The Club: Sarah and Anne by Corvus

Sarah Beckett stepped out of the shower in her fine home and reached for a large towel. The towel was almost as long as the short blonde woman with the high, small breasts. Dripping, she toweled herself roughly. Her pink nipples lengthened and became erect in the cool air and under the vigorous application of the terrycloth.

She heard her husband stirring in the bedroom outside the large bathroom. She heard him mumble something.

Folding the towel around herself, she stepped out of the steamed up bathroom. Her husband, Franklin, was knotting a red silk tie around the collar of his custom-made shirt.

“What did you say, dear?” Sarah casually dropped the towel on the carpet, and reached for her Chinese-print robe that rested on the bedspread.

Franklin turned around to catch a glimpse of naked thighs and sparse pubic hair before the robe concealed his wife’s nakedness.

“I said, don’t forget dinner tonight. It’s important.”

Sarah ran her fingers through her medium length wet hair. She said, “I remember. Who is it again?”

Franklin finished knotting his tie. He reached for his jacket. “Clark Walker and his wife.”

Sarah froze for a second. “Anne Walker?” She tried to make her tone casual.

“That’s right. Do you know her?”

A half-smile that could have concealed a sneer crossed her face. “Oh, I might have run into her a time or two.”

Franklin regarded himself in the mirror, adjusting his suit. “Well, good. We’ll leave here at seven and pick up Clark and Anne. Dinner is at Odell’s. Wear something nice.”

She leaned forward as he brushed her cheek with his lips. “Oh, I’ve got some killer outfits.”

After Franklin left, Sarah stared at her reflection in the mirror. She thought to herself, Oh yes. Dinner with Anne.

The bitch.

She opened her robe. She ran her hand along the curve of her breasts. She slipped her other hand down and parted the lips of her mound. She shivered under her deliberate stroking, remembering the clash of breasts and the wet slam of her cunt against Anne’s.

I hate that woman, she thought. I will mount her and destroy her. I will…I will…

Her thoughts lost coherence as she fell to the floor in orgasmic spasm, fluid spurting onto her twitching fingers.

At the same time that Sarah was surrendering to her self-induced orgasm as she dreamed of sexual combat, Anne Walker was preparing to get her day started. The petite dark-haired woman selected a pair of custom-fitted black jeans and a tight, form-fitting sweater.

She sat on the bed and worked the jeans up over her thighs and past the blue bikini briefs. The lacy weave of the panties revealed a dark patch of hair between her thighs. She then slipped the sweater over her shoulders and round, dark-nippled breasts. She usually didn’t bother with a bra.

After she dressed, Anne telephoned Claudine’s, an exclusive spa and beauty salon. Using just the right tone of bitchiness (and a promise of a fifty to the woman who controlled appointments), she secured an 11:00 AM time slot for a facial, pedicure, manicure, and massage.

It was cold and windy outside. The morning’s weather report promised falling temperatures and the possibility of an ice storm late tonight. Anne donned a full length sable coat and got behind the wheel of her Lincoln. She hit the memory button on the seat and it automatically raised and moved forward to the optimum seating position for the short brunette.

She was looking forward to tonight’s dinner with anticipation. She had known for a week that she and Clark were going to dine with Franklin and Sarah Beckett. With delicious eagerness, she imagined the oh-so-polite encounter with Sarah. Their husbands, of course, knew nothing of their contests. The occasional bruise or scratch was explained away with some trivial excuse.

They would communicate their lust for battle with innuendo and subterfuge. They would say things to each other that superficially would sound sweet, but the subtext would be a verbal slap to the face. Their honeyed words would be like clawed hands to the breasts. The kind phrases would intrude like clutching fingers to the dripping cunt.

And who knew? They could contrive some time to be alone together. A trip to the ladies room, perhaps? Anne gripped the leather covered steering wheel tightly and narrowed her brown eyes in sexual anger.

The parking valet at Claudine’s drove off in her Lincoln. She entered the revolving door into the hushed sounds and pleasant fragrances of the spa. She gave her name to the receptionist who called another young lady up front to escort Anne back to a changing room.

Inside the small room, Anne removed her coat, jeans and sweater. She slipped on a short peach-colored shift. She was naked under the shift except for her panties. Her nipples were evident through the thin cotton fabric.

During the next 45 minutes, Anne enjoyed the ministrations of several young women as they pampered her hands, feet, and face. After the invigorating facial, she was led to the back of the spa for her massage. The massage room had several tables that could be hidden from view by curtains. Anne saw that one other table was occupied, the curtains drawn for privacy.

The attendant said, “Your masseuse will be here in about ten minutes, Ms. Walker.”

Anne sat on the table next to the occupied one. The attendant drew the curtain closed around her and left the room.

Anne pulled the shift over her head and draped it on a folding chair. She stretched out on her back, nude except for her panties. She put her hands behind her head and closed her eyes.

Anne heard the curtain across from her slide back quietly. She opened her eyes and raised herself onto one elbow. What was this?

With a sudden violent motion, the curtain surrounding her table was thrown open. She saw Sarah Beckett standing there. Like Anne, she was wearing only brief panties.

Sarah looked down at Anne. Both women were conditioned by several encounters. Their bodies’ reactions were beyond conscious control. Sexual rage inflamed their eyes. Their nipples swiftly became erect. The lips of their pussies became swollen. Beads of moisture appeared on the labia.

Sarah said, in a poisonously sweet tone, “Why, Anne darling! Imagine running into you here.”

Anne smiled. And bared her teeth.

