Showdown at the Saloon by Rival’s Rapture

If there’s one truth in sellin’ liquor to hard workin’ folks, it’s that bartenders with big bosoms mean two things: healthy tips and thirsty patrons. That draw held, even at a recently refurbished saloon, outside of Dallas, Texas.

Where more money than you could shake a stick at was spent to make old new again. And with every nail driven, and coat of paint applied, there was a keen eye paid to makin’ sure the property’s iconically western heritage, mystique, and style, was kept intact.

Yes, it was a risk, spendin’ that kind of money, and devotin’ that kind of time to a project that could buck its rider so easy. But in Texas, you go big, or you go home; and so chances be damned, the project was undertaken. It took a spell longer than most expected, and cost more than the bean counters presumed, but within a year or two, the Waggoner Ranch reopened, under a new name. Rival’s Ranch, they called it. Chosen because double R’s looked good on t-shirts, caps, or some other such marketin’ nonsense.

But regardless of what hung over the door and the entry, within days of the ranch’s re-openin’, and the saloon doors swingin’ wide for the first time in decades, the people came; desperate for a taste of what Texas had been, before these days of modernity, political correctness, and fights about which bathrooms to use.

Those escapees were greeted by a crew of smilin’, warm, and frisky young girls, of many different shapes and sizes. Each of ’em ready to provide drinks to thirsty cowboys, cowgirls, and those just lookin’ for a slice of what they missed about the great State of Texas. But of all those that worked the bar and the customers before it, there was two who made the most money and found the most success. A big-chested brunette named Brie, and an equally endowed blonde named Kylie.

The two buxom, wide-hipped, thick-thighed girls were sweet as a pair of honeysuckles, at least to those they served. Customers who saw ’em as two views of the same sunset. Two billows of smoke from the same fire.

That view brought the same patrons back, time and time again, some decidin’ to share the two tip-hungry servers, and others decidin’ to choose their favorite of the two, either by their own interest, or the girls’. It was that corrallin’ of customers and their tips that led to a spirit of competition between Brie and Kylie.

Now, some competitions are friendly, civil affairs, where those in it let the challenge drive ’em to ride their horse faster, further, and cross that finish line just a little bit faster than they might’a. But, Brie and Kylie did no such thing. Instead, from the first moment they laid eyes on each other, they went silent — cold, fumin’ that they had to share the same air as the other. Each of the two late twenty-somethings bein’ used to the role of top hand, or chest anyway.

That silliness led each of the girls to avoid everythin’ they could with the other. Neither willin’ to work together, speak to each other, or even look at each other. Not unless they had to. Not ‘less they was left no other choice.

But when distance didn’t fix a darn thing, the two Texan girls sought to set themselves even further apart, by showin’ how much of a woman they really were. Each of the pair wearin’ less and less cover when they came to the saloon. Both hopin’ to not only draw more and more of the patrons’ attention and tips, but also, to show the other up.

That sultry war of bare skin, sly winks, and corner-eyed glances continued without a hiccup for months, until one fateful night when the saloon closed. When its entrance was sealed, windows shuttered, and all had gone home for the night but our two ladies of competin’ intentions: Kylie and Brie.

Now it was as rare as a spittin’ ribbit for the two of them to be the last ones on shift together. In fact, before that warm Texas night, it had never happened before. Yes, they had each closed and cleaned the bar with others, but never on the same night, and certainly never with it bein’ just the two of ‘em.

But there they was, each wearin’ the shortest daisy dukes allowed by law, leavin’ their derrière’s a prairie dog’s a blink away from breakin’ free, and their healthy thighs beggin’ for a soft squeeze and a hungry visit.

Above that glory, rested matchin’ short-sleeve plaid button ups, pulled up and knotted just under their ample, and some might say identical e-cup breasts, neither with a bra to keep their girls under control. Outfits they matched with cowgirl boots, Brie’s red and Kylie’s brown.

Dressed like that though they was. Each of the two meanin’ to let their patrons enjoy their deep cleavage, soft tummies, and peach-sweet thighs, at that particular tick of the clock, the bar’s herd was made up of only two.

Now, one might conjure that the two, despite their issues, would try to work together and co-exist. To just make it through the night and to the dawn.

And Brie did, bless her heart. She thought she was hotter than a greased pig on a spittle, yes she did, but she was a sweet girl. Kylie, on the other hand, was what some in Texas call “a bitch”.

And bein’ as she was, just the sight of Brie and her body, and dollars it had stolen from Kylie, made the blonde mad. An anger that had grown like an addiction to whiskey, not just on that day and night, but on every other. Each such passin’ of sun poisoning the blonde’s mind.

In that spell of jealousy, Kylie began to conceive and imagine, hopin’ that one day, she would have Brie alone. And that when she did, she could end her unspoken feud with her brunette rival. Not by raisin’ a white flag, or by extended a hand or branch, lookin’ for some kind of truce. But instead by settlin’ things….

For, you see, behind Kylie’s pretty blue eyes, lurked a sexual confidence earned from years of bein’ the thickest, hottest, juiciest steak on the grill. And that confidence wouldn’t abide some other girl challengin’ her for that title. Not in her social life with nothin’ more than pride on the line, and certainly not here, where every second of that challenge took a few more pennies from her over-tight pockets.

Brie, on the other hand, was soft, kind, and as innocent as she was naive. And though maybe she could have been, she was no alpha, not on the ranch, or in the saloon. That softness didn’t sneak by Kylie’s view neither. In fact, it was exactly that, which made the mold for the blonde’s idea. A confrontation. A Duel, if you will.

A duel that Kylie was certain Brie would back down from, in her mind picturin’ the brunette slidin’ away from her like butter on a pancake. For in Kylie’s mind, Brie just wasn’t woman enough to stand tall and fight back. And when she ran, or in the contrary found herself beaten, as Kylie knew she would, the blonde would give chase, trap the pathetic little brunette, and humiliate her. Runnin’ Brie off the ranch for good, or at least shame her until she’d never dare show off her body in the blonde’s presence again.

