"Donnybrook: Irish Goddess Maureen McNeal vs. Mozzarella Mamma in the Ring of Woe”
 By Jaguar8

Gary Fornaro didn't know what hit him.
 
The initial jolt of the onrushing car slamming into his vintage Mustang was jarring enough.  Yet the hideous grinding of metal upon metal augured a trip to the mechanic and a hefty repair bill.
 
"And next semester's tuition is due tomorrow. Great. Just great!" muttered the college senior as he emerged from his wounded vehicle.
 
The other driver, a woman, ran quickly to inspect the damage.
 
Gary was bracing for a heated confrontation, but his grimace turned into a grin when he gazed upon the sky blue eyes of the exquisitely freckled female heading his way.
 
"Omigod, Mrs. Petrocelli!" he exclaimed.
 
The tall redhead smiled as she approached, embracing the young man tightly---and sweetly kissing his cheek.  But this wasn't your garden variety buss. The luscious lady's lips lingered, and she coupled the kiss with a little flick of the tongue.
 
Still sultry after all these years, thought Gary.
 
This ravishing cougar called to mind Amy Adams and Julianne Moore by way of Spice Williams---with a sprinkling of Lindsay Lohan thrown in.
 
"It's McNeal now.  "Maureen McNeal.  Divorce happens.   "
 
 "Oh, okay, Ms. M-M-McNeal, stammered Gary.
 
"Maureen.  Call me Maureen.  We go way back, Gareee.  Remember?" said the redhead as she slipped her arm around the young man's waist. Gary couldn't help but notice that the 40-something old ginger had slyly undone the two top buttons of her blouse, revealing a most delectable décolletage. And he suddenly had a flashback: Former model Maureen McNeal sunning herself in the backyard of her home.  Her son Scott, who was also Gary's close friend, had gone to the basement to retrieve some comic books, leaving Gary alone at the window to peer at the sexy redhead in the revealing two-piece swimsuit. Maureen noticed how adoringly Scott’s pal was ogling her, so she unhooked the top of her bathing suit, revealing her two luscious lentiginous breasts.  Staring in astonishment and delight, Gary gasped when the Beautifully Freckled MILF winked at him and threw a kiss. 

Much later that evening, Maureen stopped by to bid the boys goodnight, as this was a sleepover. Scott was already snoring.  But his mother made a beeline for Gary's bed. to firmly tuck the sheets into the underside of the mattress. As she tucked in the bedsheets, the T-shirt clad but bra-less redhead leaned over the boy---the nipples of her dangling freckled teats grazing Gary's chest through the flimsy fabric---and kissed his cheek. "Good night, sweetie." Her lips were deliciously wet and the kiss was delivered with distinct tongue action.  Gary ejaculated with Vesuvian intensity; and Maureen smiled seductively as the lust-besotted teenager exploded underneath the blanket.
 
And now those old feelings were stirring again.
 
"H-How's Scott?" asked Gary, trying to get his mind---and eyes---off of the alluring freckles adorning Maureen's peaches-and-cream cleavage.
 
"Scotty moved to Florida a few years after the separation. He keeps in touch," replied the redhead.
 
"Yeah, when Scott transferred from Piedmont Falls Memorial to the Mohawk middle school, we sort of drifted apart " volunteered the college senior absentmindedly.
 
"Well, I for one missed Scotty's best friend," said Maureen, heaving her perfectly firm 36 C breasts onto Gary's chest.
 
"Ahhh, ohhhh . . . that's nice of you to say, Ms. Mc---"
 
"It's Maureen, silly," interrupted the redhead, unfastening the upper button on Gary's shirt and placing her hand directly on his bare pecs.
 
The blushing college senior muttered a retort .
 
"So . . . I'm really sorry about wrecking your . . . is that a Subaru?"
 
"Gareeee, my BMW is barely dented---and this accident's my fault, btw---but your Mustang needs a major collision makeover.  Let me take care of it, please."
 
"What about the insurance?" mumbled Gary.
 
"Now you listen to me, Mr. Fornaro.  I'm going to pay for ALL the repairs--out of pocket! I do NOT want to deal with those pesky auto insurance adjusters.  Redheads are fiery but fair."
 
"Can you afford it, Maureen?"
 
"Look, honey, I own my own business now---and it's profitable," replied the redheaded cougar.
 
"W-Wow!" stammered Gary.
 
Removing her hand from the college boy's bare chest, Maureen McNeal grabbed Gary's chin, pulled him down, pasted a soulful French kiss full on the mouth and playfully slapped the burgeoning boner in the university senior's pants.  She then exclaimed: "Follow me home, Gary, and I'll WOW you some more!" 
 
Twenty minutes later, the battered Mustang creaked into the driveway of a palatial suburban split-level home. Maureen crooked her finger, beckoning Gary Fornaro out of his car and into the den.
 
"You own this place, Maureen?"
 
"Totally. Free and clear. With no mortgage," said the Beautous MILF proudly.
 
"What kind of startup could earn you that kind of revenue?" inquired a clearly impressed Gary.
 
"Well, it's what I call an athletic enterprise.  Here let me show you the gym downstairs," said Maureen, grabbing Gary's hand and leading him to a sprawling subterranean boxing/wrestling ring. 
 
"Are you a personal trainer?"
 
"Yes and no," replied the redhead cryptically.
 
"Do you teach Tae Kwon Do?" asked Gary.
 
'"Something like that, sweetie.  That is, I definitely teach other women a lesson---with my fists.  You've heard of Mixed Martial Arts?  Take that and, um, kick it up a notch.  I own, operate and participate in the KWFL," explained the titian-tressed MILF.
 
"KWFL?"
 
"The Knockout Women's Fighting League, an organization devoted to bare-knuckled female brawling. I organized it about 7 years ago---and still remain the undefeated Champion of the KWFL: Irish Goddess Maureen McNeal."
 
"Wait a minute, you actually fight other females  . . . in the ring. How? Why?  And people actually attend these bouts? And pay for them?" puzzled the college senior.
 
"It all started as a word-of-mouth project.  But we're growing big time, and soon we'll be on Showtime, HBO and Netflix.  Initially, the KWFL started as a local one-time event. Then as succeeding matches took place, we went to pay-per-view.  The money just keeps flowing.  Audiences just can't get enough of beautiful babes duking it out in the flesh."
 
As they approached the ring apron of the nearby squared circle, Maureen extracted a checkbook from her hip pocket and handed over a signed blank check to the stunned Gary Fornaro.
 
"Are you serious, Maureen?"
 
"I caused the accident, Gary. Let me make amends. Fill in whatever amount the mechanic needs to repair your Mustang.  Just promise me you'll take this older gal for a spin when it’s all shiny and new again."
 
"Wow, t-thanks, Mauree---"
 
Gary's gratitude was suddenly interrupted by the Freckled Irishwoman’s torrid tongue as it plunged deeply into the college senior's mouth. After much vigorous lingual exploration, Mo tore off the young man’s shirt and gave Gary's torso a thoroughly lascivious tongue bath.
 
Gary moaned in ecstasy as the Sultry Cougar completed her juicy task.
 
"Wait here, baby!  Take a break. I'll go fix us some Long Island Iced Teas,"  cooed Maureen.
 
"Whatever you say, Mo!"
 
The Irish Knockout returned with the liquid refreshments. She'd changed into ultra-tight blue jeans and a white tube top that accentuated her succulent MILFY teats and highlighted the star-dusting of freckles on her bare shoulders.
 
"God, you're sooo beautiful!" exclaimed a mesmerized Gary.
 
"They call this a Hard Iced Tea, Gary. But judging from the bulge in your pants, I'd guess you already know that," giggled the gorgeous ginger.
 
Gulping the vodka and tequila-laced concoction, Gary watched incredulously as Mighty Maureen lowered her top and playfully dipped the nipple and areola of each freckled breast into her drink.
 
"Start sucking---and I'll tell you how I conquered the female fighting world!" commanded the magnificent MILF.
 
Gary fell to his knees, placed his hands on Mo's hips, and began kissing, licking and inhaling the redhead's freckled fun sacs.
 
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Good, boy. Now listen up. Once upon a time, two women attending the opening of the new Piedmont Falls Public Library had what some might call a ‘failure to communicate.’  Though their sons were friends, these females soon became enemies.  So they decided to settle their, um, differences in the ring."
 
Gary bolted upright.
 
"You mean my mother?  You fought my mom?  In the ring?"
 
"It was glorious," replied the redhead.
 
"And you beat her up?" wondered Gary.
 
"Mercilessly," smiled Mighty Mo.
 
"Did you punch her?"
 
"Relentlessly!"
 
"How?" asked an incredulous Gary.
 
"All over her body---gut, love handles, jaw, forehead, ears, temple, nose . . . belly  . . . did I mention her belly?---yeah, I really worked over Mommy's pot belly . . . gave it a good pasting.  Yeah, got into a good groove pummeling the sweaty folds of her protruding paunch. Plus, Pristine Maureen McNeal gave your Mommy Ugliest a couple of shiners, too. HaHaHa. . . Aha HaHaHaHaHa!"
 
"What about  . . . what about .  . .?" queried a trembling Gary.
 
"Her tits? You're wondering if I pounded your Mother's fat tits, Gary? Yeah, I pummeled Mozzarella Mamma's Saggy Swarthy tits----at will. That was delish!"
 
"So you basically humiliated my Mom."
 
"Not basically----thoroughly. From start to finish, from pillar to post, from round to round---at the Library and in the ring," said Maureen without hesitation.
 
"So she didn't put up a fight? "
 
"Nope.  She was sooooo easy to trounce," replied the fiery redhead.
 
"How is that possible . . .?"
 
"Connie thinks she's tough, doesn't she?" continued Mighty Mo.
 
"Yeah. Mom always acts so self-assured," added Gary.
 
"Listen, sweetie, an Italian bimbo with fat, floppy udders can never top a Fightin' Irish Colleen!"
 
As if to illustrate, Mighty Maureen McNeal stood up, peeled off every stitch of clothing and posed for her excited young paramour. Preening and strutting, the redheaded MILF climbed into the ring, flexed her muscles and proudly displayed her Beautifully Freckled Body. She urged Gary to join her in the ring for a closer inspection. 
 
"I whipped your mother's Meatball Ass but good! In front of your Dad, too---thrice. Or was four? Or five? Once in the library, the second time---well, I tell you later---and the third time in this very ring. (The other occasions . . . well, you’ll leatn about them soon enough.).

And before I breast-smothered her into unconsciousness, that Fat-assed Spaghetti slut had to admit that Irish Goddess Maureen McNeal was her superior. Superior fighter, superior lover and superior woman.  Then she started bawling like a baby and begging for mercy. 

I ordered Mommy Ugliest to kiss my superior teats, which the Cowardly Bitch did---HaHaHa--like a dog. The stupid Scungilli-cunt even licked my ass crack.   'Is it completely clean, bitch? I asked.'  And then I slapped Mamma Mia's oily face back and forth three times.   Finally I lowered my Royal Hibernian rack over her fucked-up features.  The last things Concetta Fornaro saw were my Fulsome Freckled Breasts engulfing her ugly beak and twisted mouth."
 
"What happened after she fell unconscious?" asked a slack-jawed Gary.
 
"You mean before or after the photographers made their requests," replied Mighty Maureen.
 
"Photographers? The fight was filmed?"
 
"All the bouts are videotaped, actually.  Well, the one in the Piedmont Falls Library is a little bit grainy because a security camera taped our, um, altercation. The other dust-ups---including the formal match---are the product of videography.  All the KWFL matches are filmed.  My ex-husband was a photographer and a videographer. This entire gym is a sound stage."
 
"So what did the photographers ask you to do to mother after you beat the shit out of her?" wondered Gary
 
"Omigod, I hope this isn't too much for you, sweetie."
 
"What do you mean?"
 
"Well, does it bother you that I kicked the living crap out of your mommy?"
 
"I bow to Her Royal Hibernian Highness, the Pristine Irish Goddess Maureen McNeal," responded Gary in supplication, falling to his knees and caressing the cougar's feet with his tongue---and licking and kissing Each Sensual Freckle on the Fierce Irish Colleen's legs, thighs, shoulders and back. "
 
The Celtic Queen pushed Gary down onto the mat apron, tearing off his shirt, pants, underwear, socks and shoes. Gary's cock had stiffened and grown; Her Highness McNeal haughtily mounted the young man's engorged member.  He began thrusting upward with piston-like power. Mighty Maureen bounced up and down, up and down--- fluffing, and playing with her flaming red mane, arching back to display her Freckled Orbs in full.  Then she addressed the wild-eyed college boy who had become a besotted beast.
 
"Does Gary want to see how Mighty Maureen rag-dolled Mommy Ugliest?"
 
"Uhhhhh . . .Ahhhhhh." replied the human piston known as Gary.
 
"Is that a yes, Gary?"
 
"Gahhhhhh," cried the college boy in a language that can only be called Fuckese.
 
  "Does Gary want to see how Mighty Maureen's Irish fists made mincemeat of Meatball Mamma?"
 
"Yahhhhhhh," gurgled Gary.
 
"Say it, sweetie," teased the Pristine Irish Queen, lowering one of her Freckled Tits inches from Gary's yearning mouth.
 
"S-Say whahhh . . .?" mumbled a delirious Gary.
 
"Say: 'YES, PRISTINE MAUREEN MCNEAL, SHOW ME HOW YOUR POWERFUL IRISH FISTS MADE MINCEMEAT OF MEATBALL MAMMA, HUMILIATING THE UGLY SOW BEFORE THE ENTIRE COMMUNITY,' " ordered Maureen.
 
As Gary repeated Her Highness McNeal's diktat---"YES, PRISTINE MAUREEN MCNEAL, SHOW ME HOW YOUR POWERFUL IRISH FISTS MADE MINCEMEAT OF MEATBALL MAMMA, HUMILIATING THE UGLY SOW BEFORE THE ENTIRE COMMUNITY"---the Titian-Tressed Goddess took the college senior's hands and placed them on her Steamy Mounds of Freckled Flesh, urging Gary to squeeze, caress and knead each Gaelic Teat.
 
Maureen was in total control of Gary-boy. She didn't want him to cum just yet, though.
 
"You're driving me wild with desire, Garee, but we must pace ourselves. There's so much more for you to see and hear."
 
With that announcement, Her Royal Hibernian Highness grabbed a nearby remote, flicked it on and urged Gary-boy to watch the images appearing on all the wall of the gym.
 
"Whoa, boy," said the Beautiful Irish Wrestling Queen as she pulled back on the college senior's locks in much the same way that an equestrian pull's back on a horse's reins.
 
Though not yet broken-in to ride, Gary was certainly obedient; and Mighty Mo knew she'd be able to control Fornaro's cock all day---and night---long.
 
"Forget blondes, Garee. Men make passes at red-haired Irish lasses with Sweet Freckled Teats and Succulent Asses. Take a gander at the Piedmont Falls Library's security video that kicked off my feud with Parmigiana Mamma.  Btw, it's been digitally enhanced for both audio and video."
 
Soon Connie Fornaro, her husband, Frank, and a few other couples appeared onscreen.  Despite the October 4 date stamped on the video, it was a hot and sticky day (and night) in Piedmont Falls. Everyone was dressed as if they'd been invited to a Fourth of July cookout.
 

Especially the dazzling woman coming into view.
 
Wearing high heels, no stockings (with just a thong underneath), and a tight blue sun dress that prominently displayed her Sensually Freckled Shoulders and the upper reaches of her Freckled Bra-less Breasts, Mo McNeal caught the eye of every man in the room. The women huffed but wanted no part of competing with the Flame-haired Irish Beauty.
 
Bantering coquettishly with the husbands, the willowy MILF soon fixated on Frank Fornaro. The Stunning Irishwoman took him by the arm, guiding the tall and debonair CPA toward the library's pop-art advertising display.
 
"Now that's an interesting take on feminism, wouldn't you say, Frank?" inquired Mo as she held onto the man's arm while playfully twirling his tie.
 
Frank and Maureen were gazing at an early 1960s advertisement featuring a sexy female standing in the corner of a ring clad in her brassiere and boxing gloves: "I DREAMED I WAS A KNOCKOUT IN MY MAIDENFORM BRA."
 
"Think I'm a knockout, Frank?" asked the cock-teasing Celtic Queen.
 
"S-sure," stammered Frank.
 
"Cmon, Frankie . . . admit it. You think I'm HOT!"
 
"God . . . YES, MO. You're driving me crazy! So crazy . . . I want to ----," exclaimed the married CPA.
 
"FUCK ME, Frankie?"
 
"On the fucking spot! Yes, I want to Fuck your Freckles, Maureen!"
 
"You may get your wish, big boy.  But first there's something I want to show you first.  It'll be fun. Just watch."
 
Having secretly loosened the spaghetti straps of her sun dress and nudged closer to Frank, Mo looked across the room, caught Connie's gaze and then allowed her dress to fall. The chivalrous (and horny) Frank quickly cupped both of the McNeal woman's Fulsome Freckled Breasts in his hands.
 
At that instant, the Fightin' Irish Goddess fixated her eyes on Frank, glanced wickedly at an enraged Meatball Mamma and then turned back to Connie's husband and tongue- kissed him passionately.
 
The stunning SMACK heard throughout the Library was the sound of the Sexy Irish Queen's backhanded  fist smashing into  the  Italian housewife's face as Mrs. Fornaro clumsily raced across the room to confront the topless Maureen.
 
Stunned by the force of the blow, the wobbly brunette---a Teresa Giudice lookalike---stumbled about as the Celtic Hussy savagely ripped open Mrs. Fornaro's blouse and began pounding Connie's exposed pizza-dough paunch with precision-guided Dublin pub-style punches
 
WHOOMP! WHAMMMM! WHOOMP-WHOOMP-WHOOMPETTY  WHAMMMMM! WHOOOOOMPPPP!
 
The Fightin' Irishwoman smiled broadly as her hardened Hibernian fists made a fistic mockery of Mozzarella Mamma's soft Italian belly, which had become slick and sweaty under the Sweet Gaelic Gal's relentless pummeling.
 
"Not much of a fighter, are you, Connie?" announced Her Royal Hibernian Highness
 
"OOF!  UHHHHHH! OHHHHHH! OOOOOOF! GUUUUHHHHHHHH! OWWWWWW!  OOOOF!" uttered Concetta each time the Superior Irishwoman buried a fist deep into the Doo-WOP’s soggy stomach.
 
Connie was defenseless against the Pristine Goddess’s onslaught. Mo took FULL advantage of the brunette's helplessness and stripped her Italian rival of the last remnant of a top. Connie's push-up bra would come next. The Sweet Gaelic Gal wanted all the men in the library---not one of whom had ventured to intervene in the fracas, including Frank Fornaro---to see how Mo's Sensually Freckled Irish Breasts thoroughly outclassed the Matronly Mamma’s Mushy Italian Meatballs.  And she would do so while pounding the stuffing out of Scungilli- cunt Concetta.
 
The Irish Colleen's stopped beating the Swarthy Italian Housewife's jelly belly, looked around the room and said: "Think this Greaeball’s goose is cooked, boys?"
 
"YeahhhhhhhhI" came the collective male response.  The men's wives and girlfriends were too intimidated or afraid to respond---or to come to Connie's aid.
 
 "P-p-please . . . M-Maureen I've had enough.  S-S-stop----" whispered a tearful Connie.
 
Before the woefully outmatched Concetta could complete her croaking plea, the Irish Goddess sent a jarring uppercut to the Piggish Paisan’s chin.
 
WALLOP!!!
 
As the brunette's body jerked backwards, Maureen grabbed Connie by the hair with one hand; and with the other, Her Royal Hibernian Highness tore off the Italian woman's brassiere.
 
After the non-stop beatdown she'd just absorbed, Mrs. Fornaro could do nothing to stop this latest indignity; Mozzarella Mamma resembled a sweat-soaked ragdoll.
 
While still holding the greasy Teresa Giudice wannbe by her disheveled locks, Lady McNeal turned to the crowd of onlookers and asked:
 
"So who's got the better rack?  Irish Maureen and her Gorgeous Gaelic Girls?  Or Marinara Mamma with her Misshapen Meatballs?"
 
The Irishwoman’s Luscious Lentiginous Teats glistened under the library's halogen lights; a semi-conscious Connie twitched convulsively as the Celtic Queen continued to ridicule the defeated Italian woman:
 
"Actually, boys, Mrs. Fornaro's boobs look more like . . . . droopy eggplants," chortled Maureen, unleashing two wicked fists into each of the Porcine Paisan’s ugly udders, smashing directly into the bitch's sensitive areolae.
 
WHHHHHAAAPPP! WHHHHAAAAAPPP! WHAAAAAPPPPETTY-WHAPPPP! WHHHAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!
 
The Punching-Bag Paisan crumpled to the floor in a heap as Maureen issued an order: "Kiss my feet, Raggedy Anna Maria.  Suck each toe, Scungilli Cunt!"
 
Mozzarella Mamma tried to ignominiously crawl away, but her scalp exploded in pain as the willowy redhead scooped up the brunette by her stringy mane.
 
"Obey Irish Goddess Maureen McNeal, Fucktard: LICK MY TOES---NOW!!"exclaimed an enflamed Mo.
 
"Y-y-yes, Your Majesty," said Connie falling to her knees and ignominiously slurping, kissing and sucking the Irishwoman's feet and toes.
 
"Datsa good girl.  Now lick my underarms, Raggedy Anna Maria."
 
Though groggy as a result of the Irishwoman’s pub-style blows, Connie obsequiously complied. 
 
Maureen motioned Frank over to watch his wife's degradation.
 
As Mr. Fornaro approached, Maureen clamped a headlock on Connie and launched a rapid-fire barrage of fists into Mrs. Fornaro's forehead.  Connie collapsed instantaneously.
 
Flexing her Sweetly Freckled Biceps--and preening with haughty pride---the Royal Hibernian Queen ordered Connie to emulate a canine and fall on all fours.
 
Maureen then turned to Mr. Fornaro. "Impressed, Frankie?"
 
"Quite," responded the horny CPA as he kissed both of Mo's Sensually Freckled Biceps.
 
Frank then kissed both of Mo's Lentiginous Breasts, stiff nipples and succulent areolae.
 
"Like my tits, Frankie?"
 
"They're magnificent," said Mr. Fornaro, adoringly inhaling the Irish Queen's Abundantly Freckled Breasts.
 
While Frank was busily immersed in Her Royal Hibernian Highness's Sexy Celtic Cleavage, Maureen caught the eye of the beaten Connie, who rolled over on the floor like the stupid canine she was.
 
A tear trickled down Mrs. Fornaro's cheek, and a smiling Mo and turned to Mr. Fornaro.
 
"Think Parmigiana Mamma’s learned her lesson, Frankie my darling?"
 
"Nah, teach the bitch one more" murmured Frank Fornaro as he finished licking the Irishwoman’s Succulent Teats.
 
"OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!" cried Connie. Mo had bent down and lifted the Italian woman by her putrid nipples. The Irish Goddess then spun her brunette rival round and round the room---and still holding onto the Jersey-whore's old-lady nipples---hurling a humiliated Mrs. Fornaro into a nearby book case.
 
With her legs splayed outward and her arms dangling uselessly by her side, the Dumb Doo-WOP looked like a shattered marionette.
 
