Backseat Battle 3 by Rival’s Rapture

Backseat Battle 3 by Rival’s Rapture

Missed Parts 1 and 2?
Read them First!!!
It’s IMPORTANT!

And Then Also this Tangler Side Story, Which Takes Place after Part 2! Also SUPER IMPORTANT!

Tangler Tales:
Alayna vs. Sammy

Sexfight: Two defeats at the hands and sex of her rival Brenda, Samantha or “Sammy” decides to install the dirty looking app climbing the app store charts. One that helps her find Alayna and her offer. One Sammy accepts, though she has no idea what lays behind her new rival’s door.

Click Here to Read It

---

It took days to find him. Weeks to get him to respond to messages. And nearly 3 months, to get him to agree to meet. 

Not in the home he and Brenda bought, where he walked in on she and her rival deep in the throes of orgasm. Not at his grandmother’s house, where he was staying with their child. No, it was only at some place neutral. Somewhere he could avoid being reminded of the life he had before that day. Before his heart had been broken. 

It was a bitter pill to swallow, and yet Brenda did, with a lump in her throat, do just that. Agreeing to meet the man she loved — the man she fought for — the man she was determined to keep, high above the city of angels, in one of its high-rise hotels.   

Her dark Tarte Lights mascara fighting to keep hold, as the blonde wife’s emotions swelled and swirled within her. The hands on the clock moving to the moment and then past it, with no sign of her husband. 

Leaving her to pace in her tall black heels. From one side of the room to the other. The expression on her face ranging from anger to sadness — from withering hope to a slowly welling acceptance that Mark might not show. 

Even though he had agreed to. Even though he had given her a begrudging “Fine, twenty minutes, Brenda”, reply via text. 

Until finally there was a knock at the room’s door. A sound that sent her into a panicked and desperate step in her bright red and skin-tight dress. It was one of Mark’s favorites, before the night he caught her fucking the babysitter. Hopefully it would help keep him from leaving, she thought — from storming out, before she had time to explain.

But how does one even explain what he had walked in on? That she and the neighbor girl weren’t fucking for fun or pleasure, they were doing so to earn him. Or in Brenda’s case, keep him. 

The man of her dreams. The husband she loved. A man who, upon Brenda’s opening of the door, stormed in. “Make this quick.” He blurted out, as he stepped through the door without even a pause, a hello, or even eye contact. 

“Honey, please….” She began, her tone of voice making it clear how quickly she wanted to slip back into the roles they once played. Kind husband and loyal, loving wife. 

“No, don’t you ‘honey’ me.” Began Mark, as he shook his head left and then right. Rejecting the very notion that Brenda might have something he might want to hear.

“You slept with the BABYSITTER, Brenda! THE BABYSITTER! After ALL that talk about David being a cheater. After ALL those nights telling me about Lauren and how much he had hurt her. You do the EXACT same thing to me. Did you even think, for a SECOND, how it would break my heart?! Huh?! Did you?!” The words flowed from the handsome, brown-haired man’s mouth, as if it was a speech he had practiced a thousand times. 

“I…. I…. I can explain….” Brenda sputtered, as she chased after her upset husband, following him deeper into the room. 

“How…?” Replied Mark in complete disbelief. 

“How can you ‘explain’ fucking the babysitter? This should be good, let’s hear it, Brenda.” With a sudden turn, exasperated huff, and dramatic drop onto the couch, the aggrieved man took a seat at the center of the room. Finally looking to his wife, who stood between him and the hotel room’s bed. 

“We…. We were fighting.” Brenda offered timidly, but with a matter-of-fact tone that made Mark’s mind nearly melt. 

“Naked…?” He asked with disdain. 

“While fucking each other…?” Once more he queried, this time with an even more exaggerated tone of disbelief. 

“Do you even hear yourself?” He was right. What Brenda was saying sounded insane. Though somehow, after having battled Sammy twice in a competition of sex, the novelty and unbelievability of the idea had worn away. 

