“Spontaneous Combustion” has been one of the most complex stories I have written in my life: a long history, full of clashes between the two beautiful protagonists but with many chapters where thoughts and feelings of the girls have been key players instead the violence. My fascination with the mentality of the unexpected warriors, in this regard, has been more than satisfied.
Before you, my dear readers, you have almost 400 pages of feminine rivalry between two of the most incredible women about which I have written. I hope you enjoy the trip.
Book I — Friction
“Fire can be created through friction by rapidly grinding pieces of solid burnable material against each other. Successfully creating fire by friction involves skill, fitness, knowledge, and acceptable environmental conditions.”
1. Secret Enmity — Tuesday, December 20
New Hall Lane, 10:49
That morning, rain fell smoothly on the city, but the streets boiled with movement. Under their umbrella, people did their Christmas shopping with some stress; just few days left for the holidays, and always something to buy.
Madame, the modest lingerie store of the avenue, was crowded; Melissa Carter, her owner, was attending as fast as she could to the twenty men who had decided that a nice bra or a sexy panties could be the ideal gift for their girls—and, why not to say, to themselves. Alone in the store, Melissa began to think seriously about contracting somebody to help her in the business; however, an overwhelming hour later, the local was empty, except for a couple of clients.
‘I’m learning the hard way,’ Melissa was thinking about what she would wait for the following days. However, she could not help but smile at how well the business was going. ‘Just took four months and my store has already made their way into the city. Great prices and exquisite service, as my mother taught me.’
Her thought was not lying, but not telling the whole truth: the reputation of Madame was not only for her competitive prices; the breathtaking Melissa’s beauty was worth to consider, especially noting that, even though the store was oriented exclusively to women, much of their customers were men. It was no secret that many men came to Madame to fool around with her in a suggestive environment dominated by the most daring lingerie.
Really, it was difficult to blame them: Melissa’s green eyes and fleshy lips invoked to desire, while her smooth and soft skin demanded caresses. Few men were unable to resist throwing one long glance to her firm chest; the women, however, couldn’t avoid envying their round buttocks.
However, Melissa was more than a pretty face and a perfect body, because she distilled charisma all around. With a beautiful and easy smile, she exhibited with naturalness an attractive femininity that many confused with flirting. Friendly and helpful, nobody, absolutely nobody, could conceive that her heart would be able to accommodate any feeling other than love, friendship and kindness.
However, the warm Melissa hid a secret in that respect; a secret related to Natasha Reilly, the hot Darkness’ disco go-go dancer. Both had met just a day after the Madame’s opening, when the dancer came into the store to buy new lingerie for her shows. Neither that first time, or subsequently, Natasha had said nor done anything that Melissa could be considered aggressive but, however, there was something in her attitude which exasperated her emotions as no one had done before; somehow, it was as if her mere physical presence was sufficient to provoke her, to threaten her.
These feelings were new to her, and completely illogical. Never in all her life, Melissa had sensed something like that; she was the good girl, the faithful friend, the one that everyone appreciates for her intelligence and charisma. But in the presence of Natasha, everything seemed turned upside down.
The appearance of the dancer in Madame that rainy morning was no different: as every time she was there, Melissa’s soul vibrated; her body tensed, hypersensitive. At that time, there was only one man in the store, so she tried to focus on him and not on the girl. However, Natasha’s movements attracted her attention and, inevitably, also the man’s attention. A little jealous bile soured Melissa’s throat, as if the other woman was also waking up her sin of vanity.
Green eyes followed the girl, watching the sway of her hips beneath her jeans, the wobble of her heavy chest under the tank top, until the distracted man also managed to turn away his view of the beautiful go-go dancer to approach Melissa.
“Hi, I’d like to take these stockings.”
“Sure,” she smiled. Not really understand her reaction, she arched her back to push forward her chest. The man flushed and, with little dissimulation, took a quick glance over her tits before lowering her face in shame. Melissa felt good, not knowing where it came from her new attitude.
Shortly after, the man walked out the door; the dancer, however, went to the box.
Melissa’s heart pounded a mile a minute as the girl left on the counter a couple of bras and some really small panties. As always, the silence, tense and heavy, rounded to the girls, but a look over bras made Melissa to break it.
“Yes, lately they have grown,” Natasha replied with that cool and controlled voice that Melissa, without knowing why, felt so offensive.
“Mine too,” she remarked abruptly, slightly blushing. She didn’t understand such sincerity, but somehow the watchful eyes of the other woman were pushing her. “Luckily, I have a whole store to replenish my lingerie.”
She tried to smile, and Natasha returned the feint. At times like that, Melissa felt her feelings—whatever she feels for the dancer—were mutual.
“I’m glad,” Natasha clamored lamely. The beauties’ glances stood at the other for a few seconds, with Melissa rechecking what she had learned with surprise the first day: what they were really similar. Green eyes, generous mouth, smooth skin, long manes—Melissa’s brunette hair against Natasha’s blonde hair. No one could mistake their faces despite the similarities, but certainly they had the same virtues.
“It’s something wrong?” Natasha asked, glacial.
“You tell me.” Melissa was surprised herself again. She wasn’t that kind of woman; at least, she wasn’t when the dancer wasn’t present. But she had kept her gaze too long over the other girl, and now the dancer reproached him, even when hypocritically she had been doing the same.
“I don’t know…yet,” Natasha replied enigmatically. Melissa, feeling on the defensive, ended up looking away to collect lingerie as soon as possible; so, the blonde would leave her business.
Two minutes later, Natasha disappeared through the door; Melissa sighed in relief, but continued tense all morning.
Deepdale Street, 23:31
‘She feels the same towards me, I’m sure,’ thought Natasha in her dressing room. She finished makeup, and tried to focus on her next dance, but since the visit to Madame that morning, she couldn’t think of something other than Melissa. ‘She has to feel the same,’ she insisted, perhaps to feel better, perhaps to not feel mad. ‘She’s cold, and watches me as if she judges me.’ Closing her eyes, she began to count to ten to relax, but someone knocked on the door before reaching to six.
“Natasha, sweetheart, it’s your turn.”
Growling, she left the dressing room. As an automaton, she was towards the cage where she would dance that night. With her still scattered thinking, was elevated over the maddened crowd, swaying her beautiful body in front of hundreds of eager and jealous eyes.
Then, at that altar to hot flesh that was the cage, where Natasha felt desired, a black thought crossed her mind.
‘Am I jealous of her?’ she mused, admitting that Melissa wasn’t the only one who analyzed at each other every time they met at the lingerie store. ‘Are we both jealous?’ she thought, with the striking saleswoman monopolizing her mind. Natasha visualized Melissa’s body, knowing how similar it was to her own figure: same height, same build, same curves. They shared swollen breasts, a narrow waist, stony buttocks, female legs. For the go-go dancer was very complicated to say which breasts were bigger, which hips were wider, which legs were longer.
‘We are too similar,’ she cursed, thinking that maybe that was the origin of everything. Natasha had always been a lovely, sympathetic girl, unable to have hard feelings with anyone, but somehow she believed that physical closeness between both and the distant Melissa’s attitude had created incoherence in her character that could hardly be corrected now.
Turning around, the dancer shook her perfect ass to the public; a roar exploded under her, but her mind still was untangling problems. For months, she and Melissa seemed to have been immersed in a kind of subliminal competition about their bodies; certainly the brunette had made more than one comment about her measurements—that same morning, without going any further—as if she cared the size of her virtues. But she had to admit that on more than one occasion she had dropped some other questions about the lingerie that Melissa used to wear—of course, to investigate what were her measurements.
‘I should be more direct,’ she said to herself, knowing that she couldn’t do that without creating more problems. If her full of suspicions mind burned with dismay at every slight nod or at every simple glance from Melissa…what would happen if she added more fuel to the fire of doubt bringing up such primary issues? But at the same time, Natasha knew that this same fire was devouring her from within, little by little, without that inaction could turn it off, or even reduce it.
Suppressing these tormented thoughts from her head, Natasha finally focused on dancing. The public passion fueled her newfound ego; for a few minutes, Melissa disappeared from her head.
2. The Explosion — Friday, December 23
Natasha Reilly’s Apartment
Dove Street, 21:24
The dark blue one-piece dress slid down past the shoulders. The fabric, extremely thin for winter, immediately grasped the firm breasts, holding them like a desperate lover. With a pull, Natasha managed to bring the dress on her hips; few more pulls, and the tight fabric stuck to her curves perfectly. But the blonde was still not satisfied: pulling the front of the dress down, she managed to show a little more of her striking neckline.
