Mary Harper pulled into the driveway of the Scranton place. She worked the column shift, trying to slip it into neutral before setting the parking brake. The gears on the ’49 Buick ground a bit. Mary winced. She couldn’t afford to have anything happen to her family’s only transportation.
It was a warm spring day in 1956, and Mary was out trying to make some money. Her husband was laid up on half-time wages after an accident down at the plant. It would be at least a month before he could get back to work. Jim had been upset when Mary proposed trying to earn a little money selling cosmetics, but a quick review of the bank balance persuaded him that it was necessary. They had two hungry toddlers at home, and a mortgage. The money Mary could earn peddling Avon would definitely help.
So here was Mary, a pretty young housewife with short brown hair in soft curls. She was dressed in a light blue skirt and matching jacket, with a long-sleeved white blouse. She was slender, and she took a little bit of wicked delight in wearing a garter belt to hold up her sheer stockings instead of a panty girdle. Her feet were encased in black high heel pumps. She wore a necklace of cultured pearls and simple gold-plated earrings. Her hazel eyes were wide under carefully plucked brows.
She opened the heavy door on the car and moved her legs to the side, keeping the knees together. She got out of the car and turned around to retrieve her sample case, scuffed pocketbook, and order forms. The sample case was heavy, and she shifted the strap to her shoulder. There was something new in the case, something she thought would help cinch some sales.
Thus burdened, she walked up the neatly trimmed walkway to the front door of the Scranton house. The home was a traditional two-story house, much larger than the two-bedroom place that Mary and Jim shared. The yard was professionally landscaped. “Well,” she thought, “when you’re husband is vice-president at the factory, you can afford something like this.”
Carol Scranton was the richest woman that Mary knew. When she telephoned to set up a visit, Mary had been nervous. Carol had a reputation as a vicious harridan who could slice you up in the weekly teas she had with other feminine movers and shakers in the area. But it was the money that drew Mary in. A good sale here would put food on the table.
She rang the doorbell. A moment later, the door swung open, revealing Carol Scranton. She was a tall woman, impressively shaped, with hair of purest platinum gathered up in a tight wave and secured behind her head. She wore a tight black dress over sheer stockings, and her feet were housed in expensive spike-heeled pumps that matched her dress. The dress was long-sleeved, and an expensive diamond bracelet enclosed the wrist of the hand she now extended to Mary.
“Mary, come in, my dear!” she said in honeyed tones. “And don’t you look all dressed up today. So very pretty.” Carol’s sharp blue eyes glittered, and the tip of her pink tongue could be seen gleaming wetly between her plump painted lips as she spoke.
Mary said quietly, “Thank you, Mrs. Scranton. It’s nice of you to see me.” She stepped into the foyer as Carol closed the door behind them.
“Oh, no, Mary!” Carol said brightly. “Let’s not stand on ceremony here, my dear. Please, my name is Carol.”
“Well, all right, Carol.” Mary realized that the shield of formality could not be used in the face of such open apparent friendliness. She wondered if her judgements about Carol Scranton were mere prejudices, the product of gossip and envy. But still…she felt it was wise to be wary.
Carol led the way into the living room, her hips swaying in the tight dress. Mary, walking behind her, noticed that her rear end was not encased in a panty girdle. Carol was indeed a voluptuous woman, quite provocatively shaped for someone in her mid to late thirties. Even discounting the torpedo bras of the time, Carol had a massive bosom.
They entered the quiet, well-furnished living room. The furniture was contemporary, low, and sleek. A current combination stereo/hi-fi/color console dominated one wall. Several abstract paintings (all originals, as far as Mary could tell) were arranged on the walls. An oil painting of the Scranton clan was over the fireplace, showing Carol, looking demure for a change, her graying husband, and Carol’s teen-aged son, safely ensconced now in prep school.
A sterling silver tea service was on the low coffee table. Carol indicated with a slight movement of her hand for Mary to sit down. Mary did so, putting her bag and sample case on the beige carpet beside her low-back chair. Carol sat down on the turquoise sofa, and made a slight show of tugging the hem of her dress down to her knees. She didn’t quite make it. Mary caught a glimpse of white panties and the pink flesh of Carol’s firm thighs.