But the Pristine Irish Goddess had more in store. Gruffly latching onto Connie's greasy brown tresses, Mo lifted the humbled housewife up, slammed a powerhouse left cross into the Italian woman's right eye and then tossed Mrs. Fornaro into yet another book case.
 
This time, however, the impact of Marinara Mamma's testa dura hitting the book case caused a torrent of tomes to come tumbling down onto the trashy Italian Wifey, who finally succumbed to unconsciousness. The sorry sight of the kayoed Concetta’s all-too prominent black eye---and her sagging tits flopping into her blubbery belly---prompted titters and laughter from the onlookers.
 
As for Frank Fornaro, his immediate reaction was to help Sexy Maureen McNeal tie the spaghetti strands on her sun dress.
 
It took a full twenty minutes---during which time Mr. Fornaro escorted the triumphant Irishwoman to her car----for Frank to tend to his fallen spouse.
 
"Okay, people. Sorry for any misunderstandings here, but everyone loves a spirited debate, no?" declared the smiling CPA, wiping some of Mo's lipstick from his chin.
 
And then the images on the security camera faded to black.
 
 
 
"Whaddaya think, Gary?  Like the way your Irish Queen made mincemeat of Mortadella Mamma?" chortled Mo as she rode the engorged cock of Connie's progeny.
 
"You beat Mamma up but good, Your Majesty.   MMMMMMMMMM. Sweet.  REAL sweet!" moaned Gary in heat.
 
"Trashed that trash-talking Jersey-Shore bimbo," boasted Maureen.
 
 "Guess the Old Lady’s not much of a fighter, my fragrant Irish rose.  AHHHHHHHHHH! OHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHHH!" replied a rapidly growing Gary.
 
"A fat-assed wimp with ugly eggplant tits and a pulpy gut---that's what your Mommy really is.  Irish Goddess Maureen McNeal beat her senseless----up and down the Library.  Like a rented mule.  But a rented mule's a whole lot prettier, Gary.  HaHaHaHa AhaHaHaHa! Marinara Mamma couldn't stand up to Her Royal Hibernian Highness.  That Paisan Pig was sooo intimidated. From the get go---even before I laid a fist on her. Know why, Gary-boy? Because Mommy Ugliest can't touch Mighty Maureen when it comes to beauty, brawn or brains.  Isn't that right, Garee?" exclaimed Mo as she continued to gyrate on Gary-boy's pulsating dick.
 
"GAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!  OHHHHHHHHH!  AHHHHHHHH!" said the university senior in heat.
 
The Sensuous Irish Colleen leaned forward, lowering her Succulent Freckled Tits onto the young Mr. Fornaro's face, slapping him with each sweet orb. "Say it, Gareeeeee!  Let the word go forth, my lover-slave boy. Say it loud, Gary: 'Maureen, the Undefeated Irish Queen, made a hot mess out of Mozzarella Mamma!' "
 
"My Pristine Irish EMPRESS Maureen made a HOT MESS out of MOZZARELLA MAMMA!" cried Gary.
 
"Mighty Mo turned Meatball Mamma into a punching-bag HO!  Say it loud and say it proud, Gary-slave boy!" urged Her Royal Hibernian. Highness.
 
"MIGHTY MO turned MEATBALL MAMMA into a PUNCHING-BAG HO!" repeated the young Mr. Fornaro.
 
"Mo's Celtic fists pounded the greasy love handles encircling Marinara Mamma's midsection. You like that, Gareeee?!"
 
"Love it, my Sweet Irish Champion!  Tell your lover-slave boy more! "gurgled the grunting college senior.

"Mamma Mozzarella's a skanky Italian coward who can't fight a lick!" moaned Mo.
 
"Mommy's a fucking cowardly skank, a HO who had her head handed to her by my Pristine Irish Empress!" yelled Gary as his member neared eruption.
 
"Ram your rocket into me, Gareeeeee! Fill me with your seminal event; Fuck me, slave boy.  FUCK MY FRECKLES!   Thrust your gargantuan Roman candle into Irish Mo McNeal, the woman who pummeled Mommy Ugliest from head to toe; FUCK the incomparable Colleen whose superior Irish fists made your Cowardly Mamma Mia black and blue--- tenderizing and pulverizing her saggy, sorry tits and flabby tummy, kayoing the ugly, oily skank for all to see.  Fuck and worship me, Gareeeee!!!  Fuck Irish Goddess Maureen McNeal. Penetrate my sweet Gaelic womanhood with your gargantuan Italian manhood.  FUCK MY FRECKLES! "
 
Gary Fornaro went super nova deep within Mighty Maureen McNeal.
 
The redheaded MILF was the first to awaken from the couple's post-coital slumber. The naked Irishwoman arose, looked at the spent college senior and began issuing orders. " Wake up, lover boy! Time to begin the slavish worship of your beautiful Irish rose."
 
Mo lowered her Sweet Freckled Breasts over Gary's face, teasing his face with the tips of her firm nipples. The college senior opened his eyes and smiled, grabbing Maureen and thrusting her abundant orbs downward and into his face and yawning mouth.
 
Gary's hungry tongue began licking Mighty's Mo's torso all over again, his dick stiffening in the process.
 
"Like my Freckled Tits, don't you, Gary?" cooed the luscious MILF.
 
"They're hot! And they're magnificent!"
 
"That they are, young Gary.  Now get on your knees and KISS MY HOT IRISH ASS---AND LINGER ON EACH SWEET CHEEK, slave boy!" commanded the still naked Celtic Queen.
 
Gary dutifully and lustfully obeyed Her Majesty!  "Mmmmmmmmmmmm. SLLLLUUUUURPPPPP . . . your ass is so. . . so MMMMMMM . .  sweetly delicious and fragrant, Mighty Mo!" moaned Gary the slavish lover boy.
 
"Now, my little doggy-boy slave, STICK YOUR TONGUE INTO MY ANUS, SWIRL IT ABOUT AND WORSHIP MY ROYAL IRISH BUTT CRACK!!"ordered Her Majesty McNeal.
 
“YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS . . . OHHHHHHHHHH ........ YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!  OOOOOHHHHHHHH, YES, MY FRECKLED IRISH QUEEN" responded the deliriously intoxicated Italian lover-boy as he lingually probed the inner lining of Mighty Mo's delectable derriere.
 
 "Are you licking and sucking my ass hole, slave-boy!!!???!!"
 
"MMMmmffffff . . . SLUUUUURRRRPPPPP . . . . OHHHHHHH . . . YEESSSSSSSSS."
 
After luxuriating in Gary's lustful tongue probe of her anus, Irish Mo McNeal announced that she was going to shower. "In my absence, bitch-boy, you are to wash yourself in the guest bathroom.  Then head for the kitchen and fix us some more of those Long Island Iced Teas."
 
When the Pristine Irish Goddess returned, Gary handed the sultry---and naked---redhead her drink.
 
"Mmmmm.  You're a pretty good mixologist, slave-boy," said Her Royal Hibernian Highness gulping the elixir.  She then poured a bit of her Long Island Ice Tea on the college senior's erect cock---and bent down to lick the young man's stiff organ and bulging scrotum.
 
Before Gary could erupt, the Irish MILF removed her sweet lips from his stiffened cock.  "Let's save the fireworks for later---after I show you what happened following my Library trashing of Cowardly Concetta.  Are you ready for that, Gary-boy?"
 
The freckle-besotted college senior nodded vigorously in the affirmative.  "Yes, my Glorious Irish Queen!"
 
"Well, after my one-sided beatdown of that Paisan Pig, Frank took Connie to the Piedmont Falls ER," explained a beaming Maureen.
 
"Yeah, I remember now. I was home when Dad called saying Mom had taken a fall and that they'd gone to the hospital," replied Gary.
 
"What did you think really happened?" inquired the beauteous Freckled Queen.
 
"I didn't know what to think.  But when I got there, she was a mess. Her smeared lipstick, bloody lip and disheveled hair reminded me of . . . Bozo the clown.  HaHaHaHaHa. And her face was swollen.  She had bruises everywhere---black and blue---and sported a big shiner.  The other eye was completely shut. When I peeked into the examining room, the doctor kept massaging her belly, which looked really, really flabby."
 
"Kinda squishy," added Maureen.
 
"Yeah. And gooey-looking," replied Gary.
 
"Like layers of curdled mozzarella," laughed Her Royal Hibernian Highness.
 
"The doctor then examined Tough-Cookie Concetta's sorry tits and asked  Mother if she'd run into a brick wall.  That's when Dad blurted out---'No, just some Fightin' Irish female’s fists'---and quickly concocted a story about a friendly tussle that got a wee bit out of control."
 
"And were you shocked, Gary?" asked Maureen McNeal.
 
"Well, after putting two and two together, I rushed to the nearest rest room and slammed my ham. Having you pummel Meatball Mamma in naked combat had been one of my longtime fantasies."
 
"Awwwww, that's sooo sweet, Gareee. Come here and kiss my Royal Hibernian biceps," said Maureen flexing both arms.
 
The obedient college senior dutifully did as he was commanded, kissing the Pristine Irish Queen's Freckled Muscles---and hungrily licking her armpits."
 
"Mmmmmm, Nice. Very nice, slave boy Gary.  Now lick my sweet Gaelic womanhood," murmured Maureen.
 
Falling to his knees in utter supplication, Gary Fornaro gazed lustfully at the gentle Sprinkling of Freckles surrounding the pink flesh just above the Irishwoman’s shaved pussy---and then plunged his tongue deep into the Hibernian Female Champion's sexy vagina, licking and flicking Mo’s clit for good measure.  Gyrating her hips in pleasure, Maureen mashed her steaming hot cunt into the college senior's face.
 
Forcefully grabbing the young man's mane, Mighty Maureen commanded: "Time for a breather, my horny Romeo."
 
As Gary rose to his feet, the Irish beauty took hold of his stiff member and led him back to the squared circle for a ringside view of "the rest of the story," as Mo called her epic multi-part tussle with Cowardly Connie Fornaro.
 
"Lucky for you, Garee, I have footage of what happened in the wake of the, er, altercation in the library."
 
"What??!!  After the humiliation of being punched out in public---by an Irish Goddess---how did Mother ever agree to an official bout?" wondered the college senior.
 
"Let me show you, lover boy," responded Lady McNeal, flicking a nearby remote.
 
As the lights dimmed, Gary watched the screen in amazement.

There was Fornaro the elder hurriedly leaving the ER with the injured Connie-----on the night of his Mommy Ugliest’s ignominious drubbing at the hands of her Irish rival.
 
"How is this possible? How could you get such footage?" wondered Gary
 
"My ex was a videographer with access to all sorts of high-tech cameras, video recorders and gadgets. Remember? This footage, as you call it, came to me courtesy of a tiny videocam I slipped into your Dad's pocket when he helped me readjust my sun dress after I'd kicked the living merda out of Mamma Mozzarella in the Piedmont Falls Library," explained Her Royal Hibernian Majesty.
 
"Oh, yeah. I also remember Dad taking powder when my Mom was in the ER."
 
"And here's where Scungilli-Cunt Concetta's devoted hubby went," smirked the sexy redheaded MILF.
 
Frank Cornaro's appearance at the doorstep of Maureen's home didn't surprise the infatuated college senior, though he was clearly irked.  But Gary gasped at the image of the Freckled Irish Goddess greeting the elder Fornaro---in her birthday suit.
 
After planting a sensuous kiss on the studly Italian CPA, the naked Irish Queen grabbed Frank by the tie and yanked him indoors.
 
"Awww, don't pout, my Gareee. YOU are my NUMBER 1 guy," interjected Maureen while hitting PAUSE on the remote.
 
The Irishwoman quickly explained the dramatic arc of the unfolding events onscreen.
 
"Your Dad and I, um, conferred---"
 
"For four fucking hours?  That's how long he was gone from the ER!" shouted Gary.
 
"Gareeee!  We needed the time to devise a plan for getting Mommy Ugliest into the ring with me . . . so that I could pound her tits into so much ragù meat---AGAIN," snorted Mo.
 
"And give Mother . . . "added the college senior.
 
" . . . a speed-bag facial," continued Sweet Maureen McNeal.
 
"And a classic Irish pub-style beating of  . . ." added Gary
 
" . . .  the Paisan Pig’s Blubbery Paunch.  Below the belt, too, of course!" snickered the Freckled Beauty. 
 
"Where exactly?" queried Gary
 
"Both above and below her Scungilli-smelling cunt," laughed the Pristine Irish Queen.
 
 
Mo clicked the remote to resume play. The next image---which was dated two weeks later—showed Maureen parking her auto in front of Gary's home.
 
"W-what were you doing there?" stammered a surprised Gary.
 
"Just you wait and see, lover boy."
 
Connie Fornaro graciously answered the door, welcoming Maureen inside. "Hi, Mo.  It's so nice to see you again.  Please come in and make yourself at home."
 
Instinctively, Gary searched the screen for his father. Sure enough, "there was good old horny Dad!"
 
The naked Irish Queen suddenly clicked the remote and the screen went blank. "No worries, Gareee.  Frank and I had orchestrated this meeting.  Put your jealousy aside, my lover-slave boy.  Your father was just a means to an end. We needed to set up an official match, and Lady Luck was on our side. Though everyone saw that I'd thoroughly beaten the living shit of your Marinara Mamma---sending her to the hospital with multiple bruises, a black eye and a traumatized gut---Connie was so mentally fucked up by the Irish-style shellacking I’d administered that she imagined the Piedmont Falls Library fight had been nearly even."
 
"Oh, okay!" exclaimed the college senior---but not before grabbing the nude Hibernian Queen's hips, turning Mo around and lasciviously licking the Irish sexpot’s ass crack.
 
"That's sooooo SWEET, Gareee.  Mmmmmmmm," moaned Mighty Mo as she clicked the remote back on again.
 
The images flickered and returned.
 
"Thanks for having me, um, over" winked Mighty Maureen as she greeted Mr. Fornaro.
 
"Your coat, Maureen?" inquired a suddenly attentive Connie.
 
"No, no. I'm not staying long. I have a date, "responded the Sexy Irishwoman.
 
"Oh, anybody we know?" asked Mrs. Fornaro.
 
“Frank,” said the calculating Collen as she called the master of the house, pausing unnaturally . . . for effect, "would you be a dear and get the poster in my car.  The little woman and I have some business to discuss."
 
Then Mighty Maureen strode forward, impudently brushing past a disconcerted Concetta.

The obedient CPA quickly scurried outside to retrieve the poster. "Put it on the couch, Frankie," commanded the Imperious Redhead.
 
'W-w-what's this all about, Maureen?' stammered a visibly intimidated Meatball Mamma.
 
"Remember the, um, dispute we had at the Piedmont Falls Library Opening, Concetta dear?"
 
"Uhh, y-yeah," responded the nervous brunette.

“Hope you’re feeling better and fully healed after that tussle,” said the man-stealing MILF snarkily.

“Never better, M-M-Maureen. I gave as good as I got, y-y-you know,” stammered the Matronly Italian woman.
 
“You think?” smirked the Superior Irishwoman.

Maureen smiled, knowing she’d inflicted a devastating psychological blow to her inferior rival. Then the Irish Goddess continued: "You see, Frankie and I thought it would be neat to treat the community to a rematch. Whaddaya say, Concetta?"
 
Sensing his wife's incipient fear, Mr. Fornaro interjected. "What Mo's trying to explain is that we want to set up an ongoing women's athletic competition---the KWFL."
 
"That's the Knockout Women's Fighting League," added the Freckled Irish Beauty.
 
"Yes, we got the idea from this retro brassiere poster: "I DREAMED I WAS A KNOCKOUT IN MY MAIDENFORM BRA," elaborated Frank Fornaro as he displayed the 1960s ad.
 
"And you want me to get into the ring with M-M-Maureen---" wondered Connie.
 
"So we can mix it up again, like we did in the library, dear" added Mo.
 
"It's community outreach.  Ticket sales will go through the roof, putting more money into the school district's coffers.  They'll be able to hire more teachers and add cultural and music projects. And the PTA loves the plan, honey," explained Connie's handsome husband.
 
"Well, I did give you a run for your money when we squared off in the library," said Connie turning to her Irish rival.
 
She's such a dumb cunt, thought Maureen. "You were certainly there, Concetta."
 
"Then it's a deal," said Frank whipping out the legal paperwork and procuring each woman's signature.
 
Though she'd grown somewhat confident after hearing the details, Connie Fornaro could not stifle the waves of trepidation engulfing her. Her worries mounted, however, when Frank suggested that the trio toast the occasion.
 
"Let me take your coat, Maureen.  I know you've got a date, but let's savor the moment, shall we," said the earnest CPA.
 
"You're so masterful, Frankie," cooed the flirtatious MILF, inching closer to Connie's husband. 
 
"Yes he is. That's why I married him," retorted the increasingly nervous Mozzarella Mamma.
 
Frank smiled. But instead of thanking his wife, Mr. Fornaro placed his arm around Maureen's waist and pulled the hot redhead closer. "Enough with the pleasantries, let's cheer the upcoming battle between Irish Goddess Maureen McNeal, the KWFL's reigning champion, and Concetta a k a Mozzarella Mamma."
 
Fretting that Mo was moving in on her man before her very eyes, Connie quickly fetched a bottle of champagne. "Okay, guys, here's the bubbly. Frank, would you be a dear and do the honors?  Mo, let me take your coat, Ok?  And what's that wonderful perfume you're wearing? "
 
"Well, if you insist, Concetta.  And that's no perfume, girl---just Irish Spring soap," said the smirking Celtic Queen, peeling off her jacket.
 
Pop went the champagne bottle's cork---and Frank's boner----as Her Royal Hibernian Highness threw the coat to the floor, revealing a most delectable sight.  The Irish Knockout wore a daring backless sun dress with a plunging heart-shaped cutout in the front, provocatevely displaying Maureen’s Sensuously Freckled Breasts.
 
"So whaddya think?" asked the Gorgeous Rehead as she slowly and intimidatingly walked toward Connie, smothering the shorter Italian woman with her overflowing lentiginous teats.
 
"Mmmmfffff," uttered Mrs. Cornaro as she tried to extricate her face from Mo's overflowing Gaelic Girls.
 
"Is it too much?" inquired the coquettish Mo, suddenly whipping around and sauntering toward Frank.
 
"Omigod, no!  Maureen, you are the hottest woman in town.  The whole package!" gushed Frank.
 
The Irish Knockout turned to Mrs. Fornaro and said" "He's sooo sweet. Mind if I kiss him, Concetta?"
 
Before Connie could respond, Maureen plunged her tongue into the handsome CPA's mouth, soulfully French-kissing Frank for a full 3 minutes.
 
At the same time, Frank inserted both of his hands into the cutout of Mo's dress, caressing and massaging each of the Redhead’s Pristinely Freckled Breasts.
 
Overcoming her shock and deer-in-the-headlight fog, the Italian woman launched herself against the powerful Hibernian seductress. "Hands off my husband, you redheaded twat!"
 
But Sexy Maureen was ready for the clumsy brunette. Removing her tongue from Frank's mouth, the Irish Knockout still had time to give Fornaro a lingering tongue bath along the length of the horny CPA's neck.
 
Then ducking under Connie's foolish attempt at a roundhouse right, Maureen jolted the mousy brunette with a right cross to the jaw---followed by left hook to the Doo-WOP’s proboscis.
 
"Always hated your ugly schnozz, Connie!" laughed the Superior Irish Colleen as her bare-knuckled fist clouted Concetta's beak, blood trickling from Concetta’s nostril and onto the frumpy Italian's blouse.
 
Meatball Mamma was so shocked by the crimson flow that she left herself wide open for Maureen's wicked uppercut. Within seconds, the Paisan Pig’s fat ass hit the floor.
 
"Here's where we have some fun, Frank!" declared the Irish Goddess.  Grabbing Connie by her blood-stained blouse, Mo simultaneously lifted Concetta up and stripped the Jersey Ho of a wife of her raiment.
 
"Well, lookee here, Frank. Wifey has no bra!" said Mo as she grabbed Connie by the hair, brought her to the center of the living room and began a furious fistic pummeling of Raggedy Anna Maria’s droopy breasts.
 
Concetta offered no resistance as the Freckled Irish Goddess methodically worked over the Swarthy Italian Housewife’s Inferior Teats. Connie’s teardrops fell as Maureen punctuated each blow to Mamma Mia's boobs with an insult:
 
"What do you call these mozzarella mounds, Concetta?  Seriously?
Breasties?  HaHaHaHaHaHaHaHa!"
 
WALLOP! WALLOP!! WALLOP!!!! WALLOP!!
 
"I mean, really. These are two PUTRID puppies you have, Miss Piggy Pancetta!"
 
WHAMMMMMM! WHOOOOOOMP! SMACCCCCCCK!
 
"Know what, Scungilli-cunt? Frankie spends HOURS worshipping my Abundant, Lushly Freckled Irish Breasts!!!!"
 
WHHHHHOOOOOOOMMMMPPPPP!!!! WHAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!
 
As Maureen’s relentless beating of Connie's tit meat went unanswered, the lowly Italian woman girded for her Irish tormentor's worst.  The Royal Hibernian Beauty burrowed an insolent right fist deep into Concetta's flabby midriff --- followed by a stunning left cross to the temple.

“OHHHHHHHHH! Ulp-ulp-ulp! Gahhhhhhh! Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Oof! 0oof! Oof!” gurgled the hapless Doo-WOP.
 
Parimigiana Mamma hunched over in pain, her arms dangling uselessly as the Freckled Irishwoman continued to punish the Italian peasant's near naked body with impunity.
 
"You really are one STUPID COW for thinking you could go toe-to-toe with me, Scungilli-cunt.”

“Guhhhhhhhh, OOOOOOOOF!” shrieked the helpless Connie as Mo continued to launch lefts and rights into the brunette’s fleshy paunch.

THUMMPPP! THUMP-THUMMPPP! WHAP-WHUMP! THUMPP- WHAPPP-WHUMMPP!

“Should I stop pounding the living crap out of Wifey,” Frankie? I mean, don’t you think Raggedy Anna Maria’s had enough, my love?” asked a grinning Maureen.

Frank Fornaro was enjoying Her Royal Hibernian Highness’s domination of Concetta. “Nah, give the dumb bitch a bit more of a pasting, my Beautiful Irish Queen.”

Smiling at her handsome Italian suitor, Lady McNeal knew just what to do. Rather than continuing to pummel Mrs. Fornaro in a stationary fashion, the Sexy Redhead added torque to her piston-like punches, knocking the outclassed Italian housewife all around the Fornaro household.

Dazed, confused and nearly unconscious, Meatball Mamma bounced from wall to wall as Mo’s Gaelic fists turned Concetta into the Irish Goddess’s personal rag doll.

“P-P-please . . . s-s-stop hurting me gaahhhh, uhhhhhh . . . ! ” croaked cowardly Connie.

But Maureen kept pouring on the pain, walloping Wifey from side to side, battering Raggedy Anna Maria’s eggplant teats, rocking her jaw with left and right combinations and planting powerful pub-style Irish fists into Concetta’s already softened Italian underbelly.

Sipping a sifter of Irish Whiskey, Frank Fornaro watched with unrestrained glee as the Sensually Freckled Maureen slaughtered Concetta Pancetta. “You’re so FUCKING SEXY, my Pristine Irish Queen.”

“I know, lover!” replied the Fighting Freckled Woman as she launched a thunderous uppercut to the beaten Italian coward’s chin.

