendy. “Thanks mom. That feels really
great – why don’t you try it?”

She took the cloth from her mother’s hands and,
slipping the ripped night dress from her mother’s
shoulders, tended to her breasts with the ice-pack.
Bea hung her head back, letting her long hair slide
down her back and enjoyed the sensations of the
ice-pack being gently moved over her full breasts.
She could not prevent her nipples from becoming taught
under the sensations, causing a frisson of pleasure
and pain. Bea had thick, long nipples and in
hardening they tugged at her breasts. Wendy giggled
at the sight of them erecting under her ministrations;
they were like two independent creatures. Playfully
she brushed the back of her hand over one nipple,
enjoying the rubbery feeling and the way it bounced
back into position. Her mother winced at the
sensation.

“Ouch! That’s really tender right now!” she
complained.

“Sorry mom,” said Wendy. She looked down at her own
nipples which had also hardened into two tight little
nubs, but they were nowhere near the size of her
mother’ immense teats. Wendy felt slightly envious
and wondered if her own breasts would ever be as large
as her mother’s. She suddenly had an insane desire to
suckle at one of the rubbery teats and wondered if it
was a hangover from when she was a baby. Did all
children have a secret longing to suckle at their
mother’s breasts again? She dismissed the idea from
her mind and went back to dabbing the ice-pack on her
mother’s breasts.

“Mom….” began Wendy, coyly.

“Yes dear? What is it?” answered her mother vaguely,
eyes still shut.

“Ummm, can I ask you something…?”

“Anything….” breathed Bea.

“Uhmmm…. Do I have to go to school today?”

Bea opened her eyes and looked at her daughter
sharply. Glancing at her daughter’s exposed breasts
she saw that they still looked red and sore from her
punishment of them. She felt a pang of guilt.

“Well, no, my dear. But just for today until those
get better.”

Bea closed her eyes and hung back her head again.
Wendy grinned happily and continued ministering to her
mother’s throbbing breasts.

Later that day the doorbell rang. Bea opened the door
and recognised the woman immediately, it was Wendy’s
teacher, Ms. Brahms. She was not smiling.

“Hello Ms. Brahms, what can I do for you?”

“Do you mind if I come in?”

“Certainly not, come in and have a seat. Coffee?”

“No. Thank you,” said Rachel Brahms coldly as she
stepped past Bea and entered the living room.

When they were both sitting Rachel came straight to
the point, “Mrs. Lee, where is Wendy?”

“Oh, in bed – she’s not feeling well today.”

“Are you sure she’s really ill?”

“Oh certainly, I… I examined her myself. Why do you
ask?” said Bea, leaning forward.

Rachel Brahms glanced down at Bea’s full breasts that
surged into a cleavage in her low cut top. She
couldn’t help noticing the red marks and this
distraction flustered her slightly.

“I… I wanted to check with you as Wendy’s taken a
lot of time of school this year and I’m worried about
her performance. Also, there was a more, uhm,
personal matter.”

Looking at Rachel, Bea could see she was somewhat
uncomfortable. “Oh? And what would that be?”

“Well, it’s a bit delicate, but could you ask Wendy to
wear a bra to school in future?”

Bea flushed. It was one thing for her to tell her own
daughter to wear a bra but she resented this young
teacher coming to her house and telling her what her
daughter should or shouldn’t wear. She snapped.

“What’s the matter? Can’t keep your eyes off them
then?”

Rachel’s eyes, which had once again slipped down to
examining Bea’s enticing cleavage, flicked back to
Bea’s face and for a face-reddening moment Rachel
thought she had been talking about her looking at
Bea’s own ample breasts. When she twigged she was
horrified and stammered out an explanation.

“Oh… oh no, I… I didn’t mean that at all! I
simply meant that your daughter’s, uhm, well, breasts
were a distraction to some of her classmates.” Oh
dear, thought Rachel, this isn’t going at all how I
imagined it.

Bea sat up straight. She had noticed with contempt
that Rachel had been ogling her own breasts.

“I’m not so sure – you’re not exactly well stacked are
you?” she said, cruelly referring to the small bumps
in Rachel’s top. “Maybe you’re jealous. You
certainly can’t seem to take your eyes of these,” she
added, thrusting out her own full bosom.

“I… I wasn’t!” stammered Rachel, blushing crimson.

“Really?” said Bea and in one swift movement she had
unfastened her top and her unfettered breasts sprang
free.

Rachel could not help but gawp at the magnificent
sight of them. For the second time that day Bea felt
inordinately proud of her breasts.

“I… I have to go,” muttered Rachel, reluctantly
tearing her eyes from Bea’s chest and standing.

“Fine with me,” said Bea.

Rachel rushed from the room and let herself out.

As the door slammed Bea burst out laughing and Wendy
joined her from the other side of the door where she’d
been listening to the whole thing. Ellen too was
topless; her breasts still felt too sore to be
covered.

“Oh mom, you were simply BRILLIANT!” she squealed and
hugged her mother tightly.

Naked breast to naked breast the two women embraced
happily.

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