Anne Walker slowly rose from the massage table. She maintained her smile as she moved closer to Sarah, until their faces were six inches apart. Anne’s round, dark-nippled breasts were almost touching Sarah’s smaller, conical breasts.

The petite women faced each other, their arms akimbo.

Anne said, “So, cunt. You’re here to get pretty for our date?” Anne tossed her head, her dark curls moving up and down.

Sarah replied, “As if I’d get ready for you, bitch.” She sneered. “This is solely for the benefit of your husband. I’d thought I’d show him what a woman looks like.”

Anne moved forward just a bit. She could feel her hard nipples barely graze Sarah’s breasts, about an inch below the blonde woman’s nipples.

Anne said, “Clark wouldn’t look at you twice. He’s got something better than a bottle-blonde skank with the tits of a thirteen-year old and the pussy of a plastic love doll. And I bet your husband won’t be able to keep his eyes off me.”

Sarah slowly raised her right hand. Her light blue eyes narrowed. Anne, in mirror image, brought her left hand up.

Sarah growled, as her hand met Anne’s in a tight, finger-interlocked grip, “Franklin wouldn’t even fuck you with someone else’s dick. He’s got the real thing at home.”

Anne stared at Sarah as their hands gripped each other. They started to press with their shoulders, pushing at each other. Their foreheads touched. As their one-armed contest continued, their bodies came into nearly full contact. Their swollen breasts merged and pressed against each other. They shifted the position of their legs and their thighs slipped together. The cloth of their panties whispered together.

“Oh, you fucking slut-bitch,” Sarah said.

Anne felt the moist exhalation of the blonde woman’s breath. She pressed forward with her legs and slowly Sarah backed up, until they came to the edge of the Sarah’s massage table. Anne continued to push forward, and brought her other arm up.

Sarah suddenly worked her leg to the back of Anne’s, and pushed. Anne went down in a sitting position, her round ass hitting the tile floor with a solid slap. She swung her leg rapidly, and Sarah’s balance was upset. Down she came.

Anne pitched forward from the waist and pushed off with her legs. She landed on top of Sarah as the blonde was struggling to rise from the fall. Sarah raised her arm and grabbed a handful of dark curls and pulled.

Anne grunted in pain and slammed both her hands down onto Sarah’s naked breasts. Sarah gasped in shock and pulled harder and rolled. She found herself on top of the dark-haired woman. Anne spread her legs quickly and formed a waist-scissors and squeezed.

Anne panted, “I’ll fuck you up, Beckett! I’ll squeeze you until you explode!”

Sarah got to her knees, with Anne’s strong thighs still clenched around her waist. The blonde woman extended her arms and clutched onto Anne’s tits.

Anne almost yelled from the pain. She was forced to relinquish her scissors. She placed her arms between Sarah’s and slowly pried the hands away from her aching breasts. Angry red marks indicated the pressure that Sarah had used.

Just then, both women heard the lock jiggle. Someone was coming in.

Just like two little girls discovered doing something wrong, they quickly separated and got to their feet. They walked unsteadily towards their respective massage tables and pulled the curtains around them. They collapsed face down on the tables as the door opened.

The two masseuses walked in. Anne’s masseuse came in and said hello. Anne’s response was a non-committal grunt. The masseuse shrugged and went to work.

As the strong fingers dug into Anne’s shoulders and back, trickles of moisture oozed through the thin weave of her panties and fell on the massage table.

Forty-five minutes later, both women were dressed and exiting Claudine’s. Sarah was wearing corduroy slacks and a brown turtleneck. Both felt half-drugged from the brief intense encounter and the subsequent massage.

As Sarah got into her Land Rover, she said, “See you tonight, bitch. This isn’t finished.”

Anne stood by her Lincoln, her hair swirling in the brisk cold breeze. “I’ll decide when things are finished, slut. We’ll be ready.”

The women drove off in opposite directions. Along the way, each of them envisioned tonight’s dinner. Like opposing generals, they pondered strategy and tactics.

At six-thirty that evening, Sarah was fresh from the shower and examining her wardrobe. She pulled down several dresses from the huge closet in their master bedroom and laid them on the bed. One by one, she held them up in front of her naked body and examined herself in the full-length mirrors.

She decided on a dark red Vera Wang. It was made of exquisite layers of silk and was a backless number that had a thin strap around the neck. The bodice separated into two narrow bands that cupped the breasts. The neckline plunged to the navel. The hemline would brush the instep of her feet, which would perch on strappy Liz Claiborne high-heeled sandals. The dress was slit on the left side from hem to hip. Unless Sarah exhibited tight control when walking or sitting, she would be flashing anyone who looked at her. And Sarah would wear nothing under the dress.

Franklin, already dressed in his Armani suit, waited patiently downstairs. He checked the weather forecast on television for the fifteenth time. The chances were about even that an ice storm would blanket the area before midnight.

Finally, Sarah descended the staircase in her stunning outfit. Franklin had to admire her. She was a blonde vision clothed in elegance. Her narrow-waisted body filled the dress to perfection. Her straight blonde hair was casually set in a windblown style that suited her. She was wearing ruby earrings and a simple gold chain that nestled in her cleavage.
The glimpses of her shapely legs and pretty feet were enough to stir his masculinity.

The night was cold and overcast, and the chill winds were enough to stiffen Sarah’s nipples, but soon they were nestled in the soft leather of the Bentley’s front seats. They sped along the streets of the city towards the exclusive neighborhood where Anne Walker and her husband lived.

They pulled up to the driveway of a large traditional two-story house. Sarah had never seen it before. She noted idly that it was at least equal in stature to her own house. Financially, most of the women in the club were equals. Once you got past a net worth of ten million, there wasn’t much point in counting.

