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Old 08-Sep-16, 02:10
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Default Intergenerational Family Fighting

This story is a collaboration between me and @[Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]. It's about a large family wrestling each other, so you might want to take a pass if a young man wrestling his aunt or grandmother doesn't sound appealing. Otherwise, enjoy!

***

Every holiday season, a certain family meets up for the annual Christmas Cage event. There are other holiday tournaments hosted at family rings and gyms all over the state, but none trump Christmas as the entire family descends on farm down in nice warm Texas. Two steel cage wrestling rings are set up, and there are about two weeks of non-stop in-family wrestling. Aunts fight nephews, mothers wrestle daughters and fathers grapple with sons.
It had been some time since Old Bess, The Matriarch, had last competed. She had a string of successful title defenses at the ripe old age of 63, and decided to retire on top. Four years later she saw her youngest grandson utterly thrash Sheila, the reigning champion, his own mother. He took her title, her blue bra, and after a finishing titty fuck, her dignity. During the past year he’s been touring the many family rings, fighting the local champions. He has bested Aunt Betty, molested Marlene the Finger, and pile drove his uncle Ted through a table.

Early on Christmas Eve morning, the champ follows a note telling him to show up at the main cage at 6am. No one else is up; as he enters the barn, the interior is dimly lit. He warily makes his way to the cage, and as he steps inside the lights suddenly snap on.
"Hello Sweety," across from him stands the Matriarch, reigning champion five years before, and a woman he mostly knows for constantly sneaking him cookies. "I've been watching your matches and fancied a go."
The champ can’t believe his eyes; his grandmother, leaning across the ropes, looks like she’s about to pop out of her pink one-piece. Her grey hair is up in a bun, a mysterious smile on her face.
“Granny, what are you doing here?”
“Why, sweetie. I’m here to take that title off you.”
“Are you serious?” he laughs. She crosses her arms under her big tits.
“Do I look like I’m serious?”
“Grandma, come on. I know you were great back when dinosaurs roamed the earth, but…” She comes off the ropes, meeting the champ in the center of the ring. He can smell her perfume as she glares up at him; I’ve got four inches of height on her, not to mention a 40+ year age advantage.
But it looks like she wants to fight, and the champ figures he might as well send her into permanent retirement with a match to remember. She offers to lock up, and she is surprisingly strong. The champ had banked on just being able to push her down, but they end up shoving each other around the ring, neither one able to quickly overpower the other. Soon both of them are breathing heavily, Grandma’s face starting to flush as both fighters pour as much power as they can into the contest of strength. The younger fighter’s strength inevitably begins to tell, but before he can force his older opponent down she launches a sneak attack, closing in and lashing out with her right leg. Her booted foot smacks into the back of his left knee. He can’t help but go down into a kneel, and the champ is already in trouble as looks up into his opponent’s determined face.

The Matriarch can’t help but be a little smug - this old biddy is still able to teach her young grandson something. She pulls him into a headlock, cranking the pressure on his skull, turning his head painfully to the side (and incidentally shoving his face into her soft breast). She pulls him to his feet, walking him out to the middle of the ring while viciously cranking his neck.

"I want to say it's nothing personal, but after what you did to my daughter, well it got me a little, excited~..." she purrs. He gets his hands on her arms and starts working on prying her arm off; but she’s a wily old bitch, hopping forward and swinging her legs up. She brings her full weight forward and down, driving her grandson face first into the unyielding mat.
Every pound of the Matriarch's weight is behind this move, leaving the champ laying on the mat humiliated (and a little turned on) at being man-handled to start the match. But he still thinks he has time; he can afford to make a mistake or two - he just has to outlast a 63 year old.
Of course that’s easier said than done. He’s only managed to get up to his knees when Grandma attacks from behind, planting one of her white wrestling boots in the center of his back. She grabs his wrists, pulling his arms back painfully as she presses with her foot. The champ can’t see his opponent’s face, but he can hear the smile in her voice as she asks if he wants to give up. He spits a defiant no, trying to get to his feet.
The Matriarch stretches him as far as she thinks she can without seriously injuring her grandson. She yanks him back, her suit stretched to the fullest as her cleavage spills over the top (it’s designed for a much younger woman - it’s a shame the champ can’t see it!)
Suddenly she starts getting pulled forward - with a mighty yell the champ starts flexing his impressive arms and chest. To the Matriarch’s unpleasant surprise, he completely overpowers her. Her grip slips as his arms come free and he turns around to face her, leaning forward to charge.
But before he can she wraps her arms around his head. She aims to prove her skill can trump his strength as she snaps off a crisp DDT. The Matriarch isn’t the strongest opponent the champ has faced, but she has a lifetime of experience, and he’s hurting pretty bad as he slowly rolls over onto his back. He finds himself looking up at his grandmother, standing over him, bending down and giving him a great look at her exquisite cleavage.
“What’s the matter, honey? Mister Big Bad Champion can’t even lay a hand on me, can you?”
Ignoring the taunt, he rolls away up to his feet. The fighters face off, the younger man knowing he has to bring his superior strength to bear. He tries to set a trap for his opponent, rubbing his neck and breathing hard, hoping she’ll think he’s more injured than he really is. As they close he fakes high, then goes low, trying to wrap his strong arms around his opponent’s midsection.
It would have to be a great feint to fool this old pro, and it’s not good enough - he manages to wrap his arms around her ribs and lift his grandmother into the air, giving her a hard squeeze, but she’s positioned herself so that his face goes right into her breasts. For a second the advantage hangs in the balance; the Matriarch swears she can hear her bones creaking as her grandson pours on the pressure. But he can’t resist the tempting targets brushing against his face and starts motorboating the ex-champ. Her body shudders in his embrace as his buzzing lips tickle her old girls. He feels her nipples harden against his face, then his lips take one, swimsuit and all. Her arms are free and she wraps them around his head, burying his face into her cleavage, fully smothering him.
Just when she thinks she has him, she feels gravity shifting; she has barely enough time to think “Ohshit!” then finds herself letting go as her back slams into the mat. She curls up, mute with agony, pushing her chest further up into her opponent’s face. His lips pop off her nipple and he gives her breast a friendly squeeze as he climbs off her. Her suit came a little loose after the slam; her nipples are still covered, but her cleavage is an inch away from overflowing out of her suit, and with every pained breath she takes on the ground they swell that much more.