“So, Mary, how is your husband doing?”
Mary paused for a second, gathering her thoughts. “Well, the doctors tell us he should be able to start working again in a month. It depends on how well the fractures heal. Thank you for asking.”
Carol said, “Well, that’s good. I’m certain you would love to get back to your house and take care of children. Tea?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Carol poured the tea into the delicate porcelain cups. Mary took the little spoon and added a lump of sugar and stirred it. She took the first tentative sip and murmured, “That’s quite good.”
Carol smiled, a closed-lip smile of slight superiority. “Why, thank you, my dear. The secret is choosing the right tea and keeping things scrupulously clean. You certainly couldn’t just use the Lipton tea bags from the old A & P, could you?”
Mary felt a brief current of unease flash through her. She shopped at the A & P, as did most of the families in the neighborhood, and she thought there was nothing wrong with Lipton tea. But she smiled and nodded.
“So what’s new with Avon these days? Anything exciting?”
Mary put down the teacup and reached for the sample case. She opened it and pulled out a few golden tubes of lipstick and various other cosmetics. She launched into her spiel.
“Just this month, Avon has these new shades of lipstick. It seems that paler colors are the coming thing, and these lipsticks match the colors being seen in Paris and London.”
Carol frowned, pursing her lips. “I prefer more vibrant colors.”
“Well, we still do have those bold shades, plus a few more. We also have some new foundations, and a longer-lasting mascara.” As she spoke, Mary pulled items out of the sample case and laid them on the table.
Carol put her teacup down and leaned forward, thrusting her impressive breasts frontward. The black dress had a scoop neckline, and a slice of cleavage became well-defined as the breasts became compressed. She idly picked up some of the lipsticks, then put them down.
She looked up at Mary, and said, “Isn’t there anything that’s suited for a women of my tastes? I mean, I’m not some stay-at-home housewife with couple of brats hanging around her ankles. I have social obligations to attend to.”
Mary bridled inwardly. This snotty bitch was going to be difficult. Easy, she told herself. This is a customer. Easy.
Mary smiled, but her eyes were neutral. “Avon does a have a line of more expensive cosmetics, including some colognes that have been well received. I don’t have them here, but this catalog has a detailed description of everything, and I would be happy to get some samples from the main office.”
Carol made a dismissing gesture with her hands. “Oh, I could always go into Manhattan and check the latest perfumes. I guess you don’t get much of a chance to do that, do you?”
Mary said evenly, “No, I guess I don’t.”
Carol said, “You know, I just thought of something you should know. My husband’s firm is looking at purchasing that company where your husband works.”
Mary nodded. She knew that the factory where Jim worked was ailing financially. But Jim was a skilled tool and die man, and he felt confident that there would always be a place for him there, no matter who owned it.
Carol said, “It looks pretty definite. You know, the right word from me could mean things for you and your husband. It could mean big things.”
Mary was instantly wary. What was going on here? “I’m not exactly sure what you’re getting at, Carol.”
“I’ve had my eye on you, Mary,” Carol said. “For a while now, I’ve had my eye on you and some of the other women in this neighborhood.” Carol looked steadily at Mary, her eyes a bit hooded.
What was that look? It was a challenging stare, and perhaps a bit dangerous. Mary felt herself on very thin ice. The implication was that the wrong word from Carol could do serious damage to her family.
Carol leaned back. She said, “I went to college at Smith. It’s a girl’s school. A marvelous education, in many ways.” She closed her eyes, and briefly licked her lips with a tiny pink tongue. “I learned many things there, and I developed some, shall we say, avant-garde tastes.”
Mary matched Carol’s posture. She leaned back in her chair and said, “I presume you’re not talking about cosmetics. Or music. Or books.”
Carol laughed. “Oh, you might say that the area was sports.”
“I see.” Mary started taking the samples off the table and putting them back in the case. She finished that, and said, in a frigid tone, “I think we’re done here, Mrs. Scranton. I don’t care where you went to school, or what you learned there, or what your husband buys. I particularly don’t care about whatever perversions you cooked up with other snooty bitches at Smith.”
