A Losing Battle

Door to door, down a long, hill-strewn San Francisco street. Fighting a losing battle. Trying to get the liberal residents of one of America’s least liberal cities to vote. But not just to vote, but to vote right. To vote conservative. Maybe for the first time. Maybe for the last time. But to do it, nonetheless.

That task led to more than a few slammed doors. More than a handful of “no, thank you’s” and “get losts.” And plenty of middle fingers. All of which grated on her. Wore on her. But she was willing to bear it — take it. Until suddenly she wasn’t. Until the weight of contrary opinions and rude responses made her snap and grab one of the women who opened the door by the hair, as soon as she made a flippant comment about capitol riots and caged immigrants. The two dark-haired women disappearing into her home to fight it out. Wildly. Desperately. Ripping each others clothes off, to get claws into flesh, teeth onto nipples, and then hard pinches locked on the others bare-shaven mound.

And though each bet heavy on scratching and attacking digits, it was a sudden push, press, and then placement of tits that brought an end to their struggle. A quick wrapping of arms, and catching of the other between their breasts that led the Republican campaigner to smother out her Democrat rival. Whispering to the godless woman of Jesus and country — liberty and the constitution as slowly her squirming slowed and strikes weakened.

It is then that the fever should have broken, as Terra looked down on her unconscious opponent. Then that she should have realized what she had done. What they had done….

But instead, after taking a moment to glare at her bested political enemy with a smirk, she began to move. Not up and off, but forward. Dragging her contact-and-hatred-wet sex over tummy and tits — neck and then chin. Until finally, and with an unquenched thirst to punish that lips locked together. One pair torrid, dripping, and ready to further and once more cover nose and mouth. All while the other opened in a scream, a sputter, and then after hearing the demand for it made, an extending tongue.

A submissive reaching across the aisles.

A forced olive branch from blue to red.


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