женскихsingle combat



When men fight

Stuck. Fight over a woman
Franz von Stuck - The struggle for a woman, 1927. Oil on wood.
Illustration from the site Biller Antik

Русская версия

Actually, a book chapter could be written about how we women fight over men. Recently, that became especially popular: there are a lot of lawsuits in our courts: schoolgirls beat up each other to blood over a classmate, adult women fought over a shared lover, etc. However, I am not ready to write about women brawls, perhaps because of the women’s solidarity. Now, I am going to write about how pleasant it is if men fight over us women… Of course, as a lawyer, I categorically condemn any violence. On the other hand, is there any other good reason for men to fight other than over a woman?

Since the earliest times, when mating cavemen fought with clubs, men have fought over women. Not to mention that this is the universal law of nature: bucks fight over does, tomcats - over pussy-cats, cocks - over chickens, etc. If they do, why men shouldn’t fight over us?

As a matter of fact, there have been times when men arranged such fights in a decent way: knights fought for ladies in jousting tournaments, musketeers fenced with swords, noblemen engaged in pistol duels over ladies. I am sure ladies loved to ride to such duels and tournaments in covered carriages and to stand on the rostrum watching two noble men risking their lives and even dying over them. In excitement and appreciation, the lady threw a perfumed handkerchief or a red rose to the victor; later at night, in an alcove, the object of the rivalry gave in to the one who conquered her with arms in hand and won… Unfortunately, nowadays, men’s fights are much less romantic and decent. In Russia, men prefer fighting with fists which is accompanying with dirty swearing. But even such unromantic duels may please a woman if men fight over her – such enjoyment came to us from our progenitrix: it is delightful to be a subject of bloody fight between males.

For the first time ever, men fought over me at a camp site “Valaam” in Karelia (Northern Russia). Probably that’s why I love the old popular song “Forever Karelia will be in my dreams”. This story is not about the song though.

I didn’t even expect that tens of thousands single women travel all over Russia with tourist groups seeking romantic adventures in hopes to meet HER man. As to me, I didn’t look for adventures – exactly the opposite - I left Moscow to avoid adventures. I was 18 then and you can imagine how many sexual adventures I had had. But I decided to have some rest – I just passed the admission exams to a law school and my mom bought for me a package to a tourist camp in the former men’s monastery located at the Karelian island of Valaam. The tourist population there was quite aging, mostly consisting of women in their thirties and forties; there were just two young girls – myself and a small brunette girl Galya, 24, a real black fireball of Armenian descent.

Tourist instructors began courting the two of us right off – they invited us to join their fire parties, to ramble in woods, to ride a boat. Up to a certain time, Galya and I didn’t allow the instructors to go further than just excursions; we tried to be with other women – as I said, I just relaxed from my past turbulent life in Moscow while Galya was afraid to be alone with the instructors in the woods.

So, two weeks had past peacefully. We still managed to fence ourselves off more and more persistent instructors, even though they were confident that by the end of our vacation term we would surrender anyway – that’s what usually happened in tourist sites at the end of staying. We just realized it was time to come together with somebody – we were a little tired of two weeks of forest walks and breathing fresh air. Nightly, in our booth, Galya fondled her small breasts, demonstrating them to me and said in a laugh: “Look how hard they are, I probably need a man.” Well, we discussed who to choose and nominated two instructors: I chose a tall bearded guy Sasha, 31, while she chose a chubby slug Roman, 27. And it would inevitably end with a trite intercourse in the woods on air beds unless something else happened…

Once, at the breakfast time, when I had my breakfast alone, a stranger appeared in our dining room: a forty year old tall guy with bright blue eyes. Stepping with a firm tread, he approached the food counter, got some food and sat down at my table. He looked at me with his blue eyes and said cheerfully: “Are they always feeding you with such a glop?” I mumbled something in reply while he chuckled and said that if the cook on his ship prepared such food he would throw it overboard. I thought he just shot at the mouth but he caught my distrust and said readily: “I am not joking, let’s go outside and I will show you my research vessel ‘The Eagle’.” And a ship was really seen some distance away from the shore - small one reminding a sea tug. However, in any case, it was a real ship and this guy was its captain. And straight off he invited me to his ship but I said that will go only with my friend Galya. “Go ahead, take your friend, no problem,” he answered. I ran for Galya and three of us got aboard a boat and pulled up to the ship.