‘You look amazing,’ she told herself, proudly, looking in the mirror reflection. Picking her panties on the bed, she put them between her long toned legs, freshly shaven in the shower. She pulled her panties up to her hips, squeezing them between her hard buttocks before turning and sees the result. ‘Yeah, perfect,’ she concluded, noting the roundness of her ass. Like a second skin, the dark blue dress hugged every curve of her body.
‘I’m almost ready for the party.’ With a smile, Natasha approached her makeup table, thinking how lucky she was to have a Friday night off. ‘I bet my fans will miss me,’ she mused with uncharacteristic vanity. ‘Oh, it’s all because of that Melissa! Since she showed up here…’
Unable to finish her thoughts, the blonde pursed her full lips and applied a creamy pink lipstick. However, once summoned the image of the brunette, she couldn’t banish Melissa from her head.
Klaus Lindermann’s Mansion
In the outskirts, 21:24
Melissa was moving through the party, chatting and joking with the guests, but appearances were deceiving: she wasn’t enjoying. Only the warm discharges of alcohol across her throat seemed to calm her nerves.
It had all begun when she saw the Natasha’s golden mane waving in the middle of the main room. From the very moment in which she had been invited by Klaus to his big Friday party, Melissa had some doubts about whether the popular go-go dancer would appear at the party. But one thing was suppose it and quite another to experience it; the blonde had come to the mansion with a stunning dark blue dress, showing a scandalous body above her heels. Melissa was unable to keep from being overwhelmed by envy. All doubts about her relationship with Natasha were solidified immediately in this new and destructive feeling that burned intensely under her belly.
‘Is that the reality?’ she asked herself, unable to hear the man who at that moment was talking to her. ‘What I feel for her…it’s just jealousy?’
Uncomfortable, Melissa excused herself, needing more alcohol in the blood. Slightly dizzy, she moved between faceless faces, formless voices, frightened at the revelation of her feelings. ‘Jealous, for the first time in my life…and precisely from that woman.’ Reaching a punch bowl, she poured herself a drink, with her trembling hand spilling liquid on the table.
Then she noticed her presence. Turning her beautiful face, Melissa faced Natasha’s glance across the room, and the rest of the world just disappeared. The blonde kept her eyes on her, with the same coolness with which she did at Madame. Melissa rubbed together her teeth, hypnotized into that far facing; seconds later, without looking away, she swallowed her drink in one gulp, and the burn of alcohol accelerated her heart, activating a kind of sixth sense inside her. She sensed something else in the glacial go-go dancer’s gaze: a light flame, almost imperceptible, but growing.
‘She’s jealous,’ she suddenly understood. ‘She’s jealous too!’ she howled inside her head, just as the Natasha’s eyes threw a quick glance over her body from top to bottom. ‘She’s jealous of me!’ she cried out as the blonde disappeared from her sight, through the kitchen door.
A surge of pride ran through her, changing the tide of her feelings: abandoning the traumatic pessimism, she felt a new courage feeling about her relationship with Natasha. Again aware of her potential, she felt the weight of all eyes on her. ‘I’m a real beauty,’ she admitted with arrogance. ‘I’m a fantastic woman, in every way, and a cheap disco dancer can’t match that.’
The admiration of men around was mixed with women’s envy, creating an aura of feminine power around her figure. At last, Melissa accepted it: her fears would be defeated only when she will face them.
“Here I go,” she whispered to herself, filling her glass again and heading for the kitchen. Her body swayed with vigor, displaying an implacable and perfect figure below a tight and silky red dress. Her firm buttocks oscillated smugly from one side to another, while her large breasts were shaken above the risky neckline as weapons of mass destruction. She had never felt so feminine, so woman.
As she had wished, the kitchen was empty. Resting her perfect ass against the countertop, Natasha took a small sip from her glass, wetting her full dry lips.
‘Will she come?’ she wondered, visualizing the brunette who had been her obsession, but who now simply overwhelmed her. After almost half an hour at the party, the dancer had barely bear the presence of Melissa, so perfect, so striking. She certainly hadn’t expected to find her here, at the party of her good friend Klaus.
Far from being able to enjoy the company and the drink, Natasha had moved to and fro through the party, ruminating with anger on the unexpected Melissa’s appearance, raging for that tight and short dress, for that toned and curvy body. It had taken many drinks, but she had finally accepted her envy; fortunately, the equally green eyes of the brunette had spoken the same language, comforting her ego.
Then the other girl came through the door, pausing for a moment on the threshold as if she had not imagined that she would be waiting for her. ‘I’m sure she believed she would catch me off guard,’ she rejoiced mentally, knowing that Melissa had fallen into their trap.
“Well, well,” the blonde’s voice sounded mocking; her mouth twisted into a drunken smile. “If she is the fabulous Melissa, the owner of the best lingerie store in town.”
The brunette’s gesture said it all: her heart must have stopped at that moment. However, the sarcasm of her words seemed to push her.
“I see you finally dare to leave the main room,” Melissa let out, walking into the kitchen with resolute steps. “I was afraid you hid all night in the crowd.”
Natasha’s tongue licked slowly, dirtily, her lips; the flavor of the carmine sweetened her mouth with her own sensuality, emboldening her.
“Hiding? From whom, may I ask?” she said, following closely the movements of the brunette. Melissa looked like a spider, a hunter waiting for her moment; a person so different from the cold, quiet woman she knew from the lingerie shop, that Natasha doubted it was the same girl.
“From me,” Melissa spat directly, placing beside her. Synchronized, the two beauties took a sip of punch, staring at each other.
“From you? You’re the one who follows me around the party like an obsessed insane,” the dancer replied. In closeness, she returned to glimpse the similarities between the two beautifully made-up faces; it filled her being with hard attacks of painful excitement.
Suddenly, as if the Natasha’s insult was a spring, the girls seemed to be aware of what they were doing. Their cheeks flushed slightly, their eyes quivered; turning their heads in opposite directions, they were kept side by side, resting on the countertop, at less than one meter from the other. They drank a bit more, trying to calm down, trying to understand why, suddenly, they were acting so differently to their kind, modest natures.
For a few minutes, they thought about it, while some guests were coming in and out of the kitchen. Surprised by the unexpected presence of two beauties of such caliber, none knew what really happened; the women looked toward opposite sides, trying not to draw too much attention.
Finally, they were alone again. Melissa looked at the bottom of her cup, but she still didn’t understand herself; however, at that moment, with the punch swinging in her hand, she realized that it didn’t matter: she was facing the demons that had haunted her for four months, and that was all she wanted.
“Me? Follow you?” The conversation continued like it had been interrupted only a few seconds, not minutes. The brunette turned her face back towards the blonde, to meet the tense rival’s gaze. “On the contrary, you have not ceased to stalking me all night, just like you do when you come to my store. You’re the obsessed insane.”
Melissa’s voice hung in the air, while she waited for the go-go dancer’s answer. The two women kept their green eyes fixed on the other with an intensity that they had never shown before. The alcohol starting to affect them, to liberate them, but certainly there was much more than that.
“If I go to your store, it’s because I need cheap lingerie for my shows. If I look for quality, of course I don’t go wherever you are,” Natasha’s indirect accelerated Melissa’s pulsations; never in her life had she been involved in a conversation like that, but her mind was able to follow the hidden dialogue among words to return every shot.
“No wonder that a woman like you look for cheap lingerie for her cheap show,” she growled. “Every woman must accept what she is, right?”
As if she had activated a spring in her opponent, Melissa saw how Natasha pulled herself away from the countertop to take a dangerous step toward her. Invaded her personal space, the brunette took the challenge with her own step, leaving both beauties face to face in the, for now, lonely kitchen.
“You’re right,” the blonde replied. “I’ve accepted that I’m the woman for whom all men melt at Darkness, and you’ve accepted that you’re the little girl that sells cheap lingerie at that woman.”
Melissa felt she was beginning to find it hard to keep control of her body, especially now that the slights began to be more direct, now that the spectacular Natasha’s body threatened her in close proximity. However, she managed to control her emotions at the last moment.
“I could have your job when I wanted, and I would do much better than you. Just think about tonight, and how much more attention than you I have gotten.”