Franklin parked by the side entrance and got out of the car. Sarah waited while he came around to open her door. She stepped out, pulling her mink coat around her shoulders. They stepped up the door and Franklin pushed the doorbell.

It was Clark who opened the door. He was dressed in a dark-blue Saville Row suit with a traditional striped tie. He said, in a booming voice, “Come on in! It’s too cold to be out long. Hello, Franklin, it’s good to see you again!”

Franklin shook hands with the other man. He stepped to one side, and Sarah came forward.

Clark smiled broadly. “Well, my dear, I can see why Franklin just keeps talking about you. How wonderful to finally meet you.”

Sarah smiled broadly and leaned forward to allow her cheek to be kissed. Like Franklin, Clark was a tall, dark-haired man in his early forties. He had a pleasantly handsome face and a charming manner.

She said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I imagine Anne has told you that we know each other slightly.”

Clark said, “Yes, she said you belong to some of the same clubs. Well, I’m sure this is an opportunity to get better acquainted. Anne should just be a few minutes. Why don’t you come to the living room and we’ll have ourselves a short one?”

Sarah and Franklin followed their host down the hall. The living room was furnished in rich leather and dark polished woods. Clark busied himself about the bar as Sarah and Franklin took seats on the sofa.

Sarah heard the quiet tocking sound of high heels on a hardwood floor. She looked at the other entrance to the living room as Anne walked in. Sarah had never seen Anne really dressed up, and she had to admit, the bitch looked good.

The petite dark-haired woman was wearing a long Calvin Klein dress made of beaded blue fabric. The top was suspended by spaghetti straps and gathered itself over Anne’s round breasts. The bumps of the nipples could be clearly seen. The dress had an empire waist that emphasized the bust line. It descended in folds toward the floor. It had several slits, and one of Anne’s bare legs was visible up to mid-thigh. Like Sarah, she wore high-heeled sandals that stressed the fine lines of her calves. Her toes were painted in a lustrous dark red. Diamonds glittered at her ears and throat.

Franklin stood up when she came into the room. Clark turned around, and said, “Hello, dear. My, you do look superb.”

Anne walked over to the couch, extending her hand. She turned her head to her husband, and said, “Oh, thank you, dear. If that’s a martini you’re mixing, I’d love one.” She turned to Franklin and looked up. “It’s so wonderful to meet you. I’ve really been looking forward to this evening.” She moved her cheek forward to be kissed as she held Franklin’s hand.

Sarah stood up, a perfect smile on herself. “Hello there, Anne. You look smashing.”

Anne turned to Sarah, her smile matching the blonde’s. “How kind of you, dear. You look gorgeous in that dress.” Both women leaned their cheeks forward and touched them briefly, making slight kissing noises.

They were rescued from more small talk when Clark came over with the tray of martinis. Each person took one, and they raised their glasses.

Franklin said heartily, “To new friends!” They sipped the chilled and potent drinks.

They chattered a bit. Sarah and Anne didn’t pay much attention to the conversation, nodding briefly and making non-committal noises. They stole glances at each other’s bodies whenever they could and compared themselves point-to-point. The evening had begun.

After a few minutes, they laid the empty glasses on the sterling silver tray. Franklin said, “Let’s be off, shall we? The weather is a bit risky, and I’d like to get to Odell’s for a cocktail before dinner proper.”

There were nods and sounds of assent. They gathered their coats and wraps, and proceeded off to the Bentley. The chill winds blew outside, in odd counterpoint to the heat, unnoticed by the men, between the two expensively clad and bejeweled women.

The valet took charge of the Bentley as the foursome entered the sedate and rarefied atmosphere of Odell’s. They gave their coats and wraps to the coat-check woman. The muted sounds of the jazz quartet could be heard as the headwaiter led them to their table.

They were seated at a square table set off in an alcove. Pure white linen covered the table. Sarah and Anne sat at adjacent sides, and the men sat so they faced the other’s spouse. A few minutes were taken with drink orders.

Anne regarded the surroundings. Diners in other alcoves were visible in the subdued light. The darkness under the tables was almost complete. As she lay her handbag down by the edge of her chair, she surreptitiously undid the straps on her sandals. She let the shoes slide off her bare feet.

As if telepathically connected, Sarah did the same thing. The blonde woman nodded to something Clark said, and smiled. She placed her naked foot on the firm carpeting. She edged it to the left.

Anne felt the edge of Sarah’s foot on her own. She turned to Sarah and smiled. Anne raised her right foot slowly, and placed her toes on the instep of Sarah’s foot. She pressed down…softly at first, then with greater pressure.

Sarah continued to make small talk as her foot met Anne’s in a silent contest. She was about to bring her right foot into play when the drinks arrived. The women brought their feet back to neutral position, under their chairs. After the drinks were delivered, their waiter arrived and gave them the menus and advised them of the specials.

After the waiter left, they perused the menu. Sarah quietly moved her foot over to Anne’s. She curled her toes downward, lifted her foot, and brought it down swiftly on Anne’s instep.

Anne almost gasped as she felt the painted nails of Sarah’s foot hit her flesh. With remarkable control, she kept her face neutral. She brought her left foot around and used it to push Sarah’s foot and its stabbing nails off her tender instep.

The two women raised their toes up. Their feet rested on the carpet on the bare heels. Then suddenly, silently, their feet joined under the table, the toes meshing with each other and pressing. Each woman tried for advantage, bending and twisting the digits so that a toe could be squeezed and bent. During this silent war, they looked steadfastly at the menu.