On that idea, Kylie found herself roped — seein’ it in her mind, and bitin’ her lip at the image, as she leaned against the bar that night. No longer workin’. No longer cleanin’. Instead just watchin’ Brie, and her body move.

Before that night, each ’em had been so careful not to let the other catch ’em starin’, but with her plan in mind, Kylie let that drift. Wantin’ Brie to see it. Wantin’ her to know that somethin’ was gonna happen. The blonde lookin’ to get inside her rival’s head before she even laid a finger on her.

As so she watched Brie keenly, a ferocious desire to dominate her growin’ in her mind. The sexy thick blonde wantin’ to show the upstart, prissy little brunette exactly how foolish she had been to show skin next to a woman like her.

Out of the corner of her amber-colored eye, Brie watched too. But nervously, as she wiped one counter after another with an innocent, and yet forcibly held smile. She could see Kylie watchin’, and sense that somethin’ had changed, at least on the blonde’s end.

But regardless of that understandin’, when Brie finished her scrubin’, she still turned to walk to the only exit from the bar to the seatin’ area. A trip that would require her to squeeze her own thick frame by and behind Kylie’s.

Like a predator, Kylie stood with a quickly beatin’ heart and racin’ mind, lookin’ down to the bar top that she faced. The look, made it seem as if she was goin’ to let Brie pass behind her without raisin’ a fuss. But it was a trap, a faint, one that went on until the brunette was not but a foot away and movin’ quickly.

When she was, and in the last beats left of the egg, the blonde turned. But not only, for right after, she took a wide step to the left, planted her feet, and then took a stand. A stand not only facin’ Brie, but standin’ between she and her exit.

With no time givin’ for Brie to bring her wagon to stop, the two girls collided like a bull and its dirty rider. And when they did, their Texas-sized breasts came a-callin’ and a-crashin’, so hard that it knocked both cowgirls back and within a lick of down. They keepin’ to stand only by grabbing at each other’s hips and holdin’ on.

“Oh my, girl; I’m so sorry! I didn’t….” Brie began apologetically, as she tried to pull herself away from Kylie.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere, bitch….” Responded Kylie, her arms quickly wrappin’ around the brunette’s waist, and forcefully pullin’ her back in. Then, before the brunette could say a word, or do a single thing, the blonde started shovin’ her breasts into Brie’s, not soft but hard.

Brie’s apple red lips opened, as saw fit to speak in fevered outrage — feelin’s she assumed she’d have. But through those lips came nothin’ more than tiny, soft, grunts of effort, as she on instinct alone, began to push her chest back into the blonde’s.

Why? Echoed in her mind like church bells. What are you doin’ girl? She asked herself, as she and her bar walkin’ rival pressed their half-bared breasts together. But even though she asked. Even though she wondered. Even though she had no idea what had gotten into her, or what she was even doin’, she wanted it.

To beat this girl, who had been such a thorn in her side. To press breasts with her, even if it made no gal darn sense. And every second that pressin’ continued, it felt more and more right. As if this was the way, they were supposed to settle things. As if their feud could only end one way: with this battle behind the bar — if that’s what it even was.

And so there, in the back of that dimly lit bar back, even as they each continued to push their breasts back and forth, Brie looked into Kylie’s blue eyes and asked with a falterin’ innocence. “What’re ya doin’, Kylie?”

“What’re YOU doin’, Brie…?” Kylie fired back, as her eyes locked with Brie’s, a cute little grunt comin’ from her lips as a period.

“Tryin’ to get ya off me!” Despite the strength with which the words were delivered, each of the girls knew they were lyin’ — hidin’. For the battle between the two bartendress had already kicked off. Their duel of chests had already been agreed to, at the very moment our sexy brunette pushed back.

“You want me off of you…? Quit the saloon!” Kylie demanded, as she moved her thick left leg forward and between Brie’s. The blonde’s hope bein’ that by eliminatin’ just a little more space between, and by brinhin’ her own thigh within’ a rabbit’s whisker of Brie’s womanhood, she could scare her rival off. The blonde bein’ sure that if she could make their impromptu square-off just a smidge more intense and a pinch more intimate, the innocent brunette would turn tale and run — or at least try to.

“Oh. No. WAY! I love this ranch, this saloon, and the people here, K; you know that!” Not willin’ to be pushed out, back, or outdone, Brie made her own move by liftin’ her right leg, and extendin’ it between Kylie’s. A move she made, though in truth, she didn’t have the slightest idea why or what use it bein’ there would be.

Flustered by Brie’s willingness to not only stay, but to push in her chips, Kylie fired back with a flared temper. “When we’re done here, you won’t have the guts to show your pretty face or tits around here again!”

“I don’t even … know … what we’re doin’….” Confused though she was about why and what, Brie understood, at least a little of what they was doin’. They were testin’ each other’s breasts — each other’s bodies. Usin’ ’em like weapons, as they each pressed their pairs into each other. And though Brie was soft and sweet, she wouldn’t let herself be pushed around. Not by Kylie’s tits, or any other girl’s. And so she leaned in, not only to hold her ground, but to take her rival’s.

“Oh yes … you do, Miss Priss…. This is my tits versus yours … until you fuckin’ give … admit mine are better … and agree to quit your fuckin’ job here!” As the blonde kept talkin’, with pauses of effort sprinkled in like cheddar on grits, she began to shift her breasts left, right, and then back, in their tight, pressin’ embrace.

Brie, growin’ more engaged and even angry by the second,
began to reciprocate, rubbin’ her tits back, not even givin’ it
a second thought. She, at that moment, willin’ to follow
Kylie anywhere, as long as it meant beatin’ her. “Well …
aren’t you just the rudest thing…” The amber-hued
brunette muttered in half-outrage, as she let herself go.

She, an innocent young bartendress lettin’ go of her inhibitions and instead just committin’. Just givin’ in to her own desire — her own need to knock her rival down a peg. Somethin’ she did by reachin’ her hands out and grabbin’ the back of Kylie’s elbows, pullin’ her rival in. Keepin’ her there, so that their breasts and bodies could settle it.

A duel at the drinkhole.

A showdown at the saloon.

