Faheema Salih vs. Bubbles Burste - Birds Of A Feather

Match Type: Standard Hardstyle Hentai
Victory Conditions:Victory by pinfall, submission, or KO after making your opponent orgasm. No Disqualifications.

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“You are Bubbles Burste. You are the strongest, sexiest, most dominant wrestler to grace the American indie circuit. Your ass? Amazing and curvaceous. Your breasts? Plump and delicious. Your kiss? Delicate and soothing. You have muscles in places most people don't even know muscles grow. You are 240 pounds of-”

”245.”

Mariah’s massage session came to an abrupt pause, just as her soothing hands were starting to work their way to Bubble’s neck. While she knew it would be a momentary pause, the giantess couldn’t help but groan at the ceased sensation. These little pre-match activities always helped her get in the mood, and tonight she needed all the hype she could muster.

For the first time, they were together in the gorilla position of the AFW, getting ready for Bubbles’ match. Not her premier match, of course, that had gone down a week or so. But this would be her official opening, the first time she and Mariah came out together, the best chance to show what they could do as wrestler and manager, partners in multiple senses of the word. Mariah was dressed to impress, wearing her red skirt and black heels and a bandeau bikini that clung tight to her chest, while Bubbles’ wore a regal looking white and gold trimmed number, one that covered her neck, but did little to cover anything else. Her chest was on full display, the bikini around her waist showed off her finest lower assets. The most covering she wore were the boots that came up to her shins, shining gold with white laces.

A big step up from the simple leotards she wore back in the Slamazon days. Bubbles felt like a queen.

She’d feel more like one when Mariah got over her surprise and went back to the massage. ”245 pounds? Really? You picked up five pounds since the last weigh in?” She reached down and gave Bubbles’ abs a pinch, making the Virgin Killer yelp loud enough to startle some of the nearby stagehands. ”Yup, picking up a little weight. Got to lay off the meat buns.”

Bubbles sighed in annoyance, then sighed in ecstasy as Mariah went back to work, aiming her magic touch at the tender spot where the shoulders turned into the neck, squeezing down on a tendon with the perfect amount of pressure. ”Can’t help it. Sooooooo tasty.” She bit her lip. ”I’m just trying to sample the culture, is all. No harm, there.”

”Yeah, yeah, save the excuses. Where was I?” She muttered a few lines of her traditional pre-match pep talk, catching up. ”You are 245 pounds of badass and you are going to run through whoever comes after you in that ring. However long we’re in the AFW, we’re going to dominate, and-”

She was cut off once more, this time when a stagehand popped in and gave them the signal - they were up first. Sure enough, her theme music began to play, and the crowd grew louder. It was time.

Bubbles stood up, took a deep breath, mentally readied herself - and then Mariah ruined her concentration with a hard slap on the ass. This time, the stagehands were more ready for the shrieking yelp that followed. ”Come on!” She gave Bubbles a few teasing pokes in the side, tickling her as she moved to the curtain. ”We’ve got history to make!”

Coming out of the curtain with a giggle and a goofy smile on her face did ruin the mystique somewhat, though the crowd either didn’t care or didn’t notice. Bubbles came out with Mariah beside her, and the difference in size made her stand out even more. Pictures snapped, fans gawked, and those close enough held out their hands for high fives as she made her way down the ramp. Bubbles had been in Japan for less than two weeks, but she could already say one thing for their crowds: they knew how to make new talent feel appreciated.

When they reached the ring, Mariah hopped up on the apron and sat on the middle rope while she pushed the top one upward, making a nice gap for Bubbles to slip through - an offer that she promptly accepted, in the most appreciative way possible. She turned away from her wife, put one leg through the ropes, then bent all the way over as she stepped in giving Mariah the best view in the house as she passed. She couldn’t see her because of the way she was turned, but she figured it was safe to guess she was smiling.

With that theater done, the both of them entered the ring, with Bubbles making her way to center. There she stood as Mariah rounded the ring, stretching, posing, shoving off every muscle and curve while the music began to wind down. It was still a rough entrance, one that she and Mariah would have to work on, but she felt it was a good enough way to introduce themselves. Judging by the many smiling faces in the crowd, she was right about that.

So far, so good. Now, all they needed to do was meet Bubble’s playmate for the evening. She turned her hungry eyes to the entrance ramp as she waited, hoping the AFW would throw someone worthwhile her way. No kawaiis, no lightweights with a domination fetish. As fun as those could be, she wanted to make an impact in Friction, and to do that she needed a challenge.