Sarah raked her toenails against the top of Anne’s feet. Anne used her own deep red nails and stabbed at the sole of Sarah’s feet. If anyone could have seen under the table, the feet would have looked like wrestling hands, twisting back and forth within a narrow range. It was a quiet battle, the only sounds being the hushed whisper of skin against skin.

The foot fight was interrupted when the waiter came back to take their orders. Both Sarah and Anne ordered the Trout Almandine. Clark asked for a veal chop, while Franklin decided on the Coq au Vin.

After the menus were taken away, Sarah and Anne let their feet recover from the beneath-the-table war. The blonde woman was surprised when she heard Clark say, “Say, Franklin, do you mind if I dance with your beautiful wife?”

Franklin smiled, and said, “Only if I can dance with your lovely woman.”

Both women looked flustered for a second, then smiled. They quickly reached down and got their naked feet back into their high-heeled sandals. A quick tug to fasten the straps, and they stood up.

Clark extended his broad hand to the petite blonde in the dark red dress. Sarah took his hand and the made their way around the corner to the end of the room where the jazz quartet was playing a slow, smoky swing number.

Franklin took Anne’s hand, and led the small but gorgeous brunette in the blue dress to the dance floor. There were only a few other couples swaying to the music.

The two women danced in the arms of the enemy’s husbands. They stole glances at each other as the swirl of the movement brought them into visual range.

Sarah saw that Anne had closed the distance between herself and Sarah’s husband. You could not fit a piece of paper between the two. In response, Sarah pulled herself closer to Clark. She could feel his muscular chest press against her breasts. And she smiled to herself because despite Clark’s efforts to hold his pelvis away, she could feel the stirring of his erection.

Anne saw her husband and her rival press close together. She countered by sliding her arm down and around from Franklin’s side to the edge of his buttocks. An increased pressure of Franklin’s arm rewarded her.

The couples continued to dance to the slow music. As they passed each other, whenever they thought they could get away with it, Anne and Sarah stared daggers at each other. They glared their hostility, and knew that this evening could only end in one way.

Somehow, they would do real battle. The sexual rage would only intensify to the point that their bodies must meet in urgent sensuous fury.

The music ended and the couples on the dance floor applauded lightly. The men thanked the women for the dances, and the women nodded sweetly. The foursome returned to their table.

They were deep into their entrees and on a second bottle of Merlot as Sarah tried to think of a way to get away with Anne for an hour or so. They made polite chit-chat about work, books and movies.

As the dishes were cleared away from the table, Sarah stood up and said, “Well, I have to make a little trip to the loo, as they say in England. Care to join me, Anne?”

The dark-haired woman stood up, and said, “Sure. Powder the old nose and such.”

The men stood up briefly as they left the table. Franklin turned to Clark and said, “I’m really glad that the women are getting on so well. I think that they could be great friends.”

Clark sipped his wine and nodded. “Absolutely. We’re lucky men. With some women, you’d think that the only thing they would want to do is slip away and get into some kind of fight.”

The “great friends” made their way to the ladies room. The room was large, quiet, and empty.

They got inside, and Sarah turned suddenly to Anne. The blonde woman grabbed Anne’s shoulders and brought her face within an inch of Anne’s. She hissed, “You know as well as I do that this can end only one way, don’t you?”

Anne brought her arms up and broke Sarah’s grip off her shoulders. She replied, growling, “Damn right I know it. You are the nerviest bitch I’ve ever met, Beckett. The way you nearly climbed on top of my husband on the dance floor was disgusting!”

Sarah curled her lips in a snarl. “What about you, Walker? Were you going to hump Franklin out there until he came in his pants? Was that your idea?”

Anne sneered, “Oh, he wanted me, you bitch. I could tell.”

Sarah raised her voice, “You should have felt the hard-on your man was sporting, slut. It’s probably never been that rigid before.”

“Cunt!”

“Candy-ass whore!”

Both women drew their arms back and were about to let loose a roundhouse blow when the bathroom door suddenly flew open. They quickly turned to compose themselves. To their shock, they saw Holly Cavanaugh enter the room, followed by her friend Laura Stanton.

Holly was dressed in a low-cut emerald green Halston gown. Her pixyish face was merry as she walked over to where Sarah and Anne stood.

“Well, hello there, dears! It’s so nice to see my girls out and about. Laura, see that we are not disturbed for a few minutes.”

The busty redheaded woman opened the bathroom door and left.

Holly gripped each woman by the upper arm and marched Sarah and Anne back so that their butts were against the rim of the washbasins. She stepped back and pushed with her arms.

Sarah and Anne got the message. They moved up and sat on the edge of the sink cabinet. The slits in the skirts opened up, revealing their legs. Holly placed her strong hands on their bare thighs and squeezed.

Saran and Anne said, “Hello, Holly,” in subdued voices. They didn’t look at her.

Holly said, “I just came here to tell you something, darlings. The message is this: I don’t really mind if a few members have some extra-curricular activities. There is nothing I can do to really stop it.”

Holly worked her hands up their thighs. She squeezed and rubbed the fine flesh.

Holly continued, in her merry voice. “But if you ever do anything that brings The Club to unfavorable attention, I have enough dirt on each of you to guarantee that you and your handsome men would be reduced to poverty and professional disgrace. So a word to the wise, sweeties. Be careful.”

As she talked, Holly’s hands found their unclothed cunts. With consummate skill, she probed and stroked the rapidly moistening pussies. Despite themselves, Sarah and Anne started to breathe heavily under Holly’s onslaught. They each started to lean on Holly and their eyes closed with fervent arousal.

