Ali Landry vs. Heather Kozar: Jug Smother Match by simguy

Lot of things go through your mind when you're trapped - when a blonde's strong arms are crushing your face into her plush, unforgiving bosom. She: just squeezing away because she can, because that's what she's getting paid to do, and because she wants you to know that she's better than you. Ali Landry tried to move her face to the right, get a mouthful of something that wasn't Heather Kozar, but when you're beaten and exhausted as Ali Landry was - even the little things become difficult.
* * * *
"Dominance that doesn't leave a mark," isn't that what she'd been told? You get paid just as much, get just as much pub, but you don't get beat up - wasn't that the pitch? Struggling to stand up off the couch, fighting the suffocating weight of Kozar as the blonde held her down - Ali wanted to dispute that idea. Boxing match: you get caught a punch, you go down, maybe you don't do everything you can to get off your back - it's over. Jug smothering: it was over when Heather wanted it to be over and the way she was gripping...Ali slid her right arm around Heather's hip, riding the limb on the blonde's slick back. Deep down, a little voice that Ali didn't hear very often was starting to whimper, “Finish me. Just get it over with!” Heather pushed her weight forward, right foot still toeing the carpet for leverage, giving the seated Ali beneath her just a little bit more...

Landry's mind wandered: Vegas, MGM Grand main floor - that casino brawl with Jenny O'Dell. O'Dell was a blonde come-lately - busty - cocky - Landry'd taken her down hard, then poured it on some to make sure the message got through Jenny's thick skull. That had been the way it was supposed to be - O'Dell's eyes half shut, legs stumbling under her own weight as she bounced off a craps table, staggering across the aisle into a blackjack circle with Ali walking her down. Brunette was all business, just applying polish, giving the fans their money's worth. Jenny was done, but she had to be finished just right. People expected a lot from Ali Landry, and she didn't like to disappoint.

Jenny looked a cheap slut: tight pale blue tank top hiking up over her hips, tawdry blue cotton panties to match. Ali snapped her own red panties into place around the horsey ride of her buttocks, red tank top similarly bunched up to show off the breathtaking curve of her hips and golden brown belly. Nothing cheap there, Ali thought of her own majestic contours, just before her left hand took a practiced grip of Jenny's right strap: O'Dell's glassy eyes pleading, mouth pouting open, buttocks just sulking, pressed against the edge of the blackjack table.

Landry tugged deadweight blonde forward onto a gutwrenching right hand - fist on belly: FUMP! Jenny slumped forward with a throttled groan, hands looping limp around Ali's shoulders - Ali staring mean into the crowd over Jenny's back. Ali dipped her shoulder and propped Jenny up a bit to get a little room, pushing the blonde's right arm aside then shoving home another meaty right hand, packing it in thick. Ali exhaled through pursed lips: that one was all paunch, the muscle of Jenny's belly yielding, thrilling to the touch. O'dell sobbed for breath, pitching forward into Ali's arms. Time to end this chick's misery.

Ali put the sleeper grip on greasy-tight, left arm python-strong behind Jenny's head, left hand gripping that rounded right bicep, right hand cupping helpfully atop Jenny's head. O'Dell hadn't had a chance to catch her breath before getting her face sealed into Landry's pageant winning rack - but if the blonde had wanted to win, she shouldn't have been needing a break like that at this point any way. Ali grinned, pulling Jenny forward, reversing positions: now Ali sat her haunch on the blackjack table, left leg up, right foot still planted on the floor as she snuggled Jenny up tight. Blonde started to punch on cue - boozy, useless lefts and rights, arms reaching back then plugging forward with tepid, wet spank on Ali's thick midriff. Ali just smiled, turning her head to rest her cheek on Jenny's head. O'Dell's hair - so soft - smelled of peaches and sweat. Gamblers clapped and hooted. Waitresses hustled drinks - not even watching the action as Ali rocked gently, pushing off her right big toe, cradling Jenny as if to sing her to sleep...


Ali shook her head, heard a man's voice shout, "THREE!" She was on her back, right side to the white couch - must have drifted out. Blinking groggily, she reached up to the cushions, struggling to get off her back.