She delivered the last in a deadly monotone, as Carol sat on her expensive sofa and listened, an enigmatic half-smile on her face. She then stood up and said softly, “Oh well, my dear, just forget it, then. No harm done. Here, let me see you out.”
Mary nodded. Carol led the way slowly, and Mary followed, a couple of steps behind. As they got to the front door, Carol paused, her hand on the doorknob.
Mary waited, her face wooden. Inside she was seething. How dare this rich bitch try something like this? How could she try this perverse seduction, when here she was trying to put food on her table?
Carol said, in stinging harsh tones, “You know, you are a silly excuse for a woman, going out in that pathetic old car, dressed in what you laughingly call your finest, peddling your cheap cosmetics door-to-door. Just so you can get another pound or two of hamburger to feed your broken man and your squalling brats.”
Mary gasped, “You goddamn bitch! How dare you? I ought to…ought to….” She had half-raised her hand.”
“Ought to what? Do you think you can fight me? You are a pitiful little girl. Go ahead! You don’t have the guts! The woman hasn’t been born that can beat me! Go ahead, you little bitch!”
Mary dropped her sample case on the floor, followed by her pocketbook. She stood there a second, mouth open in shock. Anger surged through her, anger accompanied by a dangerous emotion she dared not name.
She yelled, “Oh, FUCK YOU!” and suddenly her hands were tangled in Carol’s fine platinum hair, pulling it sharply. She twisted her away from the door.
Carol screamed back, “OH, YEAH! I’M GOING TO HURT YOU, YOU FUCKING CUNT!” Carol’s hands struck forward and entangled themselves in Mary’s brown curls, and the women started screaming incoherent snatches of venom.
They tumbled to the carpeted floor like female wildcats, Carol falling on top of Mary. The fight was on.
As Mary fell to the carpeted floor of the foyer, her legs flew open, and she heard her skirt rip along the slit. The hem of the skirt rucked itself up around to the middle of her thighs, and Carol’s heavy leg fell between her legs. Her crotch was suddenly slammed with the muscular weight of Carol’s leg.
“Ummph!” she cried. She twisted her hand into Carol’s fine blonde hair and pulled. Carol yelled and tried to pull herself up, slapping a hand down on Mary’s wrist to wrestle it away from the hair.
The clip that held Carol’s hair slipped off, and Carol was able to twist her head away. She pulled herself halfway up and slapped Mary hard in the face, a stinging blow.
The pain enraged Mary. She swung her right hand up and caught Carol on the jaw, a solid connection. Carol’s head snapped back. Mary quickly scrambled out from under the voluptuous blonde woman and quickly pulled herself to her feet.
Carol put a hand down on the rug, and hoisted herself up to one knee. She raised her face to Mary, and Mary was shocked to see a grin on that face. She was enjoying this!
Through the sudden anger that had descended like a red haze over her consciousness, Mary realized that the sudden kick of adrenaline had energized her, and made her feel edgy and quick. She felt the drive to crush this woman who had the audacity to insult her and her family, to rend and tear her clothes and make her submit. She wanted that blonde bitch underneath her, and she was determined to follow through.
And that honest corner of her mind also realized that she wanted this.
Mary bent down her head and charged, extending her arms like claws. As she hit Carol’s midsection with her head, she grabbed onto Carol’s arms, and barreled her backwards.
“Oooooffff!” Carol sharply uttered. She was propelled backwards into the living room, her legs furiously backpedaling in their high heels. She landed on her back, butt skidding a bit, and Mary landed on top of her. Carol’s legs were bumped apart, the tight skirt suddenly splitting with a tear, and Mary’s hips fell between those powerful thighs.
Carol suddenly wrapped her arms around Mary’s torso, twisting the blue jacket. She squeezed her arms together, grunting.
Mary’s middle was in-between Carol’s legs, and she tried to raise herself up on her arms. This caused her pelvic region to scrape along the front of Carol’s panties. Mary noted that her crotch was now firmly placed in contact with Carol’s. She strained against Carol’s strong bearhug, her own hands trying to crush the blonde’s arms.
Mary brought her upper body down sharply. Her breasts slammed down onto Carol’s large bosom, and Carol gasped in shock. Mary felt a small hot needle of triumph. She raised her body again, and pushed it down, again trying to pound Carol’s large heavy breasts with her own smaller orbs. They were firmer, and Carol made several gasping whoops as Mary beat her chest up and down.