“That’s right, Brie…. No more bumps behind the bar, no more glares, no more ignoring each other — this ends tonight!” Surprised by Brie’s unexpected fire though she was, Kylie still wore a wicked little smirk. She gettin’ and sinkin’ into the fight she had picked, with the only girl at the saloon who posed a challenge.

But just as Kylie’s lips curved, Brie’s did too. Yeah, she had never done anythin’ like what they were doin’ before, or even thought about it. Pressin’ and rubbin’ breasts with another girl. But still Brie — still both of ‘em let their extended legs brush against the other’s cutoff-jean-covered lady bits.

Why? How would it settle things between ‘em? How do ya even win that kinda fight? Brie didn’t know. She couldn’t answer. But she didn’t care.

It felt right.

It felt good.

A feelin’ that got stronger with every passin’ second, and then hopped like a frog as Brie’s own excitement pushed her to speak. “We ain’t provin’ nothin till we take off these tops….”

Every word she spoke sent its own little chill up Brie’s spine. Each makin’ her feel strong, confident, and even, despite the way the whole confrontation started, in control.

“What did you just say?!” Kylie said in a gasp, as she lit up like a Junebug, and pushed Brie away from her.

“I said….” Brie began, sensin’ Kylie fear. “…If we’re gonna be testin’ our tits….” A fear which she guessed came from her own confidence. A confidence that kept growin’, as she finished. “We need to take our tops off….”

It was wrong. Not right at all. Brie was supposed to be a precious little flower. She was supposed to be easy pickins, without a sexy or tough bone in her body. But with every moment that passed, she seemed to be gettin’ more and more confident. And though that sense made Kylie pause, she then answered fast — she tryin’ to act more sure than she was.

“You take yours off!” It sounded strong, as Kylie said it, standin’ a few feet from Brie.

“Oh, I will, darlin.” Came the brunette’s reply. One that came just a puddle-skip before she moved her hands to the knot of her midriff barin’ shirt, and began to untie. Her eyes goin’ long like a sunset, as she glared at Kylie. Almost darin’ her to do the same.

A dare the blonde wanted to accept fast and do quick, but as she watched Brie’s breasts come free, not a bra worn to collect ’em, she froze. Her eyes caught like they’d been lasso’d by the brunette’s bust. A sight that led the same to comment. “Mmm, honey doll, why don’t ya give up now, before I embarrass ya.”

Hushed and hissed though the words of her rival were, Kylie bristled at ’em. She breakin’ free of her spell, only to bring her breasts that same freedom a moment later, as she too reached and untied. Barin’ her own braless tits. Her own top then fallin’ to the floor, just as Brie tossed her’s to the end of the bar.

Had she been given the time, Brie too might have froze. Lettin’ her eyes gaze at the sight of her rival’s Texas-sized tits, but instead Kyle charged. The blonde feelin’ as if she had to retake control of the their bar-back battle. A control she tried to seize as her own body slammed into Brie’s, knockin’ her back.

“Owe!” Brie cried, as her eyes widened and hands moved to her own tits.

“Too hard for you, bitch?” Kylie said as her head tilted and lips curled into a pleased smirk.

“No, I jus’ didn’t think you wanted t’play that wa–” As the brunette went to reply, Kylie charged again. Her tits once more slammin’ into Brie’s, that time with a large splat sound that echoed through the bar like it would in a canyon.

And though the first time, Brie was knocked back, when Kylie’s charge came again, the brunette grabbed. And then, at the feelin’, the blonde returned the favor. Each of the two busty bartendresses wrappin’ tight around each other with their arms, even as they began to spin like a twister and stumble like one of their patrons.

A clumsy tumble they took, as their nude breasts met for the first time. Those bosoms slappin’ together and then pressin’ like flapjacks on a griddle. They together only comin’ to a halt, just before the end of the bar, as their booted feet caught on wood planks. There, no longer movin’ faster than they could think, Brie and Kylie stepped into each other hard.

Their foreheads fixed. The tips of their noses brushin’. Their eyes, Kylie’s blue and Brie’s brown, locked together in looks so hot you could melt mud. Each of ‘em on equal footin’. Neither the hunted, both the huntress.

“You’re out of your league, Brie….” Kylie warned, wantin’ to shove her rival back down into the timidness she had once shown.

“Oh, I think I just found mah league, K.” Came the brunette’s parry, as each of their pressin’ pairs began to flatten more and more.

“Don’t you feel my breasts beatin’ yours…?” Asked the blonde with a devilish excitement, as she leaned in and lifted to her tiptoes to put as much pressure on Brie’s tits as she could.

As Kylie raised up, Brie dug in, bracin’ for the pressure the blonde brought down on her. The brunette steppin’ back and away, just far enough to make Kylie imbalanced, before givin’ her retort. “I don’t feel nothin’ of the sort.”

An imbalance which led to Kylie’s tits comin’ down on top of Brie’s, as the blonde fell from her tiptoes. Only to slide down, and then under, as the brunette seized up once again.

“Mmm, I can’t even see yours anymore, hun.” The brown-eyed bartendress mused in a mockingly soft voice.

“Shut up!” Kylie shouted, mad as the Dickens, even as she struggled to drag her tits up from under her rival’s.

“Oh don’t be mad. You were never gonna win this anywaaayyy.” The word drug, lingered like a Texan heatwave. And as it did, Kylie continued to strain — squirmin’ like a varmint in a bag. And every second that she did, Brie’s eyes began to light with a bigger fire than before.

“Whose tits are gettin’ beatin’? Huh, K…?” The brunette asked as she squeezed even tighter. A tightenin’ that forced the blonde to groan in pain, frustration, and effort (even if it didn’t mean much).

“Fuck you!” Hissed the blonde, as her proud breasts were kept trapped beneath her rival’s.

“You’re the ooooonnnneeee, who wanted this, bit–Mmmmmnnnnppphhh” Brie reminded cruelly, before tryin’ to use her first curse of their fight.

A curse which was cut off, as completely without expectation of as much, Brie found palms pressed to her cheeks, her head pulled forward, and the blonde’s lips pressed to her own. Lips parted by a tongue, one pair after another, as Kylie sought to lock her rival deep in a kiss.