Even though Faheema had been in Japan for almost a month now, today marked the beginning of her new life as far as she was concerned. Her first fight since leaving Egypt was about to start, and for the first time in her life, she didn't have to be afraid of it. Back in Africa, every fight she had ever gotten into had been a fight for her life, a fight for survival. Whether it was stealing food or money, defending herself from predators, or escaping captivity, Faheema had never known the luxury of being able to fight purely for the love of the sport.

Not anymore. Those days were over. Tonight, Faheema would get to fight for the entertainment of the masses, although their enjoyment didn't really concern her. All Faheema wanted was to make a living using the only skill she had, and outside of Africa, this was the way to do it.

Looking into a mirror, Faheema frowned at the reflection that looked back at her. Unlike her opponent, Faheema was no queen, still looking like the worthless drifter that so many people regarded her as. The clothing she wore was almost offensive to look at; a filthy, ragged tank top adorned her upper body, barely holding together. Beneath, a pair of black trunks that were too big for her clung to her waist. A black bikini that Faheema had stolen from a beach-goer in Alexandria sat beneath her tattered rags, and black boots graciously provided by the Friction staff would protect her feet.

This was still the best Faheema had looked in years. Having regular access to a shower for the first time in her life had proven helpful in washing away all the grime and sweat that had once clung to her. Her hair was still a mess, but at least the tangled forest of curls that hung down from her head didn't have dirt or dried blood in them anymore. It was just too bad that Faheema couldn't wash away the scars and burn marks that adorned her chest, back, and arms – each of them a painful reminder of what her life had been like before she had escaped to Japan.

Interrupting Faheema's ruminations was a loud knock at her changing room door. Her opponent had arrived, and now it was her turn to take the stage. A deep breath filled her lungs as the staff member guided her to the curtain that she was to burst out of. Faheema didn't understand the point of all the spectacle, but she decided not to question it. As soon as her music filled the arena, the Nubian Exile emerged from the curtain into a sea of blinding lights and cheering faces. The stadium was enormous, the largest man-made structure Faheema had ever stood in, and it was filled to capacity with howling fans that numbered in the thousands. Feeling overwhelmed, the Nubian Exile just stood there for a moment until a stage hand behind the curtain yelled at her to move forward.

Walking down the ramp, Faheema's eyes drifted from the lofty stage lights down to the tiny square that she was expected to fight in...and the enormous woman standing in its center. Bubbles...the ridiculous name had led Faheema to believe that her new employer had set her up against some pathetic little girl, but that arrogant assumption hadn't been accurate. Stepping awkwardly through the ropes, Faheema looked up with horror at the hulking brute that she would soon be trading blows with. She didn't let her fear show, keeping it hidden beneath a perturbed scowl, but she was definitely nervous. After all the fights in which she had been able to look down on her opponents literally and figuratively, karma had now delivered her a monster to slay.

“Hmm...well, you're bigger than...everyone I've ever met,” Faheema addressed her opponent, enunciating as clearly as she could. She spoke good English, but the sub-Saharan and Arabic inflections in her voice colored everything she said. After greeting Bubbles, Faheema's head snapped toward the other, smaller woman quickly enough to make her curls jiggle. Her dismissive frown had sharpened into something more hostile. “Who is this dog, and why is she standing in our ring?!” the Nubian Exile snapped, clearly agitated that Bubbles had brought what seemed to be an ally with her.

”Faheema Salih.” Bubbles practiced her pronunciation as the music died down, and the crowd began to look for her opponent. She tried it again, this time without so much focus on the first syllable and more on the second. ”Fa -hee - ma Salih. Ha.”

First impressions were important, and she wanted to make a good one with whoever she was up against. Bubbles currently knew about two things when it came to Faheema: she was new, and she wasn't native to Japan, either. With a name like that, though, she wanted to picture someone exotic and strange, someone who stood out from the typical Friction star, and preferable someone with a fine but formidable figure.

To her delight, she pretty much got what she was hoping for. To her surprise, it didn't come in the most flattering package.

Bubbles’ first thought when Faheema came out was that she was some kind of hobo.  It was a little stereotypical, maybe a tiny bit prejudiced, and she hated the thought as soon as she had it, but it wasn't like it came from thin air. Ratty, disheveled, dirty, unkempt, all of these were words that described the attire she had on and the look of her hair.