“I do, but wait…. Just listen, ok? Promise me you’re going to listen to me.” After having asked with both lips and eyes, Brenda waited for Mark to promise. But when he said nothing, and instead glared, she decided to simply move on and hope. 

Hope that Mark would give her the opportunity that she needed. 

Hope that he would believe her. 

Hope that the life she had built, could be put back together. 

And most of all hope, that after what she was about to do, Mark wouldn’t, in anger, leave. 

“Sammy!” Brenda called. “Come out here….” With her instructions given, the blonde’s eyes turned to the closed bathroom door. One that a second or two later opened, allowing Sammy, the other party to the betrayal that wounded, to walk through. 

Not cowed, or with a drooped head. But looking as cool, confident, and cocky as ever. Her lips bent in a wounding smirk, and her eyes locked on Mark, whose own expression denoted so many emotions they could barely be parsed, let alone listed. True though that was, confusion, hurt, and anger were chief amongst them. 

He didn’t want to be there. Didn’t want to be remembered of what he had discovered on that fateful night. But if he WAS going to sit and listen, he wanted answers. Explanations. Some kind of salve to his wound.

But seeing the young woman — the neighbor girl who weasled her way into their house as a babysitter — the girl he found fucking his wife — drove him to flare as he stood from his seat. His brow bent, eyes narrowed, and mouth releasing an enraged tirade. 

“Brend…. How DARE you bring her here!” The brown-haired man shouted, as he pointed to Sammy, despite his eyes being locked on his wife.

“Honey … honey, wait! We’re going to explain! Tell him, Sammy!” Brenda knew she was running out of time. Out of patience. She had to get him to understand before he marched out the door. This perhaps would be the last time that she might ever have the chance to fix what had been broken between them. 

“Uuuuummmmm, tell him what?” Asked Sammy before giving a knowing giggle, as she stepped closer and closer to the arguing pair. She making it just in front of Mark, and in front of Brenda, before the latter reached up and grabbed a large, tight handful of the brunette’s youth-shined hair. 

“Owe, owe, ok, OK!” Eyes closed from pain. Head tilted in, towards the blonde wife’s pulling hand, the twice tried usurper went from playful to pleading in a second. 

But even as Sammy agreed, Brenda kept her grip, loosening it only slightly. “Tell him. Right now….” 

“We were fighting!” Sammy cried out, wanting the pulling of her hair to stop. And it did, quickly, after the words had been spoken. Brenda pulling her digits free from Sammy’s lucious brown locks, though not too far to be reapplied if need be.

“We were fighting…. Over you.” Now with Brenda’s grip released, Sammy could say whatever she wanted, without fear of consequence — at least immediately so. And yet still, she continued to speak the truth. 

“See! See, Mark! I was telling you the truth.” Brenda studied her husband’s face closely. His expression. The look in his eyes. She needed to know he believed them. Believe the story she had been telling, now that the other party to the perceived betrayal was there to confirm it. 

“Brenda….” Mark began as his eyes closed, and palms pressed to his slack-covered thighs. “Am I supposed to be convinced by this…? You cheat on me with the babysitter, and then convince her to go along with your lie about fighting?”

“No! No…. Mark, it’s not a lie. It’s true! She wanted you. I refused to let her have you. Don’t you understand…? It’s just like what happened with Lauren and David! But I wasn’t going to lose you. Not like Lauren lost David. I fought. I won. I get to keep you…. Don’t you see….?” The words spoken by his blonde wife were as impassioned as they were unbelievable. Inconceivable. 

There was no way they could be true. 

A contest? A sexual battle for the rights to claim him? It sounded more like a letter to a dirty magazine or a plot of a Tangler ad, not something that actually happened. Not something that explain what he had walked in on. 

