The Iron Pussy staff had provided us with scarce information about the Cambodian challenger, just her name So Savoeun and the choice between two alternative dates. Since we were enjoying Asia, we chose the latest, and typed "So Savoeun" in our favorite internet research engine.

Back came the info. She was the owner of a Cambodian brothel regularly visited by the Phnom Penh elite and Government top officials. Although in 50, her full breasts still defied gravity and her intense sexual life kept her fit like an athlete. She had earned broad popularity in the South-East when she had celebrated her 40 birthday with an endurance contest against two 20 year old Filipina prostitutes representing their two main brothels. Two Emperor-size beds were set up, one for So Savoeun, and the other for the two Filipinas, and an army of HIV tested studs was recruited. The event was sponsored and filmed by a Japanese porno producer, and although the younger Filipinas worked in shifts they acknowledged defeat just seconds before dawn. The film ended with the poor Philippines exhausted, clutching one another in tears, while So Savoeun, standing on the mattress of her jizz-soaked bed with her legs wide open, fingered herself and roared like a lioness. Pretty impressive, but ten years had passed, and first-to-cum was entirely another story and even thoughshe had made the semi finals of The All Asian Sexfight Championships 2008, we didn'y know anything about that competition.

With the Iron Pussy first-to-cum title defense ahead, my husband Ali put me under an intensive training schedule. I loved to compete with him to see who could hold the longest, but he claimed I should get used to Asian tactics so, from the contacts section of the local papers, he began hiring 24 prostitutes a day in shifts of 6 at once. To organize the training sessions in our room required a bit of persuasion with the reception manager from Ali, and especially that from his thick wallet. Eventually the Thais were allowed through the back door.

The 2-inch thick carpet of our suite was set as the arena. Nude from waist down, but with my favorite T-shirt on, I sat on my heels, trapping my hands underneath my arse cheeks, and faced the teams of six professionals, all fully naked except for a number from 1 to 6, like runners in a nudist race. Ali, with 6 labeled watches hanging from his neck, allowed 10 min each to try their best to make me cum, hired again for the next session if they succeeded, or paid with the minimum fare and fired otherwise. My endurance saved Ali lots of money. The most enthusiastic candidates spent their ten minutes immediately, wrestling my tough pussy to no avail. The tacticians chose to give way to their colleagues as soon as their skilful fingers faced my tenacity, despite the risk to become last in the queue and lose the extra purse for the first blood.

At the beginning I managed to eliminate one or two bitches before exploding. But I learnt quickly, and once I had experienced their depraved Asian tricks, which were many and varied, I could often stand two or three turns of my team of private women before my pussy yielded. When I eliminated a full set of six, Ali rewarded me as I deserved, and only then I took my T-shirt off. He had reserved my upper body untouched for himself. Only after I saw off 3 sets of Asian bitches did Ali hire a male assistant, to help him when I merited double trouble, and then I was sandwiched till cream oozed out of me from every orifice.

Since the best milkmaids, as Ali called them, were kept for the next round, I was really motivated to endure the 10-min best shots from those few top milkmaids trying to crack my self control. Normally I managed to defeat them in our second or, maximum, third clash. However, there were two exceptions, my pussy's most formidable rivals. The first one was brought by the reception manager himself. Curious about our activities, he punctually interrogated Ali about my progress every morning, as soon as we hit the cafeteria for breakfast, and dribbled like a bulldog watching me devouring three trays of croissants. Since Ali complained I was kicking the bitches" ass easily, he produced a card from the inner pocket of his black suit and slipped it under Ali's napkin.

His recommendation resulted to be a superb upper-class lady from Singapore who part-time prostituted herself just for pleasure, and. She parked her BMW at the main door and flung the keys to the bell boys who jumped like basketball players, aware of the substantial tip. Since she refused to wear the number, Ali negotiated to paint the number on her breasts, and insisted he must do it with his own hands. As yet another special privilege for her she was allowed to compete wearing driving gloves, with her long-nailed avid fingers poking through. She had nails sharper than a tigress and varnished them with a hardener till she was able to carve ten deep trenches in the crust of a seasoned pumpkin. And she did use those claws of hers in the roughest way, so after a few minutes my cunt was drenched in ecstasy and my eyes were watering in pain. To top it off she refused to take the purse every time she creamed me, claiming I was too easy.

The second top milkmaid was brought by the BMW lady herself, but she was her antithesis in every trait. The BMW's personal servant; a shy, fresh-looking, young peasant from Malaysia, with large upper teeth, and her abundant hair arranged in a hip-long plait. When she undressed, which she did with surprising willingness, her incipient tit-buds were like two red lotto petals floating in a still milk pond. When she was set in action time froze. That quiet charming girl had been born to please. She didn't rub, just made my clit vibrate, didn't pinch, simply pinned the right nerve and collected my intimate fluids in the palm of her other hand. Since those two so outclassed the local Thai whores, Ali dispensed with them and enjoyed the one-on-one battles those two engaged to find out who could make me cum the quicker and harder or longer.