Maureen had drubbed Connie all across the living room, but this blow lifted Wifey off the floor. What goes up must come down, however. And when Concetta came down, she fell behind the divan. Her Royal Hibernian Highness couldn’t resist the opportunity to utterly annihilate Parmigiana Mamma. Mo wanted to further harden Frank’s already massive oak of a cock.

The Freckled Irish Beauty smiled gloriously as she pounded the entire length of Connie’s swarthy frame with gusto. From behind the couch, the Piggish Paisan’s yelps of pain punctuated the evening stillness----“Uhhhhhh, Gahhhhhh, Ohhhhhaahaaghhhh, “Ooooompphhh, Guhhhhhhhhhhh, Oooooooof.”
The Pristine Irish Queen’s remorselessly punched Meatball Mamma’s titties, belly and face. As if in response to Mo’s bare-knuckled devastation, Concetta’s flabby body convulsed spasmodically, her hands and feet splaying in odd and varying directions.

“Hey, Frankie,” exclaimed the Gaelic MILF, “I call this masterpiece “Concetta’s Concerto!”

Positioning herself for maximum optic exposure, the Beautiful Irish Empress suddenly halted the pummeling to unzip her sun dress. And while unveiling her sweet mammaries, Maureen grabbed Concetta by the hair and shoved the Italian wife’s bruised and lumpy face into two Majestically Freckled Irish Tits.

“Acknowledge my SUPERIOR IRISH Breasts, Doo-WOP!” commanded Maureen.

“Mmmphf ,” gurgled the engulfed Wifey.

Knowing full well that Connie mouth was obstructed by Mo’s Gaelic Girls---preventing a coherent response----the Irish Superwoman nevertheless urged quick compliance.

Maureen McNeal violently grabbed Wifey’s greasy mane and removed the Teresa Giudice lookalike’s face from her sumptuous jugs.

Mrs. Fornaro gasped for air, but only momentarily.

“SLAAAPPPP—SLAPPPETYY-SLAP-SLAPP!” commanded the Pristine Irish Queen’s hand as it smacked Concetta’s face to and fro.

Connie was near desperation as she tried to verbally surrender.

Irish Maureen McNeal’s Sweetly Freckled Breasts were indeed vastly superior to her Italian rival’s Swarthy Meatball Mammaries, but the fiery redhead wouldn’t allow Concetta to mouth the words.

Her Royal Hibernian Highness wanted to prolong her rival’s agony---and Mo loved pummeling, taunting and humbling her lowly Italian foe---in the bitch’s very own household.

“Answer me, you Pig of a Paisan! Admit that Irish Goddess Maureen McNeal is the better woman.”

The pain was too much to bear, but the humiliation of being so easily and so brazenly beaten by That McNeal Woman was worse. “C-c-can’t last much longer,” thought Connie.

“Tell Frank that your Putrid Paisan Puppies are no match for my Sexy Irish Breasts. FYI, bitch I’m the same redhead who’s fucked your husband repeatedly---and who’s kicking your fat peasant ass right now! It’s even better than the beating I gave you in the Piedmont Falls Library. I just might send you to ICU this time.”

Lady McNeal was in full command of Concetta, who resembled a tattered crash-test dummy. Maureen’s dominance over the inferior Italian woman was indeed more pronounced than the last time she had pummeled Wifey. Her Royal Hibernian Highness wanted more, though.

Once again, Mo grabbed hold of Connie’s locks. Then she cruelly dragged her tottering rival toward the chair where Frank was seated.

“Unzip his fly, Scungilli-Cunt!” commanded the Beautiful Irish Queen.

“Y-yes, Your Royal Hibernian Highness. I-I will d-do as y-you command,” replied the defeated Italian woman.

Pulling Concetta’s head back with a mighty tug, Mighty Maureen snarled,” Stop stuttering, bitch! Just get on with it.” For good measure, the Irish Empress slapped Connie’s lumpy visage all over again.

WHAPPP! WHAPPPP! WHAPPPETTY-WHAP! WHAP-WHAPETT! WHAP-WHAPPETTY-WHAP!

As Concetta’s trembling hand tugged on her husband’s zipper, Frank’s stiffened cock popped out. “Now watch Her Royal Hibernian Highness pleasure Frankie’s Gargantuan Italian member with her smoldering Celtic tongue.”

Mrs. Fornaro watched helplessly as Sexy and Mighty Maureen licked Frank’s scrotum, swallowing each of his balls and slathering them with her Sweet Irish Saliva. Mo then worked her tongue up Frank’s shaft, licking the length of his dick with her flicking tongue and making Mr. Fornaro’s cock pulsate with lust. Finally, Maureen swallowed the entirety of Frank’s powerful piston and began sucking furiously---while holding and twisting Concetta’s greasy mane.

Sensing that Frank was about to cum, the Irish Queen ordered Connie’s husband to aim his seminal geyser at his pitiful punching-bag wife, who was in the line of fire.

“Ohhhhhhhh, ahhhhhhhhhhhhh, You are soooo SWEET, Maureen!” shouted Mr. Fornaro as his cum erupted all over Mozzarella Mamma’s battered face.

“I know, lover. Now watch me mess up your ugly peasant-wife some more,” declared the Mighty Irish Rose.

While still firmly holding onto Concetta’s tangled mane in her right hand, Maureen pulled the cum-covered Wifey up to her feet and sent a left-handed Irish pub-style punch directly into Mrs. Fornaro’s nose. Maureen let the Paisan Pig wobble a bit---waiting a moment for the blood to start spurting from Connie’s less-than feminine schnozzola---and then launched a wicked uppercut to the chin that lifted the Italian woman off the ground.

Mozzarella Mamma went tumbling down with a thud. But Maureen gave her no respite, kicking Wifey in the ribs, belly and head. All Concetta could do was cry in anguish and pain:

“OHHHHHHHHHH! Oooooooof!” Uhhhhhhhh! Ulpppppppp! Ohuffffffffffff!”

And as the humiliated Marinara Mamma absorbed each blow, Lady McNeal taunted the Pigggish Paisan:

“Pretty limited vocabulary that Wifey of yours has, Frank. HaHaHaHaAhaHa!”

“She’s a dumb fucktard with a smelly cunt---unlike you, my Sweet and Fragrant Irish Rose, intoned Mr. Fornaro.

Spurred on by Frankie’s repartee, the Freckled Irish Goddess kicked Concetta again--violently and repeatedly, keeping the Italian peasant continually underfoot. Mo then used her toes to mix and smear the seminal fluid and blood all over Ugly Connie’s face.

“You’re a fucking ass wipe of a woman, Concetta. I’ve messed you up but good: first in the Piedmont Falls Library and now in your own fucking home---with your husband, whom I’ve fucked so many times, watching! HaHaHaHaHaahahha! And now I’m going to stick my toes in the blood-stained, cum-covered nostrils of your ugly fucking nose. And you still haven’t laid a hand on this Pristine Irish Superwoman! Ha!” bellowed Maureen

Frank Fornaro smiled gleefully as he watched the Freckled Irishwoman stomp his Porcine Paisan of a wife. Mercilessly beaten, emotionally bruised and relentlessly battered about, Raggedy Anna Maria had done nothing to put up a fight.

“Are you loving this, Frankie?” asked La McNeal

“Totally, my Sexy Irish Queen.”

Maureen took that as a signal to continue stomping Concetta.

Connie was pain-wracked, humiliated, and utterly defeated. There was no doubt in the lowly Italian woman’s mind now that her Beautiful Irish Rival was the superior woman. So swallowing her pride and hoping for mercy, Concetta Fornaro, began to worship the Fighting Freckled Superwoman by kissing and licking Maureen’s feet.

“Mistress, I-I s-s-surrender : SMOOCH-SMOOCH. SMOOCH-SMOOCH---“

“Not good enough, fucktard!” responded Mo.

“P-lease, your R-R_Royal H-H-HHibernian Highness, let me worship at your feet,” said Concetta as her tongue slobbered over Maureen’s toes.

“Hey, lookee here, Frank, Parmigiana Mamma is surrendering, HaHaHaHaHaHa AHAHaHAHA!” roared the Irish Superwoman.

“She’s a yellow-bellied coward with cow teats. What else would you expect, my Fragrant Irish Rose?” replied the bemused CPA.

Before Maureen could respond in turn, Frank looked out the living room window and shouted: “WAIT! SHIT, Gary’s home.”

Grabbing Connie’s garments, Mr. Fornaro threw them in Mo’s direction and instructed her to put some clothes on the beaten Concetta: “Gary can’t see this!”

But as he darted for the driveway to distract Gary, Frankie did not hear the Pristine Irish Queen’s sotto voce retort: “ Oh . . . yes he can---and will!”

Peering through the living room’s broad bow windows, Maureen decided to put on a show---a female-fighting clinic, actually---for Gary Fornaro’s benefit.

Hauling the bedraggled Italian housewife up by her greasy mane, the Irish Empress made sure to catch the younger Fornaro male’s attention by flaunting her Fulsome Lentiginous Cleavage and Lustrous body.

Gary couldn’t believe his eyes: There was MILFY Maureen McNeal, Scott’s mom, in her Full Freckled Naked Beauty, flexing a sculpted bicep while dangling a banged-up. bruised and beaten Parmigiana Mamma .

As he watched from the outside, Gary stood transfixed, a raging boner unfolding in his pants. (Luckily, Frank had gone off to repair a flat tire on his son’s car.) Thoughts of filial loyalty never entered the lad’s mind as he drooled over the Irishwoman’s sexy dominance of Mamma Fornaro.

Mo winked at Gary and licked her lips suggestively. Then the red-headed MILF twirled her body---with Connie still firmly in hand---so that the young man could get a complete view of Maureen’s Pristinely Freckled Figure and contrast it with Meatball Mamma’s drab (and blood-stained, cum-covered) olive complexion.

Mouthing the words “Watch this!” through the window, the Superior Irishwoman put Gary’s mom in a headlock and fired off three rock-hard fists into the Italian woman’s forehead. Concetta wobbled spastically.

Her Royal Hibernian Highness released Connie from the headlock.

Arching a devilish eyebrow and winking at Gary, Maureen waded into the wobbly Doo-WOP, smacking a right cross and then a left to the Meatball Matron’s jaw. These devastating blows were swiftly followed by a powerful right hook to Connie’s chin.

Gary’s mommy went down; and her woefully puny puppies flipped and flopped about as Concetta tumbled to the floor. But the Pristine Irish Queen was not about to let the Italian wench evade more punishment---not with Gary watching.

Maureen had a delicious job to do, and Concetta’s boy was clearly enjoying---actually, salivating as he gazed upon one of his fantasies come to life: the Pristinely Freckled Maureen McNeal’s fistic pasting and psychological debasement of his hapless Mother. So while Mozzarella Mamma lay on the floor, Irish Mo McNeal ordered her inferior foe to clean her pristine feet.

“Make sure you lick my soles and every toe, too, Scungilli-cunt. Gary’s watching, you know . . . HaHa Ha Ha aHa Ha AhahHa ahaHAHA! And when you’re done worshipping your Irish Conqueror’s feet, get on all fours and fetch my stiletto high-heels. And do so with your teeth—like the bitch that you are, Concetta! Then come back for another beating, Raggedy Anna Maria.”

‘Y-y-yes M-M-Mistress . . . Arf, Arf, Arf . . . your wish is a-a-always my command . . . Arf . . . Arf,” barked the pitiful Italian woman, who had been reduced to actual canine status by her Irish rival’s pulverizing might.

Before renewing her pugilistic pummeling of Gary’s weakling mother, however, Maureen McNeal peeled off every remaining shred of clothing—including her thong---and posed buck nekkid for young Gary. Flexing, preening and strutting, she cupped her Sensuously Freckled Breasts and performed a pirouette whilst seductively running her hands through her scarlet locks.

Gary’s heart pounded as his cock continued to engorge. He watched incredulously as his near naked mother crawled ignominiously toward Maureen’s manicured feet, slurping each digit---even making certain to lick between the Sexy Irishwoman’s toes---all the while looking up timorously at the uber-powerful redhead.

This tableau was a picture-perfect postcard of catfight dominance: A pummeled Italian brunette wench quaking in fear beside the freckled calf of her Irish Conqueror, Goddess Maureen McNeal.

But there was more fantasy-come-to-life fun to, er, cum.

As Mrs. Doggie Fornaro finished degrading herself at Maureen’s feet, the Resplendent Irishwoman shot Gary a wicked smile. Mortadella Mamma was now scampering on all fours to retrieve Mo’s stilettos. Concetta hungrily used her teeth to grab both shoes by their straps. She put the pair down near Lady McNeal’s heels. Mighty Maureen mockingly patted Connie Fornaro’s head, saying: “Good Doggie. Good Canine Connie.” Then Mo cruelly kicked Wifey in the mouth with one naked heel.

As if seeking approval, Canine Connie rolled back and leapt up to the Irish Queen’s sweet derriere—with her tongue wagging. The Piggish Paisan began kissing her Redheaded Rival’s buttocks---and furiously licking the Irish Superwoman’s anus.

“Awwwwww, your trashy mommy’s sinking lower than I imagined, Gareee. But slobbering over my ass crack won’t save Marinara Mamma from my Celtic fists,” announced Mo.

Though he couldn’t actually hear the Irishwoman’s exact warning through the window, Gary understood what was in store for the Paisan Punching Bag.

Sexy Maureen went about proving her Celtic superiority. Bending down with a sinister smile, the Beautiful Irishwoman simultaneously gripped the Porcine Paisan’s hairy bush and Connie’s greasy locks, hoisted the lowly Italian peasant high into the air and paraded Concetta throughout the Fornaro living room--- making certain Garry could admire the torque of the Redhead’s Sensually Freckled Shoulders.

Suddenly, the Mighty Irishwoman dropped to one knee and powered Parmigiana Mamma down across the other, upraised knee---nearly snapping the cowardly Concetta’s spine like a twig.

“Ha, Ha, HaHaHa . . . AHaHaAHaHaHaHaHa !” roared Maureen McNeal as she gazed upon the writhing, wretched figure lying at her feet.

Establishing eye-contact with Gary Fornaro once again, Her Royal Hibernian Highness brought the wounded Concetta to a standing position. Surprisingly, the severely overmatched Scungilli-cunt assumed a boxer’s stance. Having been humiliated and pounded without mercy by a Superior Irishwoman, the Italian peasant did not want her son to see his mother stripped entirely of her dignity.

“Looks like Puttana Mamma wants to mix it up with Sweet Maureen McNeal, Gary!” announced the redhead wickedly.

Still and all, the woozy Concetta’s bravado was for naught. As the Italian woman attempted to throw a punch, her Superior Irish rival easily deflected the blow with a forearm and sent chopping right and left hooks to Mrs. Fornaro’s mouth—accompanied by a steady stream of heavy-handed clouts to the Paisan Pig’s blubbery belly.
WHHOOOMP! SPLATT-SPLATT! WHOOOMP-WHOOMP-WHOOOMP!
Next came a fistic speed-bag facial and several teeth-jarring uppercuts. Concetta’s face was lumping up sweet; her head bounced up and down like a bobble-head doll. The hail of Irish pub-style fists made the lowly Italian Woman wobble, shake and sob a quick surrender.
“P-P-Please-a Y-Y-Your-a R—R-Royal-a H-H-Hibernian Highnessssss . . . s-s-stoppppp . . . I . . . M-M-Mozzarella M-M-Mamma she-a s-s-she –a s-s-surrender,” stammered Concetta.
“Too late for that, Scungilli Cunt,” responded the steely Irish Conqueror.
Mighty Maureen was sexy in her arrogance. Again and again, the Irishwoman delivered staccato fists deep into Doo-WOP’s bulging pot belly. Mrs. Fornaro’s tummy fat was methodically and gleefully tenderized by the boxing mastery and might of the Fightin’ Freckled Irishwoman.
“OOOOFFF . . . UHHHHHHHH . . . OOAHHHHHHHHH . . . OHHHH. . .UHHHHHH . . . GAHHH . . OOOOF!” gurgled a whupped Connie.
The Cowardly Italian slumped forward and into Maureen’s Freckled Cleavage, but Mo pushed her back and launched two simultaneous uppercuts into Cowardly Concetta’s sagging eggplant udders, dropping the Paisan Pig back on her ass and flat on her back.
Upon seeing his mother so thoroughly degraded and defeated, Gary Fornaro rushed indoors. But rather than offering his suffering Mom succor, Gary lustfully embraced Mighty Maureen—kissing her biceps and sucking on the Fragrant Irishwoman’s Freckled Breasts, which glistened with a patina of sweet victory sweat.

Watching her boy fall under the Pristine Irish Goddess’s spell was too much for the humiliated Punching-bag Paisan to bear. As her sobs grew louder and her tears flowed, the brunette’s bladder gave way. Beaten, bludgeoned and bloodied, the buck-naked Concetta now found herself soaked in a pool of her own urine.

Gary was too busy licking and worshipping Maureen’s Freckled Tits and Shoulders to notice his mother’s ignominious state. But eagle-eyed Mo took a gander and exclaimed: “Look at Meatball Mamma, Gareeeeee!!!! The Dumb Fuck Peasant peed herself----like a fucking beagle!!! Guess I REALLY beat the stuffing, snot and PISS out of Canine Concetta!!!!

The Irish victrix’s smile broadened into a grin. Soon Maureen’s gales of laughter reverberated throughout Fornaro-land.

“HAW, HAW, HAW, HaHaHaHa AHA, HA.AHA, HA,HA,HA HO,HO, HAW,HAW, HaHa, Ha,HA !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Connie cringed as she heard Her Royal Hibernian Majesty’s raucous guffaws. But Concetta soon lost her link to consciousness when Maureen placed her manicured foot atop Marinara Mamma’s face---and smothered the inferior woman by inserting two Celtic toes into Connie’s nostrils. Maureen then struck a haughty victory pose over the prone body of her beaten Italian rival as Gary tongue-kissed the Sensually Freckled Irish Goddess.

And then the screen faded to black; and Maureen turned to Gary, hungrily licked his ear and asked: “Like what you saw, lover boy?”

“Omigod, YES!!!”

“Got a hard-on watching Irish Goddess Maureen kick your Mozzarella Mamma’s fat ass---all over the Fornaro household,” added Her Royal Hibernian Majesty as she licked Gary’s other ear.”

“Y-Y-You were . . .” gurgled the sexually intoxicated college student.

“Awesome?!” interjected Maureen.

“No----FUCKING AWESOME!!! And soooooo FUCKING SEXY!” exclaimed Gary

“You liked the way I fucked up Mommy Ugliest with my fists. Right, Gary, my love?”

“YEAHHHHH!” responded the college boy.

“Turned your trashy mommy into a PAISAN PUNCHING BAG,” laughed the Irish Empress.

“Made mincemeat of that Meatball,” cried Gary Fornaro.

“Pounded that Paisan Pig with my County Court uppercuts!” said the Redheaded MILF

“Every which way to Sunday,” volunteered the young man.

“Like the way I pummeled Raggedy Anna Maria’s tits, Gary?”

“YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!”

“Ugly fucking swarthy sacs of shit, aren’t they Gary-boy?” asked the Freckled Irish Goddess.

“Ugly FUCKING SWARTHY SACS OF SHIT!” repeated Mrs. Fornaro’s son.

“Unlike IRISH GODDESS MAUREEN’S PRISTINE TEATS,” thundered the Redheaded MILF as she grabbed Gary-boy by the hair and thrust his face into her ABUNDANT, SENSUALLY FRECKLED BREASTS.

After his tongue licked and his mouth inhaled Mo’s Freckled Fun Sacs, a swooning Gary Fornaro fell to his knees in complete adoration.

“Good boy. Now, in a final act of worship, Gary-boy, kiss Her Royal Hibernian Majesty’s feet!” commanded Maureen.

Mrs Fornaro’s first-born did as he was told---with relish. But then Gary leapt up and began smooching the Irish Queen’s ass with fervor, lustily licking each delectable Celtic cheek; and the college boy plunged his tongue deep within the Redheaded MILF’s PRISTINE IRISH ANUS, swirling his lingua about in abject devotion.

“That was REALLY sweet, Gary-boy. You really know how to use your teanga ” smiled the MATCHLESS IRISH SUPERWOMAN.

“ ‘Teanga’ ---what’s that?” wondered Gary, who was still on his knees in a canine-like position.

“It’s tongue in Gaelic, boyo. Now get with the program,” said the Haughty McNeal Woman as she slapped and backslapped her young Italian suitor-bitch boy.

Maureen was being playful, but the force of the blow knocked Gary back on his ass. The Irishwoman was truly powerful, and Mo liked how her beauteous physicality intimidated both men and women.

“Awwwwww, Gareeeee. I was just having a little fun. That was a love tap. I LUV you, Gary. You’re my NUMBER. ONE. GUY! Here . . . let me make it up to you,” cooed Sexy Maureen as she sat on the floor, grabbed the young Fornaro’s cock and slid Gary’s massive Italian Member between her Luscious Lentiginous Tits.

As Gary’s penis grew ever more prodigious, Maureen licked the length of the college boy’s instrument; the Irishwoman skillfully dipped and swirled her sexy teanga around the head of the dick, occasionally engulfing it in her mouth.

The Irish MILF teased Gary senseless by licking and inhaling his cock----as it moved up and down between her HOT Freckled Breasts--- but stopping short of allowing the young Fornaro to cum.

And then she plunged downward and began licking, slurping and, finally, taking Gary’s entire scrotum in her mouth.

While inhaling the young man’s balls, Irish Maureen McNeal shot Gary a wicked smile. Every time her tongue flicked and licked his spheroids, Mo simultaneously flexed one of her Alluringly Freckled Biceps. Mo knew this juxtaposition of images would induce a Pavlovian response in her young Italian suitor: a remembrance of the sexual frisson that Gary experienced watching Irish Maureen McNeal thrash, bash, pummel, pound and clout his cowardly Italian mother into complete ignominy.

The intensely pleasurable sensation in the college boy’s cock was now reaching a crescendo. But just as Gary was about to ejaculate, the Fiery Redhead pulled out.

Her Royal Hibernian Majesty was indeed the Ultimate Cock Teaser.

“Save yourself, Gareee-boy! There’s so much more to come. Here, have a sip to cool you off,” said Mo as she procured a glass of Long Island Iced Tea for the college boy to imbibe.

“Thanks, Your Royal Hibernian Majesty” (by now Gary’s lust for the Magnificent MILF had intertwined with a complete subservience to the Irish Superwoman), “but what I don’t understand is why I didn’t remember your beatdown of Meatball Mamma in my house,” wondered the Italian college stud.

“It’s probably a case of Stendhal’s syndrome, Gary.”

“That’s it, Mistress McNeal! I wrote a research paper on Stendhal's syndrome. Sometimes they call it hyperkulturemia, or Florence syndrome. It’s a psychosomatic disorder that causes rapid heartbeat, dizziness, fainting, confusion and even hallucinations when an individual is exposed to an experience of great personal significance---particularly viewing art,” explained the Italian college student.

“Wow! Impressive! It appears your brain is as big as your cock, Gareee darling!”

“Thank you, Your Royal Irish Majesty. But you ARE a work of art!” gushed Gary.

“That I am, Gareee!” As if on cue, the Fiery Redhead posed, flexed and preened---once again displaying the Magnificently Freckled Body that had made ragu` meat of Concetta Fornaro.

“Actually, my love, the, um, incident at the Fornaro household wasn’t the first time you experienced Stendhal’s Syndrome.,” revealed the Naked Redhead.