Then, smiles appeared on their beautiful faces, but they didn’t shine: the smiles were false, ironic; the kind of smile that would exhibit when a woman stabbed her foe.
“More attention?” For Natasha, the discussion was getting much more energizing all the alcohol she had taken that night. She felt free, nervous, angry and rash, all at once. “Maybe you’ve got some fans with this short dress, but I assure you that no one, here or in your store, would choose you over me.”
“I knew that every time you walked into Madame, you tried to attract all the attention over you,” Melissa exclaimed, standing proudly in front of the blonde. “It’s true that when you appeared, some guy looked at your direction, but I’m sorry to say that it was because the door bell,” she smiled mockingly. “Once past the newness, all eyes came back to me.”
Natasha shook her mane, unable to believe how much arrogance was in Melissa. Shaking her glass, she finished her drink in one gulp; with a stroke, she left it on the countertop with an intentionally dramatic gesture.
“Don’t make me laugh. If I walk into a site and it happens that you’re there, be sure that no one will look at you until I’m gone.”
“You’re a…” The brunette’s anger was cut off by the arrival of a girl to the kitchen. The go-go dancer cursed having lost the opportunity to hear Melissa give up to rage. She had wanted to overcome her in the increasingly tense discussion, driving her crazy, pushing her beyond her limits; but once accomplished, a stupid girl had stolen her moment of glory.
“Hi,” said the newcomer, visibly drunken; perhaps that is why she hadn’t noticed the obvious and enormous tension in the atmosphere of the kitchen. “Where’s the ice?”
Irritated by the interruption, Melissa growled. Abruptly, she finished with the content of her glass, dropping it in the sink before bending over the blonde and bringing her painted full lips against the right ear of her rival.
“Why don’t you and I look for some privacy to finish this discussion?” The whisper was delivered with an aura of controlled fury and feminine anxiety, in such proximity that Melissa could feel the dancer’s blond hair bristled as her breath flowed into her ear.
Without awaiting a reply, the brunette walked away with quick steps over her heels; angry, she couldn’t help giving a little push to the third woman, almost knocking her down.
“Hey, bitch!” she heard her complain; for a moment, she wished that those words had emerged from the beautiful Natasha’s mouth.
Stopping at the entrance to the kitchen to look back, Melissa locked eyes with the dancer, daring her to follow. For a moment, the sight of the blonde—an impressive woman’s specimen—made that the logical part of her mind wondered what she was doing. However, it was enough to see the body of Natasha, embraced by that incredible dark blue dress, to realize that she must keep pushing until she could solve the biggest problem of her life, once and for all.
The blonde’s eyes flashed with anger when she finally began to move, causing that the brunette’s heart leap under her chest. Taking a deep, nervous breath, Melissa turned away, knowing that her enemy was behind her…
Klaus Lindermann’s mansion was large, with three floors and many rooms. But Melissa had problems finding an empty room for both: behind every door, a passionate couple released the heat of passion and spirit. But when the brunette looked in the last bedroom on the top floor, the fate gave her the privacy they needed, far away from the party, far away from prying eyes.
Entering into the room, the first thing she did was light the two lamps on night stands around the bed; she didn’t want to draw too much attention with the main light, so she thought it appropriate to face Natasha under cover of darkness, because of the secret nature of the confrontation. Behind her, the blonde closed the door and then, as if she read Melissa’s mind, opened the curtains to let the full moon adds its own glare to the encounter.
In silence, the two most beautiful girls in the party—and in town—faced in the middle of the room, for the first time openly looking each other up and down. Even with her heels, they were equally high; their dresses were so short and so tight that both could compare their bodies like they never did before, which did nothing but hurt them mutually.
‘Damn this girl,’ thought Natasha, desperately examining the brunette. ‘This damn copycat has a great body… but not like mine.’ On the other hand, Melissa’s thoughts were identical, an explosive mixture of envy and arrogance. Honestly, both felt nervous about the other physical, to the point of feeling inhibited despite having incredibly perfect figures. That feeling of insecurity always came accompanied by a competitive emotion, full of jealousy and hatred, with which they have never before been faced.
Still in silence, blonde and brunette continued to examine each other for several minutes, although time lost its meaning. Their hidden geniuses began to redden their skins with rage at what they saw, at what they felt, and their bodies were shaking more and more. They perceived that the other woman’s gaze abused them, something they wouldn’t allow; of course, they weren’t going to let her enemy come out of that room as the best female.
“I hope that we have come here for more than just look at each other, Melissa,” the blonde finally break the silence, tired of the deadlock, eager for action. In her own voice, she recognized an unknown arrogance, but also nerves.
“Oh, we’re going to do more than just look at each other, Natasha, but also much more than just talk.” Despite her bravery, the words of the brunette were also charged with concern. Undoubtedly, things were becoming too real for both beauties, but it was hard for them to stop when they went downhill without brakes.
“Oh, yeah?” Letting her body to take control, the dancer threw herself against Melissa’s face, almost impaling her nose to nose. Below, the firm breasts rose and fell passionately in their daring cleavages, almost touching each other. “Since you’re so brave, why don’t you tell me exactly what is going to happen when time of words runs out?”
“It’s obvious what is going to happen.” The owner of Madame approached her almost imperceptibly, although when the distances were so short, even a couple of inches seem miles. “It’s going to happen what you’ve wanted since the first day.”
“I’m not the only one who wanted this. I’m not the only who was looking for it.” Natasha felt that was beginning to lose control; every word, every gesture from Melissa got under her skin. “Go ahead, tell me what you want…then, we can start.”
“No, you tell me…You can start something now…or you just can take your pathetic ass out this bedroom and run as the coward you are.”
“I’m here, right in front of you. Are you woman enough to do what you have to do?”
The thick lips curled in disdain and, for the first time in their lives, the beauties hated with complete abandon. The other female had awakened in them a woman who didn’t know, but who had always been there, hibernating until the time when they needed them most. Now, a mansion full of people didn’t seem dangerous: in the darkened room, only they two existed.
“I’m gonna kick your ass, bitch,” the brunette savored the b-word, knowing that the former Melissa had just died. The insult that she had never even thought tasted like ecstasy, but also like danger.
“That will never happen, bitch,” the blonde fought back, enjoying the challenge as her rival. Somehow, she understood that these were the terms that both had to be used the day they met; they could have saved months of paranoia.
The enemies took the first step on the road to total war. Without knowing who began, their proud and
similarly proportionate breasts touched each other through their cleavages; both gritted their teeth to prevent gasping, but a snort escaped from their hot mouths when both feel the weight of the other girl.
“You’re an arrogant slut, a boastful tramp who doesn’t know what her place.” Spitting such venom, Natasha felt her heart quicken; she wondered if Melissa could feel it through their compressed tits.
“And you’re a cheap hooker who thinks that being a fucking go-go dancer entitle you to wear a queen’s crown.” Angry, the brunette felt the warmth of the blonde’s breasts against hers. They were soft in the first layer, but extremely solid when she tried to push them back.
With adrenaline and excitement pumping hard through their bodies, Melissa and Natasha leaned a little further, looking for more closeness between their angry faces but mostly, though none of them would recognize, looking for a more intense contact between their tits. Fiercely proud of them, they had compared their boobs for months. Brunette’s chest had grown a bit in recent weeks, but thanks to the recent purchase of bras, she knew the blonde probably could have matched her new size. Now, however, it was the moment of truth, where the cups and sizes were secondary to the measures that really mattered: volume, weight and firmness.
The rivalry between boobs soon poisoned the rest of their bodies and their own minds. Their hands balled into fists, ready to hit; the muscles of their beautiful shaved legs tensed with anticipation; eyes narrowed with hatred, mouths snarled and grimaces became hard. The desire to destroy that similar beauty flooded their psyches, pushing them to resolve their differences there and now.
But for some reason, the two managed to stop at the last moment, as if somehow wanted to have the satisfaction of being provocative, not provoked.
“Come on, blonde. Do you want to start?”
“Here and now? Do you game, brunette?”
The insanely hot girls exchanged defiant gazes at close range, while an awkward, tense silence hung around them. Following the sensation of her compressed chest, Natasha took a quick glance down at her cleavage, matched with Melissa’s. Something pulsed in her crotch, but the feeling passed into the background when she saw how the brunette’s fists were shaking. Her biceps and forearms flexed, announcing a contained desire.
