Grasping and Gasping

Cindy and Sharon both absolutely hated each other. Their hatred ran deep, but secretly they needed each other more than they knew themselves. Both women had become obsessed with the others windpipes. I had met both women years ago, and hadbegan to question why each woman constantly covered bruises on the necks. I needed to know, being a lover of female combat, I slowly put it together. I found myself trying to get closer to Cindy and Sharon, finally confronting each of them separately. They agreedto talk to me about their obsession, and I wanted to share it with you.

Cindy sat in a chair, knees crossed, wearing white satin pajama’s. She spoke quietly, as she told me the truth, and nothing but the whole truth.

    I’ve fought many women, but none spark my bloodlust like Sharon, Cindy emotionally said. She brings out the best and worst in me, and when I’m at my worst, I feel the best. Sharon has this knack of being able to squeeze air into her lungs, even when my hands have seemingly closed her windpipe. She holds on for ever and ever. Its so frustrating and exhilarating at the same time, and it allows me to strangle her for long extended periods. I mean to hear her gasp, and wheeze, it gets to me, my crotch drives me mad. Her throat is so inviting to me. Some of my best and most satisfying moments have been spent strangling her, I swear its almost better than sex, infact I’ve canceled a few dates to meet that blond bitch, just for a chance to dig my fingers deep into her airway. Oh I admit I hate her, no question about it, but I would be the last one to actually hurt her, shit, without Sharon, life would return to boredom, but please don’t let her know that. I’ve planned my vacations from work to spend time squeezing her lovely throat, and they have been the most satisfying vacations I have ever had. I’ve called in to work sick to sneak over to her house, in the morning and in the afternoon, so we could fight. Night or day, any time she calls I’m there. I have tried a few times to let it go, and stay away from her, but I always return, driven nearly to madness thinking, dreaming, about feeling her windpipe in my clutches. This might sound sick, but I could spend an hour, no I mean a day, no, I mean a week, choking her. Then Cindy paused, shit, a month wouldn’t even do it for me, that bitches throat is my obsession, my addiction, and I can feel it building deep down between my legs, and I’m gonna need a fix real soon, dam, just talking about it, my panties are soaked in nectar. Someday we will probably kill each other, throats weren’t meant to be closed for such long periods, but I can’t help it, I wish I could, but her throat always draws me back in, inviting me to close it. I feel electric when I feel the bones in her throat against my fingers, she is an amazing creature. If I saw another woman hurting Sharon, I would probably kill her, nobody but me is allowed to punish her, and I know she feels the same way. I consider Sharon to be a technician at oxygen depletion. She knows exactly when to let up when she’s choking me, and she knows how to force air into her lungs through a very constricted windpipe. She drives me crazy, and I can’t wait for our next session. I need that bitch so much, I hate to admit it. Her blue eyes, and long curly blond hair only add to my need to grasp her windpipe. She’s such a perfect looking woman, but all I see is her precious little throat, awaiting and starving for my attention.

I then asked Cindy if Her and Sharon would mind if I watched one of their matches. She smiled, and said, well, maybe, I’d have to ask the bitch, but if she says yes, I say why not. She then said, but you would have to promise not to pull us apart. I eagerly agreed, hoping beyond hope that Sharon would say yes.

    I then went to Sharon’s. She sat on the edge of her couch, wearing nothing but a black silk teddy. She asked me, what did that bitch tell you. I smiled, saying nothing. Sharon then said, OK, here is the truth. I know she told you how much she loves to strangle me, oh its true, she worships my throat. What she didn’t tell you is that I feel the exact same way. Her throat needs closing, and I’m just the woman to do it. I love the fact that she thinks my windpipe is stubborn, but the truth is that she doesn’t quite have the hand strength to close it completely, oh, don’t get me wrong, she does a pretty good job, but I do have an ability to squeeze air through it, even with her hands wrapped tightly around it. When I strangle her, I intentionally allow enough oxygen to pass through her windpipe, just to keep her on the edge. She’s so perfect when she starving for oxygen, she’s so cute, its an incredible turn on to me. I could spend all night hovering over her body, hands around her throat, covering her mouth, pinching her nose closed. When we are together, its magic. Its the closest thing to ecstasy that I’ve found., and it keeps me coming back for more. I’m gonna tell you something, but if you repeat it, I’ll never talk to you again. I have given up dating, all because I feel much more pleasure when Cindy and I are engaged in combat, I think, yes, I know I love her, that might sound weird, but there is something about the little things she does. Her incredible brown eyes are capable of begging for mercy, without her saying a word, they cut right through me. Her rasping and weezing are my mating call, lighting my bloodlust, and fueling my desires. I think the two reasons its so incredible to us, is the fact that our life hangs in the balance, at the end of our fingertips. The other reason is trust. I trust her and she trusts me, shit to do what we do to each other and be able to survive it time and time again, it means something. I think we have a mutual love for each other, but we also have a mutual desire to dominate the others windpipe. I don’t want to make love to her, I just want to feel her soft, bridle, and fragile windpipe in my hands. I could finish her off any time I wanted to, but who would I play with if I did. I need her so badly, she’s my own little pleasure toy, to do what ever I want to do with her, and I’m not about to give that up. We fight hard, very hard, to take complete command of the match. Once in command, we both slow the temp, and enjoy. Its a good thing we don’t live together, we would spend all day at each others throats, and nothing would get done. Cindy is a model, she is one of the most beautiful women I have ever laid eyes on, yet it is her windpipe that I so desperately need to feel in my hands. Just then the phone rang. Sharon said hello. Her face lit up, somehow I knew it was Cindy. I listened as they made their plans to meet soon. When Sharon hung up, I asked if I could watch. She smiled, and said, not this time, I have some wicked things to do to that poor little bitch, but maybe next time, I’ll talk it over with Cindy, and let you know. I hope soon I will be able to report one of their matches, first Hand.

BLITZ