Carol finally released her tight embrace. Before Mary could lower her tits down again, Carol reached up and pressed her hands onto Mary’s breasts and started to squeeze them.
Mary felt the sharp pain in her breasts, and her eyes started to water. The rubbing of the bra on her nipples started to stiffen them, and the erect nipples were exquisitely tender.
Okay, two could play at that game. She tried to ignore the sharp pain in her breasts, and bent her fingers into claws. She swiftly hooked her hands onto Carol’s large breasts and started to maul them.
“Oh, you goddamn cunt! You fucking slut!” Carol raged, spittle flying up from her mouth.
The women continued their mutual breast mangling, with waves of pain emanating from their boobs. Mary tried again to raise herself up, and succeeded only in grinding her panty-covered crotch into Carol’s mound.
The two women’s eyes met, Mary looking down at Carol as they continued to squeeze and mangle one another’s breasts. Their faces were contorted with anger, lips curled back against their white teeth, eyes narrowed in fierce primal malevolence.
A part of Mary’s mind wondered at it all. Here she was, locked in this absurd battle with a neighbor, a god damned catfight, for Christ’s sake, in 1956. In the fucking suburbs! This was Eisenhower’s America. Such things did not happen here.
But another wave of pain from her tender breasts brought her back to reality. This snobby disgusting bitch was trying to tear her a new one. The only thing she could do was fight back.
With an extra impetus of anger, she rolled off Carol and to the side. She whimpered briefly and she lifted her hands to her wounded breasts.
Carol’s hand fell away and she brought them to her own tender orbs, making irregular moans. Both women lay on their back for about fifteen seconds, aching, as they tried to gather their strength.
Mary tried to rise to a sitting position. She thought if she could get to her feet, she might be able to get to the door and get the hell out of here.
But it wasn’t to be. Carol said, huskily, “Oh, you are the perfect playmate, you are. I’m going to enjoy this!”
She rolled quickly to her side and clamped her arm against Mary’s torso, the forearm slamming into her chest just over the breasts. Mary found herself falling backwards onto the carpet again.
Carol quickly hooked her right leg over and worked it between Mary’s legs. Her skirt was raised almost all the way up, revealing the bare flesh between her stockings and the panties.
Mary tried to work her arms under Carol’s, tearing at the sleeve. But Carol had raised herself up partway and her upper body added to the weight. Plus, something new had been added to the equation.
Mary’s eyes went wide with surprise. Carol had worked her other hand down between her legs. Carol moved her own leg out of the way, just enough for her strong fingers to suddenly start rubbing Mary’s panty-clad pussy with strong, knowing strokes.
Mary turned her head to Carol’s, her mouth open in a silent amazed question. Carol looked at her, her eyes starting to swim with catfight lust, and she continued the intimate questing rough caress.
Mary squawked and tried to get away. Carol’s strong arm and legs held her fast. She was helpless for the moment, and she twisted around as much as she could. She was able to get her left hand over to Carol’s hair and she started to pull.
Carol turned her head to ease the pressure, but she kept up her lewd poking and rubbing of Mary’s mound.
Then Mary felt Carol’s finger go even further. Carol worked one sharp-nailed index finger beneath the crotch of the panties, and Mary felt the digit slide along her hairy vulva. Then, to her horror, the finger found her clit!
She couldn’t help herself. Pinned like this, her own hands ineffectual, she found that Carol’s hand was getting a response. She felt her pussy moisten, the labial lips start to swell and soften. The sheath of her clitoris started to lengthen under Carol’s expert handiwork.
She took a deep breath and screamed, “Oh, you fucking dyke! You goddamn lesbo CUNT! What the HELL do you THINK you’re DOING?!”
Carol turned her head to Mary, Mary’s hand still embedded in the fine blonde hair. She smiled an evil smile. “Don’t come off so high and prissy, you stupid bitch. I know what the fuck you are. You’re starting to gush like a whore, cunt. You’re not so god damned innocent. Right?”
Carol’s twisted grin penetrated to Mary’s gut. Oh, god, how could she know?