“What!?” shouted Gary

“Here . . . let me jog your memory,” said Mo bending down once again. Within nanoseconds, the Irish Temptress had unleashed her sultry teanga all over the young Italian stud’s balls and dick.

‘Wait a minute. Y-Y-You mean the sleepover . . . “ stammered Gary with the growing cock.

“Mmmmmmgffffhhh . . . when you, um, came . . . over” moaned Maureen as she slurped, sucked and licked the college student’s engorged member.

“The sleepover. But what about Scott?”

“ Scotty was always a sound sleeper. He’d sleep through Hiroshima. Speaking of which, I’d better stop before Mr. Gary Fornaro goes nuclear now,” teased the Irish Temptress, removing her lips from the young man’s burgeoning genitalia.

“Ohhhhhhh, So my wet dream was----“ said Gary.

“No wet dream, lover-boy. Your Royal Hibernian Majesty went, er, undercover to excite and ignite my Italian Stallion,” interrupted Mo.

“B-But that’s . . .” said Gary-boy

“Naughty, you bet!” responded Maureen the Irish Queen.

“You DO know that it’s also----“

“Forbidden. Yeahhhh, that’s what made everything so HOT!” enthused Her Royal Hibernian Highness

“What about your husband?” inquired the college student,

“Whatever. We were on the outs even then,” responded Maureen,

“But YOU have been IN my head ever since,” deduced Gary.

“And ON it,” smirked the Fiery Freckled MILF.

The college student smiled as well. Yet he was puzzled by another thought. “What happened after you trashed my mother at the house?”

“You mean after I pounded the Punching-bag Paisan unconscious, my sweet Gary? smiled Mighty Maureen.

“Yes. Boy, you sure messed her up,” said the young man.

“So Gary-boy liked the massive beating Irish Maureen McNeal dished out to poor widdle Marinara Mamma?”

“LOVED the way you dominated the fat bitch,” responded Mrs. Fornaro’s son.

“She’s a typical Scungilli-Cunt: A Yellow-Pot-Bellied Weakling when it comes to a woman-to-woman tussle,” added Her Royal Hibernian Majesty.

“Ineffective . . .” said Gary

“and stupid!” continued Mo.

Seductively flipping and bunching up a handful of titian locks atop her head---thereby making her lentiginous teats heave outward---the Mighty McNeal Woman corrected herself: “Si, Datsa one-a stupid-a Cow-a Concetta!”

The duo laughed raucously at the Celtic Queen’s put down of Off-the-Boat Concetta. And they savored the delicious memory of the sweaty Paisan Pig stumbling, tottering and reeling all across the Fornaro household as her Freckled Irish Tormentor pummeled the woeful Italian female from head to toe.

“Thank you SO MUCH for that awesome ass kicking of dear Ol’ Marinara Mamma,” said Gary Fornaro as he genuflected and kissed the areolae on Irish Maureen McNeal’s Sweetly Freckled Breasts.

As Gary stood up, Maureen took him gently by the hand and explained what exactly had transpired after she’d beaten Connie into unconsciousness in the Fornaros’ split level.

“Well, I took my foot off your mother’s face---but not before giving the ugly peasant a few swift kicks to the ribs---and urged you to vacate the premises. It’s a good thing, too. Because Frank came rushing in. We decided your Dad would get the unconscious Concetta into the shower, pop a few Advils in her mouth and put the fat-assed loser to bed.”

“Did it work?” asked Gary.

“Like a Lucky Charm, boyo,” replied the Sexy Irishwoman.

“Yeah , . . I sort of remember some of that. But then I went to my room . . .”said Gary

“And beat off furiously to Her Royal Hibernian Majesty’s whirlwind beatdown of Greasy Concetta,” continued the swaggering Mo.

“Well, yeah—you polished her off but good! I definitely jerked off. But I just went out like a light after jerking off. And the whole thing morphed into a dream that I’ve kept fantasizing about over the years,” said Gary.

“Now here’s what happened next,” said Maureen as she flicked on the remote.

“You mean your high-tech cameras caught all that . . . in my house,” asked an incredulous Gary.

“Just watch, my Italian Stallion,” cooed the Irish Queen as she clicked the remote.

The scene in the Fornaro household burst into view onscreen. Gary had departed, leaving the triumphant Maureen standing over an unconscious Mamma Mozzarella. Looking down at the defeated Paisan Pig, the Irish Empress couldn’t help preening, posing and flexing her naked freckled body.

“What happened?” asked Frank Fornaro, rushing in excitedly.

“Doesn’t this tell you, Frankie?” said Maureen, sexily placing her left foot over Concetta’s sloppy teats.

“This is so HOT, but where’s Gary?” said Frank

“He’s a chip off the old block, that Gary. Anyway, he went upstairs. The whole fracas was just a blur to him. He probably thinks I was teaching Connie some Hot Yoga moves,” fibbed Mo.

“Ok, that’s good. Now let’s get Connie showered and into bed,”

Concurring with Frank Fornaro, Her Royal Hibernian Majesty smiled wickedly, “Good idea. I’ll brew some tea. But she’ll also need some Advils after THIS-----!”

Swooping down with the speed of a tigress, Maureen scooped up the already battered Connie Fornaro and body-slammed the Italian woman onto the hardwood floor. The Fiery MILF repeated this cruel maneuver a second and a third time. Frank Fornaro watched in awe as the Magnificently Freckled Irishwoman turned his Piggish Paisan of a Wifey into a swarthy rag doll.

“Oh, there’s one more thing, Frankie,” interjected a smirking Maureen.

With that pronouncement, the Irish Queen began furiously kicking Connie Fornaro’s buttocks, back, kidneys and jelly belly. The final blow was a vicious kick to Meatball Mamma’s lumpy face.

“Now I’ll go boil the old bag a spot of tea,” said the Fightin’ Irishwoman.

Frank picked up Concetta and approached Maureen; and while holding the twice unconscious Wifey in his arms, Mr. Fornaro kissed Mo’s sweetly freckled biceps in adoration.

The next tableau appearing on the screen showed Maureen returning to the Fornaro bedroom with a tray and a pot of tea. Pouring the steaming liquid into a cup---and winking at Frank---Mo also poured the contents of a small vial into the brew. The Irish Queen, who was clad in her stunning peek-a-boo sun dress, walked over to the bedside and made certain to brush her ample cleavage across the bed-ridden Concetta’s face. Then Maureen used her Sensually Freckled Breasts to slap Parmigiana Mamma’s stricken visage back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

SLAP! SLAPPP-SLAPP! SLAPPETTY-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP! SLAP-SLAPPP-SLAPPETTY-SLAP!!!!

Smiling broadly, Frank Fornaro directed his comments to the semi-conscious Wifey: “Honey, be sure to drink your tea. It’s restorative. You’ll need all your strength to take on this fabulous redhead in a few weeks. Today’s Yoga session with Maureen was really intense, so sleep it off.”

Winking at Frank Fornaro, Maureen continued to wield her Sweetly Freckled Irish Teats, slapping and bludgeoning the ugly Italian housewife’s face with her sumptuous Gaelic Girls---at an even faster pace: SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAPPETTY!! SLAPPPPP-SLAPPETTY! SLAP! SLAPP-SLAPP-SLAPPETTY! SLAPPPPP!

Then Maureen stopped and sauntered over to the Mr. Fornaro,

“Well, if the Mickey Finn I just slipped into Concetta’s tea doesn’t knock her out, I’ll have to take matters into my own hands---or derriere,” whispered the Celtic Queen into Frank’s ear. Mo returned to the bedside, lifted up her dress, got on the bed and planted her thong-free Irish Ass on the Piggish Paisan’s face.

“Ok, Connie, we’re off. I’m driving Maureen to her date. I’ll be back, er, soon. Are you ready, Mo?” said Frank.

“Go on ahead, Frank. I want to make Connie, tee-hee, comfortable,” chortled Mo, gyrating her sexy Irish buttocks on the Italian woman’s faccia brutta. Connie could do nothing but squirm in pain and humiliation as her rival’s magnificent ass engulfed Wifey’s beak, ignominiously mashing the Pitiful Paisan’s face.

Though the Mickey Finn was beginning to take effect, Concetta’ looked up at the sprinkling of Pristine Russet Freckles adorning the small of the Irishwoman’s back---and she sobbed. Concetta Fornaro sobbed uncontrollably. Connie’s tears fell like rain. With her nose nestled deep inside her Irish Conqueror’s anus, Concetta knew that the Mighty Maureen McNeal was---and always would be---in command. Hearing Connie’s crying jag, the Fiery Redhead looked over her freckled shoulder and decided to double down on the bumping and grinding gyrations, swinging her hips to and fro and evincing nothing but utter contempt for the inferior Doo-WOP.

Once Mr. Fornaro left, Her Royal Hibernian Majesty stopped grinding her fragrant arse on the Paisan’s heavily pummeled face; Maureen arose, pulled the bed sheets aside, ripped the Italian woman’s pajama top open, gripped Concetta’s nipples and began twisting them forcefully.

“GAHHHHHHH; UHHHHHHHH, OHHHHHHHH,” gasped a semi-conscious Connie.

“Just remember, Scungilli-cunt, I OWN you. And when we meet in the ring, the whole world’s gonna see Irish Goddess Maureen McNeal beat your at Paisan ass---and those ugly eggplant udders. You’re no match for MY FRECKLED IRISH BEAUTY AND STRENGTH. You’ll be lucky if I don’t snap your spine, Parmigiana Mamma!”

“Sweet dreams, Cow-Teat-Concetta. HaHaHaHaHaa!” declared a haughty Maureen.

Within seconds, Connie fell into a deep and disturbing slumber.

Many hours later, Cowardly Concetta was awakened by the sound of rustling sheets as Frank Fornaro slipped into bed. “Frank, what took you so long? You were supposed to take Maureen to meet her date, but that’s only 3 or 4 miles from here,” noted Connie

“Turns out my car had a problem starting, so I tinkered with both autos,” replied Mr. Fornaro.

“And?” asked Mrs. Fornaro.

“Well, I need to strip,” said Frank

“What!?” replied Concetta.

“Maureen needed to strip, too.” Said Frank.

“WHAT!?” said Concetta, her Putrid Paisan puppies dangling as she sat up on the bed.

“We both stripped,” responded Mr. Fornaro.

“W-W-What????” inquired Concetta, whose eggplant teats now sagged to her blubbery belly.

“Have you forgotten the car problems? Maureen needed a part only I could provide. So I stripped and inserted my piston and VOILA!. Her engine was soooo revved up and she began to purr,” explained Frank.

“Oh, good thing you were there, honey,” said the dumb-fuck Concetta.

“A VERY good thing, Connie,” smirked Mr. Fornaro.

“But you don’t smell of grease or anything. Did you shower? Is that a new cologne?” wondered dimwit Connie.

“It’s Irish Spring,” smiled Frank as he turned his back on Concetta’s cow-teats, shut off the light and fell asleep dreaming of Maureen McNeal’s Sensually Freckled Breasts.

As if on cue, the screen went dark, and Maureen turned to Gary. “Hope you’re not miffed about your Dad, Gareee. He was just a means to an end. You’re the one I’ve always desired, lover-boy. Because YOU. ARE. MY. NUMBER. ONE. GUY,” said the Irish MILF, licking the inside of the college stud’s ear with her hot tongue.

“MMMMMMMMMMMMM,” moaned a swooning Gary-boy

“My smoking hot teanga works every time,” said the Seductive Irish Superwoman.

“Yeahhh . . . yessssssssssss,” said the deliriously horny Gary.

“And can you resist these?” asked Mo heaving her Freckled Irish Breasts.

“NEVER!” replied Gary Fornaro.

“Don’t I know that, lover bitch-boy. Now lick my areolae,”

‘Yessssss, Mistress!” said Gary as he began swirling his tongue around Mo’s areolae.

“Ohhhhhh . . . YES!!!!” exclaimed Gary.

“Take my tits, Gareee. Inhale my Magnificent Freckled Teats, bitch-boy. LICK MY SEXY CELTIC FRECKLES, my Italian slave boy!” commanded Mistress Maureen.

“Yesssssssssssssssss, my Gaelic Goddess,” moaned Gary-boy.

“Now lick my Sweet Irish Anus. Tongue-fuck my Glorious Gaelic Ass, my Italian slave-boy,” Commanded Maureen McNeal.

Gary dutifully and hungrily complied, spinning Maureen around and licking her sensually freckled shoulders and then sliding his tongue down to the small of her back. The Italian slave-boy then began kissing, licking and inhaling, Mo’s sweet Irish butt cheeks. Finally, Gary plunged his raging tongue into Her Royal Hibernian Majesty’s sumptuous anus.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhh . . . . Mmmmmmmmmm . . .. Oh-Oh-Oh , , , Mmmmmmm . . . AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH,” moaned Maureen on the brink of orgasm.

Maureen had to bring matters under control, however. Gary was so wild with obedience and lust that Mo needed to quell his passion.

“STOP, Gareee! That was sooooo wonderful, but let’s turn our attention to the screen. We’ll celebrate later, lover boy,” implored the Alluring Irish Goddess.
‘
Gary Fornaro did as he was told. Maureen hit the on-button of her remote control; and the Irish Goddess and her Italian slave boy were transported to the first match of the KWFL.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” bellowed the ring announcer, “welcome to the inaugural bout of the Knockout Women’s Fighting League!”

Maureen’s in-house wrestling/boxing ring had the look and feel of a professional arena. The house was full. Standing room only, and the crowd was brimming with enthusiasm for the combatants to appear.

A nervous Connie Fornaro waited behind a makeshift curtain in what was actually a storage closet. Clad in a beige two piece bathing suit that could be considered drab at best and frumpy at worst, Mamma Mozzarella wondered what awaited her.

Given the humiliating fistic defeats she’d suffered at the hands of the Freckled Irish Beauty, Maureen McNeal, it was remarkable that Concetta would even show her face, much less partake in this match.

But the repeated drubbings Connie had absorbed had been erased from her memory. The sheer concussive force of the Gaelic Goddess’s pugilistic poundings had induced amnesia in the Matronly Italian Housewife.

Still, as Meatball Mamma walked meekly to the squared circle, a wave of trepidation engulfed her. When the ring announcer called out her name, the Porcine Paisan stumbled forward---her awkward steps signaling that she desperately wanted to flee---nearly tripping on the ring apron: “In this corner, stands the challenger Concetta Fornaro---better known as MOZZARELLA MAMMA!”

“This is our first official bout. How come I’m considered the challenger?” thought a visibly distressed Connie.

The crowd simply murmured.

Ignoring Connie’s consternation, the ring announcer continued: “And in this corner, please welcome the KWFL Champion: Her Royal Hibernian Highness---IRISH GODDESS MAUREEN MCNEAL!!!!”

The Curvaceous Celtic Champion lived up to her billing. Emerging from the far end of the gym, the Foxy Irishwoman strutted about, swirling a sparkling green cape, enticing the males in attendance with a preview of her Sumptuous Freckled Pulchritude. Proffering teasing glimpses of her sweet Hibernian flesh by unveiling a lentiginous teat here and a shiny freckled shoulder there, Mo’s sultry peek-a-boo saunter led to an eruption of boners among the aroused males in attendance.

Both the salivating men and their annoyed wives watched as the sexpot MILF cloaked her entire body in the emerald cape so that everyone could view the insignia of this Ferocious Fightin’ Irish Goddess: A green shamrock encircled in a halo of white.

And then Maureen whipped off her cape, revealing the female warrior’s Pristinely Majestic Body. Mo’s outfit consisted of thin strips of kelly-green spandex that crisscrossed the redhead’s chest but left her Sweetly Freckled Irish Breasts completely uncovered.

Maureen’s crotch was adorned with a barely visible verdant thong. But all eyes were fixated on Her Royal Hibernian Majesty’s buck nekkid Freckled TEATS.

The Irish Goddess was a glorious Gaelic sight in her Full Frontal Freckled Nudity. The raw beauty and sheer naked firmness of Mo’s Sweet Lentiginous Breasts made the audience gasp in sheer awe.

All the men rose at once to give the scintillating Redhead a thunderous STANDING OVATION.

Seizing on the opportunity to psychologically diminish her already shaken foe, Maureen responded by jiggling her Sensually Freckled Tits, posing seductively, licking her lips and throwing a kiss to the applauding males---most particularly Frank Fornaro.

Mozzarella Mamma bowed her head in sadness and humiliation.

As two combatants met in mid-ring, the announcer enumerated the fight rules: “This contest will be a 10-round bare-knuckled, no-holds-barred match. No bell can end the round. A round is completed when one combatant is pinned at the count of 3---or when one fighter verbally submits that round to the other. If a fighter is knocked unconscious by another, the bout is officially over. A fighter may concede the ENTIRE match via submission at any point in the contest by uttering the words: I YIELD TO THE BETTER WOMAN.

Now . . . let’s get ready to . . . RUMBLE!”

“Before we do, ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to make an announcement,” interjected the Haughty Irishwoman

Having seized the announcer’s microphone, the beauteous MILF commanded a stunned audience’s attention.

“Everyone here can clearly see that my unworthy opponent poses little or no threat to my status as Champion of the KWFL, a title bestowed upon me by virtue of my Superior Irish Pulchritude, Sex Appeal and Power.”

As if to underscore her words, the titian-tressed female flexed her muscles, wiggled her hips and shook her freckled tits---in striptease fashion. And while accentuating her bodacious lentiginous breasts---and sweet body---Maureen McNeal removed the flimsy strips of kelly-green spandex (and verdant thong)that constituted her fighting garb. Except for two wrestling boots, the Pristine Irish Queen stood before the assembled multitude au naturel.

Ignoring the women in the audience, the Resplendently Beautiful Irishwoman turned to the males and asked, “Like my freckles, boys?”

“MO, MO, MO! WE LOVE YOUR FRECKLES SO! BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF THAT GREASY HO!” roared the horny men in unison.

Smiling wickedly and strutting her sensually lentiginous body, Maureen turned to Mozzarella Mamma and said, ”Think you can compete with the likes of MIGHTY MAUREEN MCNEAL, Concetta-cur?”

A quaking Meatball Mamma had no choice but to shed her bathing suit---top and bottom, exposing the Porcine Paisan’s hairy bush.

“HA, HA, HA HAWWWWWWWWWW, HAWWWWWW, HAWW,HAWWWW,HA, HA,HA,AH , HAHA!” responded the raucous crowd (females included).

Never one to miss an opportunity to belittle a female foe, Mo went back to her corner and retrieved the KWFL Championship belt, strapping it to her waist.

Striding to the center of the ring, Maureen was the picture of feminine perfection. The golden metallic emblem of the KWFL belt complemented the Irishwoman’s titian tresses and highlighted the sexy sheen of Mo’s Sensually Freckled Figure.

Without any prompting, the male contingent erupted once more: “MO, MO, MO! WE LOVE YOUR FRECKLES SO! BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF THAT GREASY HO!”

Concetta Fornaro shook with fear as the Irish Goddess acknowledged the men: “Seems you boys already know the outcome of this match. Well, it IS a foregone conclusion. My opponent isn’t much to look at, I’ll admit. What with that hairy, smelly cunt and all . . . ha, ha, ha! But one must also consider this Pitiful Paisan’s eggplant teats, mozzarella belly and, oh yeah, that big ugly NOSE! Ha, ha, ha, haw, haw, haha!”

“MO, MO, MO! WE LOVE YOUR FRECKLES SO! BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF THAT GREASY HO!” shouted the Her Royal Hibernian Majesty cheering gallery yet again.

“Is that what you boys want this Gaelic Gal to do?” teased the Pristine Irish Queen

“MO, MO, MO! WE LOVE YOUR FRECKLES SO! BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF THAT GREASY HO!” retorted the crew of horny males.

“Looks like Marinara Mamma’s in for a nasty beating. A stomping, I’d say. But today’s pummeling will far outstrip the poundings I’ve already administered to this greasy, cowardly cunt. Yesireee, your Royal Hibernian Highness is going all out to remind Cow-Teat Concetta of her unmitigated inferiority,” announced Mighty Maureen as she flexed her freckled biceps.

“MO, MO, MO! WE LOVE YOUR FRECKLES SO! BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF THAT GREASY HO!” responded the howling men.

“Irish Maureen McNeal will certainly ‘beat the shit out of that Greasy Ho,’ boys. But I’m going to experiment on Meatball Mamma at will. Just think of Concetta Fornaro as my, um, Guinea Pig. HaHaHaHaHa HAWWWWWWWW, HAWW.HaHa!” taunted Mo.

An enraged and humiliated Connie lost all her composure and raced toward the contemptuous Irishwoman, fists at the ready.

However, the lowly Paisan was halted in her tracks by a steely freckled forearm.

Maureen followed up her swift defensive parry with a whopping offensive blow: a rocketing right-handed haymaker that made Concetta’s teeth rattle as her knees buckled.

The Luscious Lentiginous Lady’s next move was as cruel as it was jarring---but OH SO SEXY! While Connie teetered and tottered, Mo unbuckled the KWFL Title Belt and smashed it viciously on the lowly Italian’s droppy udders.

An overhand Irish fist to Marinara Mamma’s jaw rocked the hapless brunette.

Before the Porcine Paisan completely collapsed, though, Maureen grabbed hold of Concetta’s greasy mane and smelly cunt hairs, lifted the lowly Teresa Giudice lookalike high into the air in bench-press fashion and paraded the Italian peasant around the ring.

All the while, Her Royal Hibernian Highness made certain that every man in the house got an eyeful of her Sensually Freckled Irish Shoulders, Biceps and Back.

“Like Irish Maureen’s moves, boys?” queried the Celtic Sexpot.

The crowd of horny men went wild with every action taken by Her Royal Hibernian Majesty. The lusty crew hooted, hollered and cheered the Magnificent Irishwoman’s fighting moxie, and Mo continued to mete out intense physical punishment and deep psychological pain to her inferior, outmatched foe.

While holding Marinara Mamma’s helpless body in the air, Maureen twirled the lowly brunette about as if she were tossing a pizza in the making.

Seconds later, the Freckled Irish Goddess dropped the ugly Italian bitch across an upraised knee, executing a letter-perfect backbreaker.

“That’s how you bend a spaghetti-bender, boys!” chortled Scintillating Maureen.

Needless to say, the boys went wild when the Fightin’ Irish Superwoman picked up Concetta off the mat, lifted her overhead again---and hurled the Guinea Pig out of the ring and onto the concrete floor.

Connie landed on her old-lady tits, which cushioned the fall somewhat. Still, Meatball Mamma staggered about in a frightened stupor.

The redheaded MILF jumped over the ropes and executed a flying drop-kick that knocked her pathetic Italian rival into the audience. Hungering for more sexy mayhem, the men cleared the row. Maureen took that as a cue---and took hold of a vacated metal chair, smashing it across the lowly Meatball’s back.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh . . . uhhhhhhhhhhhh . . . Owwwwwwww . . . uhhhhh,” screamed the reeling Parmigiana Pig, whose knees buckled.

When the Fightin’ Irish Goddess approached her nearly crippled foe, Concetta appeared to be in genuflection to her Celtic Conqueror. From Connie’s servile vantage point, all she could do was quake in fear and marvel at the sculpted sensuality of the Fully Freckled Hibernian Beauty looming over her.