‘When this gets violent, they will hear us and separate us…but I don’t care anymore…’
“You’ve wanted this for a long time, do you?” she tried to instigate her, again meeting her eyes. “It must have been painful to see me appear in your store, take all the attention and not being able to do to me what you wanted so much, right?”
“You came looking for it, babe, but I never fell into your provocations because I was dominating the situation.” Melissa’s breathing grew heavier and heavier, and the rhythm of her heart also went wild, but somehow she managed to keep her voice controlled and threatening. “You came with your jealousy, and you were leaving with them multiplied by a thousand. Am I wrong?”
At that moment, the rest of the room eventually disappeared from their senses. Their ears heard only their own heartbeats and the warm blood flowed through veins and arteries, but not a single note of music or a voice outside the discussion.
“Tell me, being obsessed with me, did you ever come to see me perform in Darkness?” the go-go dancer asked suddenly, with confident air. “Each night, dancing, I felt a lot of envy directed towards my body. It’s possible that one of those jealous prudes was you.”
“I would never waste my time that way.” Although she was telling the truth, more than once she had seriously considered going to the disco. “Also, I wouldn’t steal all the attention on your territory and leave you without a job.”
Then, the bellies touched under the silky fabrics. While they were arguing about their bodies more and more, the bodies most desired to discuss between them. Immediately, their generous thighs joined the party, and the contact between bare skins detonated several nerves scattered around the beautiful female figures. The slow fire that had been simmering in their eyes burst into flames of hatred, and none could avoid bringing their foreheads together to almost complete a full body to body contact.
“I’m better than you,” Natasha grunted, clearly about to lose her temper. “Let your ugly little head understand that; the sooner the better.”
“I’m better than you,” Melissa snorted, with her will to the limit. “I’ve always been, and I always will be.”
“I’m hotter than you,” the blonde sentenced, addressing the main issue. Her lips, just a few millimeters from the antagonist’s mouth, trembled with anger as their fiery breath flowed between the two girls. “You can try to copy me all you want, but you’ll never have my sex appeal.”
“I’m hotter than you,” the brunette insisted, stealing again Natasha’s words. The underlying sexual element was increasingly taking the reins of the meeting, with the mutual animosity now focusing almost exclusively on their twin figures. “You’re a cheap copy that is messing with a body that cannot handle.”
Both pressed their boobs even closer together, feeling that they couldn’t hold the murderous cravings for much longer. The other tits’ firmness was infuriating, but the identical compression was even more. They visualized the first attacks, with they going for the other silky mane; later, they would punch the other sides. Of course, they would shout, so they would have to achieve a dominant position for when people open the door and discover them fighting each other; knowing the importance of this psychological advantage when they were separate, the two knew they would intertwine her long legs for tripping each other, to tear down and mount her rival before the end.
“Come on, bitch,” they challenged one another in unison, looking forward to the match. They felt how the other tits tightened just before their fingers opened, ready for gripping, for punching…
Unfortunately for both beauties, the door snapped, opening suddenly. Melissa and Natasha, acting with an unexpected defensive sense, separated awkwardly, frightened, while two women appeared in the doorway.
“Oh, sorry,” the first girl said. “We didn’t know that this room was already taken.”
“Yeah, it’s hard to find a free one”, the second woman smiled. Less shy that her partner, she looked up and down to the two beauties. “But we can always share…just four of us…”
Wiping a drop of sweat from her forehead, Natasha looked at the lesbian with grudge, hating her to believe that she and Melissa were there to fuck.
“No, the room is all yours,” she spat, walking away abruptly.
“You weren’t interrupting anything.” Not knowing why she was apologizing, the brunette went after the blonde, slamming the door shut.
In the hallway, Melissa saw Natasha walked away with hurried steps, without looking back. But instead of following her, she stood there, alone, paralyzed, confused by all that had happened. The alcohol suddenly left her body, and her legs trembled, almost knocking her to knees.
‘What the fuck happened? What we were going to do?’ she asked herself, trying in vain to rebuild her emotions. Unable to bear the sudden sickness, Melissa decided to leave the party by the back door.
3. A Poisoned Eve — Saturday, December 24
Melissa Carter’s Apartment
Alston Street, 9:47
The breakfast was tasteless because of the nerves. That morning, Melissa had decided not to open Madame; on Christmas Eve, she knew it wasn’t a good decision, but her head was put into more personal, more painful issues. Over and over she recalled the events of the previous night, when she acted like a bully for the first time in her life. Her insecurities about Natasha had pushed her too far, destroying her empathic and charismatic personality.
However, in some way, a part of her didn’t want to go back. After months suffering that relationship with the dancer in silence, the events of the party had been a welcome change: as if someone had opened a window in a room with stale air. Spit all the poison that had been accumulating in her mind had been therapeutic, so Melissa knew she wouldn’t contaminate her interior like that again.
Leaving the breakfast, the brunette approached the bathroom with increasingly confident steps. There, she looked in the mirror, watching her body with pride. Before go to sleep, she hadn’t changed clothes, so her amazing red dress still hugged her curves. Her subconscious had taken the decision last night, wanting to keep the smell of all that terrifying but energizing experience: the scent of the sweat, the fragrance of her hair and her perfume mixed with Natasha’s perfume.
Now, however, she had to leave all this behind and prepare herself for what was to come. With parsimony, Melissa dropped the dress from her body, undressing front in of the mirror. The vision of the curvaceous figure pleased her, filling her with confidence. Under the sweaty bra, her boobs stood dense, consistent; below, the thong could barely contain her swollen sex, with dark trimmed hair and thick lips. Melissa felt bigger than ever, as if the awakening of her new and arrogant personality had enlarged their attributes, as if the rivalry with Natasha had pushed her body to prepare for future tests.
Biting her fleshy lower lip, the brunette raised both hands; she pinched her stiff nipples through the bra, remembering the previous night’s clash of breasts. She remembered every sensation, every instinct, every glance; recapitulated each thrust, every adjustment, every grunt. For some weird reason, slight but burning palpitations massaged her pussy, as if the meeting with the go-go dancer had been more than a simple confrontation before violence.
‘I should look for her,’ she said herself, finally taking off her bra. Her nipples, brown and thick, hardened on contact with air. ‘I should look for her and finish what we started.’
Planning her next step, Melissa discovered her sex, throwing aside her thong as she stepped into the shower. The first hot water’s jet barely calmed her, making her gasp under her dark thoughts…
Bird Bookstore Cafe
New Hall Lane, 11:58
Natasha thanked the unexpected ray of sun that came through the window beside which she sat that winter morning. Taking a comforting sip of coffee, the blonde looked around: the popular bookstore coffee shop was unusually empty, or so it seemed; it was also true that feeling of loneliness was normal, given the structure of the business, with full of books shelves creating a maze full of private corners, with small tables for two scattered here and there.
‘Here is an oasis of peace, in the middle of the city,’ Natasha thought. She liked the place, so she wondered why she didn’t visit it more often: a place to read and drink coffee at the same time. However, looking through the window, the Madame’s neon sign answered her. ‘Her store is right opposite. It could never be a place of peace…’
In fact, the lingerie business was the real reason for the dancer was there. After a night of violent dreams and sweaty sheets, Natasha had made the decision to go to Madame…although she didn’t know exactly why. She just knew that she had to face Melissa again, whatever happened after. Thus, find the store closed was disappointing.
‘Have I scared her?’ she wondered for the umpteenth time, ordering a second coffee. The warmth of the drink calmed her dark thoughts; thoughts of violence and destruction, always related to the tense meeting of last night.
Then something altered the atmosphere. Following her feminine instincts, Natasha turned her head toward the entrance. She localized the perturbation, and her green eyes opened wide: fifteen feet away was Melissa. As if she could feel her too, the brunette immediately brought her eyes to her.
‘Fucking awesome!’ the blonde growled mentally, realizing that her opponent was as surprised as she was. However, the moment’s hesitation lasted only a few seconds: their eyes narrowed, assimilating the new opportunity of confrontation that lay before both beauties.
Still standing in the doorway, Melissa could hardly believe her luck. Leaving home, she had wandered through the city’s streets without a defined course, without really knowing how to locate her nemesis. She had crossed a few times ahead of Darkness, where the dancer worked at night, but it was obviously closed. She had been in the main park of the neighborhood, and in a couple of popular clothing stores. She had moved to and fro, without a clue of the blonde girl, to finish ahead of Madame.