At the shock of it, Brie retreated. The brunette losin’ all focus on her lasso of Kylie and the suppression of her tits. But even as she stepped back, and leaned away, Kylie followed her. The blonde pressin’ her rival’s back into the lip of the bar sink behind her. Never lettin’ their lips separate, or Brie to pull back. The blue-eyed bartendress pressin’ her body into her rival’s, even when that rival’s reaction to the kiss sang a song of confusion and retreat.

But don’t get the tale twisted, Brie wasn’t adverse to kissin’ — even kissin’ girls — especially a girl as lovely as Kylie. But they were each other’s competition. Each other’s rival. And in that contest, at least Brie figured, each other’s opponent. So why would they kiss?

Even as the question rang through her head like the dingin’ of a dinner bell, she felt it — all of it.

Her own nipples sittin’ as hard as rocks in a boot in the center of her breasts.

Kylie’s doin’ just the same, with both sets stabbin’.

The tongue inside her own mouth, without direction even bein’ given, meetin’ Kylie’s halfway.

“Mmmmnnnn–what’re ya–mmmnnn-doin?” Brie asked, even in their kiss, she stuck in a state of confusion like mud, just like she was when all this began.

“Distractin’ you….” Kylie said between river-deep inhales and breath-robbin’ kisses. Her voice busy and short, as she couldn’t waste a second on speakin’ before gettin’ back to her work. To her kiss. To her tongue and Brie’s dancin’ in the wet heat of their mouths.

And though there it was, as clear as a summer day, Kylie’s venomous intentions, Brie still couldn’t fight it — resist it. Even with her rival tellin’ her exactly what she was doin’, as she pulled back from their kiss for only a spell, the brunette could still only melt in that kiss. She cedin’ the tiniest, bouncin’ whimpers, as her breasts and the blonde’s flattened against each other.

There, as she bent back against the bar’s sink, her hands pressed on the same, she was lost in her rival’s distractin’ kiss. Ruinous to her focus though the blonde’s lips and tongue were, things then got even worse.

As Kylie’s hands moved from the brunette’s cheeks down, until like a man’s, they pulled strong at the brown-eyed bartendress’ cutoff jeans. Tearin’ ’em open and then rippin’ ’em down. The blonde using her own right foot to pull those bogttoms away when they hit the bar floor.

“Bitch….” Brie muttered into their kiss, as she tried to find the strength to fight the current of lust that carried her.

“Mmmmm, you like this, don’t you…?” As Kylie asked the question, her left hand slid under the band of Brie’s panties. Then over a shaved hill, and then deep into the valley below. A valley wet like a river, in which the blonde’s fingers caught on the only stone. A soft one, that made Brie gasp and quiver, even in their unbroken kiss.

And though Brie was already breakin’, the blue-eyed vixen doin’ the it wanted more. She being greedy for more than just control of her rival — she wantin’ to beat her tit-to-tit, no matter what she had to do.

With that pullin’ her wagon, Kylie kept workin’, usin’ her right hand to reach for somethin’. To grab at somethin’. And then, when it was properly arranged, to pull that somethin’ tight. The blonde’s lips, tongue, and strokin’ fingers keepin’ her brunette rival distracted as the discarded short-sleeve plaid button up of the same cinched tight around her own wrists.

It was only then, as Brie’s hands were pulled in from wide on the counter, to bein’ tied together behind her back, that Kylie ended their kiss and retracted her fingers. “Got you now, cunt.”

“Huh…? What the…? Hey! That ain’t fair!” Brie protested as she drug herself from her lusty, kiss-and-finger-fueled stupor.

“Awww, don’t be like that, Brie. I’ll kiss you again….” Kylie taunted, as she pulled back, and smiled brightly. “But right now….” The blonde continued, as she reached up and with her formerly Brie-deep finger. A finger she then wiped across the brunette’s cheek, leavin’ a trail of juices as it traveled from left to right.

Without waitin’ for Kylie to finish her thought, and while wearin’ an angry scowl, Brie tried to pull her hands free from the blonde’s makeshift tie. But try as she might, she just couldn’t. And when she realized that, she finally turned back to her rival, and asked. “Now what, you little cheater…?”

“Now….” Kylie answered, just as she shoved her body forward, slammin’ her breasts into Brie’s. The blonde’s pair comin’ down with a loud, echoin’ slap. One that made the brunette yelp, and the blue-eyed bartendress smirk.

A smirk Kylie wore as she repeated the chest-first lunge once more, and then again. Each of the landin’s of flesh against flesh makin’ the brunette’s breasts ache. Despite that pain though, and her hands bein’ tied behind her back, Brie still fought back. She too lungin’, away from the sink, and back into Kylie. Or at least she tried.

“Would you stop?” Kylie asked, as she used her own, un-tied hands to reach out, and stop her rival’s lunge. The palms and fing ers of ‘em grabbin’ at Brie’s Texas-sized tits, and squeezin’, even as they brought the brunette to a fruitless stop.

“Owe, biiitttchh! I thought ya wanted t’ know whose breasts were better?” Brie whinnied like a foal, as she tried to withdraw from Kylie’s cruel, squeezin’ hands.

“Uh, no. I want to get rid of you. So….” The blonde set her last word adrift, just before she reached out again, not for Brie’s breasts but for her shoulders. Kylie then usin’ her grips on ‘em to pull the brunette forward, and directly into another hard breast to breast collision. One controlled completely by the blonde, who made sure her own tits landed with full force and momentum, while Brie’s came to the meetin’ with none.

“OOWWEE!!! Let me g-OWWE!” Again and again pulled Kylie, each strong like she was draggin’ cattle through a river. And each time she did, at least at first, Brie complained.

Then, with each complaint, Kylie taunted. “Hush.” “Shut up.” “Mmm, you feel that?” “Just give in, Brie.”

Spoke to each other — at each other, though they did, with each of Kylie’s slam, eventually the two fillies got quiet. The sounds of their large breasts slappin’ together the only sound that could be heard in the newly renovated, dark-wood saloon.

Sounds which slowed, as Kylie began to smear her tits against Brie’s, like jam on toast, after every meetin’ of the two.