“You KNOW I’m your superior, Scungilli-cunt!” announced Maureen. Grabbing Concetta by the chin, Mighty Mo McNeal uncorked a sweeping left uppercut to Concetta’s ugly schnozzola. The punch lifted the Guinea Pig off her feet,

“Uhhhhh—ohhhhhh!” yelped Parmigiana Mamma.

The Pristinely Beautiful Irishwoman double-downed on her ownership of the low-class Jersey-whore. While the Putrid Paisan grabbed her injured nose, Maureen went to work on Concetta’s flabby belly. Mixing in stinging jabs and overhand punches with one-two combinations to the Porcine wench’s protruding polenta-like paunch, the Irish Queen was putting a major hurt on the lowly Italian wench.

“Whatsa matta u, Parmigiana Mamma?” taunted the Resplendently Freckled Irish MILF.

“Oooooooooooof! Uhhhhhhhhhhh! Guhhhhhhhh! Ooof-oof-oof! Ohhhhhhhhh! OOOOF!” responded the outclassed Meatball as The Pride Of Erin launched fist after unanswered Celtic fist into the Punching-bag Paisan’s gelatinous midsection.

Resistance was more than futile at this point in the pugilistic proceedings. But the little Guinea Pig was too dazed to formulate a coherent thought, much less a fighting strategy.

Connie wanted to surrender. Her hideously beaten belly wanted her wave the white flag.

But Lady McNeal wanted to extend her personal ecstasy while prolonging Concetta’s agony.

Indeed, the Magnificently Freckled Irishwoman’s sledgehammer blows to Mozzarella Mamma’s sloppy, squishy breadbasket were steadfastly disrupting the Italian woman’s already meager mental apparatus.

And Frank Fornaro’s Wifey was absorbing a terrific shellacking at the hands of the Fair, Fragrant and Freckled Irishwoman.

What’s more, the optics were so very, very delicious.

“Hit her Tits!” yelled one of the male factions.

“Beat her Breasts!” screamed yet another group of horny men.

“Maul her Mozzarella Mammaries!” exclaimed an even bigger retinue of males AND females.

All the action was still taking place outside the ring, so Maureen stopped pounding the stuffing out of the Marinara Matron, took her by the hair and slammed the Paisan Pig’s forehead into the steel corner post of the squared circle.

Mamma Mozzarella spun about, ludicrously punching the air around her as if it were her opponent.

“I’m over here, Guinea Pig! Here Guinea, Guinea Pig!” shouted the Superior Irishwoman as she pasted Concetta’s jaw with a right cross.

A knee-lift to Mrs. Fucked-up Fornaro’s chin sent Concetta reeling, with the redheaded MILF in hot pursuit.

Maureen reached for Mommy Ugliest’s greasy mane with her left hand, pulled the Putrid Paisan inward and fired a powerful Irish pub-style punch into Connie’s right eye.

The Scungilli-cunt screeched: “OHHHHHHHHHH,” grabbing the injured eye socket. As she did, Concetta’s raised her arms, leaving her sloppy polenta paunch open for the Pristine Irishwoman’s pulverizing fists.

“OOOOOFFFFFFF! UHHHHHHH! Oooooo-Oooofffffff! OW-OW-OW! Guhhhhhhhhhhhh! Oof-Oof-Oof!” screamed the hopelessly inferior peasant as Sexy Maureen methodically pounded the Fat Meatball’s mushy midriff with abandon.

“Seems Guinea Pig can’t take it. Isn’t that right, Guinea Pig?” chuckled the Superior Irishwoman as her bare-knuckles kneaded, folded, stretched and pummeled Concetta’s greasy, sweaty rolls of stomach fat.

Stung by her Celtic rival’s cruel comments---and mortified that she was absorbing yet another embarrassing beating at the hands of her redheaded foe---Connie attempted a clinch (in the manner of a boxer) to buy herself some time.

But Maureen McNeal was having none of it.

“Fight back, you stupid Scungilli-cunt! This isn’t some dumb-ass Marquis of Queensbury bout. We’re fightin’ Irish bare-knuckled style. And that means NO HOLDS BARRED, bitch!”

Pushing the Cowardly Concetta away, Mo resumed her effortless dismantling of the brunette weakling. But Her Royal Hibernian Majesty switched tactics.

The Pristine Irishwoman put up her dukes and began a sexy speedbag bludgeoning of Mozzarella Mamma’s Meatball tits. Maureen’s whirling precision punches pulped the Pig-like Paisan’s sweaty sacs of fetid goat milk.

Whoomp-whoomp-whoompetty-WHOOMP, Slappetty-slapppp-SPLATT, Whuppp-Whoomp, Smack-Smacketty-SMAAAACCCCKKK!

The Beautiful Colleen’s ferocious pulping of theGuinea Pig’s pitiful udders continued for a full 10 minutes, eliciting no fistic response from Rag-doll Concetta. In fact, the brunette’s arms remained helplessly at her side as Lady McNeal punished the Italian’s oily, swarthy breast meat with, um, extreme prejudice.

Intimidated by the Superior Irishwoman’s raw power and sensually freckled beauty, Connie gave in to her congenital off-the-boat cowardice and sobbed.

Inferior is as inferior does.

And as Mo completed her rhythmic breast battering, Concetta fell to the concrete pavement with a sweet THUD.

Turning to the audience before resuming her remorseless drubbing of the already Fucked-up Mrs. Fornaro, the Delectable Gaelic Dame strutted her Milfy Irish charms.

Heaving her Gorgeously Freckled Breasts while dancing, preening and flexing over the prostrate figure of the downed Paisan, the Hibernian Queen accentuated her Supremacy: “Think this Stinking Guinea Pig has had enough, boys?”

The males erupted in a spirited chant: “SNAP HER SPINE LIKE A TWIG! BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF THAT GUINEA PIG!”

Fluffing her titian mane and scrunching it up above her head seductively, thereby showcasing her Beautifully Freckled Breasts, Maureen raised her right foot and stomped on the prone Paisan’s swinish belly.

Concetta groaned in pain, choking out a pitiful plea: “B-B-Beautiful Maureen, y-y-you p-p-please stoppa hitting Concetta;”

“Well, lookee here, boys. Mozzarella Mamma has life. Time to get Scungilli-cunt back into the ring. Still, I should test her backbone,” said the Irish Queen with a sinister smile.

With the strength of Lioness, Mo scooped up the slimy brunette and savagely body-slammed Connie back down onto the hard and cold concrete floor.

Now flat on her back, the Fucked-up brunette gazed up at her Gaelic conqueror in fear and resignation; Mo grabbed Concetta-sow and threw her under the ropes and back into the center of the ring apron.

Striding confidently to the opposite corner, the Mighty Lady McNeal climbed the ring post and stood on the very top of the turnbuckle. The klieg lights shone on the Pristine Irish Queen’s peaches-and-cream complexion, accentuating her Powerful and Sensually Freckled Physique. With her swarthy Italian victim writhing and twitching below, Mo leapt upward, somersaulted in mid-air and landed her full weight on Mamma Mozzarella’s ugly udders, flattening the Porcine Paisan’s meatball teats.

KAAAAAAA-THOOOOOOOOOOOM!

As Her Royal Hibernian Highness lifted the squashed Concetta’s right leg, she made certain to heave her Fulsome Freckled Irish Breasts onto the Italian’s face, engulfing the lowly bitch’s nostrils and cutting off her air supply---effectively smothering the worthless Guinea Pig.

“ONE . . . TWO . . . THREE!” counted the referee. And the Irish Goddess WINS Round 1!”

“Think I should snuff her out, boys?” queried the triumphant Maureen as she continued increasing the pressure on Parmigiana Mamma’s ugly countenance.

“WIN THIS BOUT! WIN IT BIG! SNUFF THE LIFE OUT OF THAT GUINEA PIG!”

“Well, let me ask my unworthy opponent. Should I end your miserable existence, Scungilli cunt?” queried the Supremely Pristine Celtic Queen.

“MMMMpffffggffuhhh!” responded the smothered Concetta.

“Whatsa matta u? Concetta don’t-a speak-a dee English?” mocked the Freckled Irish Goddess, thrusting her bountiful breasts even harder onto the hapless Italian’s contorted face.

The Fucked-up Mrs. Fornaro’s oxygen was rapidly depleting; her eyes were beginning to roll back in her head, and Concetta’s eye-lashes were fluttering wildly.

But Lady McNeal would not give in to mercy.

“Boys, should I let my Sweetly Freckled Teats take out this worthless Guinea Pig for good?” asked Her Royal Hibernian Majesty as Concetta’s arms flailed about in utter panic.

“WIN THIS BOUT! WIN IT BIG! SNUFF THE LIFE OUT OF THAT GUINEA PIG!” chanted both the men and women in the audience.

“Tell ya what I’m gonna do, Guinea Pig. Irish Goddess Maureen McNeal will show you some mercy---more mercy than a Swinish Coward like you deserves. Just remember that these Beautifully Freckled Irish Breasts---the same ones that are smothering the life out of you now---have been licked, sucked, inhaled and worshipped by both your husband and, yes, your first-born son, Gary!” intoned the stunning red-headed MILF.

When Mo arose---to the cheers of the assembled crowd---she cruelly kicked the gasping Connie Fornaro in the cunt; Then the Pristine Irish Queen sexily sauntered to her corner to await Round 2.

Round 2 began and ended in blitzkrieg fashion as the Superior Irishwoman used a leaping clothesline to take down a wary Meatball Mamma who was meekly emerging from her corner. The vicious blow nearly incapacitated the lowly Italian, and she fell back with a resounding thud onto the ring apron. Mo grabbed the Porcine Paisan, turned her upside down and tightly wrapped her arms around the brunette’s ricotta-like belly, dropping the Guinea Pig’s head onto the mat in a classic tombstone pile-driver finish.

Though her eyes were open, the Fucked-Fornaro Female could move nary a muscle when her Irish Conqueror placed only a pinky to hold Concetta down for the ref’s count:

“One . . . Two . . . Three. ANNNNNNNND Irish Goddess Maureen McNeal WINS Round 2.

Round 3 was similarly swift; but with a sexy twist. The bell announcing this third round was but seconds old when Mo challenged Connie to a test of strength by holding both freckled arms high in the air. Marinara Mamma shook with trepidation as she clasped hands with the Stunning Redheaded MILF. Sure enough, Maureen had lured Raggedy Anna Maria into a trap. The Sexy Irishwoman plowed an upraised knee into the little Guinea Pig’s gelatinous belly. Smiling wickedly, Maureen sent a second knee into Concetta’s chin as the greasy brunette was falling forward.

Scungilli-cunt Concetta instantly jackknifed backwards and onto her back, staring at the Powerful Freckled Irishwoman who had bested her yet again. The stricken Mrs. Fornaro could do little as Maureen grasped the brunette’s oily mane----and hurled Connie into the turnbuckle.

Not content with repeatedly smashing Connie’s testa dura into the corner post, the Pristine Irish Goddess entangled Concetta’s arms and legs in the ring ropes, leaving Frank’s swinish spouse open to a most humiliating bitch-slapping beatdown: Rather than employing her hands to mete out punishment, Maureen incessantly slapped the Porcine Parmigiana Mamma with her Sexy Freckled Breasts.

SLAPPPP-SLAP, SLAPPPETTY-SLAPPPPPP! SLAPPPPPPP-SLAPPETTTY-SLAP-SLAP-SLAPPETTY-SLAP!

The Sexy Celtic Superwoman truly owned the lowly Guinea Pig.

“You never could compete with my Freckled Breasts, Beauty or Power, Guinea Pig,” exclaimed a haughty Mo.

“Y-Y-es, now u please-a stopp-a. Concetta she-a s-s-surrender this round,” responded the beaten Scungilli-cunt.

“And Maureen, the Pristine Irish Queen, wins Round 3!” announced the ref.

Round 4 began somewhat unusually. Instead of putting up her dukes or adopting a fierce wrestling posture, Maureen strolled up to the Paisan wench and poked two fingers in Concetta’s eyes.

“Gahhhhh!” yelped the unprepared brunette.

As Concetta-sow blindly stumbled around the ring, Irish Maureen peppered her with sweet-sounding jabs to the contemptible bitch’s flopping eggplant udders.
“SMACK-SMACK-SLAPPP-SMACK SMACKETTY-SMACK SMACK-SMACK-SMACKETTY SMACK!”
Next, the Sensually Freckled Irish Champion pounded three sharp kidney punches into The Fucked-up Italian peasant’s side.
“Bet you’re wishing I’d choked you out of your misery before, Guinea Pig!” announced Mo as she relentlessly pounded her swarthy foe like so much raw meat.
“Ohhhhhhhhhhm, Ahhhhhhh, Gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” screeched the Pitifully Overmatched Paisan.
However, before Concetta’s knees completely buckled, the Pristinely Freckled Celtic Goddess launched a Pub-style Irish uppercut that sent Concetta-cow sailing through the air and through the ropes.
Once again, the hapless Mrs. Fornaro found herself lying prostrate on the concrete floor outside the ring. Maureen jumped over the ropes, grabbed Connie by her Scungilli-cunt hairs and threw the Worthless Wifey back into the ring.
Condescendingly placing her big toe on the Porcine Parmigiana Mamma’s forehead, Mighty Maureen McNeal savored the referee’s three count: “One . . . Two . . . Three. The Winner of Round 4 is THE PRISTINE IRISH GODDESS MAUREEN MCNEAL.
All a dazed and dumbfounded Concetta could do was stare up at the Sinewy Freckled Calf of her Irish Conqueror.

Round 5: Having literally crawled to her corner after enduring Round 4, a soundly battered Mozzarella Mamma tried to clear her head of the cobwebs. But there was no erasing the intense pain and ongoing humiliation of the public beating she was absorbing.
Irish Maureen had stolen Ugly Connie’s husband, pummeled the Italian woman with impunity---before crowds big and small---and enticed Concetta’s boy, Gary, with her Freckled Celtic Charms.
There was scant time to think, though. The bell for Round 5 had just rung.
Lady McNeal closed in on Meatball Mamma, clipping the Italian’s chin with thudding County Mayo clouts. Concetta wobbled and shook as each punch reminded Mrs. Fornaro of the Hibernian Monarch’s superiority---and not just in the ring. The Pristine Irish Goddess was the better woman. And Maureen smiled broadly as her Freckled biceps bulged with every punch. Beating the stuffing out of the sweat-soaked swarthy sow known was such a glorious task.

Mo’s blows continued non-stop and came from every direction. Here was a left cross to the Guinea Pig’s temple; there was a resounding right hook to the Italian wench’s flabby belly; then came another speed-bag facial that rearranged Scungilli-cunt’s features---followed by right and a left hooks to each of Marinara Mamma’s ears.

The Freckled Irishwoman’s fistic onslaught was unceasing; the swarthy Italian sow’s response non-existent.

“Stupid Guinea Pig can’t fight,” bellowed the conquering Celtic Goddess.

“P-P-Please-a bella Maureen, Concetta . . . she no wanna f-f-fight----Uummmmpffff!” said Wifey as Her Royal Hibernian Majesty uncorked yet another County Clare uppercut to Concetta’s jaw.

“Get up and fight, you Dumb Meatball!” exclaimed the Sensuous Redhead.

Concetta tottered to her feet, bringing a wickedly perverse grin to the Powerful Irishwoman. And then the Celtic Goddess went back to pounding the lowly brunette with crisp overhand punches and sweeping bare-knuckled blows to Wifey’s thick paunch.

“Ooof, Ooof, OOOOOOOOFFFFFF! Gahhhhhh, Uhhhhhh Ohhhhhhhhh! Oof-oof-oof!” shrieked the Greasy Paisan as Maureen continued the Dublin-pub back-alley beating to her inferior foe.

And just as Concetta was pitching forward from the fusillade of belly punches, Irish Maureen McNeal straightened her up with a patented County Cork uppercut.

WHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMPPPP!

The Fucked-up Fornaro woman was swooning in pain---and now prey to Pristine Maureen’s precision pummeling.

Whooomp-whoompetty-SPLATT! Splatt-Whoomp! Woppp-woppetty-SLAP! Wooppp-Wop-Woppetty-WOP!

“Hear that sound, Scungill-cunt?” asked a sardonic Maureen in between stinging jabs and crisp haymakers to the lowly Italian’s tit meat.

Indeed, the Pristine Irishwoman’s smacking, swatting and clouting of Concetta’s wildly flopping breasts produced a rhythmic beat.

“That’s music to my ears, Guinea Pig. It’s, um, the Doo-WOP beat! Ha,Ha,Ha,Ha,AHA, Ha,Ha,Ha!”

Whooomp-whoompetty-SPLATT! Splatt-Whoomp! Woppp-woppetty-SLAP! Wooppp-Wop-Woppetty-WOP!WOP! WOP!

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Gahhh-uhhhhh-ohhh! Ow! Ow! Ooooooooof!” responded the badly hurt and doubly humiliated brunette as each Dublin-pub punch wounded her pride as much as her blubbery flesh.

The Irish Tigress halted her torrential tenderizing of the Swinish Paisan’s misshapen teats long enough to scoop up Concetta and slam her back onto the mat in a classic suplex.

KA-BOOOOMMMM!

The Goggle-eyed Guinea Pig was overwhelmed and practically done for, her body beaten to a pulpy mass of soggy ragu`. But it was Concetta’s femininty that took the heaviest hit. The repeated physical pastings she’d absorbed at the hands of Dame Maureen McNeal---the Freckled Irish Goddess---had reinforced Mozzarella Mamma’s feelings of total inadequacy---and inferiority.

There was only one option left for Meatball Mamma: FLEE!

While Mo was busy showboating her Magnificent Celtic Physique---teasing the audience’s males by suggestively licking her lips, fluffing her titian locks and cupping her Sensually Freckled Breasts---the Swinish Concetta made her escape.

Rather than stand and fight, Cowardly Concetta slithered under the ring’s lowest rope and bolted for the exit.

But as the Stupid Scungilli-cunt ran toward the exit door at the far side of the gym, she stumbled. Irish Maureen McNeal, who was in hot pursuit, jumped high in the air and landed boots-first on the small of Concetta’s back.
Mo savagely pulled on the downed Connie’s oily mane, whipped the brunette around and issued 10 stinging slaps---front and backhand---across the Paisan Pig’s face: SMACK SMACK SMACK; SMACK SMACK SMACK; SMACK SMACK SMACK; SMACK!
Parmigiana Mamma doubled over in pain, but the Redheaded MILF had no time for granting respites---especially to such a Swinish Loser.
“No wonder why Frank fucks me! No wonder why Gary---your son---worships my Freckled Irish Beauty! You’re nothing but a Cowardly Greaseball!” bellowed Maureen as she administered a perfectly timed County Mayo Haymaker to Concetta’s chin.
The Sultry Redhead then grabbed Concetta’s by the scalp and pubic hairs and hoisted the hapless Wifey onto her shoulders.
Before heading back to the ring, though, the Pristine Irish Goddess carried her unworthy opponent high in the air overhead---bench-pressing the beaten brunette---as Mo paraded around the gym stripteaser-style so that all the males could ogle her Sensually Freckled Beauty and Superiority.

Satisfied that she had sufficiently TITillated the horn-dogs in attendance, Her Royal Hibernian Highness climbed into the squared circle and threw her ignoble foe onto the mat. But then she went back into the audience, retrieved a steel folding chair and placed it in mid-ring alongside the battered Mozzarella Mamma.
“Do you boys think I should send Cowardly Concetta to the ICU?” queried a coquettish Maureen
“WIN THIS BOUT! WIN IT BIG! SNUFF THE LIFE OUT OF THAT GUINEA PIG!”