Then she had cursed her decision: she should have opened the store. The business could have been like honey to the bee queen that Natasha thought she was and, once her rival was attracted to Madame, she would have closed the store—and everything would have been settled between them.
Embittered by her mistake, Melissa had approached to Bird looking for a coffee that calm down her frustration, but the place had been hiding the greatest treasure: Natasha.
‘There she is!’ she almost murmured, fixed her eyes on the other woman. Taking air once, twice, she remembered what she had been looking for, and she moved towards her destiny. Her heart was beating louder and louder as she advanced towards her, closing the distance between their rivals bodies; Natasha stiffened in her chair and, after what seemed an eternity, the brunette sat opposite her.
Facing in the small table, both felt the approaching confrontation in the tense winter air. The inevitable war of words would be all that they could play in that public place; insufficient, but it would have to suffice for now. But none threw herself into it immediately, as if the two stunning beauties could savor the quiet prelude of inquisitive glazes.
Unlike the previous night, neither wore makeup; a proud self-confidence sign. Actually, they didn’t need it because their beauties were genuine, with feline green iris, delicate noses, full pink lips. For them it was hard not to admit how much femininity oozed the other face through her long eyelashes, thin eyebrows and round chins. Their skins were smooth, slightly tanned, youthful despite being halfway between twenties and thirties.
But there was more than just a pretty face to analyze. Looking down slightly, the two were able to see those tits that they both envied, pushed against the fabric of the tight sweaters they wore that morning. The black color of the brunette’s clothing contradicted the blonde’s yellow, in an identical competition to the comparison between their long manes.
“You…again,” Natasha broke the silence with a hoarse growl.
“Yes, me…again,” Melissa replied, raising her chin slightly. “Last night you ran away from the party, so I thought I had to look for you to clarify certain things that we didn’t clarify yesterday.”
“I could swear I saw you run away from the party, too,” the dancer added. “You must have been very uncomfortable with what happened in the bedroom, but I don’t blame you for that.”
Melissa growled softly, and Natasha responded with her own snort. There was desperation in their voices, as the recognition that the rival had witnessed—in some way—the moment of weakness was felt as a painful stab.
For a moment, both girls struggled with their full of resentment eyes. However, something more emerged gradually from their glazes. Melissa felt that he striking Natasha’s eyes managed to bring out from her a kind of toxic and bitter lust; she had never been attracted to another woman, but this had much less sense when it referring to her enemy. However, the mixture of the scents and the close female staring contest seemed somehow to affect her in that sense. Her only consolation was read in the dancer’s eyes the emergence of a similar fire, jealously appreciative of her beauty; a subtle dilation of pupils that expressed the real emotions of Natasha.
Melissa opened her mouth to speak, to break the awkward moment, when suddenly appeared a waiter. Immersed in their feelings, the two girls startled.
“Excuse me, I didn’t want to scare you. Here’s your coffee,” he said, leaving a cup in front of Natasha. “And for you?”
“The same coffee, please,” Melissa said, without knowing why. The man nodded, leaving them alone again.
“Wow, so you can be a nice girl! It’s shocking,” taking the lead, the dancer decided to tease her. “Are you Melissa’s good twin?”
The mere mention of the ‘twin’ word almost dismantled Melissa, but Natasha also flagellated herself for bringing up the subject unconsciously. The similarities between the two were so obvious in that private moment that the word hung between them for the entire duel.
“The truth is that I’m also shocked, because I didn’t know you were capable of being so civilized in my presence. It’s a nice change,” Melissa narrowed her eyes, while she kept talking with some malice. “But make no mistake, I don’t have any twin. There’s no one like me.”
“Thanks God. I wouldn’t like to have more brunettes in town,” Natasha’s voice dropped, in a snake’s whisper. “And don’t think you’re so special: you’re too ordinary.”
“Oh, blondes! Always so snooty…”
The return of the waiter cut the conversation but not the hostile environment fluctuating between the two females while Melissa coffee was served.
“Sisters?” the man asked innocently, but the offended gestures that petrified both girls’ faces were enough to freeze his smile. Their friendly attempt crashed against a wall of ice, shattering their hopes of connecting with some of the beauties.
“No, we aren’t!” they groaned in unison, in an annoying and unexpected synchronization. Natasha bit her thick lower lip, while Melissa looked for peace in a long sip of coffee. The waiter, embarrassed, muttered something incongruent and walked away quickly.
“I’m really sick of the comparisons,” the brunette was sincere, getting lost in the blonde’s green eyes.
“Me too,” accepted her rival, as intense as her.
Wanting to break the anxiety present in the truth of the last words, they compared each other with undisguised audacity. Natasha looked beyond the generalities that matched her with Melissa, looking for the smallest details in search of the overcoming. She measured the sinuous curved lines of her full lips against hers, wanting to know which pair formed a best heart’s silhouette, or which mouth contained more flesh; she studied the other feline eyes in detail, demanding to know which was more feminine, which iris were greener, which eyelashes were longer; she considered if Melissa’s skin was more or less smooth, more or less tanned than hers; she watched her dark hair, determining its length, silkiness and exuberance regarding her own blonde locks.
The answers didn’t please her. Frustrated by not being able to clearly overcome Melissa in any aspect, she resigned herself, knowing that her nemesis neither overcame her in any comparison. Their faces seemed taken from the same mold, with only minor differences determining that they weren’t clones.
Melissa had reached a similar conclusion when her gaze fell over Natasha’s chest for second time in a few minutes. The suggestive mountains under the yellow fabric seemed to exert a powerful gravitational effect on her eyes, but there was more: a hot, morbid feeling that accelerated her heart and hardened her bust. The mere presence of the dancer’s tits confused her, stalking her as if they were the source of all the evils in recent months. But when she noticed the jealous blonde’s gaze on her own breasts, Melissa knew that she wasn’t the only one to understand how important those centers of gravity in their relationship of hate were.
There, silently locked in a dirty exchange of glances over tits and faces, the girls noticed how rabid bile grew in their throats; for both, it was impossible to discern a connection between them different from loathing. Gradually, the insecurity of the first meetings had grown to turn into animosity, but they knew that the climb wouldn’t end there. As females that had recently discovered their hibernated arrogance, Melissa and Natasha knew that they were destined for an ominous and inevitable physical confrontation.
“Why don’t you stop looking at me and tell me what you wanna do?”
The sudden question caught Natasha by surprise, but she was able to react with a full of pride, cold grimace. Taking a sip of coffee, she noticed it wasn’t hot. ‘How long have we been comparing us?’
“You’re so cocky…” she began insulting her, as if she wanted to clarify that point before continuing. “I want the same as you, so don’t play dumb with me. It was you who took me to the bedroom at the party, asking for trouble.”
“I didn’t see you complaining about it,” Melissa groaned, leaning slightly forward on the table. “So you must want it even more than me.”
“We both are looking for it, it’s all that matters.” Natasha was tired of games. “We just have to find the right time and the right place to finish this entire fucking thing once and for all.”
The mere mention of the moment of truth arrived—the long awaited fight—made the brunette’s body burning with the animal desire to tear every blonde’s hair off, to hit her pretty face until destroy her. Her voice, when it came, was barely a poorly controlled whisper.
“Tonight,” she spat impatiently. “In my store: it all started there, and there will have to end. All the buildings around are offices or businesses that will be closed after seven,” her whisper became threatening. “So no one can hear you scream…”
“However, you’ll scream so much that I’ll have to shut your mouth by force, or people will come to save you from the other side of town.” Natasha hardly believed her own words but once released the dogs of war, she felt nothing but pride and hatred.
Both bodies tensed while a genuine hostility linking their egos. Green eyes shone, full lips pursed and hair bristled; even before Melissa growl the final challenge, both perceived it in the air.
“At nine o’clock, at Madame. Bring extra clothes, bitch, because you’ll need it when I’m done with you.”
“You too. And bring your best finery, because I’ll bring my best dress. It’s Christmas Eve, cunt, so let’s celebrate it properly.”
“It will be the best fucking night of my life.”