It came back like a flood of sensation. When she was twenty, Mary had lived in New York, in Greenwich Village. She had dropped out of college, and for a while, out of rebellion and boredom, she got caught up in the bohemian lifestyle of the beats. And she did things she had never done before…until now.
A lesbian introduced her to the deviant subculture of girl/girl fetishes. Under the influence of beer and marijuana, Mary had discovered the unique carnal sensations afforded in the catfight and sexfight. Under the mercurial ministrations of dark-haired Arial, she had fought and scratched and made rough sapphic love, grinding her young cunt into the hairy turgid pussy of the older woman.
But that had ended. She went back to school, her rebellion ended, and had met her husband to be. After that was the easy and placid life of a Long Island young housewife, who had ceased to think about the libidinous erotic warfare of another time and place.
Carol continued her rough fingering of Mary’s pussy. Mary started to vocalize as the twisting fingers probed her sex. She was, despite herself, becoming aroused.
Carol moved her face close Mary’s. She stared intently down at Mary’s wide eyes, which started to swim a bit. She said, in low tones, “Got a proposition for you, Mistress Mary…quite contrary. Got a dirty little deal for you.”
Mary grunted, tried ineffectually to move Carol off of her. She was starting to move her hips involuntarily, her body betraying itself.
“W-what are y-you talking about… ,” she stuttered.
“You know what’s going on here,” Carol husked. “Do it with me…sexfight…my cunt against yours. First to come loses. If I lose, I’ll write you a check for $200.00.”
The mention of the money penetrated the haze that the aggressive finger-fucking induced. She stared at Carol. “And if I l-l-lose…”
“Then you will answer to me. You’ll be my pet and my slave, three mornings a week for the next month. And, oh, the things you will do for me…”
“Sick perverted cunt! Fuck you!”
Carol quickly leaned her face in and kissed Mary, a bruising painful rub. She nipped the lips a bit with her teeth as Mary pulled her face away.
“Is that a no?” Carol leaned her arm down across Mary’s chest, and pulled the crotch of her panties down. She stuck two fingers up Mary’s wet vagina.”
Mary took all of two seconds. “No, goddamn you! I’ll do it. But you’ll fucking well write the check first?”
Carol looked down, stuck the fingers up to the root and held them there. Mary gasped.
Carol slowly pulled the slick fingers out of Mary’s cunt. She sniffed them, then licked them.
“Okay. Get back into the bedroom and strip. I’ll make out the check.” She held the fingers coated with Mary’s secretions under Mary’s nose for a second. Then she placed both her hands on Mary’s breasts and pushed herself upwards. Mary grunted from the sudden flattening of her breasts.
Mary got to her feet, tottering a bit on the high heels. She saw Carol disappear into another room off the living room. She unsteadily walked back to the foyer, got her heavy bag, and proceeded down the dim hallway to the master bedroom. Inside she put the bag down by the door. She kicked off her high heels, then slowly, methodically, began to undress.
She took off her jacket. Why am I doing this?
She pulled her blouse up from her skirt, and began to unbutton it. For the money!
She finished unbuttoning the blouse and pulled it off, dropping it on the floor. But what if I lose? I could easily lose, despite the tricks I learned from that beatnik girl.
The skirt was next. She undid the catch, then pushed it down past her hips to drop in a shapeless heap about her stocking feet. Oh, God! Two hundred dollars! That would feed us for more than a month!
She reached behind her and unhooked her plain white bra. She slipped the shoulder straps down and pulled it away from her chest. Her medium size breasts bounced a bit as they were freed, the pink nipples hardening in the sudden coolness. Oh, Christ, I want this to happen! I want to beat her. I want to make her pay! I’ll fuck her up!
She unhooked the snaps from her stockings, then peeled them down her legs. She pushed the garter belt down just as Carol came back into the room. She was holding a check printed on green paper.
Carol looked at Mary, naked except for the plain white cotton briefs. Her eyes glittered at the thought of the sexfight to occur.
“Oh, don’t you just look luscious, darling! We’re going to have a party, aren’t we, sweetie?”
Mary decided it would be best to appear submissive and downcast. Get her to underestimate me, she thought.
“Whatever you say…”
Carol said, “Oh, don’t look so bedraggled, my poor little slave. I won’t hurt you…much.”