Holly suddenly pulled her arms back. Sarah and Anne gasped, their eyes swimming.
Holly quickly kissed each of them in turn, her mouth warm and wet. She stood back.

“I’m sure we’ll remember this, ladies. You have a good night, now.” Holly turned and left the bathroom.

Sarah and Anne stood for a second, as their senses came back to normal. They didn’t speak to each other. They went to separate stalls and urinated. They patted themselves dry (and it was more than pee that they wiped away) and came out and washed their hands.

Just before they left the bathroom, Sarah turned to Anne and said, “We’re still doing it?”

Anne nodded. Suddenly a steely determination arose. “Yes. Damn that Cavanaugh bitch, anyway. We’re still going to do it.”

When the women returned to the table, Clark and Franklin were discussing the possibility of dessert.

The women looked at each other. Normally, this would be an opportunity to indulge in a beloved sugar-fest, but the encounter in the ladies room with Holly had killed their appetite.

Sarah turned to her husband. “Franklin, dear, I had a glance outside. It’s turning rather nasty out there. Perhaps we should get home before it gets any worse.”

Franklin nodded. “You’re quite right, dear. Everyone agree?”

Both Clark and Anne nodded.

Franklin signaled for the check. Five minutes later, they were back in the Bentley. The wind was blowing hard, and sleet was spitting everywhere.

They drove back, the wind making the car buck a little. After a particular bad gust sent them over on the shoulder for a few seconds, Franklin pulled over and set his flashers on.

He turned to Anne and Clark in the back seat. He said, “You know, I’m a little worried about this. What do you say about proceeding directly to our house? It’s a lot closer and we could put you up for the night.”

Both Sarah and Anne felt a little inward quiver of excitement.

Clark said to his wife, “Dear, it’s probably the best thing to do. Do you mind?”

Anne glanced at Sarah and saw the anticipatory gleam in her eyes. “Not at all. I think it would be fun to have a sleep-over.” She grinned.

Franklin smiled, and said, “Mi casa es su casa.” He glanced in the side-view mirror, and pulled the Bentley back out onto the road.

A few minutes later, after one near-skid on an icy curve, they were safely within the garage at the Beckett house. Shortly, they were sitting in the living room, warming their bodies by a crackling blaze in front of an enormous fireplace.

Franklin went to the bar and poured four snifters of brandy. He distributed the drinks. They sipped the pleasant liquor and chatted about the weather.

After noticing a couple of half-hidden yawns, Franklin suggested to Sarah that they show the Walkers around the house, and particularly, the room they would be staying in.

Sarah said, “Of course, dear.” She rose from her seat and waited for the Walkers to follow her.

She gave them a brief five-minute tour of the large and expansive household, pointing out the necessary facilities. Finally she led them down the upstairs hall to a large guestroom furnished with two double beds and several antiques.

Anne said, “This will be wonderful, Sarah. Say, could you show me the kitchen again?”

Sarah said, “Of course. Clark, why don’t you just make yourself comfortable?”

Clark stretched out in an overstuffed easy chair. He slipped his shoes off. “That’s a wonderful idea. See you in a few minutes, dear.”

As soon as they were out of earshot in the kitchen, Sarah turned to Anne and said, “There’s a large room down the stairs and into the basement. Do you think you can get your husband asleep within the hour?”

Anne said, with a knowing female grin, “I can pretty much guarantee it.”

Sarah said, “I’ll be doing the same. He’ll be out like a light.” She looked around, then grabbed Anne’s upper arms strongly. She leaned in, and said fiercely, “Then it’s you and me, bitch!”

Anne broke the grip with a flurry of motion. She hooked her arm around Sarah’s naked back, and grabbed her right breast and squeezed. Sarah gasped. Anne hissed at her, “I’ll be down there, Beckett!”

They glared at each other, and separated. Anne went to the guestroom upstairs, and Sarah ambled to the master bedroom on the ground floor.

When Sarah entered the bedroom, she saw that her husband had already removed everything but his boxers. She closed the door behind her, and went over to him. He turned around and pulled her into his strong arms.

He said, “How about it, darling? I’m more than ready.”

She reached down and felt the rock-hard tube of flesh between his legs. She slipped her hand inside his shorts, and caressed his penis. One finger found a drop of slick, sticky moistness on the tip of his cock. She swirled her finger around it, and brought the smeared finger to her lips. He watched, mouth open, as she licked his pre-come off her finger.

She stepped back and flicked off the light switch. A dim glow from the bedside lamp illuminated them. He pulled off his boxers and stood there naked, his hard cock sticking straight out of his curly thatch of pubic hair. She undid the knot on the back of her neck and let the front of her dress fall forward. Her small, conical breasts appeared, crowned with stiff pink nipples.

She sat down on the bed and took his cock into her mouth. Franklin groaned as Sarah energetically sucked his penis to the root. She worked her muscular tongue over the head of his cock, paying particular attention to the underside of the glans. She pulled her head back partway, and started to jack him off with her slim hand, her fist moving up and down on the fleshy tube.

Under her expert ministrations, Franklin could not last long. Sarah, sensing his impending orgasm, intensified the sucking and hand motion.

Franklin let out a long, guttural sound from the back of his throat. He placed his hand on the back of Sarah’s head, grabbing a handful of her blonde hair. His hips bucked.