But the second thought she had was much more charitable, and gave her plenty of cause to smile again. As Faheema made her way down the ramp, the shining lights showed off some clear muscle underneath her tattered rags. Solid. Fit. Scarcely an ounce of fat to be seen. It was the kind of frame many women worked for but few achieved, and it brought back some pleasant memories of her body building days. This was a body worth squeezing. And teasing. And pleasing.

Granted, having a good body meant nothing without the skill to use it, but they were off to a decent start.

Faheema was looking fairly pissed off for some reason, but Bubbles didn't let it trouble her too much. They were wrestlers. They had to put up fronts sometimes, emanate control. It wouldn't keep her from giving a smile back in return, though that didn't last too long when Faheema began speaking.

Her voice was suitably sexy, a dark mix that Bubbles couldn't come close to placing, but it was what she used that voice for that caused problems. Bubbles’ smile flipped over and a blush graced her cheeks, clear even through her tanned skin. She didn't have to look behind her to know that Mariah’s jaw had just dropped, and that she'd be responding in short order. The potential for this to turn ugly was strong.

”Hey, whoa, no need for that.” She held up her hands and stepped between them, hoping to defuse the bomb even as the fuse burned. ”Be cool, okay? I'm Bubbles, and this is Mariah, my wife-”

”And manager!” Mariah stepped forward with her hands on her hips and got in Faheema’s face - or, as close as she could when she was three inches shorter. ”I'm just here to watch as Bubbles beats your raggedy butt from pillar to post. Got a problem with that?”

Bubbles just sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose, as the ‘catfight’ calls began to come out from the crowd. So much for defusing..

As first impressions went, Faheema usually came off every bit as unpleasant as her clothing made her look. She was foul, distrustful, and temperamental. No matter how tough she acted, however, it wasn't really who Faheema was. Deep down, buried beneath years of hardship, she was still the shy, compassionate village girl that her parents had raised her to be. Most people never saw her soft side, but when Bubbles acted in good faith to intervene and started to explain who Mariah was, her brow unfurrowed, and the fire left her eyes. As hard as it must have been to see beneath her dark skin, the same red hue that had just graced Bubbles' cheeks now graced her own. These two weren't mere allies, they were...married?

Mariah almost rekindled Faheema's rage when she flew dangerously close to the woman, but her arms weren't raised to attack, so the ebony warrior stayed calm long enough to let Mariah talk. Faheema didn't actually know what a manager was. Were they all this obnoxious? Whatever she was supposed to be, Mariah gave her word that she would do nothing except watch the fight. Faheema crossed her impressive arms in front of her bust, but to the crowd's dismay, she had reconsidered her idea to violently throw the woman from the ring.

“You two are married? Well, I am truly jealous of you in that case,” Faheema's lips curled into a smirk as she stared down at Mariah. “I always dreamed of marrying a woman myself, but it wasn't allowed where I came from. That 'Bubbles' woman is quite a beauty, though. Perhaps I'll take her with me after I've finished breaking her, and enjoy her body for myself. Hah hah hah...” her husky laughter trailed off as Faheema spun on her heels and walked back toward her corner of the ring. She wasn't serious, of course. Even though the ebony beauty would have killed for a night with either of these women, kidnapping wasn't her style.

Faheema was almost ready, but before the bell rang, she did something that caught the audience by surprise. Gripping the fabric of her awful tank top with care, Faheema dragged the dirty piece of cloth up until her chest was completely free of it, exposing her exceptional body for the crowd, and her opponent, to gaze at. The audience made a racket, always loving to see the women of Friction wearing less clothing, but Faheema didn't care about them. She was more comfortable without the tank top on, and she didn't want it to get torn to shreds during the fight. More importantly, however, it allowed her to mock Mariah by tempting her wife with the sort of body that only a lifetime of toil could produce, although whether her little strip tease would actually have that effect on the women remained to be seen.

Bubbles was sorely tempted to jump in the middle of this, but she really knew better. Mariah was the smartest, funniest, sweetest, smartest, nicest person she'd ever met, and she loved her dearly…but the woman had a temper. Once she got wound up, all you could really do was let her get it out of her system. Provided, of course, that her fires were consistently stoked. Unfortunately for all those involved Faheema wasn't the type of person stop messing with a beehive once the bees started coming out. She just kept poking and poking.

Mariah’s eyes widened as Faheema made her little suggestion, but it probably wasn't for the reason she thought. She and Bubbles agreed early on that their relationship was an open one, where they were fine with each other having the occasional fling, so long as they never got to serious and they always communicated with each other. There was trust - no matter what they did or who they did it with, they always knew who they were coming home to at the end of the day.