Carol hummed to herself as she undid the zipper at the back of her dress and pulled the long sleeves off. After the dress came off her top, she let it rest on her hips while she undid the bra that encased her large breasts. They bounced down a bit, and the large brownish nipples stiffened. They were surrounded by two-inch areolae, a bulls-eye in a blue-veined fleshy globe.
Mary watched while Carol pushed her dress down past her hips to puddle about her feet. Carol then slipped off her high-heels and unsnapped her stockings. They were expertly rolled down and now Carol was dressed in panties only, just as Mary was.
Each woman kept a steady gaze on the other as they deliberately pushed their panties down their legs and then stood up before each, egg-naked.
Mary’s bush was soft and light brown and untrimmed. It was thick, but the lips were visible because Carol’s earlier finger-fucking had spread them apart.
Carol’s pubic thatch was a rough dirty-blonde, clipped short to reveal the plump labia and the moist cleft. She had a large clitoris, the shaft easily two inches long, with a pink head that stuck out a quarter-inch.
The two women regarded each for other for perhaps a minute. Mary was estimating her opponent. Carol had twenty pounds on her, but she was a couple of inches taller than the platinum vixen. It would be a question of weight versus leverage.
The bedroom had a large queen-size bed with a dark maple headboard. The room was fairly large, with ample light coming in through a large window in the wall opposite the door. Matching maple dressers and nightstands completed the furnishings. A door on Mary’s left led the bathroom.
Mary caught a glimpse of her naked body in the mirror over the dresser. She saw a unguarded woman with a stone face, crouching slightly, waiting for an opportunity. She saw that Carol was on the balls of her feet, breasts swaying as she moved slightly.
Mary felt an anticipatory buzz. She recognized the feeling from her past battles with the dark-haired lesbian beatnik, the knowledge that she would soon pit her body and skills against another woman, to beat her physically and sexually.
Carol took a step closer. Mary matched her. Their arms stretched out, fingers moving in clawing motions.
With a sharp cry, Mary leapt forward. Her hands found purchase on Carol’s upper arms. Carol was taken by surprise. She stumbled backwards, and her legs hit the foot of her bed. Mary pressed the advantage, pushing forward with her strong legs.
Carol found herself with her back on the plain thin bedspread, and Mary leaned forward. Carol pushed back with her arms. Mary suddenly lifted her knee, pushing it in-between Carol’s legs.
The knee hit Carol’s crotch squarely, smacking the labial tissue and catching the sensitive clitoris. Carol screamed. She grabbed Mary’s forearms and twisted to the left. Yelping, Mary found herself beside Carol on the bed, both women facing each other on their side.
Mary pushed herself further back on the bed, hands still digging into Carol’s arms. Carol followed and both women were solidly on the bed now, the covers wrinkled from the chaotic movement.
Mary tried to use the leverage of her longer arms and legs to swing over on top of Carol. Carol, still stinging from the impact of Mary’s knee to her pussy, groaned and pushed strongly with her arms.
They remained at impasse for nearly thirty seconds, Mary trying to raise herself over Carol, and Carol pushing back. Their eyes were wide and they panted with effort. Sweat broke out on both of their faces. They made whimpering sounds as their exertion continued.
Mary’s legs had spread apart with her movements, and Carol saw an opportunity. She raised her left thigh sharply.
“Ooooffff!” Mary cried, as the meaty flesh of Carol’s thigh slammed into her crotch. But instead of Carol pulling back and hitting it again, she started to move her leg up and down. The smooth skin rubbed along Mary’s pussy, and she felt the beginnings of arousal. The bodily memory of Carol’s earlier finger assault came back, and her traitorous genitals responded. In no time at all, moisture started to seep from her slit and lubricate the muscular flesh of Carol’s leg. Mary felt the labia swell and her clitoris lengthen.
“I’ll win it any way I can, Mistress Mary,” Carol breathed. “I’ll fuck you up or I’ll fuck you down, but I’ll fuck you for sure.”
Mary said, “No fucking way!” and released Carol’s arms. She flung herself back.