The Matriarch feels the champ grabbing her grey hair as he straddles her. He knows what he should do - one hand buried in Grandma’s locks to hold her helpless, the other formed into a fist to punch her in the face.
But he can’t quite do it. His fighting spirit is struggling against a lifetime of Grandma feeding him cookies, not to mention the haze of lust clouding his mind, and he just can’t bring myself to land the blow. Instead he goes lower, slamming a punch into his opponent’s stomach, looking to press his advantage and weaken her before pulling her suit top down. The Matriarch looks like a soft old lady, and he was prepared to his hand to sink deep, knocking the wind out of her - instead the blow is mostly deflected by her strong abs. With a grunt he draws his arm back for another punch, but is stopped dead as Grandma grabs his balls through his suit. It’s a thin thong, designed more to be ripped off during the fight than provide any protection, and he freezes in shock as her other hand wraps around his hard shaft.
He completely misses her legs wrapping around his throat. While she’s happy her opponent didn’t crack her in the face, he really shouldn’t pull his punches - she is determined to teach him this lesson, her legs flexing as she squeezes his balls almost painfully while taking a long, fast pump of his cock. His defense is confused, and he arches backwards as her thick and extremely powerful thighs pull his core back, slamming him into the mat head-first.
With years of ring experience, Grandma rolls upwards as he falls back, bringing his hips over his head. She doesn’t rip the thong off yet, instead peeking his dick out of it and spitting into her hand. She pumps his dick up and down as it hovers over his face.
"Remember baby, an orgasm doesn't count as a fall..."
The champ’s head is swimming as the ex-champ works him over, aiming the tip of his cock right at his nose and mouth. He’s seen this finish before, and there are few that are more humiliating. He’s finding out first-hand how good his grandmother is at stroking cock, hearing himself moan despite himself, a cute look of determination on his opponent’s face as her hand flies up and down his shaft.
Part of him wants to give in, to let her finish him, let her humiliate him, take his belt and his pride. Where is this coming from? He’s never felt like this before, not when demolishing his aunts, uncles, cousins, or even his own mother for the belt.
But he isn’t done yet. It’s now or never and with a scream of effort he manages to push himself off the mat, getting his legs in between himself and the Matriarch, forcing her hand away. He barely makes it - another five seconds and he would have gone over the edge. He has enough respect for his opponent’s skills to know that if she’d made him cum, he would have been left weak, at her mercy.
He knows he needs to buy himself some time as he tucks his achingly hard cock back into his suit. Even the tip rubbing against the material feels like enough to set him off as he circles with his opponent. Grandma knows it, too; his only hope is to keep her away long enough to try and calm down.
But the Matriarch has a killer instinct and she lunges, pressing home her attack. The champ is expecting her to go low and try to finish him off, but she fools him again as she wraps him up in a clinch.
"Ah, sweetheart are you tired?" The actual worry in her tone confuses him for a minute. "Am I going to hard?" A knee lift catches him straight in the breadbasket. "I thought you'd be able to handle an old nag like me. Isn’t this my match to retire on?" He tries to gasp for air, but his face goes right back between her boobs, his airflow cut off by her soft material flesh. More knees slam into his stomach and sides as she backs him towards the corner. If she can keep the offensive up, she’s going to try and drape her grandson over the rope, then work his abs and finish him off.
Of course the Champ doesn’t know exactly what her plan is, but he knows enough to figure out that whatever she has in store for him isn’t good. Not that it seems he can do much about it at the moment - between his grandmother’s expertly aimed kneestrikes and devistating titsmother, she has control of the match, manhandling her young opponent across the ring. He takes the deepest breath he can and makes his move, bracing himself hard against the mat, wrapping his arms around his opponent’s body, quickly lifting her up and over his head in a suplex. He hears the satisfying smack of her body hitting the mat as he gets up to his knees, noting how close he had come to the ropes - a few more steps and he might have accidently suplexed his grandmother right into the mesh cage. As it is, she’s close enough to the edge to quickly pull herself up to her feet using the ropes, facing the champ. Hoping she’s a little dazed he attacks, trying to push her into the corner; he gets one hand under her chin, making her see double as he shoves her into the ropes so far her back touches the ringpost. She grimaces as he forces her head up into the air, the bright roof lights blinding her. Her breasts strain against the pink fabric of her suit as they try to spill out, and he buries his hand in her unprepared gut, forcing the air out of her lungs in a gasp. He hits her again - one, two, three, four… she loses counts as he lands punch after punch into her stomach, abusing her old abs. His hand travels up, giving her a squeeze as he backs up. The Matriarch’s legs feel like jelly and she rests her head on the turnbuckle to catch her breath.
His backhand slaps her right in her tender chest and she cries in pain as she drops to the bottom against the corner, one hand going to cradle her sore breast. She feels his strong hand grabbing her hair again, keeping her head steady. He’s determined not to make the same mistake again and gives his grandmother the hardest slap he can.
“How’s that, granny?!” he barks, giving her another backhand. He’s enjoying his dominance, but he knows he can’t keep his opponent in this position long - his groin is wide open, and he’s learned from painful experience not to leave his wily opponent even the smallest opening.
So he pulls Grandma to her feet, pushing her back into the corner, lowering his shoulder and slamming it into her midsection a few times, relishing the Matriarch’s groan with each impact. Satisfied she’s helpless for the moment, he can’t stop himself from peeling down the straps on her bright pink suit. As he works the material down her body, her large breasts tumble free into the cool air. He cups her bare tits, then lowers his mouth to her chest, wrapping his arms around her just in case. He takes her left nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his lips. He switches targets as his opponent hangs limply on the corner ropes, her head back against the turnbuckle, her once neat hair bun coming undone. His lecherous hands, having freed her breasts from their inadequate pink confines, now expertly massage her girls, while his mouth suckles her thick nipples, tracing her large areola. Her nethers have been stirring for a while, but this is the first time she’s been in danger of losing control…
She’s at his mercy as he pops off her nipple. She doesn’t have the strength to resist as he hoists her up on top of the turnbuckle. She knows he’s planning something big as he wraps his arm around her head.
The Champ has to give it to the ex-Champ - she’s a tough old broad, and she gave him a great fight, but he’s ready to send her into retirement with a bang. He delivers one last gut shot to keep her stunned, then lifts her over his head from the top turnbuckle in a superplex. He wishes there was a crowd here to see this move as the bottom of her boots almost brushes the top of the cage for a second before both fighters come back down to earth, Grandma slamming into the mat on her back. The impact finally knocks her bun loose, and the champ takes a minute to drink in his topless opponent lying on the mat, a fan of grey hair surrounding her head.
His eyes fall on her bare breasts - he briefly considers going for a finishing titfuck, but he put her daughter away with that move, and he doesn’t want to repeat a spot, even without an audience.
Perhaps it would be safest to just go for a pin. He plops his butt right on his grandmother’s face, reaching forward to grab her ankles, pulling them apart and then up, tucking her legs under his armpits in a humiliating pin position. He’s got respect for his opponent’s strong legs, but he’s counting on her being too out of gas to get out of this position as he wiggles his rear against her face. She groans into his package as he starts counting.