Sarah felt the first forceful blast of come hit the back of her throat. She continued to pump his cock with her hand as she moved her head back. Another jet of semen landed on her tongue. She then pulled her mouth off his cock, and looked up at her husband. He yelled and spurted again. A white plume splashed on Sarah’s lipsticked mouth. She directed the cock downward. Another lunge of his hips, and a rope of come hit her neck. He sprayed again, looping a line on the top of her breasts.

When he finally finished, Sarah was liberally decorated. She licked the semen from her lips and swallowed, as Franklin collapsed on the bed.

She stood up and pulled the dress back over her come-streaked breasts. Franklin said, “Uh…aren’t you coming to bed?” His eyes were already drowsy.

She quickly pulled the covers back, and worked her husband into bed. She said, “I’ve got to clean up. You sleep.”

Franklin made a muffled snoring sound. Sarah moved the covers up over his shoulder, turned out the bedside lamp, and left the room. She would go do battle with her husband’s secretions on her skin, like ribbons of valor.

Meanwhile, Anne was flat on her back on one of the double beds in the guestroom. Her dress was pulled down in front, the straps untied. Her husband was thrusting his diamond-hard cock between her round breasts, panting as he did so.

Anne’s head was against a pillow. With each thrust of the penis between her tits, she moved her mouth forward, and the head of the cock bullied its way in. The tip of his cock was wet and shiny. She pushed her breasts together and made a tunnel that was getting slick with sweat and pre-come.

Clark’s hips moved faster as he tit-fucked his wife. He looked down at the lewd way his wife licked the tip of his thrusting cock. It set him over the edge. With a roar, he spilled his semen in spurting streams that hit his wife’s lips and mouth. Each contraction of his buttocks meant another spray of come, pooling in the hollow of her neck and coating the valley between her breasts.

After he finished coming, he collapsed backwards on the bed. Anne wasted no time in arranging the covers and pillows of the bed. Soon her husband was tucked in.

She brought the front of her dress up and retied the straps on her shoulder. The material of the dress was sticky against the wet semen spattered between her breasts. She left the room and headed downstairs. She would do battle with her husband’s secretions on her skin, like ribbons of valor.

Anne found the stairs easily and walked down. She was barefoot, and didn’t make a sound. Off the main hall, she found the other flight of stairs that led down to the basement. The entrance to the basement was through a broad, short hallway. She could make out the flickering of firelight.

She turned the corner into a large, carpeted room with casual furniture along the walls and a small fireplace. A brisk fire was blazing there. A couple of candles were also burning. The fireplace and candles were the only light in the room.

Suddenly a match flared. She saw the figure of Sarah across the room, lighting one last candle. She blew out the match and tossed it into the fireplace. She came forward into the firelight, and Anne saw that she still wore the dark red backless dress. She was also barefoot. And Anne knew that Sarah was just as naked under her dress as she was.

Sarah was quiet, regarding her rival with steady eyes. She was eager, but she was also relaxed. She felt fit and warmed up.

Anne came into the room and stood a few feet away from the blonde. She noticed the drying streaks on Sarah’s skin, the stains on her dress. She said, “I see you managed to pacify your man.”

Sarah saw the tracks on Anne’s skin. “As you did.”

Anne said, “And when this is over? Will I taste the pleasure of your husband’s favors?”

Sarah said, “It’ll be me who does the tasting, bitch.”

The women started to slowly circle each other. They kept their hands down by their sides, the fingers flexing. They kept their eyes on each other, seeking a clue where the first strike would spring from.

Their bare feet made light skritching noises as they walked and circled. The candles and firelight danced on their skin. Outside the high windows along one wall of the basement, the wind moaned and the sleet made cold, wet splats against the glass.

Their movements brought them along opposite sides of the sofa, near the ends. The walked towards the center of the couch, Anne in back of it. The faced each other over the barrier.

“Do you feel safe over there, baby?” Sarah said, taunting.

“As if I’d feel endangered anywhere around you, slut,” Anne shot back.

“Then come on over, baby,” Sarah hissed.

“Why don’t you make me?” Anne said.

The schoolyard repartee inflamed Sarah. She reached quickly and grabbed the front of Anne’s dress and pulled sharply. The straps broke and the front of the dress fell down and Anne’s round, dark-nippled breasts came into view, the globes beautiful in the firelight. Her husband’s semen tracks could clearly be seen between the tits.

Anne returned the favor. With a backhand swipe of her arm, she pulled the front of Sarah’s dark red dress down, tearing the thin cloth. Sarah’s high, conical, pink-nippled breasts flashed out.

Both women stood there a second, viewing each other. Then Anne leaped over the back of the couch and slammed into the blonde woman. The two petite warriors hit the carpeted floor with a thud, and they flailed away at each other, ripping the rest of their clothing to shreds as they tumbled back and forth on the floor.

When they pulled back from each other to catch their breath, only a few tattered scraps of the expensive dresses remained. Sarah’s sparsely-haired cunt was visible, the lips of her pussy slightly open. She could see Anne’s dark tangle of pubic hair, the labia winking into view now and again.

They got to their feet, naked except for a few strips of cloth. Both women brushed away the remnants of their dresses and stared angrily at each other.

Anne said, “What kind of a woman are you? Are your tits good enough to go against mine?” She thrust her chest out, her round breasts bouncing.

Sarah retorted, “My tits will bend yours flat.” With that, she jumped at Anne and wrapped her arms around the brunette with a bone-crushing bear hug. Sarah’s higher, conical breasts, with nipples as hard as little pebbles, met Anne’s bigger, but softer globes.