And though it did, as Mark looked at Brenda, he could see enough sincerity to believe. Not fully. Not completely. But enough to respond with a begrudging demand. “Show me, Brenda. Show me how you and….” Mark found it hard to even say his former babysitter’s name. “….Sammy were fighting.”

The words sent a sudden and frigid chill down Brenda’s spine, and a jolt of excitement through Sammy.

“You mean it?!” Sammy asked, as her eyes widened and tone lifted with glee.

“Baby, but I already won…. Why do–” Brenda had to fight the urge to mention she had beaten Sammy twice, knowing a discussion of their first battle would only make things worse. And though she kept that struggle in the back of their family Escalade a secret, still did she protest. Not wanting to put her claim to her husband on the line again. 

But before she could make that clear, Mark interrupted her, and then spoke in a demanding, unbudging growl. “I mean it. Brenda. Sammy. Show me.” As the normally soft, loving man spoke, his right hand slid deeper into the space between his legs. 

The idea of it. 

Of a war between the two beautiful women before him. One younger and one older. One blonde and one brunette. One known to him and the other near a mystery, save for those days he watered the front yard as she sunbathed. Enticed him. 

Knowing that such would be not just a show — not just a reward for his suffering — but possibly a cure to the illness of jealousy and resentment that he had been bearing for months. Making the opportunity too much to pass up. Too desired to be waived off with a consequence-free forgiveness of a wife who could have avoided all of this by just talking to him. By just asking if he would ever stray and warning him of Sammy’s threat. 

Not that Mark believed Lauren’s story about a fight. About a victory and a defeat. And then a half hour of she and David’s mistress Claire sobbing as they packed up Lauren’s things. 

After all, David, despite the clear weight of whatever it was that happened, never mentioned a fight or strayed further than a muttered lament about the time Lauren met Claire. It sounded too dramatic. Too wild and unbelievable. Even as Mark sat before two women who claimed to have fought each other for the honor of claiming him. 

“You want to prove to me, that you were fighting Samantha, and not fucking her behind my back, then fine. Fight — just like that night.” Mark dared with a half softened, and yet still icy glare.

“And if I win, I get to fuck you tonight, in front of Brenda?” The words young Sammy spoke caught Mark off guard. Not because of their content, which perfectly matched the story he was being fed, but instead the tone they were spoken with. 

She wanted it. To fuck him. Badly. But most of all, based on the way her eyes lit up, she wanted to do it IN FRONT of his wife. 

Why? What would possess someone to want such a thing? Mark might have asked, if Brenda hadn’t spoken up, unprompted. 

“No, we don’t need to….” The blonde said with a visible, palpable worry. 

A discomfort that pushed Mark to speak. Wanting her to squirm. To suffer, still angry that the two women would dare try to convince him of something so far-fetched. “Yes, Samantha….” He began, watching his wife’s eyes as he spoke.

“If you ‘win’…” He quoted with a visible coating of condescension. “… I’m all yours tonight.” He would play along. He would play this game he found himself trapped in. But only as far as he needed to. Only far enough to show Brenda how ridiculous her lie was.

“But….” Brenda tried to argue. To get her spurned husband to change his mind. But she could see, even as she began her plea, that he was certain. 

At the back and forth, Sammy smirked, and then laughed. “All I want is tonight. She can have you when I’m through.” The answer brought a look of confusion to both Mark and Brenda’s face. But before either could push for an explanation, Sammy turned, grabbed Brenda by her curly blonde hair, and then yanked her forward in a heel-caused stumble and then a kiss.

The sight in an instant brought discomfort. Not to Sammy, who felt comfortable in the extreme, doing just this, but to Mark and Brenda. After all, the latter had never kissed another person in front of her husband. Nor was the former entirely sure how to watch his wife kiss someone else. 

But that uneasy feeling faded, as Sammy used every trick she knew to seduce both the woman she battled and the man who watched. 

All of which Brenda wanted. After all, Mark had to see Sammy as a predator, if he was to believe what his wife had been telling him. That she was a huntress, out to make him prey. 