“Looks like its curtains for you, Scungilli-Cunt Concetta. But methinks you need some freshening up first, Guinea Pig,” declared the Beautifully Freckled Irishwoman as she kicked Wifey repeatedly in the ass, kidneys and back---and all around the ring.
When the bedraggled Connie reached the other side of the ring---courtesy of the Celtic Queen’s booted fury---Maureen took the prostrate brunette and entwined her arms and legs into the ropes.
“Ohhhhhuarrruuuuh!!” moaned Concetta as Mo smashed a right cross into the Meatball Matron’s jaw. The Fucked-up Fornaro woman’s teeth rattled with the blow, which was followed by a punishing left cross to Connie’s temple.
“Gahhhhhhhh—ohhhhhhhhhhh!”
“Yep, Irish Maureen is going to treat Mozzarella Mamma to a full body makeover!” chortled the Celtic Queen, unleashing a bare-knuckled County Donegal punch to the Swarthy Woman’s ugly proboscis.
“EeyyyahhOwwwwwwwwww!” cried Concetta.
Next came a jarring hammer-like fist that rocked Connie’s right cheekbone, followed swiftly by a second such blow to the Swarthy Sow’s left cheekbone.
“Gahhhhhhhh-ooohhhhhhhh-GuuuHHHH!!! Ohhhhhhhhhhh-OWWWWWWWWWWW-ArghOWWWW-Uhhh!” screamed the pain-wracked Paisan.
Chortling at Concetta’s utter helplessness, the Pristine Irish Goddess continued her fistic fusillade.
Maureen shifted her attack to Cowardly Concetta’s flabby paunch. This time, however, the Freckled Goddess slackened the pace of her punches. Each Sweet Celtic blow to Connie’s greasy gut was measured, methodical and meant to accentuate Mo’s superiority over the Mousey Marinara Loser.
“SMACKKKKKK!” echoed Maureen’s fist as the bare knuckles of her fist encountered the fleshy fatness of Connie’s sweaty stomach.
“SMACKKKETTTYY!” sounded the Freckled Irishwoman’s second blow when it burrowed deep into the Paisan Pig’s pulpy pot belly.
“SPLATTTTTTTTTTTT!” resounded Mo’s third offering, a stinging County Meath punch that landed in between the folds of Meatball Mamma’s jiggling midriff meat.
“SLAMMMMMMMMMMM!” retorted Scungilli-Cunt Concetta’s stomach flesh as the Freckled Irish Goddess continued her degradation of the inferior Paisan.
“SCHLUMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPPP!” reverberated around the ring as the Stunning Redhead launched a vicious County Clare uppercut into the soggy midsection of a barely conscious Italian.
Mo’s final assault on the Cowardly Greaseball was picture-perfect pugilism. Arching back, the Irishwoman’s beautifully freckled arm delivered a powerful Dublin-pub style right into the woeful Italian woman’s navel.
“WHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPPP!”
The blow sank so deeply into Meatball Mamma’s slimy solar plexus that Mo’s fist disappeared. Moreover, the pain was so intense that Connie’s hands popped out from their ring rope constraints. Wifey fell to her knees holding her battered belly while looking up at her powerful Freckled Conqueror.
The Freckled Irish Goddess was fully aware of the sheer sexiness of her fistic dominance over Swarthy Connie. So she wanted to milk it to the hilt. Lifting the Guinea Pig up by her chin, she turned to the men in the audience.
“It doesn’t get any more delicious than this. Right, boys? Now watch what comes next!”
Letting go of the woozy Concetta’s chin, the Stunning Lady McNeal allowed her swinish foe to stagger about in a stupor before slamming two Celtic fists simultaneously into Marinara Mamma’s meatball areolae.
“ULLLLLPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!’ screamed the Cowardly Concetta as Maureen’s double-barreled punch-out flattened both of the brunette’s ugly udders.
“Stop-a. Please-a stopp-a h-h-hurting Concetta, Beautiful Lady McNeal!” gurgled Mozzarella Mamma
But the Freckled Irish Goddess had no intention of stopping the carnage. What followed was a classic County Donegal speed-bag pummeling of the Fucked-up Fornaro Woman’s sorry sacs of fetid goat milk.
“WHOOOMPPP-WOP; SMACK-SMACKETTY-SMACK; WHUPP-WHUP-WHOOMPETTY-WOP!” shouted Maureen’s fists of stone as they tenderized, pounded and pulverized Concetta’s greasy tits with impunity.
Male observers seated behind Mo’s current position in the ring were treated to a most breathtaking sight: A glorious view of the Irish Goddess Maureen’s Freckled back muscles---coated in a patina of luscious victory sweat---tensing, flexing and torquing---as she punched Parmigiana Mamma senseless.
With her mouth lolling open and her eyes fluttering wildly, Concetta absorbed the Pristine Irishwoman’s brutal beating---underscoring the Scungilli-cunt’s status as a cowardly weakling. And in all their encounters---including this KWFL Title match---the little Guinea Pig had yet to lay a hand on her Stunning Redheaded rival.
“Ooof, ulpp, gahh, ooof, guhhhhhh, OWWWWW, OOOOOOF!” moaned Connie as the Freckled Irish Beauty relentlessly scrubbed, smashed, clouted and crushed the Italian woman’s eggplant teats.
“I’m ripping you apart, Scungilli-cunt! And pounding your ugly little greasy udders into a full-fledged ironing board. HaHaHaHaHaHaHa!” chortled the Magnificent Maureen.
“WHOOOMPPP-WOP; SMACK-SMACKETTY-SMACK; WHUPP-WHUP-WHOOMPETTY-WOP!” continued Mo’s mocking fists as they smacked Concetta’s sloppy tit flesh.
The male audience members directly viewing Maureen’s precise pasting of Concetta swooned. With her Beautifully Sculpted Freckled Breasts coated in a sheen of sweet victory sweat---and her Gaelic punches hammering away at Meatball Mamma’s putrid swarthy tits---the Pristine Irish Goddess towered over her inferior foe, who spastically jerked and convulsed as each bare-knuckled Celtic fist tenderized Connie’s fetid teats.
“Is Scungilli-cunt Concetta ready to surrender?” asked Irish Maureen after landing yet another County Mayo haymaker to the Italian woman’s bludgeoned torso.
Six more unanswered bare-knuckled Celtic fists slammed into both of Connie’s misshapen tits, which were beginning to resemble actual eggplants.
Whoompppppppp-whooopetty-WOP! THUUMPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP-thumpetty-WOP
“So . . . is the Doo-WOP ready to submit?” queried the Irish Queen.
“I y-y-yield to-a . . .” gurgled the nearly unconscious Connie. But she was prevented from conceding the entire match by a massively powerful County Cork blow to her right eye.
WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMP!
“ You need some pizzaz for the post-fight pics, Concetta. And the shiner I just gave you will contrast nicely with my Peaches-and-Cream Arse, which you’ll be licking and kissing---before and after your schnozz is fully up my anus!” bellowed Mo.
“Y-Y-Yes, O B-B-Beautiful Irish Q-Q-Queen. Concetta she-a s-s-submit,” croaked the beaten brunette.
“Smack-smack-smack,” thundered Mo’s backhand as she slapped Wifey’s face to and fro.
“Say the magic words, wench!” exclaimed Her Royal Hibernian Highness
“Y-yes, P-Pristine M-Maureen . . . C-c-concetta, she y-yield to-a the . . .”
Grabbing Mozzarella Mamma by her greasy brown locks, Irish Maureen slammed a heavy County Kildare uppercut into Concetta’s polenta-like paunch.
“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOFFFFFFFF!” grunted the pulverized Paisan.
“Say it correctly, Scungilli-cunt!” commanded Mo
“ C-Concetta she-a Y-YIELD TO-a . . .”
“Yield to whom, Doo-WOP?” bellowed the Pristine Irish Queen.
“Concetta . . . she-a YIELD to da better . . .”
Unsatisfied with Wifey’s cadence, Maureen sent a punishing knee into Concetta’s already devastated solar plexus.
“Guuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhh,” gasped the battered brunette.
“Your surrender must be properly expressed, Guinea Pig! GOT IT!?” declared the Irish Victrix.
Once again grabbing hold of the Porcine Paisan’s matted mane, Maureen forced Wifey to kneel, providing a suitably servile position for Mrs. Fornaro’s surrender.
The psychologically savaged and physically battered Meatball complied: “I, GUINEA-PIG CONCETTA, YIELD TO THE BETTER WOMAN: THE PRISTINELY FRECKLED IRISH GODDESS MAUREEN MCNEAL.”
Mo extended her right hand, demanding that the inferior brunette kiss it in abject surrender. But the Paisan Pig took her servility further. Connie fell to the floor, removed Maureen’ wrestling boots and began kissing and licking the Pristine Irish Queen’s feet—inhaling and slurping each toe.
After re-booting Mo’s feet, Marinara Mamma looked up at her Celtic Conqueror, quaking as the Redhead flexed her Sensually Freckled Musculature. “Now lick the dirty soles of my boots, Doo-WOP!” barked Her Royal Hibernian Highness.
Concetta instantly went about her ignominious task, earning the left-handed praise of the Irish Superwoman----a swift and sudden left boot to the chin that put the slovenly Scungilli-cunt flat on her back.
The Fucked-up Mrs. Fornaro was one hot mess---and could do little as Mighty Maureen scooped her up and hurled the brunette into the opposing ropes. When Connie rebounded into the center of the ring, the Beautifully Freckled Lady McNeal grabbed Wifey’s head, jumped in the air---lifting Mozzarella Mamma’s head up--- and smashed the lowly Italian’s face into the seat of the perfectly positioned steel chair (that the KWFL had brought into the ring.).
This was the mother of all facebusters.
Concetta’s body spastically flipped, flopped and flailed about—until it sank into sudden unconsciousness. The Triumphant Irishwoman looked down contemptuously at the beaten, battered and bludgeoned Meatball Mamma, smiled broadly and placed a dirty boot on the Guinea Pig’s face.
Grinding her sole strategically so as to block Connie’s breathing passages, the Pristine Irish Superwoman exclaimed in wonder: “Should I, um, terminate this Doo-WOP with extreme prejudice?
“WIN THIS BOUT! WIN IT BIG! SNUFF THE LIFE OUT OF THAT GUINEA PIG!” urged the make contingent.

“Let me think about it for a while, boys!” said the gloating Celtic Conqueror as she continued to rub the grimy sole of her wrestling boot all over Concetta’s nostrils and mouth.
Meanwhile the ref took hold of Maureen’s arm, held it aloft and made the Redheaded MILF’s glorious victory official: “The Winner---and still CHAMPION of the Knockout Women’s Fighting League---The Sensually Freckled IRISH GODDESS MAUREEN MCNEAL!
The men in the audience erupted, adding: “MO WON THIS BOUT! SHE WON IT BIG! NOW SNUFF THE LIFE OUT OF THAT GUINEA PIG!”

As the men chanted deliriously, the ref fastened the KWFL Championship Belt around Maureen’s waist. The Pristine Irish Queen’s Sensually Freckled Breasts literally glistened in all their naked splendor against the metallic gold of the belt. And the Mighty Colleen’s Celtic Beauty contrasted sharply with the sorry swarthy flesh of the debased figure underfoot.
Yet Maureen had more degradation in mind. Much more.
Melodramatically requesting the ref’s microphone, Her Royal Hibernian Highness announced: “This calls for a true Celtic celebration. Now watch my moves!” Maureen nodded to the Pay-per-view broadcasters nearby---and “Riverdance” suddenly reverberated on the loudspeakers overhead.
The booming sound of the Irish step dancing music awakened Parmigiana Mamma, who looked up at the Sensually Freckled Physique of the Gaelic Goddess. Though her black-eye was bruised puffy and completely shut, Concetta noticed the KWFL Championship Belt adorning Mo’s waist.
Looking down at the defeated Doo-Wop Woman---and employing the amplification of the microphone---the Insolent Irishwoman commanded Connie to: “Lick my dirty books, Guinea Pig!”
Meatball Mamma began to kiss, lick, slurp and inhale every dirt particle on the soles of the KWFL Champion’s wrestling boots.
“Ignominy suits you,” said Mo, inserting half of one booted foot into Connie’s mouth.
Concetta-sow obeyed the Lentiginous Lady McNeal, obsequiously sucking on the Freckled Irishwoman’s boot
“How does that taste, Greaseball?” chortled the Sexy Redheaded MILF.
“Datsa taste good, Goddess Maureen. Concetta, she-a worship la bella Irish Goddess Maureen,” responded the utterly debased Wifey as she licked and sucked Mo’s dirty boot with renewed fervor.
Seizing on the defeated Italian woman’s wholesale servility, Maureen began dancing to the Gaelic music blaring on the overhead loudspeakers. But this was no ordinary jig. Keeping her body and arms stationary, Mo used rapid leg and foot movements to step-dance all over the already bruised and humiliated body of M0zzaella Mamma.
As “Riverdance” sounded throughout the arena, Her Royal Hibernian Highness’s boots rhythmically stomped the lowly Meatball Matron’s flattened figure. The men watched in glee and fascination as Maureen’s Beautifully Freckled Breasts jiggled with every percussive blow to Concetta’s tits, belly, forehead and cunt.
“Oooowwwww, Gahhhhhh, Oof-oof-oof, Uhhhhhh, OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, OW-ww-OOOOFFFFF!” grunted the pain-wracked peasant as the Irish Goddess’s feet stomped the living shit out of the Guinea Pig. Using her long lentiginous legs to power each booted blow, Maureen humiliated the Doo-WOP’s swarthy flesh from top to bottom.
After thoroughly trampling Scungilli-cunt Concetta---Riverdance-style---Pristine Maureen switched to kicking Mozzarella Mamma’s flabby sacs of fetid goat milk; Connie’s kidneys were the next target. Last but certainly not least, the Irish Superwoman launched a booted foot to Connie’s temple.
A barely conscious and immobilized Meatball Mamma watched in silent horror as her Irish Conqueror leaped high in the air and smashed the point of her elbow into Concetta’s foul vagina.
KATHOOOOOMMMPPPP!
The Freckled Irish Goddess took a second flight into the air; this time, her wickedly cocked elbow smacked down into the Italian Loser’s polenta-like belly, wedging deeply into the fatty folds of the Guinea Pig’s paunch.
SMOOOOOOSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
Her Royal Hibernian Highness’s final flight found her smashing a Full Freckled Forearm into the Piggish Paisan’s Putrid teats. Marinara Mamma’s breasts pancaked hideously as her entire body shook spasmodically---and then went limp. Concetta’s eyes rolled up in her head and her tongue lolled out of her mouth.
The Sensually Freckled Irishwoman haughtily placed her booted foot over Concetta’s swollen face in triumph as the referee once again raised Maureen’s arm.
“Should we call a priest to administer last rites,” whispered the worried official.”
“Fuck that! The Dumb Guinea Pig deserved it!” responded the Insolent Irish Goddess.
The sexy cruelty of the Celtic Victrix’s remark prompted a swarm of paparazzi to jump into the squared circle.
Callously posing and preening over the bludgeoned and battered body of her seemingly moribund foe made for great copy. Plus, nothing equaled the sexy photos of the Freckled Irish Goddess flexing her biceps---and heaving her Lentiginous Tits onto Meatball Mamma’s Swarthy Mammaries.
“Think Concetta’s bought the farm, Champ?” asked a reporter.
“We can only hope!” responded the Hot MILF.
“Is her heart still beating?” queried a journalist from a major metropolitan newspaper.
“Well, the Dumb Guinea Pig’s heart sure wasn’t in this bout!” smirked the Pristine Irishwoman.
“Why didn’t Mrs. Fornaro put up much of a fight, Champ?” wondered a writer for Sports Review Wrestling.
“Because Scungilli-cunt Concetta is (or was? HaHaHa!) a cowardly Doo-WOP---and a weakling. I owned the Swarthy Little Bitch. And she knew it!” answered the Smug Irish Goddess.
The proceedings came to a grinding halt, however, as an agitated figure emerged and entered the ring.
Gary Fornaro’s unexpected arrival startled the paparazzi and the journalists. But Irish Maureen McNeal welcomed the young man’s presence.
“Boys, I’d like to introduce you to one of my most ardent, um, admirers.”
But the young man wanted answers.
“Why?” thundered Gary.
“Yes, why did it take you so long to get here, handsome!” said the Redheaded MILF as she pulled the young Fornaro male to her Freckled Bosom and thrust her sizzling tongue into his mouth in a torrid French kiss.
Frank Fornaro, who watched in horror from the audience, fled the scene in anger, frustration and humiliation.
Meanwhile Pristine Maureen and her Boy Toy continued their intensely erotic tongue kissing---as the near-comatose mother of Gary Fornaro lay underfoot. And as Maureen swirled her hot teanga in the young man’s mouth, she contemptuously planted both of her booted feet on Swarthy Connie’s ugly teats.
After their lengthy embrace and explosively hot kiss, Mo and Gary remained entwined. Gary gave no indication that he gave a whit about Mommy Fornaro’s life, though. Noting the young stud’s utter indifference to his mother’s possible demise, the Wickedly Sexy Maureen smiled---and continued grinding her boots on Connie’s flattened torso.
Gary asked anew: “Why? Why didn’t tell me about the KWFL Championship Bout?
“How could I, Garee? Your father would have exploded, which he just did,” explained Mo, who proceeded to seduce her real crush.
Strategically pressing her Sweetly Freckled Breasts into the young man’s chest-----while smearing dirt particles and grime from her boots’ soles all over the flattened Marinara Mamma’s Udders---Pristine Maureen began licking Gary’s neck, face and ear.
“Like that, Garee-lover?” cooed the Redheaded MILF.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhh . . . yes!” responded Gary
“And how about this?” asked Maureen as she detached herself from the young man’s embrace, bent down and scooped up the prostrate Meatball Matron in body-slam fashion and hurled Concetta’s limp carcass onto the top rope of the ring apron.
“THUUDDDDD!” went Parmigiana Mamma as her body sprang back, landing face first on the canvas.
“Is she . . .?” asked a photographer.
“Let’s see,” smirked Mo, grabbing hold of Concetta’s greasy locks and lifting her head.
The Conquering Irishwoman smiled broadly as she showcased her handiwork: Connie’s swollen and bruised face, two prominent shiners, a cut and bloated lip, and drool dripping out of the side of the defeated Italian’s mouth.
The sound of cameras flashing was cacophonous. The press took photo after photo of the Beautifully Freckled Maureen smiling broadly as she held up the head of the beaten and unconscious Concetta---apartment-house wrestling style.
Turning her gaze to Gary, Mo asked: “So . . . you like?”
“I LUV it, my Beautiful Celtic Queen!”
“And do you LUV this?” queried the Irish MILF, flipping the Guinea Pig onto her back, sitting on Concetta’s pot belly and slapping the Italian Woman’s battered face to and fro.
Slap-Slap-Slap-Slappetty-SLAP; SLAP-SLAPPPETTY-SLAP; SLAP-SLAP-SLAP!
“Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!” flashed the cameras again as Maureen’s Freckled Tits jiggled sexily with every SLAP she delivered.
Maureen’s arrogant blows awakened the dumbfounded brunette, who gazed up at her Gaelic Superior in awe---and fear.
“Hey! Lookee here, Garee! The Whipped Doo-WOP is up! Hmmmmm. Now what should I do with Mommy Ugliest?” cackled the mocking MILF.
Out of the corner of one of her two puffy black eyes, Concetta spied her first-born. A tear fell as Meatball Mamma watched Gary’s slavish devotion to the Victorious Irishwoman.
“I’ve got it!” exclaimed Mo. Leaning forward with her MAGNIFICENT CELTIC TITS, the Pristine Redhead lowered her torso onto the Guinea Pig’s face so that it was smothered by Irish Maureen’s Sensually Freckled Breasts.
‘Twas a glorious and sexy sight.
And Lady McNeal knew it, applying even more pressure to Parmigiana Mamma’s faccia brutta, thereby eradicating any shred of the brunette’s pride. But just as Connie was about to faint, Mo pulled back and turned around so that her sumptuous ass faced Concetta’s countenance.
Winking wickedly at Gary Fornaro, the Scintillating MILF ordered her debased foe to: “Lick my Royal Celtic Ass! Get your tongue into the depths of my anus. Inhale the fragrance of my Irish Butt Hole, Guinea Pig!!”
Lady McNeal took a handful of the brunette’s matted mane and shoved the bedraggled bitch’s face into the aforementioned ass crack.: “Lick it NOW, Doo-Wop!”
“Y-Yes, bella Maureen . . . slurp-slurp-slurppppp-SLURP . . . datsa one-a nize anus,” gurgled the deeply degraded Italian woman as she slid her tongue in, out and around the Freckled Irish Goddess’s Butt Hole.
“Now take your tongue out of my ass-hole, Asshole---and kiss Pristine Maureen’s buttocks!” commanded the Superior Irishwoman.
“Y-Yes . . . Your Royal Hibernian Highness” said Connie, who began smooching, kissing and even tongue-licking Mo’s Sweet Celtic Derriere,
In order to fully comply with the Irish Superwoman’s diktat, Concetta had to place her hands on Maureen’s hips to steady herself as she went about the ignominious task. Scungilli-cunt Concetta shuddered as she looked up at her Irish Conqueror’s Beautiful Lentiginous back.
“You’re no match for my Freckled Irish Beauty, Guinea Pig. And you know it! I FUCKED your husband; and I’m going to FUCK your first-born, Mommy Ugliest. Father and son took great delight watching my Freckled Body beat the living crap out of your donkey-like carcass, Doo-WOP. Now thank my Superior Irish Anus for whipping your sorry Swarthy Italian Ass!” bellowed a thoroughly haughty Maureen.
“Y-Y- . . . S-Si, Pristine Irish Goddess Maureen, T-Thank---Grazie, Superior Irish Anus f-f-for whipping Concetta’s Swarthy Italian Ass,” exclaimed Connie as she thrust her tongue into Mo’s Ass Crack in a final act of ignominy.
“Now stand, Guinea Pig!” commanded the Irish Goddess.
Concetta rose to her feet and watched as Maureen pressed her Sweetly Freckled Face into Gary Fornaro’s visage, soulfully French-kissing the young Italian Stud. At the same time, she inserted her hand into Gary’s jeans and grabbed his massive throbbing member.
Mozzarella Mamma lowered her head, but the Irishwoman turned and took hold of Connie’s chin so that their eyes met. And then Mo addressed her worthless foe: “He’s an even better kisser than his father!”
That deliciously malevolent moment was recorded for posterity by the ubiquitous photographers.
Then the KWFL Champion asked her freckled-besotted beau, “What should I do with this Guinea Pig, Gareeee?”
“Why, KNOCK HER OUT!”
Irish Maureen McNeal’s sudden County Cork Uppercut---which slammed Concetta’s ugly goat-milk udders on its way to her chin---sent the Meatball Matron sailing into the air, over the ring and onto the concrete floor.
Maureen jumped over the ropes, picked up the unconscious Doo-WOP by her greasy pubic hairs and hoisted Connie over her Freckled left shoulder. Mo signaled for Gary to join her, and the two walked hand-in-hand towards the exit.
As the Irish Goddess reached the door, she unceremoniously dumped Mrs. Fornaro’s near-comatose body into a steel trash can filled with garbage.
“KAAA-TOOOOOOM!”
Upon viewing Concetta’s legs dangling from the garbage bin---surrounded by other pieces of smelly trash---all the males gave Maureen a thunderous standing ovation.
Overcome by the Redhead’s Haughty Sensuality, Gary Fornaro declared: “That was sooooooooooo Hot! I LOVE YOU, IRISH GODDESS MAUREEN MCNEAL!”
“I know, lover slave-boy,” declared the Freckled MILF---winking to all the OTHER MEN in the audience---“but you may have to get in line.”
And the screen faded to black.