Anne gasped as the hard little points of Sarah’s nipples dug into her breast flesh. Her own nipples lengthened in response. She also threw her arms around the blonde woman, and they shuddered, standing upright, fighting for balance. Their naked bodies pressed against each other, and their foreheads leaned hard together. They grimaced as their breasts fought and tangled, raking from side to side to score the tender skin.

Their hips slammed into each other as they struggled for balance. Their pubic hair brushed together as their cunts grew wet and swollen, the clits becoming hot needles of sensation.

Anne felt her feet move too close together. Her stability faltered, and Sarah, sensing advantage, leaned into her. Anne toppled backwards onto the carpet, with Sarah right on top. They hit the floor, and Anne’s legs were driven apart by Sarah’s hips.

Their pussies made slamming contact. Sarah’s inflamed labia smacked into Anne’s vulva, and both women cried out in sudden pain and unexpected animal pleasure. Sarah spread her legs to open her cunt lips and expose the pink tube of her clitoris. She plunged her hips down and felt her clit slide into Anne’s cunt and tangle with the dark-haired woman’s stiff pearl.

Anne felt waves of sensation radiate from her crotch. She knew that she would have a screaming orgasm if this continued, and that must not happen.

Anne grabbed two handfuls of blonde hair and pulled up. Sarah grunted as her head was pulled up, but she continued her frenzied fucking, her eyes shut and mouth open. Anne let go of the hair with one hand, and reached between them, to Sarah’s left breast. Anne felt the firm tit and her fingers found the nipple. She positioned her thumbnail and forefinger and squeezed hard.

Sarah yelped and rolled away from Anne, her hand tenderly cradling the wounded tit. Anne lay there a second, her cunt wide open and leaking female juices, as she caught her breath.

Sarah propped herself up on one arm, still holding onto her breast. She looked at Anne and said, “Goddamn bitch! Fucking cunt!”

Anne got to her knees, hands resting on her thighs. “I am not gonna lose this one, bitch!”

Sarah also rose to her knees, facing her rival. “We’ll see about that.”

Anne said, “Let’s go straight to the sexfight, Beckett. That’s what were here for.”

Sarah nodded. “Cunt-to-cunt it is.”

The two women sat down on the floor and moved forward. Their legs entwined and they pressed their cunts together. They wrapped their arms around each other and pressed themselves firmly against each other. Their breasts merged and they moved their heads to each other’s shoulders. Their faces were expressionless as they shifted position for their best contact.

Their arms and shoulders pulled, and they started to rock together. Their wet cunts slapped into each other, and the fluids started to flow and leak from between their thighs. They muttered obscenities and threats as the slapping of the cunts became faster. Their eyes closed as they fought to make the other woman come and to prevent their own treacherous orgasm.

The staccato beat of their hips increased. Intelligible words disappeared, to be replaced with grunts and moans. Their breasts continued to slip and bump, stiff nipples sending electric jolts of sensation to their brains.

Their heads drew back from the shoulders and they opened their eyes and looked at each other as the cunt battle continued. Their eyes became glazed and their breath was hot and moist.

Sarah’s moan reached a higher pitch and her body started to rock. Her hips lost the rhythm of the sexual combat.

In an erotic haze, Anne saw her advantage and pressed it. She knew she was close herself, but Sarah was closer. She grabbed the sides of Sarah’s face with her hands, and slammed her open mouth onto Sarah’s. Her hot, questing tongue dived into Sarah’s mouth and met Sarah’s thrashing tongue.

Sarah lost it. She let loose of Anne and fell backwards onto the floor, as Anne continued to hump her with furious effort. Anne said, “YES! YES! YES! COME, YOU FUCKING BITCH!”

Sarah came. She screamed a series of high-pitched howls as her body shook with the incredible orgasm. She felt her pelvis and vagina contract in sharp, searing waves of raw lust, and her cunt expelled a hot flow of juice. Her breasts shook, the erect nipples dancing their own erotic celebration.

The spurt of Sarah’s juices into Anne’s cunt was enough to trigger the dark-haired woman’s orgasm. She moaned and fell forwards slowly, her body shuddering as it came into contact with Sarah’s still climaxing body. Anne let loose a long, undulating cry as she came, her own sexual fluids issuing forth from her cunt.

After her breathing subsided, Anne rolled off Sarah and lay flat on her back. She knew it wasn’t over. The battle was always to submission. One of them would have to give up.

For five minutes they lay there. Then Sarah got to her feet, unsteadily. She looked down at Anne, her petite body resting in the sensual firelight. The bitch would pay.

Sarah opened the drawer on an end-table. She reached in and pulled out two paper-wrapped objects. She turned around to see Anne also getting to her feet.

Sarah said, “Round two, whore. Choose your weapon.” Sarah removed the paper and held both objects, one in each hand.

Anne almost laughed. Sarah held two large dildos. Each one was ten inches long and two inches thick, incredibly realistic in color and texture. What made these different were the handles. Each one had a handle like a sword, with a hilt and pommel. The handle was made of stiff plastic.

Anne took one. She slipped her hand around the handle and hefted it. The artificial penis was a heavy, flexible plastic, with detailed veins and tendons. The glans was velvety smooth. She stroked the plastic cock with her other hand. It was so realistic she thought it could ejaculate if she stroked it enough.

Anne looked at Sarah. She was crouched in a fighting position, the sword-dildo held in her right hand. She was swinging it back and forth, her eyes fixed on Anne.

Anne assumed her own fighting position. She bent down a little, her sword-dildo also in her right hand. The small naked women circled each other, sword hand moving in slow dances, as they checked for an opening.