The self control I developed during those battles was entirely of a new and superior nature. I did not struggle to hold my fluids; I fought for my life with the tenacity of a shipwrecked. You never know the strength fear can create. And in the hands of that couple of vicious sexual deviants I grew frightened indeed. Sometimes I had to strain and pant like a weight-lifter to suck air into my lungs because they seemed stuck together and unable to expand. Sometimes I had to prevent my heart from bursting like an over inflated balloon. I had to stay alive. Some of the climaxes those two extracted from my guts were so massive, I collapsed like a cut down Sequoia pine tree, and Ali had to call a break and stretch my arms in and out to bring my normal breathing back. But my prowess grew at awesome rate, absorbing everything those sex monsters could throw at it, and by the contest's eve I was training against the combined power of their four hands.

The event tickets sold out in 30 minutes, and the club was packed with fans who wanted to see whether the blonde western brat who had earlier toppled down Shanghai's sex fighting queen by surprise to become Champion had been favored by a lucky strike or was really the force she had looked like in the match, and could defend her title against a seasoned, more experienced fighter. The match was agreed to three cums with no breaks except for a 1 minute breather between cums. According to my new status of superstar, they sent a driver and an escort, an attractive Thai ladyboy, to pick us from the hotel. The escort gave Ali access through the security check and led me to a section of former lockers which now was my private dressing room. The ladyboy introduced me to her male lover,a professional physiotherapist, a flamboyant hair stylist who normally worked for local Hong Kong films, and his brother a sort of pro-wrestling valet dressed with a silver suit straight on his muscled bare chest and a matching neck-lace encircling his monster bull neck. His hand hold, however when we exchanged our names, was tender.

"I'm Wang, an honor to meet you."

Wang took charge of my stuff and handed me a box wrapped in gift-paper, so small he could handle it with two fingers. I flushed, pecked his meaty cheek, nervously unwrapped the box and opened it slowly, as though the precious content could get spoiled by the exposure to light. It was a tiny piece of golden fabric carefully folded. I slip my hands inside, feeling the spandex-like texture and stretched it out. It was a golden riveted white mini tank-top, customized with an embroidered capital N on the front. I took off my blouse and reinforced bra, placed it all on his hands, and filled the spandex top with my chest. From Wang's eyes I could see he approved the result. The masseur and stylist took care of my lower body. Their massages make up and hair-do turned my pussy into a prize winning, picture perfect, contest kitten. An ankle bracelet and golden ring around my left foot middle toe, the longest one, made up the rest of my outfit.

When Sweet-Sweet Nuria, ME, the champion, was announced, So Savoeun was already waiting on stage. As we engaged in the preliminary stare down separated by the ref, I noticed how successfully her robust but feminine body had endured age. She wore high heels and black suspender bellt and stockings; her round bony face was carefully made up, in sharp contrast with her exuberant, untrimmed long silky pubic hair. Pearls shone everywhere, in her ear-rings, waist chain, bracelets and, especially, in a long necklace hanging loose from her muscled neck. The necklace was so long it constantly tangled in the winding bushes of her pubic jungle. Contemplating the brothel owner So Savoeun fully naked ten inches in front of me captivated me so much I didn't realize the warm-up girls were already working us thoroughly from behind. We both put up with their fine job without blinking, anxious for the real thing.

At the bell ring the Cambodian stepped forward and trapped me with her long pearl necklace, pulling me closer. I shivered when our nipples touched. Linked by the string of pearls around our necks, which denied any possible retreat, she pried my thighs open with her own knees, and took an incredibly accurate double hold on my inner labia, pulling them apart with just the right strength to force my clit out of its hood. I got ready for her stroke but she didn't touch it. Rather she pulled at my lips with a vibrating staccato that sent tsunami waves of stimulation on my untouched pleasure spot.

Just 20 seconds into the match, I hadn't even have had time to grab her sex, and she already had me at the verge of orgasm. Grabbing her arse with both hands and squeezing as hard as I could feel my nipples engorge and ram into hers. Determined to take the initiative I boasted

"Oooooooohhh, god, you're so good, bitch, this is going to be great great fun."

My boasting didn't impress her. Without stopping the cunt lip vibrato, she detached her fore fingers from the hold to leave them free to tickle my organ, already engorged to bursting point. Seemed she could finish me at any time but enjoyed making it last.

With the smiking grin of a teenager across her round face, the fifty year speeded up her infernal frigging. Ali and Wang were cheering me from first row and back stage respectively, urging me to attack her sex, but my hands were glued to her arse. They didn't know I was so horny a single wince from any part of my body would make me burst.

My tiny nose shrugged, my nipples piercing her large breasts. I keep staring back at her as my fluids run free.

"Yessshhh, yeshh, oooohhh, how good, how gooddddd."

I released her arse and bent over on all fours. The ref called out the break for the 1 minute breather. I crawled to my trainer. At least I managed to keep her making me cum much longer than necessary. That should slow my next orgasm.