A smearin’ that grew longer, slower, and more tightly applied, as moments moved by. Until finally, Kylie stopped pullin’ back all together, and instead just remained. Wrappin’ her arms around the brunette, and just draggin’ her tits. The blonde knowin’, at the very moment Brie’s head leaned forward and came to a gentile rest on her shoulder, that she had the lead she needed.

All she had to do was punish. All she had to do was grind breast against breast with the hussy that stole her tips, until she gave in. Until she quit, both their little competition and the bar.

A submission that was comin’, Kylie was sure of it. ‘Cause she could hear it. Brie whimperin’ softly as their seemingly honey-glued breasts shifted left and then right. Right and then left.

Sounds that grew worse as suddenly, the blonde pulled back and then slammed herself forward again. Smashin’ Brie’s lower back into the sink lip again, but worst of all, their breasts together once more.

All as Brie’s hands hands remained tied behind her back.

All as Kylie hissed. “You give, bitch…?”

Not with words, did Brie’s respond. No, for instead she just thrust her own chest forward and into Kylie’s. Doin’ so, even from her trapped place there against the sink. Even without leverage of any kind.

Despite the feebleness of it, that answer — that sudden shove of breasts, still made Kylie madder than a wet hen headin’ for the cuttin’ board. And so she pulled back, and slammed again.

Not once.

Not twice.

But three times, oh my.

Each such press of the blonde’s body against her rival earnin’ a quick yelp and then a lingerin’ whimper. The last one soundin’ so desperate, so soft and without fire, that Kylie asked again. “Do. You. Give. Bitch?”

Again, no words came, but this time, nor did a shove. Instead, as Brie’s head came down again softly on Kylie’s shoulder, her rival’s answer came in the form of kisses. Soft. Delicate little things. Each seemingly like an angel’s plea in itself.

“Don’t hurt me anymore.” Is how Kylie read ‘em, though no such words had been spoken.

“I’ll do anythin’ you say.” Is how the blonde chose to take ‘em, even if Brie had still not given out loud.

With that in her mind, Kylie accepted her rival’s unsaid surrender. “Mmmm, I hope you don’t think I’m going to go all soft, just because you’re being sweet…”

The warnin’, cruel as it was, didn’t stop Brie’s lips from peckin’ — from movin’, slow as molasses, across Kylie’s neck. A neck which bent, as the blonde went to give her brunette rival more range to graze.

“I knew you was nothin’ but trash. Weak-titted, lesbian trash.” They was harsh, bitin’ words that came as Kylie closed her eyes, and just began to enjoy her rival’s newly earned affection. The blonde at that moment confident that she had always been right. And that Brie was what she always thought she was. Weak. Even if her body was strong.

“Weeeaakkk….” Those thoughts about Brie turned into words, and leaked from the blonde’s pretty little mouth like oil from the ground, just before she moaned. “Uuunnnngggghhhh.”

Still, even with all ’em words and sounds comin’ from Kylie, Brie didn’t speak. Didn’t stop. Her lips just keepin’ on keepin’ on. Kissin’ down to Kylie’s chest, until the brunette could head south no more.

“Mmmnnn, yes, worship my fuckin’ tits, Brie. The tits that beat you.” The blonde said in a moan. Her eyes still closed as she pulled her body back from her rival, givin’ her room to keep goin’.

And Brie did just that, lettin’ her kisses march and meander down. From neck to chest, then chest to breast. It was a surrender, full and complete. Kylie was sure of it, no less than when the dawn was comin’ in a Texas summer.

And like that dawn — that summer, the blonde basked in it. Lettin’ Brie’s mouth move to her rock hard nipple and take it. Let the tongue of the same flick at it and lap.

“Mmmmnnn, that’s a good girl.” Kylie mused as she staggered backward and bumped against the opposite side of the bar, nearly knockin’ over the beer bottles that rested there.

Stumble though she did, and off balance as the blonde was, Brie kept lovin’. Kept pleasin’. Even as Kylie’s left hand moved from the brunette’s body to her hair, and laced in.

As those paws moved, and as Kylie reached a particular peak, the blonde moaned, and shook, so bad it seemed like she might fall over. The whole moment affectin’ her.

The mood of the dimly, but still beautifully lit bar. The excitement of her clash with Brie, after so long spent without talkin’. And then victory, as far as Kylie saw it. Her busty rival willingly worshipin’ the blonde’s gorgeous tits. Kissin’ em. Lickin’ em. The bested brunette seekin’ just a hint of mercy from her big-chested better. All of it makin’ Kylie almost dizzy. Hell, more than dizzy, she feelin’ as if any moment she’d wish she had a faintin’ couch nearby.

Seein’ that that fate comin’, Kylie pushed off from the counter on which she leaned, tightened her left-handed grip on Brie’s hair, and then began to drag. Pullin’ the broken little brunette with her, as she walked to down the bar’s length and onto the saloon’s floor.

Once there, and with Brie bent over with hands still behind her back, Kylie used her right hand to grab the back of a chair, deftly spin it ‘round, and then sat herself down in it. “Alright, bitch. You want to please me…? And earn the right to stay here under my thumb…? I’ll give you a chance….”

As Kylie spoke, and after she pulled Brie down to her knees, the blonde moved her free right hand down, and her thumb under the waist of her cutoff jeans and panties. Then, with that digit, she pushed, shimmied, and scooted, until those bottoms pulled down and then fell to her ankles. The blonde bartendress barin’ her sexy lower half for her rival, just as she, with a swift kick, got rid of the barely-there fabric that had covered her.

“You show me you’re willin’ to do whatever I say, when I say it, and I’ll let you stay. But I get half your tips. AND(!), whenever I’m feelin’ needy, you do what you’re about to do….” Kylie paused, as she tugged Brie not only towards her, but face-first between her own spread legs. “…what I KNOW you want to do….”

Kylie hadn’t said the words “eat me” out loud, but Brie knew. Knew the cost she was bein’ asked to pay. Not just in their battle of breasts, but from that moment on. Total submission, both in a sexual way and every other.