“You’re wrong. It will be your worst nightmare…”
Natasha Reilly’s Apartment
Dove Street, 16:44
‘What’s going on?’ Natasha wondered, not for the first time. After a long nap, she had awakened less warlike than before, when she had accepted her fate looking for Melissa. However, the restless sleep seemed to have raised some doubts…doubts that led her to the time before the sudden appearance of the brunette in her life. The friendly and peaceful Natasha of the past battled against her in her own mind, struggling to get out of the oblivion to which seemed banished.
‘How did you come to this?’ she asked her, screaming from the depths of her psyche. ‘You’re gonna fight with a girl you barely know! You’re an adult woman! It’s absurd!’ Natasha shook her head, knowing that her subconscious was telling the truth. Suddenly, resolve their differences—maybe unreal differences—that way it seemed to her stupid, childish.
‘You’re gonna pull each other’s hair out, tear each other’s eyes out, and wreck your pretty faces, your beautiful bodies…’ Natasha kept hearing; now, however, every word of her alter ego sounded distant, as if the blonde of the past was falling in a bottomless pit. Her stomach fluttered and her nerves quivered as her imagination contemplated all scenarios that her unconscious was introducing to her. Without realizing it, the old Natasha was buried under her own words, again evoking the desire to fight in the toned dancer’s body.
“Yeah, I’ll rip every strand of hair off her head!” she cried aloud, suddenly hot. “I’m going to slap her until she screams my name! I’ll scratch her skin, bite her face!”
Hyperventilating, Natasha began to sweat, even in the cool of the apartment. She had to control herself, she had to focus; in less than four hours, she would meet Melissa, and she couldn’t survive such a big stress for so long.
‘A moment ago, you were thinking that all this issue of the fight was nonsense, and now you cannot wait to start,’ she conversed with herself, opening a window for air. ‘You have to close this issue tonight, or it will destroy you…’
Melissa Carter’s Apartment
Alston Street, 18:11
Melissa’s bed was a mess of silky fabrics: her best ensembles were lying in any way, and the girl couldn’t decide which dress would be chosen for possibly the biggest night of her life. The hours dragged slowly on the clock, but she felt that the moment of truth would come without her clothes on.
‘If that fucking bitch wants to surpass me before starting, she’ll get a big surprise,’ she thought, now undecided between blue and black dress. Grabbing the second one, she visualized how she looked when she tried on it minutes earlier, for the third time. ‘You wanted this, Natasha.’
Since they had parted that morning, Melissa had not stopped thinking about the latest blonde’s challenge, not even during the disturbed two-hour nap after lunch. The challenge had been obvious from the moment it was spit out by the dancer; thinking about it, the brunette couldn’t prevent her heart beat out to control. Natasha wanted to compare their beauties at their very best, with their figures covered by their finery, their faces made up like never before and their manes perfumed with the most exclusive fragrances. No doubt what was going to happen after comparison wouldn’t be pretty, but dirty and violent, but Melissa believed that if one prevailed in the prelude, she would have a significant psychological advantage before the duel.
“Of course, that woman will be me,” she whispered, finally deciding which would be her battle dress. At lunch, part of her psyche had reprimanded her aggressive attitude, but the moments of doubt had been buried. Without doubts, there was only time—painfully languid time—and the hope to close the open wound when, months ago, Natasha came for first time in her store…and into her life.
‘At last,’ she said herself, taking a deep breath. ‘At last I’ll resolve all that has been tormenting me…’
New Hall Lane, 20:39
In the darkness, the pupils took a while to get used. The blinds were down, so only the colorful flashes from the Christmas tree chaotically threw some light on the two motionless figures faced in the middle of Madame. Red, blue and green glints shone over short black dresses, brightening the emeralds that beauties had by iris, and the silky skin.
Ten minutes earlier, the two had met at the door, exhibiting an overwhelming impatience. There, without a word, they had been measured each other under the streetlights, raging at the spectacle that was the other body, the other face. At Lindermann’s party they smashed egos and hopes with their ensembles, but now they were just sexual killer. Their current dresses were even tightest, which seemed impossible, and riskiest up and down: young breasts were powerfully exhibited through deep triangular necklines, while their juicy thighs were displayed almost totally due to the very short skirts. Their bellies were featured to the rival for first time through transparencies, in a show of toned abdomen. The heels reinforced their curves, although none humbled herself asking the other that she turn around to compare their firm and womanly butts.
Their dresses were as similar as their own figures, but, curiously, their faces were those that presented more similarities that night…even more than before. The makeup had invigorated their most remarkable features, perfecting which was perfect, and thus bringing them closer to the full equivalence: the eyes glinted under elongated eyelashes and with delicate eyeliners; the lips seemed thicker, more succulent, thanks to expensive and imported red lipsticks; the slightly tanned skins had a shiny, elegant touch; the soft manes fell in a perfect frame for faces, for breasts, as smooth and endless waterfalls.
Uncomfortable, Natasha and Melissa had studied carefully the opponent virtues, but the comparison of beauties only had instigated them towards a greater hatred. Being practical, the two searched for strengths and weaknesses before the fight, analyzing the power of legs, arms and torsos, knowing that soon they would be competing hand to hand… but they also analyzed the other glance, measuring how much willpower the other girl had in her depths.
Now, that was left behind. The loneliness of Madame instigated to the outbreak of hostilities, but both needed more than hatred for the other perfect body to take the final step, far away from their primitive personalities. For this reason, they provoking each other…again…something they were already experts…
“You haven’t brought clothes, as I told you,” Melissa growled. Her face was just a pretty silhouette in the play of lights and shadows. “For your job, I assumed you were an exhibitionist, but I didn’t know you liked to go home naked.”
“We’re in a full of lingerie store,” Natasha replied sarcastically. “A nice baby-doll, some matching stockings, and I can go back in time to Darkness to give my fans a dance they’ll never forget. Instead, you’ll spend this special night on the floor of your store, naked, crying like a poor little girl.”
The brunette’s eyes rolled upward, in a gesture accompanied by a loud sigh of boredom; her hands fell upon her ample hips, completing an arrogant gesture of femininity.
“Look, baby, you’ll be who finishes crying, and I’ll be who tell your fans how I cleaned the floor of my store with your weak body. Do you understand me, stupid dancer?”
The blonde shook her long hair, spitting a disgusted snort. Imitating the pose of her enemy, she took a courageous step forward; arching her back, she pushed her generous tits towards Melissa.
“Tomorrow, the whole city will know how I beat your pathetic body. I’ll publish it on all networks, and I’ll tell it everyone with which I come across…especially men.”
“You’ve always been a stuck-up woman,” the brunette attacked. “You’re just a cheap slut wiggles her ass as if you were the most amazing hottie in the world. Well, I have a scoop for you: no, you aren’t.”
“Well, I have another scoop for you: you’re garbage.” The hate of Natasha’s voice made all the butterflies fluttering in the Melissa’s stomach. “You always were receiving me with that look of conceited whore, with the coldness of a bitch who thinks she’s the alpha female. But you’re just another cunt who needs someone to put you in your place.”
“Can you put me in my place?” Melissa moved forward without fear, and Natasha replied walking towards her; soon, the two beauties were circling around each other in the center of the store, just a few feet from the other. “You’ll teach me a lesson I’ll never forget…right?
“I’ll be the one that tears apart your pretty dress.”
“You don’t if I tear apart yours first…”
Surprisingly, the envy for wearing a similar dress was the reason for the final burst. Long legs’ muscles began to move, tightening to jump against rival; the anxious hands suddenly grabbed hair and cloth, while the women released all the accumulated tension with a double cry of violence, finally engaged in the long-awaited fight.
Reducing the howls to grunts of pain and effort, the couple tugged at the other mane, envying the silky feel even while the filaments were torn. With the nails of the other hand, both quickly tore the other dress, starting with the neckline. The rips echoed in the store while the girls’ tits, covered by beautiful bras, jumped out of shredded dress.
Losing her grip on the black fabric, Natasha sank her now free hand also in the raven hair of her nemesis; with her ten fingers in her hair, she used the new and advantageous leverage to shake the other girl by Madame. Screaming, Melissa reacted leaving her opponent dress and clutching her golden hair with a double grip. The half-naked bodies collided, and the fight accelerated.
“Whore!” Melissa cried, shaking the other head from one side to another with rudeness. Hot Natasha’s constitution felt firm, toned against hers; her own figure palpitated with ardor, rubbing against rival’s body in a hard struggle for position.