"1, 2, 3," she start to regain enough consciousness that she recognizes the testicles resting on her mouth. She knows what to do with those - her tongue licks out, encompassing one of the champion’s balls. Gently she sucks on it through his thong. "F-four, f-f-five!" His erection starts to visibly strain against that tiny thong. He stutteringly makes it to nine when he feels teeth.
With a howl he leaps off his opponent, completely disbelieving that his old granny would dare to bite his balls. She rolls over chuckling, and he realizes he’s been had; she didn’t bite down, just grazed him enough to make him panic. He attacks with fury.
“You fucking slag!” he yells as he grabs her hair again. Whatever he was planning to do next, he’s brought up short as her fist impacts solidly with his nuts.
“Language,” she scolds. The champ is in incredible pain, sinking to his knees, cupping his crotch and trying not to cry. He feels his opponent’s shadow looming over him and he looks up - too slow; the tip of her right boot sinks into his stomach, adding to his agony. He had to lean forward against his opponent to avoid falling down, his head resting against her stomach. He feels her stroking his hair. “Aw, poor baby. Is your granny being too rough for mister big champion?”
She hikes him up to his feet, landing two hard knee strikes to his midsection, bending him over gagging. She locks her arm around his head, setting up a DDT; he tries to push her away, his desperation giving him enough strength to shove his grandmother away, catching her arm as she lets go, Irish whipping her into the ropes. She bounces off, coming back towards her grandson, straight towards a massive clothesline.
She ducks, barrelling past her opponent, bouncing off the ropes behind him. As he turns around he has just a moment to see his old grandma, tits out, flying through the air. Then the axe handle hits, and he drops. Panting for breath, she grabs his scruffy hair, dragging him to his feet. "This is for my hair." She wraps her arm around his head, and this time he can’t stop her from landing a DDT.
She picks him up and does it again - then picks him up and does it a third time. She’s getting a little sore; her back is killing her from that superplex, and she’s surprised she can still stand. Still, that’s more than she can say for her grandson - his thong-clad ass is sticking straight up in the air, his limbs twitching.
Oh dear. Did she go too far? She decides to do what she can to end this before anyone gets… ow… hurt. She rolls him over onto his back. He weakly reaches up at his grandmother, and she punches him in the face, spinning his head to the left, dazing him. She grabs his head in one arm, and his amazingly still-hard cock in the other hand, shoving his face into her bare breasts, giving him short, fast strokes, trying to quickly pop that raging hard erection the champ is sporting.
He knows he’s in big trouble - his head, neck and back are in agony from the expertly-delivered DDTs, but even worse than that, his dick is close to surrendering to his grandmother’s skilled hand. He makes a few attempts to push her off, but he’s too weak; between her tit-smother and jerk-off attack, he’s within seconds of blowing his load and the match in one squirt. But despite all the punishment he’s absorbed he’s still got some fight left, groaning into his opponent’s boobs as he puts all of his power into a desperate shove. The Matriarch goes flying. Both fighters are slow to get up; the match is taking its toll. The champ notices his opponent holding her back as she gets to her feet, noting she’s still hurting from the superplex. He’s torn between wanting to work her back, and trying to keep her at a distance - a few more tugs would have finished him, and he has a nightmare vision of his grandmother darting in, grabbing his shaft and forcing him to a match-ending cum with a few quick strokes.
As they circle each other the champ tries to keep his eyes off his opponent’s breasts, which certainly aren’t helping him become less aroused. Perhaps, he thinks, the smart move would be to run away, catch his breath; but he still has the pride of a Champion, and he inches towards the Matriarch, hands up, looking for a take down.

Both fighters remember the match the same up to this point; but here their recollections diverge. The Matriarch remembers being slow to get up, holding her lower back with one hand, massaging the nagging ache; as she circles her opponent he is very hesitant, constantly wary for any of her dirty tricks.
She stops, holding her back as a visible tremor goes through her. The Champ strikes, shifting towards her to take her down. As his arms reach her, she grabs his head. “Got you,” she grunts, and he barely has time to blink before she spins around, dropping him into a textbook neckbreaker.
Knowing she needs to finish this now - her back is hurting even more after that move - she grabs his hair as he tries getting up, stopping him when he’s on all fours. She wraps his arms around his sides, and with a heave lifts him upside down, facing behind her. The next thing he knows, his dick is between her lips, and she is doing her best to milk him with her mouth. As his cries quickly become ragged, she feels his dick starting to twitch against her tongue, and she knows he is an inch from cumming. She takes his length down her throat and he explodes as she drives his head into the mat with authority.
No man has ever survived this move, and her grandson is no different. The Champ lays on the ground helpless, face up, with a deflated dick facing the sky. She takes the belt, wrapping it around her waist, She parades around the ring for the audience in her mind with her hands in the air: "And the winner, and your new champion! Grandma!"
And then her back spasms in pain and she staggers against the ropes. Okay, not quite able to grandstand. She looks down at her skilled and powerful grandson, and with a gentle smile she pulls his semiconscious body into one of the corners, laying his arms over the top ropes, then hooking his legs over the bottom ropes. She detaches the belt around her waist, tying it back around his.
"Good match champ, you can have your belt back. Merry Christmas dear." And with one last kiss she drops to her knees, engulfing his dick with her pillowy tits. The Champ comes around as she squeezes her breasts around his dick, pumping them up and down, her tongue flicking the tip as it pokes through. He enjoys her expert titfucking, his hips starting to spasm as he cums, exploding all over her face. Humming a Christmas carol to herself, she wipes her face, then turns and leaves the Champ in the cage, tied up in a corner naked save for his belt, for the family to find.

But that’s not how the Champ remembers it; he remembers both fighters circling, tired and hurt, knowing whoever gets the next move in will probably be able to put the whole match away. Grandma comes in high and he goes low under her arms, spinning behind her and lifting her with a suplex. It’s a bit sloppy, but it gets the job done, the Matriarch moaning a cry of pain as her injured back slams into the mat. Before she can get up he’s on her, determined to finish her before she turns the tide on him again. He jumps, dropping his butt into her stomach, driving the air out of her with a gasp. He quickly rolls his grandmother onto her chest, sitting down on her back, hooking her arms behind his knees preparing for a camel clutch.
But instead of punishing her back and neck, his hands go under her torso, kneading her breasts. He enjoys her moans as he plays with her tits, teasing her nipples with his fingers. Her body starts going limp and he goes for the finale, climbing off his opponent and hauling her up to her feet. He goes behind her, locking her into an abdominal stretch - he doesn’t apply much pressure, just enough to keep her still as he deploys his real attack, his right hand going between her legs. He starts rubbing her pussy, determined not to stop until he’s won the match. She struggles a bit, but she’s finally worn down; he pokes her in the back with his erection as he moves the strip of material covering her crotch to the side, slipping a finger in and pumping her pussy, relishing her moans as she gets closer and closer to a shattering climax. He uses two fingers to finish her, almost going off in his thong as she writhes against him in ecstasy.
When he’s finished she can’t stand, and he gently lowers her to the mat, shedding his bottoms and getting on top of her. He spreads her lower lips with his hand, hearing her moan into his ear as he presses into her.
“One,” he grunts, giving her a long, slow stroke. “Two.” He counts each full stroke, hoping he can make it to ten; he can’t even think of his grandmother to last longer. He feels his beaten opponent wrapping her arms around him as he fucks her. “Three. Four - uhh - five… Six - uh, fuck - Seven! Eight….. Nine…. ten! “ He’s not quite there yet, and he keeps going - “Eleven… twelllfuckkk… thiiiaaaaaah!” He can’t take it anymore and starts cumming, pumping his load deep in her pussy as she squeezes him.
With a gasp he pulls out, both fighters laying on the mat for a second, staring up at the ceiling. That was a hell of a match; neither fighter has been pushed that far in as long as they can remember. The Champ gets up, making sure his grandmother is okay, then walking over to pick up his belt. He brings it back to the center of the ring, where the Matriarch has shakily gotten to her feet. He offers her the belt: “Do you want to wear it one more time, grandma? You’ve earned it…”
She runs her fingers over the belt, but eventually declines the offer.
“That’s all right, honey. I’m happy it belongs to someone who deserves to wear it.” She pulls him in for a hug - “Not that I won’t take it right off you if I see you slipping!”
She gives him a kiss on the cheek and they leave the cage; she has a long day of baking ahead, and the Champ is going to take a very long nap.

Edit by admin: This story has been voted the story of the month in [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]. Congratulations, @[Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register] & @[Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]!