But what Mariah saw from Faheema was a challenge, and she was never the type to walk away from that. Or, more accurately, she was never the type to let Bubbles walk away from that.

”Huh.” She took a step back and laid a hand on Bubbles' arm, squeezing her bicep like she was inspecting a piece of meat. ”Is that a fact, curly? Be careful what you wish for. Bubbles is way more woman than you can handle.”

Bubbles was tempted to point out that, by that logic, she was more than Mariah could handle, too, but that seemed unwise. Plus, she didn't want to drag this out much longer. The crowd was getting restless, and the referee was giving them awkward looks. ”You guys know I’m still here, right?” She raised a hand with a nervous laugh. ”Kind of feel objectified, won’t lie.”

Mariah opened her mouth to reply, but she was interrupted before she had the chance. Not by words, but by the sight of Faheema pulled off her threadbare top to reveal the art underneath. The audience was impressed, sending more than a few whistles their way, and while Bubbles couldn’t speak for them, she knew plenty of her tastes were being satisfied. Tattoos? Check. Dark skin? Check. Firm muscles? Check. She licked her lips without even thinking, as the anticipation for this match grew and grew. The chance to rub up against that body, to feel it, to test it…

It took Bubbles a moment to notice Mariah at the side, looking her up and down while she rubbed her chin, her eyes narrowed into slits. She knew that look on her wife all too well. That was her scheming look.

”Uh, excuse me.” The referee came over and gave Mariah a tap on the shoulder. ”I kind of need to start the match, so if you could just-”

”Time out!” Mariah tossed her hands up in the air and pointed Bubbles and Mariah, shifting gazes between them both. ”You two. Hold up a minute on the match. Have an idea for this.”

Without even waiting for a word of protest, Mariah scampered out of the ring and made her way over to the timekeeper’s area, where she started up a little debate with one of the officials. Bubbles couldn’t hear her over the crowd’s muttering, but she knew that, whatever her wife was planning, it’d be no small thing.

”And now you’ve done it. Got her all riled up.” She sighed and folded her arms as she looked back to Faheema, putting on the best smile she could, given the awkward situation. ”Um...nice hair, by the way. Love your hair. And your face. And your chest. And your hips. And your legs. Your whole body in general, really.”

By now, Faheema was past the point of wanting to hurt Mariah, but being called Curly wasn't helping her stay calm. Maybe it was appropriate, though. After all, her opponent's name was Bubbles, and Mariah, by Faheema's choice, had been titled Dog.

Off went Faheema's tank top, neatly folded and left hanging over the rope near her corner. It was the only piece of clothing she owned that had survived the entire journey from her Sudanese village to this arena, and she wouldn't part with it or let it be further damaged by her negligence. She was ready, as excited as her rival to do battle...until Mariah called “time out”. Faheema didn't understand all the expressions used by English speakers, but she knew that those words meant more waiting. Her patience was every bit as thin as the crowd's, and whatever Mariah was trying to accomplish by collaborating with the officials, Faheema was planning to pursue with the intent of stopping it.

But then Bubbles started talking to her again, saying nice things about her body. Faheema had always been self-conscious about her appearance, fearful that the years of wear and tear she had endured in her travels had turned her into a monster. Hearing another woman tell her that she looked nice meant a lot to her. It was special in a way that Bubbles probably hadn't expected, and it showed. Faheema's blush came back, and this time it was so eminently visible that even onlookers in the front rows could see it.

“Th-thank you,” Faheema smiled, a warm and friendly curve of her soft lips that didn't resemble her sneer moments earlier. “So, I heard the announcer voice call you 'the Virgin Killer' earlier. Where did that nickname come from? Not literal, I would hope...” she asked, wanting to know a little more about what to expect from her bizarre opponent.

Bubbles had a tendency to let her mind wander, particularly when she was in close proximity to sexy, half-naked women. In this case, she was a bit busy ogling Faheema’s body and imagining all the things she could and would do to it once the bell rang. This was a standard match, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get away with being a little frisky, right? They always tended to be lax about that sort of stuff with the Slamazons, but it varied with the other leagues she’d visited.

She was just about to ask the referee how much hentai was allowed in non-hentai matches, when Faheema spoke up again. Bubbles turned back towards her swarthy foe, and it was right then that she noticed her face had lit up like a Christmas tree, with an actual smile to go along with it. She tried to hold it back, but there was no doing it: she found herself giggling at the sight.