Carol triumphantly cackled. “Oh, I’ve got you now. You are such a hot slut that you’ll come from a harsh look, won’t you? You want this, you sad little bitch. You want me to win, because you know I’m your better!”
Carol sat up quickly launched herself on top of Mary, who was on her back, trying to raise herself up on one arm. The blonde woman’s voluptuous body crashed on Mary’s, and Mary found her head hanging off the foot of the bed as Carol quickly positioned herself.
Carol went for much the same position she had in the living room. She held her left arm across Mary’s chest, hand splayed across Mary’s right breast. Her right leg kept Mary’s legs spread apart, and she vigorously started to finger-fuck Mary’s vagina with her right hand.
Mary felt helpless under the greater weight of her opponent. She tried to lift her upper body, raising her head. Carol crooned in her ear, “…oh, it won’t be long now, sweetie…I’ve got my fingers up your cunt, and, ohhhh, it’s sooo wet and hot….oh what do we have here? …it’s Mistress Mary’s little clit…how do you like =this=…and =this=…just relax and let it happen…oh you are such a hot slutty cunt…”
Carol twisted her two fingers in and out of Mary’s vagina, which was pumping a copious stream of sexual fluids, slick and hot, around Carol’s expert fingers. Carol worked the digits around and up, pressing on the anterior wall of the vaginal interior.
“Ohh….Ah…JESUS!…UHHGGHH!” Mary panted, her hips now swiveling with the violent fingering.
Tears escaped Mary’s closed eyes. Her body was betraying her. Her cunt had a mind of its own, knowing only the rough raw ecstatic beat of oncoming orgasm. Mary saw herself, knew she was close…knew it was going to happen….
“No…NO!” she shouted. “I won’t fucking lose to you, you goddamn bitch!”
Ignoring the mounting climax in her lower body, she grabbed Carol’s fine platinum hair with her right fist. She dug her fingers in and yanked her head back as Mary brought her own head quickly forward.
Mary’s forehead crashed into Carol’s chin. Carol had had her mouth slightly apart and her wet tongue extended. The impact caused her mouth to snap shut and her teeth to clamp painfully down on her tongue.
“Owwww!” she yelled, and a spurt of blood escaped her mouth and the ragged laceration she had just bitten into her tongue. She forgot all about Mary for a second.
Much to her forthcoming sorrow.
Mary worked an arm under Carol’s neck and pushed. She also scooted backwards, propelled by her feet on the bed. She held onto Mary’s hair with her hand as she fell onto the floor. Carol had no choice but to go along with her or lose a handful of hair.
With a shot of adrenaline, she pulled Carol down onto the floor and flung her on her back. Mary grabbed Carol’s ankles and spread them apart like splitting a wishbone on a chicken. Carol’s legs were opened wide, her pussy lips opening like a door to reveal a pink dark hole and a shiny pearl.
Carol had been stunned by the sudden turn of events. Her impact on the floor had knocked the breath out of her, and she was powerless to do anything. Her tongue ached and she tasted the salty heat of her own blood.
Mary shouted, “I’M GONNA FUCK YOU, YOU SLIMY CUNT!”
She jumped forward and landed on top of Carol. Carol’s breasts mushroomed out as Mary’s firmer globes flattened them. Mary’s stiff little nipples poked the tender breast flesh. But it was what Mary did with her legs that really counted. Something that she had learned from the lusty catfighting lesbian in Greenwich Village.
She hooked her legs around Carol’s and had her locked in a grapevine pin. The hold was perfect. Mary fixed her lower legs and ankles around Carol’s and pressed down. Carol could not break the hold…any attempt to do so caused acute pain in the legs.
Mary started to fuck Carol. She pushed her hips forward, buttocks contracting with effort. Mary’s hairy swollen pussy hit Carol’s. Carol’s labia spread apart, and the long stiff shaft of her clitoris came into direct contact with Mary’s clit.
The direct clit-to-clit contact had its affect on both women. Carol twisted her head back and yelled in rage and frustration…and sexual heat. She found her pussy instantly wet and throbbing.
Mary fought her own battle with her sensations. I will do this, she thought. I will fuck her and she will come first…I will beat this bitch…I will win!