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  #2  
Old 08-Sep-16, 02:56
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Default Re: Intergenerational Family Fighting

Really great storytelling.damn the grandma that's crazy
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Old 08-Sep-16, 11:45
JohnByng JohnByng is offline
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Default Re: Intergenerational Family Fighting

I love old ladies kicking young guys asses, great story!
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Old 21-Sep-16, 05:23
Alai1231 Alai1231 is offline
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Default Re: Intergenerational Family Fighting

Here's Part two of the series I'm working on with SUPERDEADLYHAMATTACK! (read that with as much enthusiasm as possible)

After the Champ finished recovering from his match with the Matriarch, he spent the next two days watching some matches of his various aunts, uncles and cousins. He was settled in the cushy and overly dramatic Champions' Chair as the lights focused on the main cage. In the middle was his grandmother, the Matriarch, in a sexy Santa outfit, her red bottoms somehow containing her plump ass. Those fabulous breasts of hers are squeezed into a white bra with a red ribbon adorning the front, and finished with a festive Santa hat resting on her grey curls. As the Champ looks on, he catches her eye, and she winked at him. Suddenly he remembered how the match ended two nights prior, causing him to shudder in arousal.
"Welcome back my favorite Family!" Cheers erupted through the crowd, "It's so good to see you all at the Barn for the holidays! This Christmas we have a special treat for you! The theme of this Christmas is Intergenerational Conflict!" At everyone's confused murmur Grandmother grinned, "that's right! Usually we separate the matches along the lines of age or generation, but not today! That's right today we are going to see mothers fight sons, fathers fight daughters, aunts and uncles versus nieces and nephews!" All the gathered family memebers started looking around at their neighbors, children looking at parents, aunts looking at nephews, and one grandfather having a staring contest with his favorite gradndaughter. "And to start it off, I present to you our first match, Mother vs Son!"
Walking to the ring, her hands held high in the air, the fabulous chest she inherited from the Matriarch straining her tiny black bikini, the aforementioned Mother entered the Cage, sliding in between the ropes, "in the red corner, standing at 5'6", weighing 160 lbs, Crusher Carla!" Carla paraded around the ring, ending in the blue corner where she hopped onto the middle rope, and thrust her fist in the air, drawing several cheers from the crowd.
"And in the blue corner, her youngest son, standing 5’6”, weighing 140 pounds, Mighty Mike!”
Mike wasn’t a fan of his nickname; he’s smaller than his mother, and every time he'd been called “Mighty” it felt like a joke. So he didn't fake his pissed off look as he stomped to the ring. He doesn't have anything against his mother, but he's tired of being relegated to the jobber or the Junior division. A win here will mean big things for young Mike, including a possible title shot at his brother.
Mike slid under the ropes, heart pounding. He adjusted his thong - the smaller the suit the more reaction from the crowd, and he’s aiming for a big reaction - hoping his opponent hadn’t noticed he’s already getting a little hard.
He barely heard Grandma as she ordered him to come out wrestling; his eyes locked on his opponent’s. Carla has a lot to prove after her oldest son beat her, stripped her, and titfucked her in front of the family before leaving with her belt. Mike tried not to think about what might happen to him if he lost; his mother was surely out to make a statement that she’s still in the game by doing something just as memorable to him. He shook these thoughts away, determined to live up to his nickname tonight.
He started by offering a test of strength, his opponent smiling indulgently as she accepted. Their fingers lock together and their chests collide as they struggle, Carla’s overflowing breasts flattened against Mike’s hard pecs as they strained agaisnt one another. They’re deadlocked for about a minute; when the younger wrestler’s legs started to buckle, sweat poured off him as his mother started bending him over. He turned red with exertion as she forced him to one knee, his face now pressing against her soft cleavage. Soon he started to make choked little sobs as she bent him back as far as he can go.
"Looks like we might need to change that name son, not so mighty after all." she whispers. She can’t hear his response, but his lips moving against her bosom sounds suspiciously like, "fuck off bitch..." Well, she can't have such disrespect from her youngest. She let go of his hands and he brought them in front of him, rubbing his wrists from the ill advised strength test. He may be as tall as his opponent, but she was still a fair bit stronger.
Case in point, she grandstanded around the ring, arms in the air, chest thrust proudly out while he massaged his aching muscles. He took his eyes off his opponent for but a second to focus on his hopefully not sprained wrists, never noticing her sneak up behind him. Suddenly he felt her hands grab his tiny speedos and his shoulders. “Pay attention~!” she singsongs as she lifted him up into the air, dropping her son behind her in a textbook suplex.
Mike landed hard on the mat, the air knocked out of him with the force of the impact. He rolled away from his opponent, trying to ignore the family applauding her performance as he gets up to his feet. He really wanted to wipe the smirk off her face, and his instinct is to charge - but with her superior strength this is a move with a lot of risk. He wanted to use his speed to wear his opponent down, outlasting her before going in for the kill.
But first he’d really love to get a suplex of his own, hopefully swinging the match his way. Both fighters circled at each other, Mike waiting for an opening that didn't come before his older opponent lunged at him. She’s just a hair too slow and he manages to slip her, getting behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He went for that suplex, but - oh, shit – he got nervous. His feet weren’t braced correctly to lift her, only getting his mother a few straining inches off the mat. It must look to the hooting audience like he’s too weak to lift his opponent. He took a deep breath and set his feet, but by then it’s too late; he’s flipped over his mother’s back, hitting the mat hard and just managing to get away before she can grab him, rolling to his feet with a snarl.
Her left hook connected solidly with his jaw. His head spun to the right and he backed up, trying to raise his dukes. The older wrestler feinted towards his head, drawing his guard up, then she stepped into him and landed a solid uppercut into his stomach with enough force to lift him an inch off his feet. He pitched forward, his face once more going into the cleavage poking out of her black bikini. She sighed as she landed two more solid shots to his stomach, making him cough straight down her cleavage, tickling her nipples.
“Really Mike, we’ve talked about this,” she lectured as he started pawing at her shoulder, trying to get her off him, “you need to have a solid stance when you throw someone, like this.” She grabbed him and performed a textbook belly to belly suplex, slamming him to the mat. “Here, let me give you another example…” This time it was a belly to back suplex. “Oh, here’s another good one!” She grabbed his speedos with one hand and his shoulders with the other, bending her back upwards, lifting her opponent vertically. She held him, feet up in the air for a moment, before bringing him back down hard to the mat. She let him go, and he rolled to his side, grimacing. Carla dusted her hands off, trotting to her corner, leaning against the top ropes in her tiny bikini. She brushed her long hair off her shoulders as she stared down at her gasping son regally. The crowd went wild, and she smiled as she pumped her arm up, her bikini bouncing lightly.
“Come on Mike, you can do better…” she smirks.
Mike’s head is spinning as he got up; the crowd is really enjoying the wrestling clinic his mother is putting on, and those suplexes he’s eaten really hurt like hell. He played up the pain as he stumbles to his feet, hoping to draw his confident opponent into a trap. He’s not surprised as she moved to pull him into a breast smother - her chest is an allmighty weapon, and he’s personally seen more than one fighter demolished by them. Still selling his injury, he managed a pathetic “Mommy!” as she reached for him - at the last second he surprises her with a quick kick to the stomach. He can’t get much force into this, but Carla was unprepared for the move, and he saw her lips form a little O as he knocked the wind out of her. He quickly pulled her down into a headlock, and this time he makes sure his feet are set correctly before slamming his mother down to the mat in a DDT.
Both fighters got up, and Mike is disappointed to see that his opponent isn’t as hurt as he’d hoped; in fact, as she rubbed the back of her neck she looks more annoyed than anything else. Wanting to keep his momentum going he fakes high, then lunged at her legs. He manages to get his arms around her knees, lifting with all his might - but he barely has her feet off the ground when she shifts her weight forward onto his back, pushing him back down to the mat with a grunt.
"As your mother, I'm impressed with that DDT Mike, that really hurt," her singsong like lecture tone is back, and she can feel his torso quiver, "but... as your opponent," she slid her top against his back, her chest flattening and spreading around his ribs, "you shouldn't have gone for a grapple so soon~" and her legs closed around his head like a vice as she flexed her impressive core and back muscles to bodily lift him into the air again, his head trapped between her knees, his neck muscles straining.