Not the girl next door. Not the babysitter. 

As far as Brenda saw it, the stage and the moment were Sammy’s. To look fierce. To look bold and sexy. And then to lose, as she had done twice before. 

But the Sammy who had broken on the tip of Brenda’s clit once and then again, and the Sammy who came to play that night, were not the same. 

Sammy had practiced. Learned. Seeking out other wives and husbands — other couples to insert herself between. 

And this was finally the brunette’s chance to take what she had gained, and use it to get what she had always wanted. Not only revenge against a woman who had beaten her twice, but most importantly, to earn the right to fuck her husband — the first man she ever chased. 

In front of his wife, who had to watch. Had to KNOW that she had been bested. And that the thing she had held most dear, had been taken from her, by force. 

Taken, and then thrown away.

And in chase of that dream, she kissed her blonde rival. Hard. Passionately. And with so much fire that Brenda felt herself being overwhelmed. She had fought Sammy before, and it had never felt like this. Like she was in over her head. 

After all, Brenda had battled and beaten Sammy before. Yes, the fights were close. Yes, the difference between victory and defeat was fractional and barely-there. But still she had won. She had met the youthful trollop and conquered her. Tongue to tongue. Breast to breast. And sex to sex. 

But there, in the center of that hotel room, Sammy felt different. 

Powerful.

Dominant, even. 

It was something Brenda couldn’t quite put her finger on. Something that she couldn’t describe or explain. It was as if the girl she had met and mastered, was more than she had been. And as that mystery played out, Brenda began to wilt. Her body trying to fall back and away, but Sammy followed. The girl next door unwilling to give Brenda even a single second to back away or collect herself. 

An aggressiveness that left the blonde wife no escape, other than to try and step back with half focus. Her feet lifting out of her tall black heels and onto the carpeted floor beneath in a trip that might, on accident, earn the space she sought . But Sammy, in her hunger and determination, caught Brenda and then held her up. Walking the blonde wife back slowly, methodically, and then after three steps, shoving her hard. Brenda’s back slamming in an echoing thud against the hotel room’s off-white wall. 

“You bitc—mmmmnnnpppphhhh….” Sealed away from speech by Sammy’s onslaught, Brenda reeled. 

The young usurper was too intense. Too Confident. Too deft and sexy. Brenda had wanted Sammy to show herself as every bit the predator she had been, but not like this. Not really. Not actually. She wanted the bark, not the bite. The threat but not the consequence. 

And so in the wake of getting both, Brenda needed to speak — to protest, or at the least try. But Sammy, in hot pursuit, slammed her body against Brenda’s. The college-age brunette stepping out of her own heels, just before she flattened her body and breasts against those of her rival.

The uneasiness Mark felt at seeing his wife kiss Sammy had began to dissolve, but as he continued to watch, he felt different emotions filling the resulting void. Empathy, at the sight of his wife in retreat. Shock and disbelief at the chance that Brenda’s tall tale had been true. But most feverishly, desire. To watch such a sultry scene play out before him. 

A struggle. 

A competition of lust playing out right before his very eyes. All of which would end in…. 

“I’m going to fuck him, Brenda….” Sammy muttered viciously in the small space between pressing lips and dancing tongues. “I’m going to fuck your fucking husband, and lick the tears from your fucking face….” 

“No!” Brenda offered in retort. “Not a chance!” As the two women threatened and growled, their hands moved quickly to grab, pull, and strip. Each wanting the other naked. Bare. So that nothing would stand in their way.

Brenda hadn’t wanted it, a third battle with Sammy. Another chance to lose what was hers, if only for a night. And yet still, with as much being thrust upon her by her aggrieved husband, she had no choice but to fight. Fight as she had before. The worry of doing so in front of the man she loved fading more and more with every passing second.