It was a barter that seemed to make Brie pause and fidget, as she sat there on her knees. Her head pulled forward, from her sittin’ rival’s last tug. “Come on. You don’t want to make me mad. ‘Cause your face is going to end up between these thighs, whether you do it now and keep your job, or after you resist me, and I sit on your pretty little face.”

Kissin’ her lips, her shoulder, and her breasts, was all fine with Brie. And if we’re speakin’ gospel, the brunette would have no qualms with findin’ herself buried between her rival’s legs, if it was her own choice. She findin’ the blonde hotter than a spittle, and their likeness to one another even more inticin’.

But this would be somethin’ else entirely. This would be a sign. A permanent brand. That though they looked alike, in body and build, they was different. That Kylie was better. Better in a way that made Brie resist, at least for a moment — at least for a second or two before somethin’ seemed to click.

When it did, whatever it was, Brie began to lean in, closer and closer. Her mouth openin’, as she slowly began to disappear into the small, damp space between Kylie’s Texas-sized thighs. And as the brunette approached, the blonde above her began to smile as her eyes closed, her left hand’s grip on hair letting loose. “That’s right, Brie. Show me how obedient you can be.”

Kylie was more than ready. To feel it. To have it. Brie’s submission. It was comin’, all Kylie had to do was wait for it. To wait for the brunette’s tongue to extend and then snake into her sexy, excitement-wet lips.

But when it didn’t come. When it took just a second or two too long, Kylie’s eyes shot open. She wantin’ to see what had happened to her rival’s imminent application of tongue to clit.

But when those eyes opened, all the blonde saw was a blur. A beige blur, as Brie suddenly leapt up and then upon her chair-positioned rival. The brunette’s thick legs liftin’ up before comin’ down in a plop on Kylie’s bare thighs.

At the sight and the sensation Kylie tried to fight, confused as she could be about how the brunette had gotten her hands untied. But before she could set her mind to that mystery, the blonde moved her arms and hands out, lookin’ to grab, to push, to repel her suddenly resurgent bar-mate.

But as those arms lifted, the brunette caught ’em at the wrists. Each of the two girls then fightin’ to overpower one another. Kylie to escape, and Brie to subue. A slow battle of attrition then startin’, one that seemed to have no winner, or even a leader, as Brie leaned her large breasts against those of Kylie. Each of the two thick servers groanin’, and whimperin’ in exertion, as they fought without words.

Brie pushin’ with all her might, lookin’ to drive the blonde’s arms down, and behind the back of the chair — her intent apart from that unclear. All while Kylie tried to push her arms, and in the process Brie’s, up, to find enough leverage to shove the brunette off of her and the chair.

Struggle though they did, one heavy upper-body pressed against another, for what seemed like minutes, eventually, due to the leverage Brie had, Kylie began to wear down. Her arms beginnin’ to shake, and shortly thereafter, lower. The blonde unable to keep up her fiery resistance, even though she feared what losin’ even that small battle meant.

A fear that only grew stronger as she noticed. The sensation of fabric on her left wrist. A fabric Brie must be holdin’. The shirt! The one she had been tied up on! No! No! No! Kylie panicked without speakin’.

Panic though she did, it was too late, for as the blonde’s arms lowered, and as Brie leaned, the latter wrapped. Then tied. Securin’ Kylie’s hands firmly behind the back of the chair, with that same plaid shirt. The one that had rendered the brunette almost helpless, through so much of their battle.

“CHEATER!” Kylie shouted, enraged, her face as red the boys of the Crimson Tide.

“Mmmm hmmm.” Brie responded, as she leaned forward and pressed her breasts into Kylie’s face. Buryin’ her, canyon-deep in fleshy dunes most would kill to get between.

“MmNnnnnNMMNMMNhhhmmnm” Kylie whined — Kylie screamed. But to Brie, it all came out as a mumble. One that made her smile, as she lifted a hand to Kylie pretty blonde hair and tugged. Not for long, but quickly. Cruelly. Just wantin’ to see what it would do to the girl who had tied her up, and battered her breasts without mercy.

Pull though she did, even a couple more times, the brunette then reared back, and looked into the face of her rival. A face centered with a gaspin’ mouth, and topped with glarin’ eyes.

“BITCH! LET ME G-!” Again, Kylie’s words disappeared, but this time, into a palm and not a breast. As Brie’s hand moved from hair to face, and pressed down over the blonde’s red-lipped mouth.

“Now, as I recall, sugar plum, the way this all started, was a tests of breasts.” Brie’s voice was soft and sweet, but somehow cruel. She knowin’, that she had Kylie tied up, and helpless. “So, why don’t we….”

“MMMNNNNNGGGGGHHHH!!!!” Again Kylie screamed, but this time it came from pain and not anger, as Brie grabbed with her free hand and twisted. Pryin’ Kylie’s left nipple hard. First to the left, and then to the right.

An attack she shifted to the blonde’s right nipple, before returnin’ back to the left. The brunette tryin’ to even the score, and catch up with all the damage that had done to her own breasts, when she was pinned against the sink.

Fair play though it was, Kylie still cursed and bit — screamed and yelled into Brie’s pressin’ palm. All as she struggled to pull her own hands free. To unbind ‘em through wiggle and work.

And though she tried, as best she could, she just couldn’t get it done. A fact Brie commented on, as she continued to twist at her rival’s nipples. “My daddy taught me to tie knots good, K. It’s best to just save your strength.”

Soft though the guidance seemed, it came with pain, as the brunette continued to soften up the blonde’s once dominant breasts. Her fingers catchin’ and squeezin’ at Kylie’s still-hard centers. Squeezin’ and then pullin’ hard, left, right, and then forward. Each such movement comin’ with tug enough to make the fleshy ends of Kylie’s breast tent, as they found themselves pulled away from the sexiest fat you can imagine.

An eternity though such one-sided torture felt like it lasted, eventually it stopped, and when it did, Brie removed her palm. Lettin’ Kylie not only breathe but curse, angrily. “You fuckin’, bitch! I’m gonna get outta this, and when I do I’m gon-OOMPH!”