“The Widowmaker,” is rather unpleasant. His legs kick and he squirmed, so she upped the pressure around his head, causing him to scream out, his body stiffening in agony.
Her hand ripped away his tiny speedo. He stilled as he feels her hand graze his length, and then he heard a muffled spitting noise. Her self-lubricated hand traveled up and down his length, alternating which end it squeezed. He soon felt her warm, slippery tongue lash out and snag one of his balls, secreting it away into the warm wet pressure of her mouth.
Now here’s a lesson for Mike. Both fighters knew “the Widowmaker” isn’t a submission hold, even as the blood drained to the younger wrestler’s head. Mike knew because he's seen Carla slam his father, brothers, cousins and uncles to the mat as they finish, their dicks helplessly squirting in their faces. That’s how this ends; can he escape?
He’s not sure - Mike felt the match and his consciousness slipping away from him as he made a panicked beginner’s mistake, pawing at his older opponent’s thighs with his hands. Her legs were far too strong for this to work, and all he managed to do is get his head squeezed and his dick stroked, both attacks wearing down his resistance. He tried getting both hands behind his mother’s left leg and pulling; he felt her shifting her weight a little, but that’s all - he can’t get the leverage he needs to really make this work. Between his head swimming and his cock throbbing in her hand, he’s almost finished and makes one last desperation move, reaching around his tormentor’s body, grabbing two handfuls of her small bottoms and pulling up as hard as he can.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he heard, muffled by her thighs. The amused tone he can make out clues him in that this isn’t going to be enough to escape. He yanked his mother’s bottoms down enough for his next move, prying her buttcheeks apart - this seems to get a reaction. He pressed his index finger against her asshole, finally forcing his opponent to make a move.
Unfortunately for Mike, the move was a piledriver, and his mother slammed his head into the mat with tremendous force. He managed to groggily roll over, slowly getting up as his opponent approaches. He felt a hand grab his hair and roughly pull his head up to face hers, drawing a pained moan from him.
But as he looked into his mother’s face, he noticed a nice rosy red blush - his oil check drew a bit more of a reaction than he initially thought. But it’s not enough to save him as his mother drags him up by the hair, marching him over to one of the corners. He tried to shake the pain away and escape, but she yanked his hair, and when he tried to push her off, gave him a slap so hard it echoes through the barn, silencing the crowd. He fell back from the force, his cheek painfully red, grabbing the top ropes to steady himself. His head spins to the right as a second slap exploded on his cheek, and then a third, then a fourth, thundering from his opponent’s pitiless hands, his head knocked right and left and right and left…
Her knee found his solar plexus, and he leaned forward, arms hanging over the ropes, forgetting how to breathe. Her arms snake around him, smothering his face into her chest. "Shhh...shhh...~" she coos to his piteously moaning body, his burning cheeks warm against her bosom, "It's okay Mike, you held out, just go to sleep~..." and as he started to fade, he hears a hummed lullaby from back when he was small.
He’s fighting against passing out, but it’s a desperate struggle - Carla is an expert at this hold, and her breasts are distressingly effective at cutting off his breathing. His head swam between the lack of air, lingering pain from her shockingly hard strikes, and his painful erection. Part of him wanted to just relax and drift off, but he’s a scrapper; he goes for one more move, and if it doesn’t work, at least he’ll have gone down fighting.
He wrapped his arms around his opponent’s body and squeezes - even at the start of the match he was overpowered by his mother, and he’s so much weaker now that he can hear her giggling at him as he squeezes. Unfortunately for Carla, she can’t see his lower body, can’t see him brace his legs, but she can squeal in surprise as he puts his remaining strength into lifting her off the mat. He can’t get her very high, but he manages to get her high enough to give her an inverted atomic drop, all of her weight driving her crotch straight down onto her opponent’s knee.
Mike is freed as his mother rolled off his leg with a shriek. Some old-fashioned family members are booing his underhanded tactics, but he’s doing whatever it takes to stay in this match. He knows he’s probably finished if his opponent can get him back into that position and tries to press his attack, grabbing his mother’s ankles, quickly spreading her legs and aiming a stomp right at her crotch.
These are classic dirty moves, not necessarily illegal but still considered low blows. They’re also quite painful - Carla felt her legs spread apart and looks up just in time to shake her head, waving her hands.
“Mike, please, not - “ his foot connected with her pubic mound and her pleading is cut short with a shriek. Pain exploded from her crotch and spots danced in front of her eyes. Mike gave his mother another stomp for good measure then releases her legs. She curled up to the side in a fetal ball, tears streaming down her cheeks. Dammit, this is how she lost to Mike’s brother. Not again! She took a deep breath, summoning her energy and will to continue to fight, rolling onto her chest as the first step in getting up.
She never saw the elbow drop Mike aimed perfectly between her shoulder blades, slamming her tits into the mat painfully. She coughs as she laid on the ground dazed, until she felt her opponent grab a handful of her long brown hair, yanking her head up. She’s pulled to her feet, humiliated as her young opponent makes a scene of grabbing her right breast and giving it a good firm squeeze for the audience’s benefit as he marched his mother over to a corner. He draped her arms over the top ropes, then her legs over the bottom ropes, leaving her hanging limply, unable to believe the reversal of fortune. Neither fighter noticed Granny’s small smile as she watched the spectacle - she won’t stop the match, but it looks like Granny Christmas has found another naughty boy.
Mike finally has his opponent right where he wants her and sets about demolishing her with knife-edge chops to the chest, savoring her reaction as he attacks the breasts that came so close to sealing his doom. He mixed in face slaps and the occasional slug to the stomach. Mike thoroughly enjoyed abusing his limp mother as she hung from her own corner, and it only gots better as he reached behind his mother’s back and unhooked her bikini top, carefully working the material off one arm, then the other. He had to stop for a minute to take in her magnificent chest heaving up and down with every pained breath, her large brown nipples pointing directly at him in either the cold december air...or possibly her own arousal.
He’s painfully erect and tried to ignore it as he went back to “work,” switching from chops to meaner, dirtier moves, attacking with tit-slaps, pulling squeezes, and harsh nipple twists. Carla yelps and moans as she tried to endure, unable to even move. Then, to keep his opponent off-guard he lowered his mouth to her breasts, sucking on them greedily. Carla felt his lips on her sore breasts, licking, suckling, groping, kissing. It’s such a turnaround from the beating he had been laying into her that her groin started to twitch and moisten despite the punishment she’s enduring. "Mmm, Mmm-Ike, mm, mmmm-more~!"
Through the haze of lust and the mewling of his aroused mother, Mike realized this wasn’t going to win him the match and he got carried away. He reluctantly took a few steps back out of the corner, lining up a kick between his opponent’s legs. Carla heard the crowd swell up, some older voices calling foul, the younger voices screaming for blood. She slowly lifted her head, cracking one eye just in time to see her son rush at her.
A bomb went off between her legs. She gave a hiccuping cough, a scream she can’t manage the air for, then her eyes rolled back into her head and she mercifully passed out, still hanging in the corner.
It’s up to Mike to seal his glorious upset and he stepped out of his bottoms, tossing them aside and ignoring the wolf whistles from Aunt Theresa. He carefully climbed the ropes in the corner his mother is trapped in, their sweaty bodies brushing as he ascends. He’s careful to make sure she’s really out - one quick shove and she could turn this whole match back around.
But it seems she’s really out of it and Mike went for the finish, steadying himself with one hand buried in her hair as he holds her nose with the other. Carla’s lips open and Mike forced his cock into her mouth. He felt her stirring as he started fucking her lips; she looked up at him and the fighters made eye contact for a brief second. Mike pushed away a little pang of guilt - he’s sure she’d be doing just as bad to him if she had the chance. He lost himself in the sensation of her warm mouth. Before long he can’t take any more of his shaft sliding between her soft wet lips and came down her throat, letting out a cry of victory as he spurted into his defeated opponent’s mouth.
But he still has to get the pin. He pulled out, then braced carefully, locking his legs around his mother’s head and flipping her up and out of the corner with a top rope hurricanrana (or for a woman of his mother’s generation, a frankenstiner or evene a stratusphere). The mat shook with the impact as Carla slammed down back-first. Mike wnet for the cocky pin, the bottom of his bare foot pressed against the side of her head as she lays limp on the mat, her son’s arms held high in victory.
“1! 2! 3!” the bell dings, and Granny calls out, “The Winner, and now number one contender in a most stunning of upsets! MIGHTY MIKE!”
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Old 21-Sep-16, 14:59
jonjac30 jonjac30 is offline
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Default Re: Intergenerational Family Fighting