Kozar stood licking salty lips, hands on her hips. Gold bikini. Heavy with Heather's curves. Light brown tan. Ali got to one knee at, "EIGHT!" and... Heather was on her! Blonde moved in strong from behind, pulling Ali up the rest of the way by her hair, turning her and packing her face back in where it belonged. Kozar arched her back, cinching up tight - muscular arms and full shoulders systematically constricting, massaging Ali's head.

Landry's right arm slid 'round the back. Left hand pressed flat against Kozar's tummy. Little movements, probing. Kozar wrenched Ali hard to the blonde's right, eyes fierce as she pulled Landry off balance and shook her like a shark, then muscling up again: sultry; slow. Landry's hands went to Heather's hips, trying to push her way clear of clammy confines. Things got murky again. The mind wanders when you're trapped...
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"I don't want any punching."

"Neither does Heather."

"I want the gold bikini."

"Heather's got the gold bikini - you got a neutral site - that was the deal. It was either that or Hefner's and you know what you'd be up against there. Wear that lilac number - you'll probably punk her just walking into the room."

"I don't like this Ed."

"Jesus baby, what's not to like? Heather Kozar/Ali Landry. Maxim's sending a photographer - you win, it's a cover - put your foot on her ass, anything you want. Jessica Simpson's put up her living room: you get MTV exposure for nothing."

"That show sucks."

"That show's the hottest thing in the most desirable demographic going. Trust me baby, it's not going to hurt you one bit, smothering Heather Kozar out on The Newlyweds."
* * * *
Early on, it had been all Landry, hadn't it? Ali remembered...vaguely….

...Pulling Heather to her feet, left hand in those cheesy blonde curls, then slamming a robust right forearm across the slut's broad back. Not strictly legal, but who was going to do anything about it? Heather? Kozar took a knee, blubbering. Ali stooped, hauling the snivelling vixen up and pulling her forward into a moist clamp: Heather's face hot against Landry's breasts. Heather had been pathetic - whimpering, swinging her arms at Ali's waist, wrapping them around Landry's body, pinwheeling them - as if that would do anything...

...Owning Heather on the couch. Kozar dazed, heavy, sullen, sitting on the ivory white sofa, back sticking to the leather as Ali piled on. Ali had been on top, bending Heather's head back, tits directly down on face, arms wrapped up so tight Ali's hands gripped her own shoulders like eagle's claws...

...Somehow they'd ended up on the carpet - Ali seated with her back to the couch. Heather sat in her lap, legs over Ali's right thigh. Ali had her clamped up bad around the ribs - there'd been a lot of negotiating about that, but Ali wouldn't have gone ahead if she hadn't been able to bearhug. Kozar's right arm was trapped in between the bodies, her left hand pulling weakly on Landry's right shoulder. Kozar pouted and sobbed as Landry pumped the ribcage, Ali's teeth gritted with effort, but smiling just the same. Muscular arms had Kozar just under the breasts - Ali could feel the weight of those sulking hooters on her skin as she concentrated on popping Kozar like a cheap blonde balloon.

God, how Heather had carried on. Tilting her head back and crying out. bouncing on her buttocks between Ali's legs. It was pathetic. Ali just kept cinching up, resting her chin on Heather's shoulder and feeling the big blonde squirm.

But then...that's when it all started to go wrong. Hadn't it? Heather wriggled her right arm free - still carrying on like a spoiled little bitch, but now she had Ali's head in the crook of the right arm, wriggling purposefully to shift her weight. Too late, Ali had realized what Heather was attempting, but there was nothing Landry could do. If she released Heather, Kozar would just smother-clamp right then and there. But hugging Heather was only delaying the inevitable. Ali felt the porky muscle of the blonde sliding in her grasp, inch by inch bringing the blonde closer to getting good position on Landry. Ali's huglust had betrayed her and eventually, inevitably, Kozar was able to front-up, wrap her arms around Ali's head and finally turn the tables on the hated pageant princess.