”Sorry,” She got out one more snicker, before she managed to put an end to it altogether, not wanting to look like she was laughing at Faheema. At least, not in a mean way. ”My bad, sorry. You’re just too adorable, couldn’t help it.” The referee wasn’t paying them much attention, too concerned with Mariah and the agitated crowd, but Bubbles took a step closer to Faheema before she spoke again, anyway.

”Yeah, it’s just a silly nickname. So is ‘Bubbles’, really. Kind of a nickname magnet.” She shrugged. ”Back in my first fed, I picked up this reputation for having a little backstage fun with the younger girls at our shows. Always 18 and up, made sure of that. I honestly didn’t get that many first-timers, but that didn’t stop the name from sticking.” She leaned in even further, almost whispering now. “Plus, I rock the virgin killer sweater sometimes. Looks really good. Can show you later.”

She gave Faheema a wink, and might’ve said a little more besides, but that was when she heard Mariah’s voice come booming out over the loudspeakers. Whatever she’d done, the deal was sealed, and she was walking away from the timekeeper’s booth with a microphone in hand.

”Hear ye, hear ye!” She raised her hand to the sky as she stalked around the ring. ”Your scheduled match has been changed, ladies and gentleman. Instead of a standard, vanilla match, this is now, officially, a hardstyle hentai match! Winner by pinfall, submission, or KO, after orgasm! No DQ! Anything goes!”

The crowd had been iffy on Mariah before, but with this announcement they turned a corner on her in an instant. Cheers rang out across the arena as the excitement grew, and Bubbles shared in it. Not only because she liked the change, but because she could tell that Mariah wasn’t done yet.

”But wait, there’s more!” She held out her hand and the audience’s attention came her way once more. ”This is also a Prisoner of War match. The winner…” Mariah had a quick cough, one that sounded suspiciously like ‘Bubbles’. ”...will be allowed to take possession of the loser for a 24 hour period, to do what she wills. So! With that in mind, let’s get to it!”

Mariah tossed the microphone back and looked up at Bubbles, who was beaming down at her wife. This was exactly the sort of match she’d come for in the AFW, and having it - heck, having it with someone like this - was an unexpected treat. Her mind was already racing with the possibilities if she won, the things they could do together. It was like her chance to get Mariah another wedding gift, one they both could enjoy, unlike the I Love Lucy boxset. "One in a million."

The look she had when she brought her gaze to Faheema once more was still warm and friendly, but now there was a predatory lust to go along with it, a wild hunger in her eyes. The bell hadn’t rung yet, but she was already  leaning forward and moving into a grappler’s stance, ready to pounce the second she heard the sound. ”Looks like we’re in for a wild night.” She licked her lips, getting them nice and moist. ”You ready?”

Being laughed at always brought Faheema's mood down, but the giggle from her gargantuan foe was hardly menacing, so she let it slide. Her mind was starting to wander away from beautiful bodies to the nuances of combat, until Bubbles answered her question and brought it right back. Stepping forward to meet the bigger woman, Faheema grinned.

“I ask for a reason,” she ran a hand down her body, from her chest to her loins. “I'm not quite a virgin, but I do think of myself as such sometimes. My past encounters have been few, and they were thoroughly unsatisfying. No woman has yet claimed me that deserved my time.” If only Faheema knew how close she and Bubbles were to changing that.

The loudspeakers came to life, and to Faheema's horror, the voice echoing through them sounded a lot like Mariah. She was trying to change the rules, and while everyone else in the stadium seemed to love what she was proposing, Faheema was less enthused. The African woman had fucked before, and she had fought before, but never had she done both at once. Although she had always wanted to try one of Friction's fabled sex fights, doing it for the first time against a giantess like Bubbles worried her, especially since Bubbles seemed so much happier with the change. No doubt the Virgin Killer had much more experience disarming women with the promise of pleasure.

Whatever. Faheema was going to have sex, and if she understood the “prisoner of war” match type correctly, there would be even more sex once the fight was over. This was a good thing. Her only remaining concern was the lack of disqualification. Although it meant that Faheema could make full use of her street fighting experience, it also meant that Mariah was now on the honor system not to interfere on her lover's behalf.

“I'm warning you, river parasite!” Faheema shouted at Mariah from the edge of the ring. “Lay a finger on me during our match and I'll tear your smart mouth right off!” Now that she had laid down the law, Faheema turned back toward her opponent, matching her wild hunger with a searing glare that held no such playfulness. Since she had come to this fight expecting pure combat, she was still planning to approach the match that way at the outset. Grind Bubbles down until she can't move anymore, and then grind her down in a very different manner. That was the darker woman's plan.