Who was I kidding? Next round she creamed me again. This time I took care to get an early hold and begin working her pussy immediately after the jump. No way. The well used monster expelled my fingers like thick rubber. Instead she caught my spot again. I shuddered. My eyelids flattened like butterflies and I flew away, carried in the Cambodian rapture.

Ali punched his table, spilling his 30 dollar drink. "Hold on cutie, for god"s sake. She's kicking your arse like a novice's."

It's literally true. I dropped in the odds to a painful 15 to 1, and nobody understood how I had beaten Yiu Ping two weeks ago to take the championship. We exchanged some holds and moves, but she simply mastered me, taking control, breaking my defenses with her devastating combos and, before Ali lost his voice, made me cum once more.

"So Savoeun takes a 2-0 lead. Her pussy seems invincible" -barked the pay-per-view broadcast speaker's voice at the cousin-padded, patchouli scented lounge where the Singapore BMW lady lay, with the country girl stretched across her chest, grabbing one of her strong hands and licking with her tiny coral tongue the tender skin in between the fingers. The screen action reflected on their irises. None of them spoke.

"The Cambodian superwhore has made Nuria cum again for the third time, but this time the blonde managed to make Savoeun squirt." announced a sweaty overexcited reporter.

"Yes Pravit"- echoed the second speaker. "Both fighters are cumming at once, so according to the rules the one standing the longest takes the lead."

"Look how closely Mr. Chou follows the fight"- observed the former, commenting on the ref squatted between the human geysers with both thumbs up.

"That's good refereeing".

"You won't believe me Pravit, but I'm watching the time counter and that young lady has been cumming for 110 seconds now. So Savoeun is dried. Nuria takes the point."

On stage the ref has turned his left thumb, the one closer to the Cambodian, downwards, sprung up and with a karate move striking the air between the competitors he shouts "Break".

Tumbled down on my small bench I rested on Wang, while my masseur used her best knowledge to try and rebuild some key muscles in my battered nether throat. The Cambodian has not even sat on her bench, and waited for me, hands on her hips, in the center of the mat.

On the giant screen, BMW lady watched the sex fighters meet, and the ref shout "Fight", and So Savoeun link her neck to Nutria's with a double lock of her pearl collar. They French kiss and this time So Savoeun's nipples forced Nuria's to withdraw inside her tit flesh. Then the Cambodian worked the blonde from top to bottom: mouth, ears, neck, armpits, breasts, nipples, navel, pussy. When her deadly fingers pinched the roots of Nutria's silky turf, she took her mouth out of Nutria's breast, stopped the nipple suction technique and muttered in her ear.

"You quit, and I go easy on you now but you service me tonight?"

Nuria shook her head and keep plunging the Cambodian's orifices with three fingers of each hand. Again it seemed So Savoeun was playing with her, delaying the coupe de grace like a big cat letting the trapped mouse believe he can escape. The appearance was deceiving, since Nutria's long middle finger has located So Seven's G spot and kept plunging and stimulating, and the Cambodian struggled to hold her cum.

This had turned into a marathon sex-bath. Nuria and Savoeun endured enough sheer excitation to make a frigid woman cum a dozen times. Only the blonde's pride and the Cambodian's veteran skill allow them to hold on. Both bodies steamed, releasing enough heat to feed the electric consumption of a whole town. Even the most experienced watchers in the audience had trouble recalling something similar. Most, no matter men or women, have wet their pants. So Savoeun persisted with her trademark: "the fiddler", a one finger anus-ring technique that successfully elicited involuntary quivering in Nuria. But the blonde is so tough she absorbed amounts of punishment that would knock down a mare. So Savoeun, intoxicated by the cutie's endurance, can't help but getting more and more horny herself.

Eventually Nuria starts dribbling first again, but immediately pushed So Savoeun past melting point to a screaming orgasm, and in another test of duration and Nuria had won, to set an overall 2-2 score.

In the patchouli scented lounge the bizarre lovers can't believe what they witness on the screen. Nuria, still linked to So Savoeun by the pearl collar, refused to break the embrace for the 1 min breather. The ref yelled a first warning in her face but she stubbornly shakes her head. Mr. Chou then gives her a yellow card, an official warning.

Ali covered his face, "She's going to be fouled out."

Even Wang seemed nervous; he checked his watch. Suddenly Ali understood. The watch shows 1 h 54 min, just 6 min short of the agreed 2 hour limit for the match. The obstinate blonde title-holder can retain the title by enduring those last few minutes, since a draw favors the reigning champion, but a draw doesn't satisfy her killing instinct. She wants to defeat the older Cambodian superwhore, so she needed to keep fighting right now.

The peasant has frozen, opened her mouth and moans something in Malay. The BMW lady bit her lips, nodding, and clasped her head in an instinctive protection reflex, wiping her tears with the soft fingertips. The Cambodian superwhore has won and puffing her chest poses for the flashes. Mr. Chou held up the red card and waved it in Nuria's face disqualifying her as he grabbed the wrist of So Sovoeun held it aloft and declared her the new champion.