EPILOGUE
As the video of the First KWFL Championship Match ended, Gary Fornaro was fit to be tied: “What gives?”
Sensing her boy-toy’s discomfort with Mo’s onscreen flirtations, Maureen milked it for all it was worth. “Methinks Gareee is a wee bit jealous.”
“No, no! It’s just that---!” responded the young man, who then encountered an irresistible force: the Fierce Celtic Hand of the Fiery KWFL Champion across his face.
SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
“Get on your knees, slave-boy, and kiss my feet---toes, soles and heels---bellowed Mo after disciplining the chastened college student with the front and back of her hand.
“Yes, Lady McNeal. I am s-s-sorry for doubting you,” said the obsequious boy-toy as he slobbered over the beauteous feet of the Freckled Irish Goddess.
The young man kissed, slurped and inhaled Maureen’s feet for a full 5 minutes before the Sexy Redhead brusquely lifted Gary up by his hair---and set the record straight.
“You exist to worship me, slave-boy. If other men want to FUCK Irish Goddess Maureen McNeal’s Freckles, there’s nothing you can do about it! Got it, slave-boy Gary?!?”
The saddened young man responded: “Yes, my Irish Goddess. I-I-I just thought ..”
“Awww, Gareeee,” said Mo (somewhat disingenuously), “you’re still my Number. One. Guy!”
Gary genuflected once again, wrapping his arms around Maureen’s waist.
Looking down at her humbled lover, Mighty Mo commanded: “Now suck my Freckled Tits, slave-boy! Subito! ”
While Gary was busy inhaling and kissing each sweet lentiginous Irish orb, Maureen thought wickedly to herself: If he only knew how many, um, male admirers there actually are. HaHaHaHaHaHa!
Besotted with lust, the young Mr. Fornaro let his torrid tongue lick a trail leading to Mo’s belly button, But the Freckled Beauty abruptly stopped him.
“There’ll be plenty time for that, Gareee. I have a surprise for you now,” said the Mother of all MILFS.
Taking Gary by the hand, Lady McNeal led her slave boy-toy into an adjacent room, which housed a cage. And within that cell was a collared and naked Concetta, groveling about like, well, a caged animal.
“You like, Gary darling?” asked a mischievous Maureen.
“YESSSSSS! Thank you!” said the exultant college senior as he kissed the puffy areolae on Mo’s Beautifully Freckled Breasts.
“Mmmmmmm,” moaned the Celtic woman, drawing Gary closer to the cage.
“Wait . . . now it’s coming back to me!” said Gary.
“Continue, my sweet lover,” said Maureen as she lustily licked the college boy’s neck and ear.
“Ahhhhhh—mmmmm, yes. Well, after Mother---“said Gary.
“You mean Scungilli-cunt Concetta,,” interrupted the Irish Goddess.
“Yes. Well, when Scungilli-cunt Concetta failed to return home---after you beat her brains out in the ring--- dad went searching for her. He was pissed that you’d dumped him for me---and he blamed Mother, er, Mommy Ugliest.
“Your daddy should have known that Slave-boy Gary is My. Number. One. Guy!” smiled Mo.
“He was almost out the door when two Sanitation men showed up, which was odd. It was late in the evening, after all. Anyway, they’d found Mozzarella Mamma nearly buried in the garbage can in your gym. She was still out like a light---hours after you’d pummeled her senseless. And almost lifeless. The paramedics said she was in a coma,” explained Gary.
“Does Garee like that I put the Paisan Pig in the ICU?” queried the wickedly seductive Mo.
“Liked how you kicked the living shit out of Scungilli-Cunt Concetta, my Irish Queen.”
“Just liked?” said Maureen
“More than that,” responded the college senior
“How much more, lover-boy?”
“I just LOVED how my Pristine Irish Queen kicked the Dumb Bitch’s sorry ass all over the ring (and outside of the squared circle)---and then dumped her like so much trash in the garbage bin!” explained Gary.
“The Swarthy Pig deserved it, didn’t she, lover?” asked Mo.
“You bet, Lady McNeal!’
“How could that Doo-WOP even think she belonged in the same ring with the likes of me?” said the Magnificent MILF.
“Mommy Ugliest has always been intimidated and outclassed by your Freckled Irish Beauty!” retorted Gary.
“Did Gary-boy like how my Celtic Fists nearly sent the Cowardly Guinea Pig to kingdom come?’
“Watching you clean the Saggy-titted Swine’s clock with your patented County Cork Punches sent me into sheer ecstasy. I was soooo turned on seeing your Freckled Back Muscles flex as you smacked Meatball Mamma’s blubbery flesh again and again and again---sending the Stupid Scungilli-cunt into a coma! OMG! Talk about a Superior Irishwoman! I LUV how you nearly put the Swarthy Pig six feet under! I LUV YOU, Goddess Maureen! A fantasy come true!” added Gary Fornaro
“That is SO FUCKING SWEEEEEEET, lover. Come . . . kiss my areolae again, slave-boy stud.
Gary rushed to kiss, inhale and lick the astounding Irish areolae of Maureen’s Sensually Freckled Teats. And then he knelt and tongue-swirled her Perfect Celtic Clit and Sweet Vagina.
But the young man yearned for more, so he began deliriously inhaling Mo’s Gorgeous Gaelic Mammaries---two at once---making certain to lick and slurp every Russet Freckle.
“Now lick my anus, slave boy!” commanded Maureen. Fornaro the younger ecstatically plunged his tongue into Maureen’s Pristine Irish Ass Crack, swirling with untrammeled delight and worship.
“Your slave-boy Gary adores you, Goddess Maureen. I loved how your Beauteous Freckled Breasts shoved their Celtic Superiority into Mamma Meatball’s shitty face with impunity; and I watched in awe as your Sweet Gaelic Fists dominated the Swarthy Pig!” exclaimed the overheated college student.
“HaHaHaHa-Ha! It was easy. Well, if you adored my fistic dominance of that Dumb Doo-WOP, Gareeee, you’ll want to take a closer look!” said Maureen as she pivoted her Pristine Body and took the young Italian stud by the hand.
Leading her slave-boy lover up to the caged Concetta, the Redheaded MILF pointed to the naked, collared Mommy Ugliest---groveling on all fours.
“See what Irish Goddess Maureen McNeal has wrought: Concetta is my enslaved and domesticated Guinea Pig. Here Guinea, here Guinea, Guinea. Come here, my Dumb Little Guinea Pig. HaHaHaHaHa . . . AhaHaHaHa!” chortled the Redheaded MOLF>
Maureen then flexed her Sensually Freckled Irish Biceps to induce a Pavlovian response in the college student.
Gary looked at the caged Mommy Ugliest and then proceeded to slavishly kiss both of Maureen’s Gorgeous Gaelic Muscles. Mo reciprocated by French-kissing the young stud while keeping her eyes on Scungilli-cunt Concetta.
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm! Your first-born tastes so YUMMY, Guinea Pig!” taunted the Sexy Irishwoman, licking her lips while staring directly at the downtrodden beast.
Concetta crawled around the cage meekly, bowing her head in shame.
“So, lover-boy. . . what happened after the garbage men dropped off the trash----meaning HaHaHa the Filthy Guinea Pig?” coaxed Mo.
“Once she’d been released from the ICU---and Concetta came home---Dad filed for divorce. She was distraught but didn’t contest the divorce. Mommy Ugliest became quiet and withdrawn, sullen almost,” shouted Gary.
“Is that all, Garee?” asked a mischievous Maureen.
“What do you mean?” said Gary.
“Did the Stupid Doo-WOP exhibit mood swings?” ventured the sly Celtic Queen.
“Sure did. One day she was up; the next day was a downer. But then Swarthy Ms. Piggy started going to a fitness gym, and her spirits lifted. She even toned up a bit, and started dating someone!” said Gary.
“Rick Vitale,” announced the Sexy Redhead.
“That’s right---Rick Vitale, the hotshot attorney. He was thinking of running for mayor of Piedmont Falls. But how did you know about any of this?” wondered Gary.
“Well, it seems Concetta wanted a more enduring relationship with Mr.Vitale than Rick did. So one day, Mamma Mozzarella pulled out all the stops and invited the attorney to a private joint workout at the gym. But it wasn’t exactly private,” smirked Irish Maureen.
“Don’t tell me . . . !” said Gary.
“Yep, boyo! Once Your Royal Hibernian Highness appeared on the scene---in all Her Freckled Splendor---Ricky lost any desire to be wiith Swarthy Connie-sow,” said Mo.
“So did you fuck . . . ?” asked Gary.
“No, boyo, I did not fuck Ricky. But I did give the hunky barrister ‘the best blow job EVER!’---and a close-up view of a very special beating. Now watch this, slave-boy” announced Maureen, grabbing a nearby remote and flicking on a wall-unit HD TV.
“Whooomp-Whooomp-Whoomp! Smack-Smacketty-SMACK! WHOMP!” reverberated throughout the small gym as a topless Maureen McNeal’s Celtic fists pounded the sweaty flesh of Doo-WOP Concetta’s flopping tits and protruding belly.
Once again, the hapless Connie found herself at the mercy of her Irish nemesis. Barely breaking a sweat, the Sweet Colleen Maureen piled on the punishment. Marinara Mamma’s arms remained limply at her side while the Pristine Irishwoman ripped the Ugly Guinea Pig apart, clouting the swarthy wench with jabs to the forehead, rapid-fire body blows, bare-knuckled belts to the jaw, repeated haymakers to the kidneys and tit-flattening clouts to the areolae.
An enraptured Rick Vitale watched with fascination---and a growing hard-on---as the Lentiginous Irish Goddess administered yet another cruel beating to her inferior Italian foe.
“Ohhhhhhhhhhh; Oooooof; Uhhhhhhh; EohhhhhhhhOwwwww! Oof-ooof Uhhhhhhh!” cried the outclassed Paisan Pig.
“Gee, I thought Connie would put up more of a fight,” said a smiling Rick Vitale.
Smiling lasciviously at the handsome barrister, Maureen continued her fistic humbling of the Cowardly Guinea Pig.
In between sticking a left jab to one of Connie’s dangling eggplant udders and dropping in a stinging right cross to the other, the Freckled Irish Redhead blew a kiss to the hunky Italian lawyer. Marinara Mamma moaned more in despair than in pain, as the Gorgeous Gaelic Goddess made a blatant play for Rick.
“Like what you see, Ricky?” queried the Conquering Irishwoman.
“Immensely, M’lady!” said the aroused Mr. Vitale.
“Want me to work her over some more, Ricky?” asked Maureen.
“Indeed I do, Sweetness!” replied the handsome attorney.
Mo pounded punishing left and right hooks into Mozzarella Mamma’s bulging midriff, then sauntered over to Rick and planted a smoldering hot tongue into the lawyer’s mouth.
“W-w-what are you doing, Maureen?” asked a punch-drunk Concetta, who’d sunk to one knee.
“Stealing your new boyfriend, you Dumb Guinea Pig!” responded the Pristinely Beautiful Irishwoman as she finished her incendiary kiss.
An entranced Rick Vitale caressed Sweet Maureen’s Freckled Breasts during the duo’s tongue duet. After releasing her new paramour’s lips, Mo unzipped Rick’s fly, pulled out his massive cock and scrotum, teasingly licked the man’s dick----and then enveloped his balls in her Sensual Gaelic Mouth.
“Sorry to leave you, lover,” said Mo after slathering Rick’s scrotum with her Sweet Irish Saliva. “But it’s just for a bit. Maureen has to put the Guinea Pig in her place. Capito?”
“You bet I understand, Sweetness. Now go demolish that cowardly weakling!” responded the horny barrister.
Racing toward the humiliated Concetta, who was on still her knees---and sobbing in sorrow---Mo smashed a Freckled Forearm across the Doo-WOP’s sagging teats. Parmigiana Mamma reeled backward, but the Irish Queen yanked her up by the hair and judo-tossed the Swarthy Bitch into the air.
“Uhhhhhhhh-ohhhhhh!” yelped the little wench, landing on her fat ass.
Maureen grabbed a knot of Concetta’s greasy mane and rammed the brunette’s head into a nearby brick wall. The Fetid Mrs. Fornaro fell to her knees a second time. Moving swiftly, Mo spun the hopelessly outclassed bitch around so that Rick Vitale would have a clear-cut view of the fistic carnage.
“Now watch, Rick, as Meatball Mamma becomes Irish Maureen McNeal’s personal punching bag,” announced the flirtatious Redheaded MILF.
Maureen began working over Concetta-sow, slamming right and left hooks into the brunette’s temples, punching her nose and cuffing her ears with County Mayo clouts. Once the Paisan Pig’s head stopped swinging from side to side, the Beautifully Freckled Irishwoman pounded a bare-knuckled blow directly into Raggedy Anna Maria’s right eye.

Connie began to cry as the eye became swollen, turning purple and then black.

The Fightin’ Irish Colleen was relentless in her cruelty, shifting to the Doo-WOP’s woeful tits. Interspersing rabbit punches and haymakers, Mo began speed-bagging Concetta’s drooping mammaries.

“Ohhhh! Oooof! UHHHHHH!! Ow-Ow-Ow; Ooooof-Oof-OOOOF-OOOOOOOFFFFFFF! UHHHH!” yelped the hapless, hopeless Mamma Mozzarella.

All the while, Rick Vitale was moaning in pleasure watching Maureen’s Sensually Freckled Back as the Gaelic Warrior Woman went about dismantling her swarthy foe.

“And now I’m going in for the, um, kill, Ricky! Tee-hee-hee!” announced Her Royal Hibernian Highness, rearing back and slamming a thunderous uppercut to Scungilli-cunt Concetta’s chin.

BAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!

The force of the blow was so powerful that Connie Fornaro’s body lifted off the ground and somersaulted in mid-air, landing the Fetid Guinea Pig flat on her back. The beaten brunette’s carcass twitched convulsively on the floor for a few minutes---and then went silent.

“That was magnificent, Maureen!” said Rick

“So’s your Massive Italian Cock, Mr. Vitale!” responded the Horny Irish Queen as she pounced on the handsome attorney’s engorged member---and began licking, sucking and slurping with abandon. She pulled back before he could ejaculate, though.

Stripping Rick of every shred of clothing on his person, Lady McNeal proceeded to give the barrister’s entire body a Sweet Celtic Tongue Bath. The attorney was utterly enraptured as Maureen’s Pristine Irish Teanga ventured all over his torso, lingering lovingly on the nipples of his male chest. Mo traveled south again, but took a curious detour.

Noticing that Concetta had begun to stir, Mo angled Rick’s body sideways so that the Marinara Matron could watch the lingual festivities. “Look who’s returned to the land of the living, Rick!” said the Redheaded MILF as her tongue wended its way toward the Italian lawyer’s naked butt.

The woozy Doo-WOP couldn’t believe her eyes.

Having wrapped her freckled arms around Rick’s waist, Sexy Maureen began smooching the handsome attorney’s ass cheeks--- licking his buns passionately. Then she plunged her face directly into Rick’s anus kissing, slurping and sucking with fervor.

Connie gasped as she watched Mo emerge underneath Rick’s scrotum, which the KWFL Champion licked and swallowed whole. The Irish Queen’s torrid tongue then licked its way up the lawyer’s shaft, and Mo quickly inhaled the Italian barrister’s engorged dick. While sucking furiously, Maureen eyed the disconsolate Ex-Wifey.

“Delicious, isn’t it, Scungilli-cunt. Rick’s all mine, you dumb Guinea Pig. HaHaHaHaHaAhaHaJa! The Irish Goddess has beaten you senseless again, stealing yet another man out from under your ugly nose. Actually, I’m under Ricky’s Colossal Cock---and you’re not! HaHaHaHaHaHaHa!” announced a triumphant Maureen.

“I’m about to erupt, Sweetness!” warned the studly Italian attorney.

Acting with the alacrity of a speed-demon, the Irish Goddess gave Rick one more lascivious tongue-licking, disengaging her lips from his ICBM-like penis. ”Hold your cum-fire till I take care of business, lover!” said Mo running towards Connie and lifting a bare-knuckled uppercut into the Paisan Pig’s sweat-soaked midriff.

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOF,” cried Parmigiana Mamma.

Fiercely grabbing a clump of Concetta’s matted brown locks, Sweet Maureen yanked the beaten woman’s head and dragged her in the direction of Rick Vitale’s throbbing member.

“OK, Ricky, my love: Let her have it!” exclaimed the Fiery Colleen as the Italian attorney’s seminal fluid spurted all over Concetta-sow!

Maureen then took hold of Rick’s rocket, strategically aiming its geyser of cum. The Irishwoman directed Rick’s seminal flow so that it splattered all over the Guinea Pig’s blackened eye, blubbery belly and ugly swarthy tits.

“Didn’t you forget something, lover?” queried the KWFL Champion.

Smiling broadly, the attorney let Maureen aim his remaining cum at Concetta’s unsightly areolae.

A gleeful Maureen guffawed: “Got ‘em, lover! But those “areolae” look more like Italian Wedding Soup meatballs!”

“What did I ever see in such a cowardly weakling?” wondered Rick as he leaned back to passionately kiss the Supremely Beautiful Lady McNeal.

“Well it sure as heck wasn’t her saggy tits,” responded a glowing Mo.

“Right on, my Pristine Irish Goddess. Now go put that Pot-Bellied Pig out of her misery, Sweetness----and get her out of my sight!” requested the debonair barrister.

Maureen began her two-fisted barrage by dropping vicious hooks to the Guinea Pig’s gut and liver, eliciting groans from the Italian punching bag.

“Uhhhhhhhhhh! Ohhhhh-Ohhhhh-Owww! Ooof-oof-ooooff! Uhhhhhhhhhh!” ULPPP! OOOOF!”

Her Royal Hibernian Majesty moved on to Mamma Mozzarella’s mammaries, mashing and bashing the brunette’s tit meat with bare-knuckled County Cork clouts. Connie’s side-breasts were repeatedly savaged by Maureen’s intensely punitive lefts and rights.

The gym grew quiet and still---except for the sounds of one woman’s fistic dominance and another’s abject humiliation and cowardice.

SMACK! Smacketty-smack-smack! Smacketty-SMACK! Smack-Smacl-SMACK!!!!!!

“OOOOOOh-owwww! Ulppppp! OOOOF-OOOOF-OOOF! Uhhh!”

The Pristinely Beautiful Irishwoman’s Freckled Muscles and Shoulders flexed with power and authority as she beat her Greaseball opponent’s breadbasket at will. Digging her Sweet Celtic fists into the sweaty folds of the swarthy Italian’s stomach fat, Maureen announced: “You’re through, Guinea Pig!”

Concetta was panting and cringing and breathing through her mouth. “P-P-lease . . . L-L-Lady McNeal . . . . . Concetta . . she no wanna fight no more. S-S-Stop . . . h-h-urting M-M-Mozzarella Mamma. Stop-a before you k-k-kill me.”

“Isn’t that the general idea, Scungilli-cunt?” chortled the Superior Irishwoman as she unleashed a vicious two-punch burst to Connie’s misshapen udders.

Maureen continued to work Concetta’s flapping teats over something fierce, smiting cuffing and thumping them tight. Delighted that her Dublin back-alley barrage exposed Concetta-sow’s utter cowardice, the Freckled Irish Goddess shifted her two-fisted attack to the weakling’s paunch.

“OOOOOOOFFFFFFF! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! OOF-Oof-OOOOOFFF!” gurgled the Fetid Mrs. Fornaro as the Gorgeous Gaelic Redhead pummeled and pounded the Italian woman’s jiggling belly and sweaty love handles.

“The stupid bitch looks like she’s on her last legs, Sweetness,” said Rick as he watched Maureen inflict severe damage to the wilting Marinara Mamma.

“Doesn’t matter, Ricky. I’m gonna take this Guinea Pig to the edge!” smiled the Sexy Irishwoman as she crashed a left hand into Concetta’s mouth.

“That’s SMOKING HOT!” exclaimed the titillated barrister.

Parmigiana Mamma did not look long for this world, and the Irish Sexpot seemed intent on hastening the lowly Doo-WOP’s departure.

Upping the pace of her County Mayo mauling, the Freckled Goddess walloped the lowly brunette with haymakers to the kidneys and ribs---followed by a wicked punch to the forehead---and a roundhouse right that split the Paisan Pig’s lip.

Blood spurted onto Concetta’s cum-stained tits, and Mo joyously thumped the garishly coated breast flesh dangling before her .

“You’re a fucking hot mess, Greaseball!” spat a contemptuous Maureen as she mercilessly bashed Mozzarella Mamma. “And a coward.”

“P-P-P-lease . . . b-b-bella Maureen . . . C-C-Concetta . . . ss-s-s-he s-s-urrender-----“ whimpered the brunette.

“Too late, Fucktard!” bellowed the Sexy Irishwoman as she effortlessly made minces ragù meat of the floundering Doo-WOP,.

Concetta was hanging by a thread, an inch removed from being D.O.A. Maureen’s fists had turned the Marinara Matron into nothing more than a slab of aging meat in a butcher’s deep-freeze locker.

“Irish Goddess Maureen wants to send Scungilli-cunt Concetta to her maker!” interjected Mo as she plowed fist after Celtic fist into the Italian woman’s wilting body.

Mozzarella Mamma was fading fast.

“But perhaps permanent ignominy is preferable,” mused the Pristine Irishwoman, smashing yet another bare-knuckled wallop into the Porcine Paisan’s protruding paunch.

“Ooof! Uhhhh! Gahhhh! So u gonna accept my surrender? Yes? Si? Oh, Grazie, Signorina McNeal! Datsa nize, Thank u, Beautiful Irish Goddess Maureen. Concetta . . . she gonna be your slave. Grazie, bellissima Maureen,” yammered the Cowardly Connie.

“My contemptible swarthy slave---AND barnyard animal---that’s what you’ll be, Guinea Pig!” laughed the Sultry Redhead.

As if on cue, Concetta groveled ignominiously, falling to her knees and licking the Superior Irishwoman’s feet. Mo watched while Mamma Mozzarella degenerated into what Lady McNeal had decreed: a filthy---and stupid---barnyard animal.

Smiling with wicked exhilaration---and cognizant of Rick Vitale’s growing lust---Maureen slapped the Guinea Pig’s face to and fro, ordering Mommy Ugliest to lie down on the floor underneath La McNeal’s fragrant pussy.

And then it happened . . . . just as the Magnificent MILF had calculated.

Unable to contain his sexual yearning any further, Rick took hold of Maureen, swept the KWFL Champion off her feet and entered the Freckled Irishwoman doggy style, his massive member throbbing and pulsating with carnal lust. And as the handsome attorney thrust his Italian ICBM repeatedly into Lady McNeal’s Celtic Sweet Spot, Mo ordered the Guinea Pig to swallow all the combined male cum and female secretions.

Debasing herself to the max, Concetta swallowed hungrily, rolling around on the floor like a domesticated beast.

But Sweet Maureen’s victory wasn’t complete until she’d ordered the groveling Guinea Pig to “Heel, Bitch!”

Concetta instantly obeyed the “heel” command. Henceforth, Mozzarella Mamma would behave just as obsequiously in public. From here on in, the Pristine Irish Goddess was the uber-boss.

“Clean my cum-coated ass, Guinea Pig,” bellowed Maureen.

And without skipping a beat, the Swinish Concetta inserted her tongue into Sweet Maureen’s anus and lapped up any and all anal and sexual secretions.

Then commanding the Barnyard Animal to kneel before her, the Redheaded MILF gripped Concetta by the hair, hauled the brunette up and administered a final two-fisted beating. The object of Mo’s assault was the Porcine Paisan’s sweat-soaked pot-belly. But no part of Mamma Meatball’s body was immune to the Gaelic Goddess’s bare-knuckled fury. After punching the Dumb Doo-WOP’s ugly tits a deep black and blue---and pummeling Connie’s paunch for a full 5 minutes---the Freckled Irishwoman ended the Guinea Pig’s misery with a speed-bag facial bludgeoning that culminated in a vicious uppercut to the jaw.

Concetta-sow was kayoed and down for the count.

“Will she make it?” asked Rick Vitale.

“Maybe . . . maybe not,” laughed the Conquering Irishwoman.

Pristine Maureen effortlessly hoisted the battered Paisan Pig’s body over her Freckled Shoulder. Grasping Rick’s hand, Mo kissed the handsome lawyer. And when the amorous duo reached the gym’s exit door, the KWFL Champion contemptuously chucked Mozzarella Mamma’s beaten body into a nearby trash can.

And then the HD-TV screen faded to black.

“You lied! You DID fuck Rick Vitale!”exploded a jealous and angry Gary Fornaro after watching the shocking video.

Smiling gloriously, Maureen sauntered over to the young college student. “No . . . I fibbed. But YOU need to get with the program, Cucky!”

“W-w-what?” stammered the stunned young man.

“No man can resist the Freckled Charms of Irish Goddess Maureen McNeal. Just remember one thing, Gareee . . . You. Are. My. Number One. CUCK! HaHaHaHaHaHaHaHa!” gloated the Sexy MILF.

And Gary immediately got with the program, genuflecting obsequiously and planting kisses all over Maureen’s freckled abs, stomach and thighs. Plus, the cuckolded wimp began licking the Irish Queen’s ass crack and then shifted his tongue to Mo’s toes and the soles of her feet.

“Thank you. Oh, thank you, My Irish Cuckoldress-Goddess . . . for making me your Number One CUCKOLD! I bow before your Freckled Beauty!” offered Gary Fornaro.

“Yes, as well you should. Bow before Your Royal Hibernian Cuckoldress ! HaHaHaHaHaHa!” added Maureen, hands haughtily on hips..

“How else may I serve thee, Lady McNeal?” asked the humbled college student.

“Come help me, um, take care of the Guinea Pig!” responded Mo, leading Gary to the caged Mozzarella Mamma.

The Porcine Paisan was grunting like a barnyard animal in captivity.

“We’re going to play a game with Mommy Ugliest, Gary. But first, go in the kitchen and bring me the tray that’s on the counter, Cucky,” ordered Maureen.

In the meantime, Mo opened the cage, letting Concetta scamper about on all fours. The Sensuous Redhead waited for Gary to return with the tray, which carried a small tub of Kerrygold Irish butter and a flask of Irish Whiskey.

As the Swarthy Animal scurried around the room, the Pristine Freckled Goddess called out: “Here Guinea Pig. Come here Guinea, Guinea Pig!”

Concetta hurried to the Irishwoman’s feet, wagging her tongue and slurping each toe in complete animalistic servility. Maureen mounted the lowly beast of burden and rode her around the room, slapping the brunette’s fat arse several times.

Holding the fucktard’s collar tightly, Her Royal Hibernian Highness motioned Gary to her side: “Isn’t she the dumbest Guinea Pig you ever saw?”