Wow! That was brutal but very enjoyable, please say you are gonna make a chapter on the Carla winning a Match to bring up her spirits or at least have grandmom fight and humiliate mike for cheating to win. Keep up the great work!
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Old 21-Sep-16, 23:06
Alai1231 Alai1231 is offline
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Default Re: Intergenerational Family Fighting

Yeah about that...
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Old 29-Sep-16, 02:02
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Default Re: Intergenerational Family Fighting

As “Mighty Mike” enters the barn, he wonders who could have called him out here - the entire family had been giving him nasty looks and mean remarks after the way he defeated his own mother. Nobody had a problem with the facial Hurricanrana - in fact he even had a few cousins pat him on the back for coming up with such an erotically devastating finisher. No, it was the cunt-punting that had all the old timers worked up.
Not that Mike cared much; he’d won, and that was all that mattered. But he couldn’t help but wondering what this midnight meeting was all about as he entered the cage dressed only in his wrestling thong. The overhead lights snapped on, and there was his grandmother, wearing her santa hat, a white bra she was almost spilling out of, red gym shorts and her white wrestling boots.
“Someone’s been a naughty boy…”
“Grandma? What are you doing here? Oh, I get it. You’re here to ref a match? Who am I up against?” Mike looks around expectantly. His guess is Aunt Theresa - she’s the family’s unofficial enforcer, and Mike is sure he heard her booing his performance.
But there’s nobody here but his grandmother. Mike’s in no mood for riddles. “So where’s my opponent? Let’s get a move on, it must be past your bedtime, right Grandma?”
Mike is half right as he turns to see his aunt Theresa - not a surprise as she’s one of the most notorious heels in the family, standing out at any gathering with her blue hair and lightly made-up Asian features. Tonight, though, instead of her black one-piece fighting outfit, she’s squeezed into a black and white striped string bikini at least two sizes too small. She closes the cage door, giving her nephew a cheery wave as she locks the cage. Mike turns back to see his grandmother’s hand flying towards his face. His head spins with the impact and he tries to raise his dukes, but a hook catches him in the ribs, lifting him clear off his heels.
“I’m disappointed in you, Mikey.”
He drops his guard and his grandmother’s hands clap over his ears, deafening him so he can’t hear what he’s done to disappoint (although he can guess). He backs up, dazed, taking stinging slaps from the Matriarch. She works him to the side of the cage, landing a stiff uppercut that weakens his knees, and he grabs the top rope for support.
Suddenly his face is engulfed in his grandmother’s cleavage, the warm softness pressing against his nose and mouth. He enjoys this for just a second before his opponent knees him in the stomach, causing him to explosively exhale down her bra, tickling her bosom. Two more stiff knees leave him choking for air, too weak to stand.
“I’m not a fan of low blows, mister!” He feels her fingers brush his thong and he shivers as she lectures him. “So this is a lesson on ring etiquette that you are so dearly lacking. But don’t worry about getting it wrong,” she lifts his head out of her boobs, turning his face to the right. Mikey sees a clock reading “29:05”, ticking down as his aunt smiles at him, lounging in a lawn chair off to one side. “I have you for a half hour, all to myself ~”

Mikey doesn’t have much of a plan for this unexpected fight; all he knows right now is that he needs to get out of the breast smother, or he might not make it 29 more seconds, let alone 29 minutes. Since his opponent was nice enough to lift him out to get a look, he figures this is his chance - but before he can brace himself to escape, Granny shoves his face back between her tits. Mikey pushes on her shoulders, but he’s not strong enough to escape this way. He moves to Plan B, tickling his opponent, his fingers dancing up and down her ribs, hopefully distracting her enough to make his escape. Of all the reactions the Matriarch was expecting, she was not ready for this. She squeals, which becomes a snort, which becomes an unstoppable chuckle, then her peals of laughter ring through the barn. She tries to hold on, trying to squeeze the fight right out of her young opponent.
But before she can, he starts motorboating her chest. He feels her surprisingly strong arms relaxing, and he manages to pull his head out from between her boobs. He’s really sorry about the next move, but he has to make sure that he has a chance to recover. His knee comes up between her legs and she she moans in pain. He frees himself, pushing her away; she takes a stumbling step back, her excellent ring instincts keeping her standing through the agony. Mike takes a deep breath and prepares to follow his opponent, but he’s cut off as his aunt gets in his face.
“That was a low blow!” she barks, waving her finger angrily. “I saw that! Keep it clean!”
“Are you kidding?! Where were you when she was smothering me with her tits? Get out of my way!”
Mikey is a little too wound up to realize that he’s making a mistake as he goes chest to chest with the ref, each of them jawing at each other as the Matriarch recovers. She sneaks up to her opponent and claps him on the ears again, the unexpected impact extremely painful, leaving Mikey both dizzy and deafened. He lurches away from his grandmother, but he’s too slow as her arms wrap around his head and drop him to the mat with an audible thud. The younger fighter flops on the ground, groaning and clutching his skull.
“I’m not sure you can hear me yet, but that’s all right,” Grandma pants. She drops a leg on Mikey’s head with a loud slam, then rolls him into his back. “This here is a lesson on ring ethics. No one likes low blows, and while, yes, we do allow them, I would prefer if you were a bit more gentle with your family’s genitals.” Her fingers trace the outline of his cock through his thong, and she feels his torso quiver. "Honestly no one minds if you want to be the dirty heel, but we would just prefer if you did so in a more gentlemanly way."
Mikey’s eyes eyes widen as he sees her pull a wad of bills from deep within her cleavage. She hands it to Aunt Theresa, who accepts with an evil grin. “Like so…”

[Clock: 22:35]