And with that loss of timidity, Mark began to shift in his seat. His cock hardening and as consequence pressing hard against the fabric of his pants. A friction that drew the brown-haired man to reach down and adjust the very manhood that was being fought for. 

He was nervous about touching himself. About enjoying something so taboo and wicked. Something that had kept him away from his wife for months, for the reasons that seemed so righteous. So true. 

But were they? He would have began to doubt, were he not so beset by lust. A lust born of a sight that should have outraged him. Should have driven him to rage and despair. 

His wife with that same woman he caught her cheating with…. The same woman who… 

The thoughts swirled and burdened, until they didn’t. Until they began to be overcome by the slow creep of a dark, desperate, dulling desire, born of the sight playing out before him. 

Yes, it is true that what Mark was seeing was similar enough to the actions that caused him to storm out. But something about the moment he was witnessing made him remain. 

Made him accept. 

Made him enjoy what otherwise would have broken his heart. Enjoy, by, even through his pants, gripping at his cock. Squeezing and then stroking as he watched his wife and Sammy kiss in a back and forth struggle for control. 

Brenda and Sammy, for their own parts, took no notice of Mark, or what he was doing. Instead they focused entirely on each other. On working each other out of tops and bottoms — bras and panties. Until Brenda’s thigh highs and garters were all that remained on their bodies.

Otherwise nude as they pushed at each other in frustration. The two warring women then lunging back together when any separation was created. Their passions and tactics at odds. Wanting both to have and harry — reject and posses. Grabbing for each other and pulling close, only to then, on instinct, try to shove the other away. Both wife and neighbor girl wanting to feel as if it was they who were setting the terms of their engagement.  

All the while turning. Spinning. Lips locked and tongues wrestling. A sight so intensely sexy that Mark, the aggrieved and jealous husband, could not help but bring down his zipper, and pull free his cock. 

It felt good. 

It felt right, finally taking for himself some pleasure, after his wife had caused him so much pain.

But the very moment the flesh of his weapon met the cool air of the hotel room, Brenda’s bare soles caught on stapled-down carpet. A catch that made her trip and fall. Backward and into Mark’s lap. His hands moving out of the way just in time for his newly freed cock to spring up and between his wife’s soft inner thighs. She might have reached for it. Grabbed it. But before she could, Sammy was upon her. 

The young brunette diving into her lap, and catching Mark’s rod between their shaven pubic mounds. Soft, hairless hills that sought to grind against each other, though their owners were well aware that between them laid the manhood they fought for.

“He’s mine, you BITCH!” Brenda cried! 

“Not tonight, CUNT!” Sammy replied, before once more they began to kiss. Kiss and grind, in just such a way that Mark’s cock split their lips and drug hard against their clits. 

Not for a second or two, but on one raise and lower and then another. Each of the two women moaning into each others mouths as they fucked. Striking at each other, by and through Mark’s throbbing cock.

Neither had ever imagined it. Placing him between them as they battled. But having found their way into such a conflict, they could see it, hear it, FEEL it. It was ecstasy. Pure and undimmed. Pleasure like they had never inflicted or endured before. Not with each other, or anyone else. 

And as consequence, each bet and thereby risked. They would keep to it, by keeping Mark’s rod between them. Hoping that their opponent would suffer a release first. A gamble, they took, despite the fact that being so skewered, felt so fucking good. 

So fucking perfect. 

“God….” Mark muttered as his hands moved out and took placement on a single hip of each of the women. Grips he used to aid the two rivals in their rhythmic raises and lifts — attacks and counters.

“Cum for me, slut….” Sammy demanded as she pulled back from their kiss. And though Brenda intended to reply, as her mouth opened, Sammy gathered a small pool of saliva, and then spit it into the mouth of the blonde wife below her. 

At the landing and sliding of spit that resulted, Brenda coughed. Coughed and then glared. Glared and then tried to collect what she was given to spit it back at she who gave it. But when she tried, Sammy sealed their lips together once more, leaving them to fight. 