Miss USA's had been kicking the crap out of Playmates Of The Year for decades! Small consolation for Ali, as Heather got on top, took charge, and never once looked back. All downhill from there.

Heather having Ali on the floor: arms wrapped tight in that hands-on-shoulders cross-grip; weight forward on Ali's face; Ali's hands pushing on the Playmate's gorgeous golden hips.

Heather having Ali on the couch, lying atop her prone or pressing up on her as Ali sat and took the beating. Ali's arms loose around Heather's waist, no longer able to crush the breath out of Heather and reverse the situation. Got worse the longer it went on. Ali hated to hear the sound of her own voice, whimpering and pathetic, muffled in the bulge of Kozar's pulsing jugs.

Humiliation as Kozar pulled Ali's face wet and pink from the cushy prison, just to show Landry off: the eyebrows arched high, the eyelashes fluttering, the mouth open, jaw slack. Then tucking Ali back into position, cinching her up - occasionally trapping one or the other arm in the hold to leave Ali one handed, and hurting.
* * * *
That little voice got louder. Shrill and screaming. The quit-jones was on Ali and all she could hear was "TAP!" Ali didn't have anything left and was losing focus. If she were put out cold, Heather would get a glorious opportunity on the cover of Maxim magazine. Foot on the ass. Maybe seated in the small of Ali's back, grinning like a fool as she crossed Ali's arms against her chest and pulled back to expose Ali's knocked out face. Maybe something worse. Ali had no choice - she was fading in and out, starting to drift...she had to tap. Had to tap...

Ali heard a burst of applause, a squeal of delight and felt a taut little body wriggling in her arms as the blonde on top of her writhed with celebration. Landry was coming around, seated on the sofa again, feeling hands pull her face back by her damp, dark locks...and something was wrong.

That scent... Heather always wore 'Obsession' - made her smell like chocolate. Scent on Ali's face was different - fruity. Gaudy. Cheap. Landry wormed her forearms in to press against the straining belly on her chest, gaining a little separation...

And looked up into the face of a grinning, bubbling, squealing-with-delight, Jessica Simpson! Ali squirmed to free herself, but she was weak from the punishment, barely awake….and Jessica had leverage against the couch. The little blonde held powerhouse brunette down, palms on her shoulders forcing eye contact as flash bulbs went off. Landry's head spun: must have gone out; Kozar switching out, putting Jessica on for the tap. Jessica and those heaving, wretched jugs! Ali couldn't hold back the tears, felt them track down her flushed cheeks in shame.

The show: MTV! Everyone would see this…everyone! This couldn't be happening! Ali blushed crimson in defeat, seated as Jessica knelt on the couch and pinned her down. The blonde wriggled in a pale pink bikini, pushing on Ali's shoulders, pulling her head back by her hair…exposing her throat. It was important to give the photographers lots of choices!!
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'Newlyweds' episode: Nick and Jessica sitting on the couch, his left arm around her shoulder, accepting her to his chest, fireplace crackling: it's evening. Jessica's still crowing about the dirty trick - Kozar indulging her hatred of Ali to help Simpson slake her own thirst for vengeance.

Jessica: "I've waited five years to do that, you know?" Looks up at Nick from the snuggle.

Nick: "You know you've got nothing to worry about, right?"

Jessica: "Yeah right - you still think about her after that video. Marrying all you guys! What a tramp!"

Nick: "Jess..."

Jessica: "Is she hotter’n me? It's OK if you think she is, she's Ali Landry, I mean, God..."

Nick: "How many times do I have to tell you, baby you're all the heat anyone could ever handle..."

On and on like that - she fishing for compliments, assurance - he struggling to provide both in convincing fashion.

Promo for next week's episode: Jessica buying groceries. Jessica trying to pick out a swimsuit to compete against Jennifer Love Hewitt in a breast smother bout aboard a luxury yacht. Nick bored out of his tree, nearly loses it when Jessica accuses him of thinking JLH is 'hot' and insisting he secretly wants ‘Love’ to win. Needless to say, hi-jinx ensue!