“What?! I can’t fight against you both at the same time!” Mikey wails, getting to his feet and backing away from his grandmother and aunt.
“Then don’t,” Theresa hisses, sliding behind him. She quickly wraps his arms up in a full nelson, leaving him unable to defend himself from his grandmother, who closes up and punches him hard in the stomach. Mikey groans with the impact and she hits him again. However, Theresa has left his legs free, and as Grandma draws back for another punch, his foot swings up between the Matriarch’s legs. Theresa is stunned as the sudden turnaround, her mouth open in shock for just a second before Mikey bends down and leans forward, hoping to toss his aunt over his head and winning his freedom.
He can’t quite do it, but he does manage to slam his opponent’s skulls together. Grandma flops to the mat dizzy and dazed, while his aunt backs up to grab onto the ropes. Mikey turns on her, his hands slapping her chest with loud, painful thwaps, jiggling his asian aunt’s large tits up and down. One slap, two, three - Theresa sinks into the ropes, her arms hanging over the top, her chin resting on her chest, her expansive bosom red from his abuse.
Mikey takes a few steps back, then charges, leaping into the air and hitting his aunt right in the chest with a dropkick, each one of his feet sinking deep into her heavy breasts. Aunt Theresa is left hanging, helpless and clearly in too much pain to fight back for now. Mikey reaches out to pull down the straps on her suit before remembering he has another opponent to deal with - in a singles match he’d move to finish his aunt off, but for now he leaves her, turning and scanning the ring for his opponent.
He turns right into a running lariat from a very angry woman who’s bigger than him to boot. He’s taken off his feet, eyes bulging comically as he leaves the ground. His back hits the mat with a loud thud and he lays there, spread eagle.
As he idly wonders if anyone got the number of the truck that hit him, a shadow looms overhead. Before he can turn to look the Matriarch lands on him, splashing across his belly.
“Mikey, stop kicking me in the cooch!” She pulls his hair, lifting his head into a crushing headlock, twisting his neck at a painful angle, squeezing his head as his face turns red. She works him to his feet, marching him around the ring, the painful pressure of her strong arms causing him considerable pain.
It’s not that Mikey wants to keep using dirty moves against his family members - it’s just that without them he doesn’t know how to negate his opponent’s advantages in strength and experience. He decides this is going to hurt him almost as much as his opponent as he slides his hands between her legs and squeezes her pussy. The Matriarch lets out a groan and for one beautiful second, he feels the pressure loosening around his head. His relief is short lived as his grandmother slams him to the mat with a DDT. His head smacks into the hard surface and he rolls over onto his back, forcing down panic as he sees that his aunt has recovered, and there are now to pissed off women looming over him. Wordlessly they stomp him, punishing his legs, his belly, and his arms. Matronly boots land all over him, followed by elbows and leg drops, beating Mikey down until he lays dazed on the ground.
"Mike, if you want to be a heel and fight dirty, take note," his aunt flips him onto his stomach and grabs both his legs, pulling them so his shins are parallel with his back, torquing his spine viciously. “Submissions are a great way to start. You are just causing your opponent pain in the hopes they give up. Are you in pain, Mike?” He frantically nods his head, slapping the mat a few times. “Which leads me to our next point,” Theresa pulls even harder, “Bribing refs, bringing friends, interfering with your opponents match, a bit harder in a cage, but doable. The problem right now is that you were set up to lose because no, we aren't fighting fair."
As the pain increases, tears of pain leak out of Mike’s eyes. He tries to yell out his submission, but his hair is yanked up and a pair of breasts clad in a too small white bra smothers his cries.
"A third point is not to let them submit, make them hurt a little longer. You see how well this plays with both a bribed ref and bringing a friend to the fight. Being a proper heel requires planning and forethought young man. Now he a good boy and take your lumps, and if I fell teeth Mikey you won't like how this match ends..."

Clock : 20:10

Mikey tries to push his grandmother away, but he’s being worn down and can’t free himself. He tries to prepare another dirty move, but his grandmother cuts him short, pulling him up to his feet, his face still between her tits, as Aunt Theresa releases the hold. His aunt comes around behind Mike, wrapping her arms around Grandma, locking the young man into the dreaded double breast smother. His already weak struggling becomes pathetic flailing as he’s crushed between his aunt and grandmother, the humiliating cherry on top of the smother cake his raging hardon as he’s held helpless, squashed between soft but unyielding female flesh. It’s impossible to breathe and feels himself getting light-headed; it sounds like someone is laughing at him as his knees go weak, only behind held up by his two opponents. He feels his consciousness slipping away, his vision already totally dark with his face in his grandmother’s chest; the blackness takes on moire patterns, spinning slowly as he succumbs. The last thing he hears before he passes out is his heart pounding in his ears, then nothingness.

When Mikey comes to, he’s hanging off one of the corner posts, his arms wrapped over the top ropes, his legs hanging on the middle ropes. He groggily shakes his head as he comes to full sensation, a slight breeze drifting by his privates; he realized he’s been stripped… and he’s in the same position he trapped his mother.
He looks up, dreading his Auntie’s foot-long neon green dildo - he’s seen her finish unfortunate uncles and nieces with this before… but he’s surprised to see she’s still in her ref outfit, cracking her knuckles.
“Lesson two, corner work,” he hears his grandmother’s voice from right beside him. “A heel should never be unwilling to take advantage of his opponent. For example - “ His aunt drives a solid uppercut into his gullet. He coughs, his chin helplessly dropping to his chest.
A strong hand pulls his hair, lifting his head up to face his aunt. “Paired with psychological and sexual dominance, corner work can be a devastating combo against an unprepared..,” her lips find his and her tongue swirls into his mouth, “...opponent.” His head swims, feeling his aunt running her hand down his abs….
Her fist drives into his belly button, causing his eyes to bulge out, and he barks a cough. Another fist lands into his navel, but her grip on his hair his keeping him from curling up. She raises her fist, an evil gleam in her eye. Mikey closes his eyes, not wanting to see the coming blow - it doesn’t help. Pain explodes from his left cheek as his aunt lands her fist on his face. He opens his eyes, his vision filled with his aunt’s cruelly smiley face.
“Now, Mikey, are we learning?” She draws her fist down and he braces his stomach; her uppercut still hurts like hell as her fist slams into his gut.
“Why don’t you let me down from here and we’ll see,” he gasps.
“And why would I do that?” She lines up another punch. He flinches, but the hit never lands; instead Aunt Theresa takes a step back as Grandma comes into the corner, so close Mikey can smell her perfume.
“Mikey, are we getting through to you?” She pats his cheeks, red with humiliation. He bites down a moan as he feels her soft hands wrapping around his exposed cock and balls.
“Yes, Grandma.” She gives a hard squeeze and he yelps.
“Now are you ready to apologize?”
“Apologize - ?” She does another hard squeeze and Mikey has to bite down tears. “Yes! I’m sorry!” Releasing him, Grandma slowly lowers the left, then the right strap on her swimsuit, her large, soft tits slipping out.
“Why don’t you show me how sorry you are?”
He leans forward eagerly, his mouth finding her thick, puffy nipple, his tongue lashing out to encircle it. Soon the soft sounds of his suckling mix with the moans of the older fighter under his expert ministrations. “Now Mikey, it’s not that we don’t approve of your dirty techniques, it’s that there are better ones. For example,” suddenly he feels a hot, wet pressure engulf his cock, sucking on its length as a pair of expert hands knead his testicles, trying to milk him dry. “This is a sexual humiliation utilizing the concepts of two versus one and a brought-off ref. As you can see,” his moaning starts to get louder and louder, “It’s quite effective.”
With a pop his aunt releases his cock, grasping it in her other hand, continuing the jerking motion as she picks up Granny’s statement: “As a matter of fact, both your grandmother and I are proud heels, and we’ve been a plague upon your family for, oh… ten years for me?” Granny nods in the affirmative. “We WANT you to fight dirty, we WANT another heel in the league, but we want you to have class when you do it. Now let us finish you off like a good little boy, and we can discuss how to make you a fearsome MAN~...”