Yes, to keep fucking. 

Yes, to endure the bliss of tribbing against Mark’s engorged cock. Yes, to make the other cum. But also, to push their spittle into each other’s mouths. 

As they battled, saliva seeped from their lips onto their chests. Then from there down between their thrusting hips, and in cool splashes onto the cock they fought over. 

“I….” Mark muttered, his voice bereft of strength or command. 

“I’m gonna….” Again he spoke, and Brenda’s eyes went wide at the hearing. He was going to cum, and she knew it.

He was normally a stallion. A thoroughbred. Not a man to suffer from premature anything. But with the sights, sounds, and intensity of the cataclysm taking place on his cock, he couldn’t contain. 

Not his desire. 

Not his excitement. 

Or his cum, if they didn’t slow or stop. And so Brenda tried to help him, not wanting Sammy to even get near her husband’s seed. Her hands reaching out and at their palms shoving Sammy’s shoulders. Looking to push her out of her lap, off the couch, and down to the carpet below. 

But at the push, and due to Sammy’s infuriating resistance, only enough space and angle was created for Mark’s dick to slip down and then slide into the brunette’s waiting and warm pussy. 

On entrance Mark and Sammy moaned deep and desperately. The two, on instinct, clinging to each other. Sammy’s hands clasped on Mark’s shoulders, while Mark’s right hand held on tight to her left hip.

At that moment, time seemed to freeze. The blue eyes of Brenda going wide, as Sammy’s closed. She had it. Finally. Mark’s cock within her.

She hadn’t earned it, yet. Hadn’t won it. 

But she felt it split her nethers nonetheless. 

Mark should have pulled out and pushed her away. But instead, after taking a deep, lust-drenched breath, he thrust. Driving himself deeper into the babysitter who had torn his family apart. 

“FFFFUUUCCCCKKKK!!!!” Sammy groaned in a soul-deep and life-affirming satisfaction. 

But as Sammy exalted and lingered, her rival, shocked and jealous to the very depths of her core, attacked.

“Aaarrrrggghhhhh!!!” The blonde raged as in a sudden explosion of force, she drove herself forward. Driving both herself and Sammy to the floor below. In the resulting fall, Mark’s cock was torn from its new, youth-tightened sheath.

 “BITCH! GIVE IT BACK!” In a wounded howl, Brenda made clear her want. Even as she and Sammy began to roll across the hotel room floor. 

Mark, as they moved, slumping deep into the couch cushions, as he tried to come down from an orgasm that almost was. His right hand, in a primal need to continue the pleasure he felt, moving once more to his cock to slowly stroke. 

And as he began to please himself, Brenda and Sammy seemed to lose sight of trying to do the same to each other. They instead wrestling, fighting, slapping and scratching at each other in a wild maelstrom of jealousy and anger. Brenda at the very idea that Mark’s cock had been inside her rival, and Sammy that such had been taken from her. 

Fight though they did. Looking to hurt. To punish. To pain, after a few more up and over rolls, they came down in a heavy thud. Brenda on her back, and Sammy atop her. Their thighs crossed. 

Mounds used as fulcrum. 

Their sopping wet pussies sealed tight together, as they started to grind once more. Sammy raised up and on her knees, while Brenda laid on the floor on her back. 

“He was inside of me, Brenda!” Taunted the youthful brunette, knowing it would drive Brenda mad. 

“FUCK OFF!” The blonde growled back, as she tried to reach for Sammy to claw or push her off. But Sammy, knowing it was coming, was able to catch Brenda’s wrists. Keeping them at bay, as her hips rocked. Back and forth. Back and forth. 

Brenda writhed beneath her. Trying to turn. To shift. To kick. To grab. But every such effort Sammy was able to weather or avoid. Riding the woman who had kept her from Mark like a cowgirl on a mechanical bull. Leaning into and against every shift, knowing that she had the momentum and needed to keep it.