“Wild, indeed,” Faheema added with a malevolent grin, her fists coming up in a guard position. When the long-anticipated ring of the bell finally met her ears, Faheema moved forward, slowly, fists extended to make Bubbles anticipate the possibility of a punch. Assuming that her elephant of an opponent didn't charge her right away, Faheema would try to get close. Her fists didn't move, because they were a decoy, meant to keep Bubbles' attention. If she got close enough, the first thing her opponent would feel is the toe of Faheema's boot striking her left knee with a powerful kick. To bring this elephant down, Faheema would start from the bottom.

In a strange way, Bubbles was relieved to know that Faheema wasn’t a virgin. She couldn’t accept living in a world where a beauty like this went untouched. Such a thing was beyond her ability to conceive. "Really, now? No girl's ever measured up before?" She tapped her lip and whistled. "Good. Love a challenge."

She had a wild, untamed beauty to her, and it wasn’t just in her features. Bubbles was trying to be better about reading facial expressions, and she saw a whole host of them coming from her opponent after Mariah made her little announcement.

At first, there was some trepidation, and she wasn’t quite sure why at first. It damn sure wasn’t because Faheema was afraid of some nudity and in-ring raunchiness, not after her stripetease and all the blatant - and thoroughly appreciated - innuendo between them. It made more sense, though, when she turned about and gave Mariah a final, dire warning. One that she sounded crazy enough to pull off, word for word.

Mariah, of course, responded in her own mature way, by sticking her tongue at Faheema. After her back was turned.

Bubbles merely shook her head with a slow, growing smile. ”Love the energy, but you gotta chill a wee bit, baby doll.” Now there was a serious face on Faheema, steely and sharpened. If she had any hesitation about this match, it was long gone. She was all in. ”Been wrestling for years, and Mariah hasn’t stepped in. Not once. She never interrupts me in the middle of a meal.”

And, finally, Faheema bore a smile that could best be described as pure evil. Bubbles’ own smile had ranged from soft to lustful for the last few minutes, but she cranked it up as well to match her foe, making it clear that they were both harboring the same lewd thoughts. Tonight was all about the body fluids - sweat, spit, cum, and maybe even some blood. Time would tell.

There went the bell.

Faheema stepped forward and Bubbles did the same, raising her fists up as well. Right away, Faheema’s posture worried her. Most wrestlers were half-decent strikers at best, but this stance looked more serious and professional than most, and it didn’t help that she had no clue on her opponent’s style. Still, though, she had the reach advantage, and the bigger frame. If it came down to a slugfest, she’d win with quality over quantity.

She inched forward, got ready to throw a straight, reared back for the heavy blow…

And wound up taking a hard kick to the knee before she had the chance to launch it.

”Gah!” Bubbles hissed and hopped back on foot, as the pain spread through her entire leg. It wasn’t just the power behind the kick, but the precision, as if Faheema had targeted the exact right spot to cause the most pain.

Not wanting to leave herself open, though, Bubbles was quick to launch her own attack. She slammed her hurting foot back to the canvas, then lashed out with the punch she’d been prepared before: a right cross, going straight for that handsome face.

If Faheema was to name her greatest concern regarding this match-up, it would definitely be that most of her fighting experience wasn't a good fit for it. Average opponents would have been thrown off balance by Faheema's kick long enough for her to follow up, but her titanic opponent was not discouraged so easily. The incoming punch that Bubbles answered with was too fast for Faheema to dodge. She had just enough time to tilt her head down a bit, angling it to make sure Bubbles didn't hit anything important, but when the punch caught her in the forehead, it felt like solid rock striking her.

“Gnh!” Faheema growled, stumbling back from the force of the blow. As she backpedaled, Faheema tried to stabilize herself by reaching up for a handful of her sexy opponent's hair. Using the backward momentum, she tried to pull Bubbles' head down before pulling back her opposite arm to uppercut the Virgin Killer right in the chin. That was just the setup attack, however, because as soon as she had Bubbles off balance, she was going to target her vulnerable chest, pushing her back further with a stiff jab aimed squarely at her right breast!

It was a hentai match, after all. Faheema would grace Bubbles' lovely chest with a more sensual touch later, but Faheema liked to express her lust the same way she expressed most of her other emotions: with violence!