Sarah feinted right. Anne moved her sword-dildo to counter, but Sarah ducked to the left, and thrust forward. Her weapon made a stabbing punch to Anne’s gut. It didn’t really hurt, but it enraged the dark-haired woman. She swung her weapon down, and the plastic dong hit Sarah’s dildo. Anne saw a brief opening and closed.

Sarah was pressed backwards by Anne’s advance. Anne thrust her weapon up. The head of the dildo went home like a guided missile, and Sarah had six inches of plastic dick up her twat.

She grunted and swung her own sword-dildo up. The head slid along Anne’s slick crotch for a second, then found the opening. Sarah snarled, and fucked the weapon home. Now both women had their sword-dildos buried into the other’s cunt. Standing their, they worked the artificial penises up and down and liquid started to ooze around the thick plastic schlongs as they worked the handles, trying to get even more of the outrageous weapons buried in their rival’s vaginas.

Sarah suddenly pulled her weapon out of Anne’s pussy, and grabbed Anne’s sword hand. The wet dildo pulled out of her cunt with a distinct plop as she pulled Anne’s hand out and up. She positioned her feet for good balance and swung Anne around so that the dark-haired woman was against one wall.

The quick movement had surprised Anne. She was taken by surprise as Sarah pushed her against the wall with a strong forearm against her chest. She tried to break the hold with her hands, but Sarah quickly broke her concentration as she drew her arm back and swung it in, impaling Anne’s cunt forcefully with the dildo.

Anne yelled as eight inches of the sword-dildo penetrated her vagina. The tip of the artificial dick pressed against her cervix. Never in her life had she been penetrated so deeply.

Sarah held her forearm against Anne’s chest as she twirled and thrust with the thick plastic penis. She could hear the slurpy noises as Anne’s cunt gripped the weapon and spewed forth more fluid in desperate lubrication.

Anne was seconds away from a devastating orgasm. She reached down with her hands and grabbed onto Sarah’s sword arm. She gripped it tightly and let her feet buckle under her. The weight of her body was suddenly on Sarah’s arm, and she was forced to pull the dildo from Anne’s vagina.

As Anne crumpled to the ground, she saw an opportunity. She thrust upward with her sword-dildo and slipped it into Sarah’s dripping cunt. Sarah screamed in pleasure and rage. Anne thrust upward again. As Sarah tried to dance her way off the dildo, she lost her balance and fell onto her back. The dildo popped out.

Anne was on her like a hawk. She spread Sarah’s legs roughly, and slammed the dildo down into the sparsely-haired, swollen cunt. Keeping her distance, she rapidly fucked her rival with the plastic weapon.

It was now Sarah’s turn to face impending orgasm. With her last bit of will, she kicked out. Her foot hit Anne in the stomach, knocking her backwards.

Sarah got to her knees and made her way rapidly over to Anne. She swung her legs over and sat down on the dark-haired woman’s chest, her cunt resting over Anne’s sternum. She was facing Anne’s feet.

With her legs pinning Anne’s chest down, Sarah spread Anne’s legs wide apart. She held the legs apart with one hand, and raised her weapon high overhead. She brought it down in a perfect swing, and buried it in Anne’s cunt.

Anne gasped. She was able to work her weapon arm free. She looked forward, and saw Sarah’s naked ass resting on her tits. She got her left hand free and pushed forward on the blonde woman’s butt. It wasn’t sufficient to throw her off, but it was enough to expose Sarah’s pussy. Anne stuck the dildo into Sarah’s steaming wet cunt.

The women were in a perverse sixty-nine, working the huge plastic cocks in an out of each other’s vaginas. They started to move their hands faster, with wet squelching noises issuing from the violated cunts. Each woman wore a grimly determined look on her face.

Sarah had the advantage of gravity. She raised her upper body and used both hands to slam the dildo into Anne’s gushing cunt. Anne was starting to cry as she realized that the end was near. She worked her own weapon into Sarah’s pussy, but her strokes had less power as the battle went on.

The blonde woman held onto the handle of the sword-dildo with a strong double-handed grip as she plunged the cock down and twisted it from side to side. She could see the front of Anne’s pelvis bulge outward as she fucked the giant plastic cock into Anne’s sodden cunt. She looked like she was churning butter as she worked the dildo faster and faster.

Anne’s eyes lost focus. The orgasm came out of the night like rolling thunder and took her. She screamed and wept as her body shook. Her cunt was on fire and spewing juice around the pistoning plastic penis. Her hands fell away from her own weapon, and the dildo slipped out of Sarah’s cunt.

Still Sarah fucked her with the dildo. Anne was in continuous orgasm now, her body going from peak to trough to peak, the pure pleasure swinging into pure pain and back again.

Finally, Anne found voice. “Oh, GOD! NO MORE, PLEASE GOD, NO MORE!”

Sarah stopped thrusting. She brought her tired hands up to rest on her hips, as she sat back, her butt still sitting on Anne’s tits. The dildo popped out of Anne’s pussy, and sexual fluids that were dammed up by the plastic cock spewed out in an arcing stream to stain the carpet.

One more thing to do. Sarah turned around and brought her cunt up to Anne’s mouth.

Anne looked up and saw Sarah look down at her. Sarah’s wet pussy clamped around her mouth.

Anne did what she had to do. She licked her rival to a short, sharp orgasm. After Sarah’s victory climax, she smeared her cunt lips over Anne’s face until it was shiny. Anne would taste the sharp and tangy flavor of Sarah’s cunt for a while.

The naked warriors got to their feet. Anne’s head was down. Sarah took her hand and raised Anne’s face up. They looked at each other.

Anne said, “You won. This time.”

Sarah said, “This time.”

The End

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