“YOU’LL NEVER FU–!!!” Brenda tried to threaten. To promise. But even as she did, Sammy’s perfectly timed and angled thrusts robbed her of her ability to speak. Making her train of thought break as her eyes closed and mouth opened in a soul-deep moan. 

“He felt it…. He moaned for me, did you hear him…?” Every word was cruel. Shattering. And enough to drag every ounce of resistance from Brenda, but the blonde, lost in the absolute depths of pleasure and lust, could do little more than continue to thrust her hips. Not with intention or aim, but on instinct. 

Not to overcome or overwhelm Sammy, but to continue the pleasure that was keeping her spellbound. 

“Fuck…. Fuck…. Please…. Fuck….” Brenda mumbled. Not to Sammy. Not Mark. But to herself. She had to fight back. Had to recover. Had to counter with something. ANYTHING. 

But as Sammy held onto Brenda’s wrists like the reins of a horse, she continued to ride. Her lips curling into a cocky smile, as she watched the woman she had fought in the back of that Escalade dance along the edge of ecstasy. 

Desperate, weak, ineffectual and whimpering. 

“Cum for me…. Cum….” Sammy almost cooed, as Brenda’s efforts to escape faded and then failed. 

Her body doing nothing but remaining. Down and ridden. Resistanceless and hungry for more.

“Bi-bitch…. I–I beat you….” Brenda struggled to blurt out. Not so Sammy could remember, but instead to remind herself of the strength she once had.

“I beat….” Again she muttered, her voice quaking and quiet. 

“I….” Like a fading echo, Brenda’s repeated words dissolved in the face of Sammy’s onslaught. The brunette focusing her every energy on driving Brenda to orgasm, until finally, when she knew one more thrust would break the dam, she hissed. 

“You’ll … never … beat me … again … cunt….” Effort and impact separated the words of Sammy’s brag. 

A prophecy that leapt from tongue, just as in a sudden explosion of unwanted bliss and oblivion, Brenda came…. Hard…. Her body launching into a series of quakes, quivers, and seizures. None of which slowed Sammy, who drove her through each. Milking the beautiful blonde wife for every second of orgasm she could. 

Slowing only when Brenda was motionless, save for a twitch here or spasm there. A sight and sensation that pushed Sammy to release the wrists she held tight to. Allowing her defeated rival to cover her face with her hands and in the wake of such a crushing destruction, sob.

With Brenda spent, Sammy could have kept going. Kept riding, until she reached her own climax. But instead slowed and then stopped. 

The right hand of the conquering neighbor girl drifting down and then sliding between their still suction-sealed cunts. There her fingers hooked and gathered a collection of their combined juices, and then lifted back up and out.

“I want you to taste it….” Sammy said, her voice certain and smooth. Her left hand reaching down and grabbing Brenda’s hair before yanking her up and into a seated position, as the fingers on her right hand extended up between their lips. 

“Taste what…?” Brenda asked, her voice mournful and beset with sadness.

“Defeat….” At the words, Sammy curled her fingers of her right hand once more, this time into her rival’s mouth. Her index and middle finger spreading as liquid webbing stretched out in long, transparent arches, before they were lowered and laid on the broken blonde’s tongue. 

Sammy was right. Brenda could taste it. The shame. The regret. The humiliation of her own defeat. But before she could fall further into despair, Sammy stood, and dragged Brenda with her and to her feet. 

And though Brenda couldn’t stand steady or walk straight, the brunette neighbor girl pulled her. Over to Mark, before grabbing his hand and then leading the married double over to the hotel room’s bed. 

A bed on which she tossed Mark to his back. “Take your pants off….” The brunette demanded, without even looking at him.

“And you, you sit right fucking here.” Sammy cooed, as she positioned the still crying Brenda in a slouching sit next to Mark’s newly bare lower half.

“And your shirt….” Another instruction, one delivered as Sammy confidently climbed up and over her quickly striping prize. 