Mary started a slow deliberate fucking. The hips would rise and descend, and her cunt would hit Carol’s, and she would feel the rough trimmed hairs of Carol’s pussy tangle with her own lush growth. She would feel the hot swollen tissue rub together as she ground her cunt into Carol’s sex. She would feel her stiff clitoris slid along Carol’s, the heads bumping together and sending sparks of wanton lust along her torso.
All along, she kept the grapevine pin, and Carol was helpless to do anything. Mary looked down, saw Carol’s eyes starting to glaze over with the oncoming orgasm. A trickle of blood from the damaged tongue ran from one corner of her mouth.
Mary move her face down, the lips coming close to Carol’s. She increased the tempo of her hips and said quietly, “Oh, I’m going to kiss you now, my blonde bitch…I’m going to kiss you and stick my tongue in your mouth while you come…”
Carol felt Mary’s mouth plaster onto hers and Mary’s hot stabbing tongue invade her mouth. This was the final assault. Mary slammed her hips down and held them there, swiveling the pelvis and abrading her cunt. The clits found each other and tangled, and Mary tasted Carol’s blood.
Carol screamed into Mary’s open mouth as the orgasm took her. Carol’s arms found themselves embracing Mary. Her cunt spilled a stream of fluid as shocks and explosions rippled through her.
Mary lifted her head to look in Carol’s wild eyes as she came. She saw the wild lust and the sudden pain in Carol’s eyes as her turncoat body released itself in wanton animalistic climax. Carol’s hips bucked upwards from the floor as the orgasm shook her, and her cries of lust became cries of humiliation.
Mary looked down. One more thing to do. She sat up quickly, straddling Carol’s shaking body. Her large bag was just within arm’s reach. She took it and reached in and pulled out the heavy instrument.
A few deft motions were all it took. She positioned the device so it would only hit what it was aimed at.
Mary then moved her hips forward, walking on her knees until her cunt rested against Carol’s chin.
“Lick me, you bitch! Eat me until I come.” To emphasize her words, she reached down with her left hand, and twisted an ear.
Carol knew she was whipped. With her eyes still closed and leaking tears, she moved her face a bit forward, and started to energetically lick Mary’s pussy.
Mary through her head back and whooped with delight. As Carol ate her out, she adjusted the position of the instrument in her right hand.
It was close. Mary wanted to trigger the device when she came. She slid her hips back and forth, smearing her wet cunt over Carol’s chin and lips.
“Now! Stick you’re tongue up my cunt!”
Carol did so, extending the pink tongue out and up. Mary felt it penetrate her vagina. She howled.
As the orgasm hit Mary, she triggered the switch on the Polaroid. There was a flash and the camera captured Carol’s face with her tongue diligently servicing Mary.
Mary laid the camera on the floor and let the sheer libidinous pleasure of the climax wash over her. She sat on Carol’s face, releasing a deluge of climactic juices into the blonde’s mouth. Her hips shook with release and she yipped with sheer delight.
Her orgasm complete, Mary moved her hips dreamily, smearing the slick fluids onto Carol’s face. She then looked down at her defeated foe. “Bitch,” she said.
She got up. Carol rolled on her side and hid her face in her hands. She looked pathetic, Mary thought.
It had been the right amount of time. Mary picked up the camera and pulled the tab. The exposed film was pulled out. She waited the full minute, looking down at Carol. She then peeled apart the picture. She tossed the negative on the floor. She looked at the positive. She grinned.
She stooped down on the carpet beside Carol. She took Carol’s shoulder and pulled her onto her back. Carol brought her hands down from her face, revealing tear streaks and ruined mascara.
Mary waved the picture in front of Carol’s face. Carol saw the evidence of her humiliation, in the small black and white picture. There was her face, her tongue up Mary’s vagina. Quite recognizeable.
Mary said, “Just so we understand each other. I take this, and the check. I ever hear anything about this again, from anywhere, copies of this will go where they’ll do the most good. Like your husband’s partners. You’ll be ruined. Get me?”
Carol nodded. She then turned her head away again.
Mary found her clothes and quickly got dressed. In a few minutes, she was ready to go.
She left Carol Scranton in her bedroom, naked, humbled, and bruised.
As she drove away, Mary decided to quit selling Avon. Everything after this would be anti-climatic.