Part of him wants to let his grandmother and aunt finish him off, while part of him wants to keep fighting; but a few seconds of awkward struggling and he realizes he’s too weak to get off the ropes - not that his opponents would even let him do so, standing right in front of him as they are. Mikey accepts his situation with a defeated sigh, and Grandma takes that as her cue to move forward, laying his head on her bare breasts.
“Good boy,” she purrs, stroking his hair. “My good little boy.” Aunt Theresa continues jerking him off, one hand flying up and down his shaft as the other works his balls. He can’t see exactly what she’s doing as she angles his cock straight down, like milking a cow. She’s an expert handjobber and Mikey doesn’t last long, succumbing to her quick, long strokes, moaning into his grandmother’s chest as he shoots his load onto the mat.

He’s spent, and before he can do more than take a few quick breaths his tormentors pull him off the ropes, laying him flat on the mat. He sneaks a look at the clock - it’s just over halfway through, and he’s too beat to even think about fighting back. He doesn’t even get the chance to ask for mercy as he looks up to see his aunt smiling down at him.

“You had a nice treat there, and now it’s time for your education to really begin. This is one of my favorite moves. Let’s see how long you can endure it.” His grandmother locks his legs in a figure four, Aunt Theresa completing the move by laying down on the mat above him and locking her strong legs around his neck in a figure four choke. To his dismay, both women have incredibly powerful thighs - he’d never have guessed how fearsome his grandmother’s legs were if she wasn’t using them to torture him. He lasts a minute or two before he starts tapping his aunt’s thighs, but instead of releasing him she just reaches down and grabs his wrists, leaving him completely helpless.
“Is that all, Mikey? You can last a little longer, can’t you?” Her taunting is muffled by her legs around his ears, but he can still make out her sing-song voice as she squeezes. He feels like his head is about to pop; he doesn’t know if he’s going to be able to hold on much longer without passing out.

"Your Aunt came up with a name for this little tag team special,” Grandma tells him matter of factly. “We call it ‘Running a Train’." His groans of agony ar muffled into his aunt’s meaty thighs, tickling her. They hold him for just a minute more, keeping him teetering on the edge of unconsciousness before releasing him. With a loud groan, he rolls onto his stomach. He considers giving up, just laying there in defeat… but something drives him, gives him the strength to continue. He puts one arm under him, then another. He pushes himself up, and tries to get his now far weaker legs under him. They shake, they wobble, and his opponents aren’t sure if he’s trying to stand or leave.
In the end it doesn’t matter as a pair of matronly elbows drive into his lower back, dropping him with a cry. He feels a plump ass flop on his back and pull his arms over her legs, wrapping her hands under his chin.
“Grit your teeth, sweety!” Theresa sing-songs as she cranks his head up, painfully bending his spine, “this isn’t the painful part.”
“Now, dear,” he hears Granny’s voice behind him, feeling her grab his ankles. He tries to kick his legs free, but they have taken such a beating that all they can manage is a light twitch. “This may seem a bit hypocritical, but this is why no one likes a nut hunter.” He feels her white boot on his crotch, and it slowly begins pressing. "Only ten minutes left~..."

He opens his mouth to ask for mercy, but his aunt cranks his neck, and all he can manage is a pained moan. It gets much worse for him as his grandmother presses her boot into his balls. She knows just how much pressure to apply, causing lots of humiliating pain. Mikey has never felt so vulnerable, and for good measure his aunt throws in some extra taunting, slapping his face and hooking his mouth and nose from time to time.
After what feels like hours of punishment, he manages to turn his head enough to get a look at the clock: Eight minutes. There’s no way he can take that much more of this attack. He’s ready to cry with gratitude as he feels Grandma’s boot leave off his poor groin. Aunt Theresa changes her hold to a standing headscissors, pulling him up to all fours with his head between her thighs, looking down at the mat. She squeezes, enough to keep him from trying to escape, but not quite enough to put him out. He tries to pull on her thick legs - useless. He hears his grandmother behind him:
“Now, sweetie, have you learned what we’re trying to teach you?” He tries to nod, but of course his head is stuck. Aunt Theresa giggles at him. “Well then, I think you’re ready for today’s last lesson.”
He feels his grandmother peeling his buttcheecks apart and squeals in terror, uselessly slapping his aunt’s strong legs. He yelps as Grandma’s index finger slides into his asshole. Her other hand wraps around his cock. “Now if you can last -” a beat as she checks the clock - “seven minutes and twenty seven seconds, we’re done.” Her hand starts sliding up and down his shaft. “But if you can’t, well - “ his finger starts moving in my ass - “well, let’s just say you should really try and beat the clock…”
He doesn’t; the soft, long, gentle strokes his grandmother gives up combined with her fingering his asshole wreck his resistance. He barely makes it two minutes before she forces him to a mind-shattering climax. Mikey hears himself grunting as he’s pushed over the edge, shooting squirt after squirt of thick cum onto the mat, his grandmother’s even panting not changing as she milks him through his climax.
“Well, well. Mikey, it’s only five minutes and fifteen seconds. Theresa, get him on his back…” A limp Mikey is laid flat, his grandmother straddling his face. She looks down at him with a kind smile. “I’m going to give you a second chance. Since you kept hitting me in my hoo-ha, you can give it a little kiss. If you can make your old granny cum in-” a quick glance - “five minutes and two seconds, we’re done. Otherwise, do you know what spike piledriver is, Mikey?” He opens his mouth to respond, but thinks better of it as his grandmother wiggles out of her gym shorts. She lowers her crotch to his face and he goes to work, licking her pussy with gusto. He feels his aunt, between his legs, pushing his thighs apart; one of her long fingers goes up his asshole and the other one squeezes his balls. He falters for just a second, panting into his grandmother’s crotch. He tries to ignore his aunt man-handling him as he goes back to orally pleasuring the woman sitting on his face.
He has no idea how much time is passing as his world shrinks down to the musky pussy pressing into his face, the long finger reaming his asshole, and the firm, steady pressure on his nutsack. He grips his grandmother’s hips, hearing her pant and moan as he eats her out. Lost in his work he doesn’t know how long it takes, but he makes his grandmother cum, feeling her thighs squeeze his head as she climaxes.
When she rolls off him, he turns his head, covered in her juices, to peek at the clock. His heart sinks as he sees it flashing an angry 00:00. He didn’t make it. His grandmother and aunt haul him to his feet, shoving and pulling him over to one of the corners. He’s too tired to fight back, his exhausted mind filled with fear as his aunt climbs to the top ropes. The world goes upside down as his grandmother lifts him up, tucking his head between her thighs. He feels his aunt’s hands on the bottom of his feet; he braces himself, but all the same when the impact comes he’s knocked out cold, shock and pain shooting through his body as his opponents execute a textbook spike piledriver.

The two women look at their grandson and nephew, laying on his back, eyes rolled back in his head, tongue flopped out of his mouth, slowly drooling.
“Were we too hard on him?” his grandmother worries. His aunt shakes her head: “It’s tough love.” It’s over an hour before Mikey wakes up from his tough love to crawl out of the cage, out of the barn and back to the tub where he can soak his beaten body and bruised pride.
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Old 29-Sep-16, 06:15
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Default Re: Intergenerational Family Fighting

Jesus, ham....
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