Mark, for his part, did take off his shirt, just as he had his pants and what was below. And though he did, he had, by that time, recovered enough from his near orgasm to think clearly. And so he worried. Not about the slight he suffered months ago, but about the woman who had hurt him. 

His wife. 

His soulmate. 

Brenda, who he could see was suffering. How could he go along with this? Even if it’s what he asked for. Even if it’s what they agreed to. 

His wife was sobbing and shattered. 

He wouldn’t. 

He couldn’t. 

And his eyes told that tale as he looked to Brenda. For the first time since he walked in on her with the babysitter, with love. 

It hadn’t been said. It hadn’t been discussed. But in that moment, Brenda could see it. How close he was to forgiving her. How near he was to believing that she had only been defending his honor. 

But she couldn’t risk it fading. Couldn’t allow even the slightest chance that he might forget this night or what he had seen. And so, even though it was everything she had fought to avoid, Brenda still nodded to him. 

It was ok. 

He could do it. What Sammy wanted. 

He could give the girl who had come between them the reward she had won.

Not because Brenda didn’t care. Not because she had given up on him or her defense of their marriage. But instead, because she would do anything to have him back. And letting Sammy have her moment, would assure just that. 

That moment, filled with unspoken emotions and long-needed connection, seemed so real and heavy for both Brenda and Mark. But Sammy was not waiting. She had won, and so Mark was hers. 

Regardless of what Mark felt or what Brenda was going to allow. And so as Mark looked to his wife’s mascara-stained face, Sammy crawled over and atop him. And then when finally his eyes moved from his own broken soulmate, to her conqueror, the same began to lower herself.

Slowly. 

Teasingly. 

Until in a perfectly aimed straddle, she caught Mark’s still wet cock in her sex and then took it in. Fully. Deeply. And this time, without threat of being denied. 

Once more the two moaned together. Husband and girl next door. And as they did, Sammy began to ride the cock she had been chasing for oh so long. Letting him watch with desire-wet eyes, as the victorious babysitter turned and grabbed for Brenda, before pulling her close. 

“I told you, bitch….” Sammy hissed, as Brenda looked up at her with tear-filled eyes. “I. Told. You.” The words were offered in a snarl and then punctuated with Sammy opening her mouth and extending her tongue. Its wet, fleshy pink dragging up the blonde’s left cheek and collecting the salty tears thereupon. 

The moment was perfect. 

For Sammy, the woman who had introduced the very idea of sexfighting to her, had been beaten, and the man who began her obsession with taking that which belonged to others, had been claimed. 

For Brenda, the man she had married — the man she loved, was going to be hers again. Fully. Completely. The threat of losing him forever erased. Not by beating Sammy in a backseat or bedroom, but instead by cuming for her in a hotel room atop the world. 

And for Mark, he had his wife back. His life back. And at that moment, a wild, passionate, dominant young woman riding his cock. 

As before his eyes, that woman and his wife whispered to each other. In hushed voices he could not hear. The mystery would have worried him. Angered him. But, as Sammy rode him, he was lost. 

Overcome by pleasure and distracted by bliss as Brenda leaned in and wrapped her arms around Sammy. Holding her tight and close, as she offered a soft and genuine “Thank you.”

Sammy had been cruel. Vicious. Merciless and unrepentant. And in doing so, she had made certain that Mark was Brenda’s to keep. Leaving not a shadow of a doubt what had brought the two women together when Mark found them. 

And though Sammy did not reply to Brenda’s words of gratitude, she still pressed their foreheads together and closed her eyes.

The two remaining that way as Sammy rode Mark and herself to orgasm. The moment of connected souls only ending when, after Mark collapsed back to the bed, Sammy got up. 

Got dressed. 

And without another word spoken, left another defeated wife with her ravaged husband. 

The End

Thank you for reading! For more stories by Rival’s Rapture, choose a category below!