Mid-threat, it happened. A sudden slam. The sudden impact of Brie’s bare breasts against Kylie’s. One that came not just with the blonde’s soundin’ out of pressure, but with a clap sound, as heavy flesh came together.

A collision, which like a trigger, brought Kylie back to the game. Their original game. Their original competition. Breast against breast. Body against body. To settle things with a showdown at the saloon.

Equal though each girl was in they size, with her arms tied, Kylie could only try. Only shift her beautiful bosom, from side to side, all while Brie could pull back, and drive herself forward. An inequity which continued for one slam, and then two. Two and then four. Four and then eight.

Every such collision causin’ a loud clap, and then a mutual groan from the warrin’ bartendresses. They continuin’ to fight, even though their breasts stung, and nipples ached. Even though they had begun to sweat, there in the Texas heat. The AC havin’ shut off, when the last customer left.

Battle thought hey did, Brie had the advantage. She bein’ unbound, and on top of her rival. Her own breasts layin’ on top of and crashin’ down on the blonde’s wounded breasts with every impact.

Until finally, when Brie felt she had evened the score, and equaled the damage done by Kylie’s knot-aided assault, Brie reached. Brie took. And Brie untied, Kylie’s hands. Evenin’ the playin’ field, once again.

“No more cheatin’” Brie offered, as she lifted her heavy thighs off of Kylie’s and with ’em, pushed herself into a stand.

And though Kylie could have used the distance then created to rest and recover, if only for a minute, she followed her rival. Keepin’ their bodies and breasts pressed together, as she replied in a half-irritated, half-lust-distracted: “Shut up….”

And shut up Brie did, as each of the two, in silence, wrapped their arms around each other’s back, and pressed. They pullin’ each other close, and holdin’ on. Compressin’ their chests between ’em, as they stumbled together.

In that stagger, their eyes locked together, not in a angry stare but in a study. Each lookin’ to find any hint of weakness or sign of increased pain.

If I shift like this, does it hurt her? They asked themselves.

If I drive my nipple a little deeper, will she howl? Will she whimper? They looked to find out.

But as they asked, they found. Not only that they could hurt, but that they was hurtin’, but that the moment for offense had ended, and all they had left was defense. That all they could do is endure.

That’s when their eyes broke apart, and their heads came down on each other’s shoulders for a soft rest. They focusin’ all their energies on shiftin’ their breasts, at first left and then right. They together findin’ a rhythm in which their mighty pairs drug in opposite directions. All as they held onto each other, sweat pouring down their boot-wearin’ bodies.

And as they held, they whimpered and whined quietly for each other, as they looked to be dancin’ together. Slowly, softly, and for minutes on end. Until finally, the closeness of it. The intimacy of their painful embrace drew ’em to tilt their heads, and bend their necks up just a smidge.

So that their lips hovered and breaths were shared. Each lettin’ those lips and breaths move closer and closer, as their desire to engage their rival in a kiss grew.

They could just do it. Just press their lips together and let their tongues play once again. This time, not as a trick but because they wanted it. Each of ’em. So intensely that they could feel themselves shakin’. Quiverin’ in each other’s grasp.

But just as they each almost gave in, Brie loosened her grip on Kylie, pulled herself back, and then slammed herself forward, drivin’ her breasts into the blonde’s. Pull away and slam forward though she did, she never let her lips move away from Kylie’s, each pair still lingerin’ so very close they could taste it.

In that closeness and at the impact, the bartendresses’ lungs compressed. And with as much, they each exhaled and then gasped together. The jitter of it causin’ their lips to brush, and then lose contact. A happenin’ that occurred once again, as not Brie, but Kylie pulled back and then slammed herself forward. The blonde copyin’ the brunette’s sudden shift in tactics.

But with Kylie’s copied assault, their desperate lips not only met, but caught. Neither of the two warrin’ westerners able to resist their urges for another second, despite their worry. Despite their fears.

What did the kiss mean? Why did it call to ’em like a mother callin’ her children home for supper? Were they still goin’ to figh– Even as they asked those questions to themselves silently, their answer came. As Brie reared back, and came again, causin’ their gently pressin’ and puckered lips to part, only to reunite as the brunette returned.

In that reunion, soft as it was, their tongues searched and parted — found and then touched. But only for the briefest of moments, before Kylie readied herself and then slammed, just as each of ‘em had before. A cycle that that occured again and again, with their lips and tongues meetin’, only to be pulled apart again as their battle of batterin’ breasts continued.

On every comin’ they gasped and every goin’ they whimpered. The two Texas girls leanin’ into each other just to stand, as each found ’emselves worn down by fatigue, and wet with a quickly buildin’ sweat.

In that state of exhaustion and desire — perspiration and desperation, they together slowly rocked. Their back-and-forth slams slowin’, and then disappearin’ entirely, as they found ’emselves without the strength to do more than hold on to each other and press. Hold on to each other and kiss.

Until even that was too much, for one. As Kylie, without warnin’ or grace, collapsed. Not into Brie’s arms, but back from their slow, lip-to-lip waltz of attrition, and into the chair, which as luck would have it, found itself behind the fallin’ blonde again.

Sturdy though it was, as Kylie landed, the chair rocked back, and then after a precarious lean, fell. With the blonde remainin’ and layin’ atop it, her breasts achin’ and chest heavin’ for air.

She was done — finished in every way a southern girl could be. Her body broken. Her mind ravaged by pain and pleasure — anger and desire. Even though Kylie was, Brie wasn’t.

No, as instead, the brunette, after takin’ a moment to breathe and collect herself, moved her hands to her still-worn but wet panties and with a finger or two pushed down. She, the victorious Brie, as she stepped around the bottom of the upturned chair and Kylie’s propped up legs, slidin’ her dainty fabric off, ready to take what was her’s.

“Well, well, well, Kylie, it looks like my breasts were better after all….” As she spoke, and as the blonde with tear-filled eyes looked up, the brunette took one last step. A wide one that put one of each of her boots on either side of the blonde’s head.

“Now, you can keep your job and your precious tips. But what I want…” Before sayin’ it or demandin’ it in syllables and sentences, Brie came down in a squat. Lettin’ her wet and swollen sex linger just an inch above her rival’s mouth. “…is for you to give me the thought you put in my mind.”