“Cunt!” the go-go dancer answered, pulling the brunette’s head back. Melissa’s tense neck was exposed to her for a few seconds; Natasha was found unconsciously licking her lips at the thought of biting, but the moment passed.
Almost losing the balance on their high heels, both crashed into a bookshelf; groaning under a torrent of sample bras, Melissa released her right hand, closing it into a fist, and struck Natasha’s belly. The dancer moaned with pain but, surprising the brunette, the fist met a hard abdomen that barely yielded to the attack. Before she could react, the blow was returned against her stomach with the enemy’s fist lacerating her equally firm belly. Blonde’s angry face showed her surprise at her strength, as if she hadn’t expected that a single saleswoman was so toned.
“For this serves the gym, bitch!” Melissa shouted, stoking again the rival’s stomach, and being hit a second time. Instinctively, she thrust a heel heavily on the Natasha’s instep, making her scream. “And for this serves the women’s weapons!”
Seizing the weakness moment, she threw a third punch, this time against the beautiful dancer’s face. The blow was perfect, poking the chin from below; Natasha spat and, with a groan, fell back.
At that moment, the blonde knew she was at the mercy of her nemesis; sprawled, without air and with her head groggy after the punch…she couldn’t recover in time. Her killer instincts were still active, but now out of service. She hated Melissa, but more herself for having fallen so quickly, so easily.
But sometimes, the fate plays in favor of the disadvantaged. When Melissa stood over her, a crunch echoed in Madame; half a second later, her enemy disappeared from her sight. To the surprise of the dancer, the brunette fell on her ass with a grunt of pain. Straightening up a little, Natasha realized that a Melissa’s heel had broken.
‘We have been very stupid to fight in heels,’ she thought, slowly recovering her senses. ‘She has paid it, but I won’t do it,’ she concluded, taking off her heels. Just a couple of meters, the saleswoman imitated her, removing her heels as she watched her angrily: the prey had escaped her…
Sitting on the store floor, the girls took air, recalling the brief but intense first assault of the fight. Now that the blood had been savored, both wanted more, much more. However, one of them lifted her chin with some pride, conscious of having the upper hand in the confrontation.
“This is still much easier than I expected,” Melissa snorted, brushing her hair off her face. “If I had known, I would have kicked your ass much earlier.”
“A lucky blow, that’s all,” Natasha squawked vengefully. “Don’t think we’re done.”
Cautiously, looking at each other, the girls stood up, straightening up proudly at her antagonist. Then they realized what they had achieved: the other dress was half torn apart, hanging in rags from the waist and revealing black lace bras, more appropriate for a night of passion that for a secret fight. Under them, the firm women’s boobs moved to the rhythm of their breathing, already sweaty. Bellies, still covered by the suggestive transparencies, showed the marks of the other punch, almost like a cattle branding iron.
There, in the darkness barely broken by the Christmas tree, in the solitude of the night, in the lair of her enemy, Natasha felt lost in her feelings. Yesterday, at the party, she had been overwhelmed by the stunning Melissa’s red dress, by how it clung to her formidable figure. Today, shortly before, feelings of envy and resentment had gone much further, with the body of the brunette showing her perfection under a black tight dress almost identical to hers. Now, however, the vision of the other beauty in the shadows, with her heavy tits barely covered by an extremely captivating bra, was too much for her.
‘I hate your body to death, bitch,’ she growled inside her head, unable to spit it out loud. Following her woman’s instincts, she ripped what was left of her dress, in a defiant gesture. Her reddened flat stomach was exposed and, a second later, her dark, small and provocative panties abandoned the privacy under the torn fabric.
“Let’s fight like women, whore.”
The threatening whisper almost maddened Melissa, whose breasts rose and fell in rhythm with her more and more accelerated breathing. ‘Like women,’ she mused as she tore her own dress, revealing her own femininity. The heated air confined in Madame kissed her toned abdomen, before circling her tiny black lace panties.
“Woman to woman, bitch.”
Both beauties, hating the hot body facing them, walked forward with hungry. Tits shook with every step; eyes were locked before the girls lock their bodies. Melissa raised her hands, ready to return to fight in close combat…
And a powerful slap crossed her face. The blow was vertiginous, like a cobra attack; also masterful, with the palm and fingers of the blonde going through her pretty face from one side to another, disfiguring her cheek for a second, as her long raven hair swayed in the air chaotically. Her mouth grunted, and her whole body shuddered…but the assault had only begun.
A second slap turned red the other cheek, with the back of the Natasha’s hand hitting her. Melissa’s head was suddenly sent to the opposite side with a new grunt of pain. She stepped back, wobbly, when the final blow came: a hard fist pounded her face, tracing an upward diagonally from her left cheek. Screaming, her body was thrown back, crashing violently against a full of stockings shelf. The piece of furniture fell dramatically to the ground, making all Madame rumbled; the brunette fell on it, breathless. Deafened, Melissa squirmed uncomfortably on the wood with her back and her head throbbing with pain.
Natasha, meanwhile, was briefly paralyzed; she was scared, but not for the suffering of her rival: does someone have heard such a scandal? Does someone interrupt the fight, now that she was giving a lesson to that smug girl? However, several eternal seconds passed while the echo of the thud was disappearing… and nothing happened.
“This is starting to be fun,” the blonde growled, finally being able to brag about her achievement. See how Melissa stood up between gestures of discomfort, almost crawling out of the downed shelf was incredibly delicious. “I can destroy you, while I destroy your little shop.”
“Slut,” the saleswoman managed to gasp, finally managing escape from the deadly trap of wood. However, still dizzy, she stumbled at the last moment, falling at the feet of her antagonist. Gasping, she rolled onto her back.
“Oh, let me help you.” Leaning, Natasha grabbed her hair with both hands and pulled and dragged the brunette by the store cruelly. With an outraged shriek, Melissa kicked the air, clawed the aggressive blonde’s hands, feeling an intense anguish in her scalp. Above her, the dancer just laughed. “You were right, bitch. This is still much easier than I ex…Ouch!”
Suddenly, and exhibiting an incredible flexibility, the Melissa’s long right leg rose in the air; her foot hit Natasha’s forefront and, with a cry of pain, the blonde fell, with both hands on her face.
Again, there was a no-agreed ceasefire. The two beauties writhed on the floor, both covered in sweat and suffering. Melissa’s scalp was burning, like her back and her face, while Natasha’s forehead throbbed in an intense headache that joined the ardor of her bruised left cheek. Rival bellies still throbbed from early punches, a clear sign that any damage that she would infringe take long to disappear. The idealization of the fight that both had displayed throughout the day didn’t take into consideration the reality of a real brawl, with muscle exhaustion and perpetual presence of pain as ruthless and inevitable variables.
However, the suffering did nothing but spur them: now, the two beauties knew how easy it was hurting her nemesis, so they wouldn’t yield to their warrior instincts just because they lacked air or because their bodies feel mistreated.
“Bitch.” The broken voice came from Melissa as she rose slowly. “I’ll destroy you for this…”
“I’ll destroy you first, whore,” the blonde cried, injured, getting up to face the other girl.
In the darkness, there was no time for more. Both crashed together in the middle of the store, this time without tactical or defense. The hands and arms fought in the air, pulling some hair, clawing wrists and shoulders. The girl’s tits crashed together over and over again, with an aspiration that their enraged owners didn’t understand yet. The legs, meanwhile, intertwined each other, muscle to muscle, in a desperate attempt to knock down the rival.
The moans and groans echoed through Madame while both beauties stumbled in a close fight. Outside, in the cold and lonely street on Christmas Eve, stray cats mewed in answer, as only witnesses to the hot encounter, before being chased away by a car whose driver quickly crossed the town looking for a delicious dinner, a lovely family and a night of peace.
In the lingerie shop, however, the Christmas spirit had no power over the young and angry women. In their chaotic fight, they finished tearing down the tree, while both falling to the ground. Their heads were painfully tugged back as they rolled on the ground in an explosion of feline passion.
“Is this what…ugh…you mean by fight…ouch…like a woman?” the brunette growled; her body burned so much that she believed that would break out at any moment.
“A real woman can…ah…fight any way.” The blonde could barely hold her murderer instincts in the dramatic melee. “If you’re afraid to fight…ouch…like cats, I can destroy you…uh…with my fists again.”