On the ship, he let us turn the helm and showed us round the entire ship, including the captain’s cabin and the cockpit where two sailors and an operator inhabited. The ship took fancy to Galya and me – everything was clean and nice: the wooden captain’s cabin, deck and the cook-room. And Galya especially was impressed by one of the sailors. On that day they didn’t ride us around the lake because they would have to do some jobbing on the ship. But the next day they took us again and we had a good time: we operated the helm in turn, cooked and took the sun on the deck. The crew members turned out to be very nice – they entertained us by singing songs and reciting poems and nobody wooed us, However, I understood that the blue-eyed captain would not leave me alone. And, frankly speaking I already wanted him not to do that.

So, three days later, the captain landed to the pier to pick Galya and me up. At the pier, our instructors Roman and Sasha were already on the watch for him. They demanded not to approach our booth and stop taking us to his ship. I don’t know how their conversation went and how it started (usually guys start picking a fight with cursing) but someone ran up to our booth and shouted: “Olga, the captain is fighting over you with instructors!” We ran out and saw three guys brawling for real on the plank pier. Sasha and Roman were fighting against the captain; Roman’s face was already bleeding which even more brutalized the instructors. They headed for trouble and attacked the captain with virulence. But the solid strong captain kept being cheerful even during the fight, greeting the attackers: “Go it! Roll up! Roll up! Stand from under!” And punched them in turn. Probably I should have screamed and set them apart but I was stood stock-still; I was overwhelmed with pride: “men fight for you, it's no laughing matter!” Of course, I wished the captain to win with all my heart but I was not sure if I would give the mitten to Sasha if he and Roman managed to beat up the captain and to throw him from the pier into the water. Anyway, I didn’t have to make a choice once the captain overcame his rivals. Although it was not an outright victory (nobody had been killed or knocked out), it was quite convincing: the captain had tapped Roman’s claret jug and hardly twisted Sasha’s arm, so he was unable to move it. Now the three guys were sitting on the pier trying to recover breath and sluggishly exchanged shots. Then the captain rose to his foot and approached us standing by our booth – the instructors didn’t stop him anymore. The women around instantly dispersed and he said smiling with his blue eyes: “Look here, Olga, tomorrow at 5 in the morning we are going to sail away to St. Petersburg – I already lost two days because of you. If you want, take your friend tonight, join us at the ship and we will take you to the city – your term is gonna be over soon anyway.”

So, Galya and I bundled and at night got aboard a small cock boat he prepared for us and pulled up to the “Eagle” where we were greeted with wine and cognac. In fact, I had not had so nice days and nights as on board of the ship with the captain who seized me from the instructors. At the first night, he took me down to his wooden cabin and I gave in to him to the sound of the motor; we were making love accompanying dancing of the waves, with so great passion as if he had been my lover all my previous life. And I felt he had me not as just another love-mate but also as his trophy and prize which he conquered in a bloody battle with other suitors and became my sovereign. And the very his power over me additionally pleased me and turned me on. Coincidently, my friend Galya was making love with her sailor in the next cabin. And then it was a storm and I was standing with my captain on the second deck - he passionately kissed me under rain like a boy and we were going together through wind and weather to the sound of motor. During those three days, my conqueror, the tough forty-year-old river captain who had definitely tested hundreds women from nearest villages, became an enamored and obedient greenhorn.

Look what has really happened: an eighteen-year-old girl defeated and enslaved her conqueror by means of her delicate body, vulnerable breasts and the forbidden sheath. Of course, there were other aphrodisiacs, including what he called ‘romanticism in the sex’. Perhaps, I made love with him so ardently because he was a captain and it was in a captain cabin during a storm; he was not even groaning when coming - he was just dying inside my body losing last drops of life. Isn’t it the reason why men fight over women – to allow us to enslave then our conquerors?

…When I returned home after the three-day around-the-clock sex, my mom seeing my shining face and rosy cheeks said contentedly: “I see you have really taken a rest. That’s what the fresh air can do!”

Chapter VI from the novel "Russia in Bed, Book II" by Edward Topol"
Translated by Alexei Bauman
Source: e-Reading

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