It had never occurred to her, before Kylie said it. Before she spoke of it like it were just part of ropin’ — part of steerin’. The winner gets the other’s tongue. Their services.

And yet, foreign though the idea was to sweet little Brie, she wanted it. Kylie to eat her. To lick her. For the girl who had caused her pain and promised to run her out of the saloon, to submit in the most intimate of ways.

Kylie, for her own part, had been so close to victory. She had full control of Brie, regardless of the tactics she used to get there, and yet still, there she was. Layin’ on that damn chair back, with Brie’s kitty floatin’ just above. Humiliatin’ and frustratin’ though it was, she was willin’.

Not because she had softened somewhere on the path, but because the battle was a gamble. A chance to get rid of her competition. And though she had failed, Brie was lettin’ her off the hook. She didn’t have to quit. Didn’t have to share tips. All she had to do was….

“Come on, girl. Get to lickin’!” Brie proded, desperate to have her rival’s tongue buried between her lower lips.

And at the prodin’, Kylie reached up, pressed her palms to Brie’s sexy-thick and position spread ass cheeks, and then leaned her head up. Then as the blonde’s tongue split her own lips, and entered brunette’s, the latter gasped and shuddered. She, almost immediately fallin’ to a single knee, just to bear the glory of the sensation.

“Mmmm, YES!” Brie blurted out, as her eyes closed, and her right hand moved down to grab gently at Kylie’s splayed hair.

Gentle though Brie’s takin’ of hair was, Kylie lashed. Nibbled. And attacked Brie’s sex. Not to hurt it, but to lavish it with all the stimulation it had earned. The blonde bettin’ that if she could give Brie the orgasm she so clearly wanted, she wouldn’t go back on her agreement to let Kylie stay and keep those dollars she earned.

“OOOoooOOohh GooooOoOoDDDd, please….. Don’t stoopppp.” Brie begged, as she fell to a full kneel above Kylie’s face. Sign though it was, that Brie was already movin’ towards orgasm, Kylie didn’t let up. In fact she just increased her tongue’s pace, drivin’ it in and out of Brie’s wet-walled canal.

“Ohh, ohh, ohh, SHIT!!” The brunette began to sputter as waves of pleasure built within her. The blonde beneath her, even as she laid uncomfortably on the back of her upturned chair, movin’ faster and faster, even as her agap jaw began to ache, and her workin’ tongue to burn.

“I’m so close…. I’m so close….” Continued Brie, then in a whisper, she speakin’ to Kylie not as a bested enemy, but like a lover — the brunette not havin’ any frame of reference for how to treat a woman she just defeated in a battle of bodies and breasts.

Kylie’s work was almost finished, and yet wantin’ to capitalize on the moment, and at least in her own mind seize back some control, she brought in a hand. One she brought from cheek to crevice then down. Not just down, but in, pushin’ it gently into Brie’s forbidden darkstar, only a chick’s hiccup before the brunette came.

She buckin’ like a wild bronco bein’ broke, as she screamed. “YYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEeEEeEEEeESssssSsSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FUuuuUUCcCkKkKkk!!!!!”

Words that shot from the brunette’s lips like works on the fourth of July, just as she collapsed forward and off of her rival. Each of the two just layin’ there, in the aftermath of their destruction for what seemed like an hour, though it was somethin’ less.

Less though it was, as they raised they wobbled, and as they stood they shook. Troubles that persisted as they made their way ‘round the saloon in silence, gatherin’ up their clothes and gettin’ themselves dressed once again.

In fact, for a moment, Kylie thought, that even after all they had just put each other through, that it would end without word. That they each would leave without speakin’, stange as it would be.

With that expectation, and the shock that would come of it, Kylie moved to the door of the saloon to leave. A trip that would take her by Brie, who was still pullin’ her shirt on over her head.

But, just as the blonde passed however, the brunette reached out, grabbed Kylie’s wrists, and then shoved against the wooden wall next to the exit. Brie then pushed her body into her rival’s, her eyes fixed in a heated glare, and spoke. “You ain’t leavin’ here till you tell me, bitch….”

“Uh, tell you what…?” Kylie asked, her eyes speakin’ loudly of her confusion.

“Whose breasts are better, K? Mine or yours?” With every word spoken, Brie seemed to be becomin’ a different person. Harder. Crueler. Meaner. So much so though that Kylie found herself speechless, only able to respond with a bewildered exhale.

“Say it!” The victorious brunette demanded, as she leaned in hard, pressin’ her breasts into the blonde’s hard.

“Owe, bitch! You won! Just let me go!” Kylie cried out, not wantin’ to have to say the words, especially with how exceptional her cunnilingus was.

Despite the blonde’s complainin’ Brie pulled back, without lettin’ go of her defeated rival’s wrists, and then slammed her breasts forward into those of the same.

“SAY IT!!!” The brunette shouted, as she pressed her forehead against Kylie’s, her eyes borin’ holes in the blonde’s soul.

“Ok, ok, fine! Your breasts are better than mine! Owe! Stop i–” The very moment the words were said, Brie leaned in and pressed her lips against the blonde’s. Kissin’ her roughly. Harshly. As if she owned her.

At first, the blonde fought to escape the kiss and the brunette’s lingerin’ press. She tryin’ to push Brie off of her, leavin’ them once again matching strength-for-strength, though in their parity, Kylie just couldn’t break free. And as her efforts failed, and as Brie kept her pinned, Kylie gave in. Even kissin’ Brie back, though with less fire, if not less passion.

Then suddenly, it all ended. As the brunette pulled back, both from press and kiss. She lettin’ her angry scowl and forceful glare soften back into an unassumin’ smile. One that she gave just before offerin’, “thanks, sugah. See you tomorrow night.”

Words she spoke before winkin’ and leavin’ the half-terrified blonde flattened against the wall, as the victor of the showdown in the saloon pressed past her and then out into the heat of the Texas night.

As she left, Kylie found herself alone with her fear about what their next encounter might entail, and a most unwelcome realization.

“Shit!” She exclaimed. The bar still had to be cleaned….

The End.

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