“Stupid swine,” said Mrs. Fornaro’s first-born.

“Hear that, Guinea Pig?” chortled Concetta’s Irish Conqueror, hoisting the Italian Fucktard up by her greasy mane and slamming a County Meath uppercut into the dumb beast’s belly. This was followed up by a one-two combination to Concetta-sow’s udders---and a bare-knuckled haymaker to the jaw that kayoed the Fetid Mrs. Fornaro.

“Mommy Ugliest’s out cold! Man, you own this Dumb Cunt,” announced Gary proudly.

“Figuratively AND literally!” responded the Freckled KWFL Champion, kissing her clenched fist.

“What’s up now, my Beautiful Goddess?”

“Well, now the real fun begins, Gary.”

Mo grabbed the unconscious Concetta by her feet and dragged the brunette to a far corner, where the Sexy Irishwoman hog-tied the unsightly beast. Then Maureen affixed a wrap-around rope to Connie’s waist and hands, which were now tied behind her back, so that both cords entwined.

Gary watched in lustful awe as Maureen lifted the bound Marinara Mamma. And as her Beautifully Freckled Shoulders flexed, the Powerful Irishwoman hooked Concetta’s knotted and bound body onto an overhead hanger.

The college student gasped as he beheld the naked body of his putrid mother hanging above the floor----with both tits dangling like pendulous punching bags.

“Bring me the Kerrygold Irish butter, Garee!” commanded Maureen.

Dipping her hand into the golden Celtic condiment, Mo began slathering the Irish butter all over the Guinea Pig’s breasts, bulging belly and fat ass.

Lady McNeal motioned to Gary to “Get a load of the “Battered and Buttered Greaseball!”

Next, the Freckled Irish Goddess donned a pair of racing gloves and began jabbing, punching, pounding and pummeling the Italian Fucktard’s Greasy Globules of Sagging Breast Meat.

Whump-whumetty-whooomp-WOP! Woppetty-whap-Whoppetty-WOP! SMACK-smacketty-whupp-Whooomp! Smack-smacketty-Smack-Smaketty-SMACK-Smacketty-WOP!

“Music to mine ears, Gary!” said the Powerful Peaches-and-Cream Irish Goddess as her Sensually Freckled Breasts bounced and jiggled while her Dublin-Pub fists beat, mangled, damaged and pulverized the Inferior Italian Woman’s Swarthy Udders.

“Beat that Fucktard! Beat her tits; beat that animal, my Celtic Queen!” exhorted Connie’s first-born.

Smiling sardonically, Maureen finished her speed-bag pummeling of the Guinea Pig’s teats. “That’s so sweet, Garee! Now let’s bring the message home, shall we?”

Mo walked up to Gary, thrust her tongue deeply into his mouth—kissing the college student passionately while simultaneously unzipping his fly.

Making sure Concetta was cognizant of the proceedings, the Pristine Irishwoman whipped out Gary’ s gargantuan cock and sucked it mightily, bathing his penis in her Sweet Gaelic Saliva. When the younger Fornaro male came, Lady McNeal aimed the seminal eruption directly onto the Guinea Pig’s Buttered, Battered and Thoroughly Beaten body.

“Gary-lover, go fetch me that bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey!” commanded the Freckled MILF. “ ‘Tis high time we celebrated, boyo!”

The slavish college student returned with the aforementioned elixir and two shot glasses. Maureen poured first, offering the glass to Gary; the next one she swallowed---and then a took a swig directly from the bottle and spat a mouthful of whiskey all over Concetta’s face.

Mo repeated this humiliation few times, hurling the final saliva-whiskey spittle into Mozzarella Mamma’s faccia brutta : “FFFFFFFTTTTTHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!”

Overjoyed with her handiwork, the Redhead took the bottle of Jameson, poured the remaining contents all over her Sensually Freckled Breasts, and ordered Gary to “LICK MY TITS!”

And while the young stud inhaled Mo’s Freckled Fun sacs, the Superior Irishwoman began another humiliating speed-bag pummeling of her Inferior Italian Rival’s Ugly Tits.

Whooomp-whoompetty-whap-whappetty-WOP! Smack-smack-smack-smacketty-WOP!

“Scungilli-cunt Concetta needs a shower after this workout, boyo!’ said Maureen as her bare-knuckled right hook mashed Marinara Mamma’s left tit flat. The Irish Goddess added a final parting blow---a devastating uppercut into the viscera of the Doo-WOP’s wobbling belly fat.

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOF!!!!!” cried the helpless Mrs. Fornaro.

Having detached himself from Maureen’s sumptuous teats, Gary watched in anticipation as the KWFL Champion untied Mommy Ugliest and dragged the pummeled wench by the hair to a corner of the room.

Seating her Perfectly Pristine Arse on a chair-- with Concetta-sow squatting on the floor--- the Sensuous Irishwoman proceed to pee all over the sweaty, buttery, cum-covered and whiskey-coated body of the defeated Italian woman.

“ ‘Tis a golden IRISH shower that cleanses ye, Guinea Pig!” laughed the Conquering Celtic MILF.

“G-G-Grazie . . . Concetta . . . she give much thank you . . . for this nize Irish shower,” groveled the debased Doo-WOP as she opened her mouth wide to swallow Mo’s urine flow.

Before leaving to freshen up, Maureen smashed a left fist into the Paisan Pig’s temple, followed by a senses-shattering right uppercut to the chin, kayoing the urine-stained bitch yet again.

“That was unbelievably awesome---and so SEXY!” announced Connie’s first-born.

“True, Cucky. Now make yourself useful and bring the car around. We’re taking a ride,” said the Gorgeous Gaelic Goddess, hoisting the bludgeoned Barnyard Animal onto her Pristinely Freckled shoulders.

Ever the obedient Cuck-boy, Gary drove Maureen’s vehicle to the entrance; the KWFL Champion dumped the still unconscious brunette’s body onto the roof of the car and securely fastened Mommy Ugliest’s fat carcass to the hardtop.

Lady McNeal then left to draw a bath.

A refreshed Maureen McNeal emerged 20 minutes later, resplendently clad in a mico-miniskirt (sans panty), 3-inch high heeled boots, and a form-fitting white blouse that prominently displayed her Pristinely Freckled shoulders and breasts.

Falling to his knees, an awed Gary Fornaro kissed and sucked Mo’s shiny boots in supplication.

“Get a move-on, Cucky!” responded Mo, tersely slapping Gary’s face with her right boot and moving quickly into the driver’s seat of the awaiting auto.

But when the senior attempted to slip into the passenger’s front side, the Sexy MILF motioned for Fornaro the younger to get in the back seat.

Even before they reached Rick Vitale’s house, Gary deduced that the front seat had been reserved for Mo’s new beau. As the handsome Italian attorney slid into Maureen’s car, he cupped one of the Redhead’s Beautifully Freckled Breasts and fondled it while ardently kissing Maureen on the mouth.

Turning to Gary in the back seat, Rick forcefully slapped the college boy’s face---back and forth---several times. “That’s so you know your place, Cuck!” said Mo’s new Bull.

“Ohhhh, that’s so hot, Ricky!” moaned Maureen, opening the lawyer’s fly and massaging his stiffened cock.

Seeking to capitalize on the moment, Rick reached back, grabbbed a knot of the young Fornaro’s hair and gave the boy a brutal back-of-the-hand blow. SLAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!

“Get on your knees----and stay in that positon----till we arrive at our destination, Little CUCKY Gary!” commanded Rick.

“Y-Y-Yes, Master!” stammered the obsequious Gary.

The sight of her masterful new Bull in action, prompted the Irish Goddess to pull over and inhale Rick Vitale’s huge dick.

After thoroughly lubricating the attorney’s member with her Sweet Gaelic Saliva, Mo said: “This is just for starters, lover. I want you to explode inside of me after we take care of business with that beast on the roof of the car. HaHaHaHa!”

“Loved the way you fucked her up with your fists, Sweetness!” replied Rick

“And pummeled Meatball Mamma unconscious! Beat her fat swarthy flesh like meat in a butcher’s locker. Nearly turned that Guinea Pig into a goner. HaHaHaHaHaTeeHeeTeeHeeHaHa!” guffawed a joyous Maureen.

“Mmmmmmmmmmmm,” said Rick.

“Then I pissed all over her; and Mommy Ugliest opened her mouth and swallowed. HaHaHaHaHa! The Dumb Doo-WOP even thanked me for the Golden Irish Shower!”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhh, that’s so HOT,” exclaimed the attorney as he grabbed both of the Colleen’s Sweet Freckled Teats----and began kissing, licking and sucking each orb with unrivaled passion.

“Wait till we arrive at our destination, Ricky. You’ll have all of my Gaelic charms to yourself,” said Mo as she disengaged a Freckled Tit from the barrister’s hungry mouth.

With her lover in tow in the front passenger’s seat, an unconscious Parmigiana Mamma on the roof of the car---and Cucky Gary cowering in the back---Maureen revved the engine and took off.

“Well, we’re here!” announced Maureen twenty minutes later as she pulled into the driveway of the Fornaro residence.

Or the ex-Fornaro residence, as it were.

Emerging from the auto, the Irish Goddess made for an awesome sight in all her Freckled Pulchritude. Maureen’s luscious lentiginous breasts bounced and jiggled in the tight white top as she untied Mozzarella Mamma from the roof of the car and hurled the swarthy Paisan Pig onto the lawn.

Turning her attention to Gary, Mo ordered the Cuckolded College Student to enter his former home and prepare the master bedroom for Her Royal Hibernian Highness and Rick Vitale.

“As for you, Ricky,” cooed the Celtic MILF, “follow me---and bring the camera and video recorder I stashed in the trunk.”

After pausing to stare at the beaten Guinea Pig lying face down---and buck naked----on the front lawn, Maureen lifted the nearly lifeless Concetta by the hair and prompted Rick to begin filming as the KWFL blasted a bare-knuckled fist into the Italian woman’s bulging belly.

“Oooooooooooooooof,” gurgled Mamma Meatball.

Maureen followed that blow with three more vicious punches to Mommy Ugliest’s blubbery paunch.

“Uhhhhhhhhh! Ow-ow-OWWWWW! “OOOOOOOF!” cried the defeated Doo-WOP, absorbing yet another fistic drubbing at the hands of the Superior Irishwoman.

Letting Concetta fall to the ground, the Sexy Freckled MILF, once again grabbed the brunette by her greasy mane and delivered a thunderous right cross to the jaw that sent the Marinara Matron reeling into a tree on the front lawn.

“Make sure you get this, Ricky!” urged Mo as she went to work on the Wretched ex-Wifey.

Dexterously wielding both the camera and video recorder, the handsome Italian attorney made certain to film the Pristinely Beautiful Irishwoman’s Freckled Shoulders flex as her fists began pummeling and punching the length and breadth of the outclassed Guinea Pig’s body.

Pinioned against a tree on the property, the battered, naked and bludgeoned Concetta-sow was exposed for all her neighbors to see. Some of them emerged from their homes to watch the spectacle.

And the Gorgeous Gaelic Goddess did not disappoint her audience.

“Ulp-ulp-ulpppp! Gahhhhhhhhh! Oh-Oh-OH-OWWWWWW! Uhhhhhhhhh!” babbled Parmigiana Mamma as Maureen pounded repeated rights and lefts to the Doo-WOP’s kidneys.

Smiling wickedly, the Irish Warrior Queen waded forward as Scungilli-cunt Concetta’s body sagged. This time, however, Mo targeted the cowardly Italian’s tits and belly. Attacking the Guinea Pig’s ugly breast meat with, the Insolent Irishwoman methodically clouted both of the brunette’s swarthy udders.

“SMACK-smacketty! Smack-smack-smacketty! SMACK-SMACK-SMACKETTY-SMACK!” reverberated throughout the neighborhood as Mo’s County Kilkenny knuckles exploded against Mommy Ugliest’s sweat-soaked tit flesh!

The Freckled KWFL Champion’s fistic barrage sent Concetta’s meatball teats flying in different directions. As they drooped downward, though, Maureen hammered both tits flat against Mamma Mozzarella’s chest cavity, eliciting sobs from the lowly brunette.

A snarling Maureen shifted her focus to the Barnyard Guinea Pig’s solar plexus, plowing powerful Fightin’ Irish fists deep into the Italian’s soft underbelly.

“OOOF! Oof-oof-oof-OOOOF! Uhhhhh-gahhhhhhh! Oww! OOOOOOF!” gasped Concetta, falling to one knee.

Taking full advantage of Raggedy Anna Maria’s plight, Lady McNeal launched a filthy right cross to the Fetid Italian’s temple. The disoriented Doo-WOP fell to the ground; yet she got up and momentarily staggered about.

The Irishwoman danced around her oafish Italian foe, taunting the “stupid Guinea Pig” with her words and peppering Concetta with Punishing Celtic fists.

Marinara Mamma was spinning around in a daze, absorbing unrelenting jabs to her bulging paunch, violent hooks to her blubbery breasts---and a final volley of debilitating kidney punches.

Hauling the Mozzarella Matron up by her oily locks, Maureen spun the brunette around, smashing fist after fist into the small of Concetta’s back. The shell-shocked Paisan wobbled, her arms hanging listlessly by her side.

“Dumb Meatball can’t fight a lick,” announced the Irish Champion to a crowd that had grown increasingly appreciative of Maureen’s fistic dominance.

Her pride deeply wounded, Concetta summoned enough fortitude to adopt a fighting stance. Yet the pathetic sight of the beaten, pot-bellied and saggy-titted Italian raising her fists elicited gales of laughter from Connie’s (former) friends and neighbors.

Lady McNeal upped the humiliation ante by stripping off her blouse and displaying the Full Frontal Freckled Beauty of her Superior Irish Breasts.

As if on cue, the crowd erupted in applause, with the males engaging in frequent catcalls and wolf whistles. The noise brought Rick Vitale to the front lawn.

“Just in time, lover! Now you can watch Scungilli-cunt Concetta’s final round!” said Mo.

“Wouldn’t miss this slaughter for the world, Sweetness!” responded the dashing Italian barrister.

Topless and clad only in a mini-skirt and leather high-heeled boots---with lustrous red hair cascading down her Pristinely Freckled Shoulders---Lady McNeal was majestic in her Celtic Allure.

Thus, the stage was set for the final clash: Irish Goddess vs. Lowly Greaseball

Maureen held her hands up, beckoning the Swarthy Doo-WOP to clasp them. “Think you’re making a courageous last stand, bitch?”

Concetta and Mo seemed to struggle in what appeared to be---but actually wasn’t---a test of strength.

“Think again, Guinea Pig!” uttered Maureen, smashing a vicious knee into the Swarthy Italian’s overhanging belly.

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOF!” cried the stricken Parmigiana Mamma.

Bent over and in severe pain, Concetta had no defense against the tip of Her Royal Hibernian Majesty’s boot as it connected with the Paisan Pig’s noggin.

The brunette fell flat on her ass with a thud. Still, she managed to totter to her feet---only to suffer a Dublin-style back-alley pasting, courtesy of Maureen’s Sweet Irish Fists.

The outmatched Italian woman offered no resistance as the Irishwoman jabbed Parmigiana Mamma’s swarthy udders with methodical precision, switching to more painful haymakers to the sides of each sagging teat, and finishing with a bare-knuckled speed-bag pummeling of Concetta’s ugly Meatball Mammaries.

“Uhhhhhhhhhhh! Oh-oh-oh-OWWWWW! Oof! OOOF-OOOF-OOOF! Gahhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

“Still can’t fight a lick, Guinea Pig. You’re no match for me---in strength, fighting ability or beauty! I stole your husband, son and new boyfriend. And now I’m going to prove to all your neighbors---as if they already didn’t know---that Irish Goddess Maureen McNeal is the better, superior woman!” bellowed the Sexy Redhead.

The intimidated, bullied and beaten Paisan proffered no reply---verbal or fistic---as the Gaelic Goddess plowed a left hook into Concetta’s jelly belly, dropping the Italian to her knees. This was followed by a right cross to the Greaseball’s forehead that put the brunette flat on her back.

Yet Maureen persisted in meting out more punishment.

Once again, the Fightin’ Irishwoman grabbed a knot of Marinara’ Mamma’s hair and lifted her Fucktard of a rival to her feet. Then Mo announced, “The end is nigh, Guinea Pig! ----and began furiously slapping Concetta’s face in open and backhanded fashion.

Each stinging SLAP reverberated throughout the neighborhood again and again and again. And the Italian woman shook with each blow, backpedaling as Maureen’s left and right handed palms jolted the brunette to her core.

Lady McNeal was dominating the cowardly Italian in a most ignominious manner, illustrating the Sexy Irishwoman’s Superiority. Maureen’s Beautifully Freckled Breasts jiggled with each blow, and the KWFL Champion smiled wickedly as she slapped the lowly Mozzarella Mamma senseless and into total submission.

“C-C-Concetta . . . she- a . .. surrender t-t-to dee Beautiful Irish Goddess Maureen McNeal,” stammered the cowardly Greaseball. To accentuate her groveling subservience, the Meatball Matron genuflected to her Gaelic Conqueror, slavishly kissed and licked the Irish Superwoman’s toes.

In response, Maureen hoisted the Groveling Guinea Pig up by the hair and slammed a thunderous slap to Concetta’s face, bloodying the Doo-WOP’s lip. Finally, a devastating left hook to Marinara Mamma’s liver jolted the hapless coward, thoroughly incapacitating her.

As the outmatched and outclassed Greaseball dropped like a stone, the Gorgeous Gaelic Goddess pounced--- draping her Pristinely Freckled Irish Breasts all over Concetta’s countenance. Then with a fury born of arrogance, Lady McNeal began tit-slapping the beaten Paisan’s faccia brutta with her Freckled Ta Tas.

Concetta’s neighbors gasped and laughed as Maureen’s sumptuous orbs punished Marinara Mamma’s face at will. Finally, the onlookers applauded in unison as the Irishwoman’s Luscious Lentiginous Melons smothered the lowly Guinea Pig into complete defeat and unconsciousness.

Maureen rose and planted the high heel of her boot on the swarthy brunette’s right teat, impaling her foe’s nipple until it bled. Turning to Rick Vitale, the Irish Goddess said, “Get me my handbag, lover.”

Bag in hand, Mo removed her lipstick, duct tape and some rope. The Celtic Goddess hogtied Meatball Mamma and affixed duct tape to Concetta’s mouth. Then brandishing her lipstick as if it were a quill, Maureen etched a message on the carcass once known as Concetta Fornaro.

“Fucktard Guinea-Pig Loser” was scrawled on the brunette’s forehead; and “Property of Irish Goddess Maureen McNeal” read the locution on Mozzarella Mamma’s flattened chest.

Carrying this heavily pounded piece of fetid meat to the nearby tree, Lady McNeal tied the trussed up Paisan Loser to a branch for all to see.

“Make sure to videotape my, um, parting shots, Ricky!” exclaimed the topless Irishwoman as she donned her racing gloves and proceeded to punch, cuff and pummel the hanging Meatball Matron.

Concetta’s neighbors roared with approval as the Freckled KWFL Champion’s fists publicly beat the Cowardly Barnyard Animal into deep ignominy.

“Faith and begorrah,” remarked the Irish Goddess snidely,” methinks this Paisan Punching Bag has had enough. HaHaHaHaHaHAW-HAW-AH-HaHaHaHa!

Flexing her Powerful Lentiginous Biceps and jiggling her Sensually Freckled Irish Breasts, Maureen posed for one final photo beside the thoroughly demolished carcass of Concetta Fornaro.

And then Mo and Rick entered the former Fornaro abode to make mad, passionate love. An obsequious Gary-boy awaited the couple as they entered the bedroom.

Rick Vitale could not keep his hands off the Freckled Redhead. And while kissing and caressing the Pristine Irish Beauty, the handsome Italian attorney ordered the young college student to “Remove my shoes---and clean and polish them with your tongue, Cucky!”

“Mmmmmm. Love your masterful tone, barrister!” purred Maureen.

Falling to his knees, Gary Fornaro took off Rick’s shoes and began licking each one dutifully.

“Not good enough, Cuck! Use your tongue to clean any accumulated dirt clinging to the soles. Make sure to get all the grimy particles, too!” commanded Mo’s Bull as he inhaled the Irishwoman’s Sweet Freckled Teats.

“HaHaHa! Dumb Cuck can’t follow orders,” moaned Maureen as she began to spread her legs for the dashing Italian lawyer, who quickly unzipped his fly and entered the Sensuous MILF.

“Remove my pants, CUCK, while I FUCK the woman you lost, Gary-boy!” bellowed Rick.

“As you wish Master-Bull Rick,” said Gary unbuckling the Italian attorney’s belt and removing his pants while Vitale’s Gargantuan Organ penetrated Maureen in pulse-pounding fashion.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh . . . pound my pussy, My Handsome Italian Barrister! Plow that massive Roman Candle into your Sweet Irish Rose!” screamed Maureen.

Meanwhile, Cucky-boy was stuck. In order to extricate Rick Vitale from his briefs, Gary had to interrupt the carnal act. But as Rick pulled out of Mo’s pussy---and allowed the college student to take off the man’s boxers---the studly lawyer issued a stinging “SLAP!” across the youngster’s face.

“Take it like a man, Gareee. Oh, I forgot. You’re not a man. You’re a CUCK! HaHaHaHaHaHa!” chortled the Sexy Irish Cuckoldress.

Rick followed up his stinging slap with a right hook to Gary’s solar plexus and a left uppercut to Gary’s jaw that knocked the college student on his keister.

“Can’t fight a lick---just like Mommy Ugliest,” remarked Maureen, strolling toward her former lover.

Mo grabbed Gary by the hair and dragged the still dazed college student over to the naked---and well-muscled—attorney, who was posing and flexing his biceps and his massive Italian oak.
The Fiery Irishwoman ordered her CUCK to kiss both of Rick’s hands. Gary complied in complete subservience to his Master-Bull. Then Maureen commanded the boy to kiss the attorney’s feet, one toe at a time (soles included). Again, Cucky complied.

“Now kiss the ass of the man who stole your woman---and kicked YOUR ass!” commanded the Irish Cuckoldress.

Gary dutifully completed this most ignominious task, licking Rick’s anus for good measure.

“Now that’s what I call a good CUCK,” chortled Maureen.

Then the Pristine Irish Goddess commanded her Cuck to lie down on the bed. Scurrying to what had been his parents’ canopy bed, Gary did so---feet pointing to the headboard---without question. Mo climbed on top of the College Cuck----lying on her back---so that her pussy was very nearly above Gary’s face.

“Hey, Ricky. Hope you like my new Cucky-boy mattress.

Rick Vitale smiled broadly as he repeatedly thrust his Colossal Italian Cock into the Freckled Beauty’s Irish womanhood. And all Gary could do was helplessly watch---from a Cuck’s point of view underneath the lovers’ genitals---as the attorney’s Pulsating Penis pounded Maureen’s Sweet Celtic pussy.

“Looks like I don’t need my hands to slap you senseless, Cucky!” guffawed Rick, whose balls insolently---and repeatedly---clouted Gary Fornaro’s face.

And as the college boy became drenched with the couple’s love juices, he opened his mouth wide to swallow.

A wildly aroused Lady McNeal erupted in a paroxysm of ecstatic passion: “Fuck me, my Roman God! FUCK MY FRECKLES!”

“Thought you’d never ask, Sweetness!” replied the Chiseled Italian Attorney.