“You’ll not have a stroke…ah…of luck like that anymore…”
Finally wrapping another body into their arms, both felt the unexpected strength of the other beauty under their hateful hugs. Like hungry pythons, they squeezing the other constitution with each muscle fiber. Melissa had intuited that a professional go-go dancer as Natasha would be fit, but the energy that oppressed her went far beyond what she expected. Feeling an aversion shock through her body, the brunette tightened to the maximum the tendons in arms and legs, trying to crush the blonde once and for all. Natasha grunted, injured, but immediately the painful groan from Melissa joined the cacophony while the angry females were rolling on the floor.
Despite the frustrating equal, two or three minutes later one of them managed to corner her opponent. The back of the blonde hit the table where, over so many mornings, the two had faced as client and seller; the blow knocked the cash register which cruelly hit the feisty hips before rolling away from the feline girls. Sobbing at the same time, the blonde tried to escape and the brunette to dominate.
“I’ve wanted to humiliate you from the first time I saw you, in this same place.” The sincerity came from Melissa’s lips, now against the left ear of the dancer. “And now I’m gonna do it.”
“You’re not the only one who wanted it, who looked for it,” Natasha replied, bringing her mouth to the left ear of the brunette. “But I’ll be the only one to do it.”
Then, the fight slowed down: the intensity of the duel, the inexperience of women—the first fight of their lives—and the pain that ran through their bodies physically exhausted the two young girls. But the urge to defeat the opponent remained intact…or even higher than before.
The sudden lack of impetus brought all attention to the feelings that the violence of the confrontation was camouflaged: hugged like never before, both felt the suffocating weight of another chest against her own boobs, in a mutual pressure that no one could believe have ignored so far. Immediately, the memory of the conflict in the Klaus Lindermann’s party came to their heads, when they had pressed her tits together…
But what was happening there was different in many ways. The breasts were burning, sweaty, inflated by the passion of rivalry; they were crushed each other under the semi-nudity of the light bras. Natasha could feel the warm flesh of Melissa, flexible and hard at the same time, adapting to hers…and instinctively pushed forward. The two groaned as her tits were compressed in a struggle for a nonexistent space.
Without understanding what was happening, Melissa and Natasha narrowed further their hugs, bringing her breasts into greater contact through bras. The blonde shivered, caught between the table and the brunette as she felt her wet breasts competed with rival firm pair. A gasp came from her throat, while something throbbed deep in her crotch; the belly’s butterflies went crazy.
In front of her, Melissa swallowed; even that small gesture wiggled their flattened breasts, sending waves of discomfort—and although she wouldn’t recognize it, of pleasure—through Natasha’s body. The aroma of the brunette, a mixture of sweat, perfume and shampoo, invaded her nostrils, forcing her to bury the nose in the neck, into the hair, of Melissa.
“Bitch,” she whispered against her ear, feeling the fiery breath of the rival accelerated on her own ear.
“Slut,” Melissa insulted her; the full lips almost kissed her earlobe, in an act that seemed closer to the intimacy of two lovers that the epilogue of a fight.
Then the go-go dancer noticed it: something was growing between the dueling tits, in both directions; something was hardened between them. She took only a second to reveal the mystery, and when she did, her brain broke out in contradictory orders. Natasha moaned, impaled by Melissa’s nipples, stringing the opposite breasts with hers…and exploded.
“Bitch!” she repeated, with a cry that echoed through Madame. Her body tensed, pushing ahead with an unexpected impetus. The brunette fell back, with the blonde sitting on her belly like a feral cat. “Dyke bitch!”
Before she could react, Melissa screamed under a rain of blows and scratches. Long fingers crossed her face over and over, while nails left slight marks on her flushed cheeks. Raising her hands, she struck blindly, throwing her own awkward slaps on the face of Natasha.
However, the burst of the blonde was unstoppable. The brunette soon found herself on the defensive, covering her pretty face with both arms, unable to stop the beating. Her wrists and hands were full of scratches, and a hard punch managed to break through their defenses and impact on her nose.
But the sharp torture of her face was pushed into the background when, just a moment later, her boobs busted with pain. Feeling how ten cruel fingers grabbed her tits, Melissa screamed like never before in her life. Closing the eyes, she cried inconsolably, trembling under her heartless nemesis…and it all ended. The hands were removed from her bruised breasts, and the weight of Natasha disappeared from her womb. Without strength, she curled herself on the floor, gently grabbing her tits in tears, waiting for the final attack of her opponent.
But it never came. Melissa heard Natasha bare steps, walking through her store, and also the sound of the fabric; she knew that, as the blonde promised, she was dressing up with the lingerie from Madame. However, she also thought that she heard a slight whimper in her, which made no sense.
Finally, the doorbell rang, followed by a door slam that shook the entire business. But Melissa didn’t move for a full hour, unable to face the reality: Natasha, her worst enemy, the most hated woman in the world, had won.
4. Sweet Christmas? — Sunday, December 25
Melissa Carter’s Apartment
Alston Street, 13:02
When Melissa awoke, she moaned in pain; all her naked body was exhausted, hurt…and even had some stiffness. Her head throbbed slightly dizzy after countless hours of sleep.
‘This is how it feels after a fight,’ she mused, rising slowly as she thought about the lies of the movies, where heroes and heroines always endured all kinds of punishment as if nothing. At that moment, she felt every stroke, every bruise, every wound; of course, she didn’t feel like a movie’s heroine.
Reaching the bathroom with unsteady steps, Melissa gripped the sink with both hands, looking at hers reflection in the mirror. Numerous red marks marked her figure, especially her torso, wherever Natasha had grabbed in their ground fight; although she couldn’t see her back, she could also feel the scratches that her rival had left behind her. Her face showed some redness and even a very slight swelling from the beating that the blonde had discharged on her. Her belly still showed traces of blows.
But all that was secondary to the visible traces of fingernails in her incredible tits. As an echo of the past, she could still feel the excruciating pain that Natasha’s hands had been administered her in a totally unexpected act of cruelty.
“Fucking slut,” she mumbled, with a dry mouth. “Fucking cheating slut,” she insisted, despite knowing that in a fight with no rules, everything worth.
‘You’re stupid, Melissa. You should have seen it coming, you should have done it first,’ she said, knowing that her almost honorable conception of a struggle had cost her the victory. ‘A fight between women is never decent. The warriors of the films can be worthy knights in shining armor with a flawless nobility, but women are creatures of the night, panthers waiting their chance to pounce on prey and tear it tooth and nail.’
Looking her affected beauty by the marks of the fight, Melissa groaned as she realized that Natasha was the first to understand the true nature of female rivalry. Her treacherous attack had settled a close fight, and now it was the brunette who had to lament a bitter defeat.
“This won’t happen again,” she spoke to her reflection. “We’ll meet again, and this time both of us will liberate our inner animal.”
But as she talked with herself, as she remembered last night’s events, something more than frustration and anger was growing inside her. Something that was beyond, way beyond, of pain and exhaustion. Something about what had happened just before Natasha’s feline outburst…when both had brought her breasts together…
At that moment, recalling the moment, Melissa’s naked nipples hardened…just like last night. Forgetting the fatigue, momentarily overcoming the discomfort of her body, the brunette felt like every heartbeat matched each beat of her crotch. Again? she hesitated, knowing that it wasn’t the first time that the sexual thrill appeared at the wrong time. ‘Last night, without going any further,’ she admitted, rubbing a nipple with her fingertips. Her tits quivered, and she couldn’t help but gasp in pleasure.
“I hate you, Natasha,” she clamored loudly, glaring at her reflection in the mirror with hate. Her beautiful legs trembled, while the rest of her body was beginning to boil under a dirty fire. “I hate you with all my heart, Natasha”, she concluded; her fingers desperately seeking the depths of her womanhood…
Peter Arsmtrong’s Apartment
Andrew Street, 13:26
When Natasha opened her eyes, took a few seconds to realize where she was. In her arms, Peter, the sexiest bartender of Darkness, was sleeping. Turning her aching head, the blonde observed the bedroom, decorated with large movie posters from the 50s; of course, she wasn’t in her apartment.
Carefully, Natasha got up from the bed; her formidable body, full of bumps and scratches, stood naked, as a last reminder of what had happened. ‘We fucked like rabbits, over and over again, all night…and it has been great.’
With a dry throat, the dancer moved her bare feet to the kitchen looking for water. However, each step made her moan softly, with her muscles completely burned after a night of violence and sex. With the latest mists disappearing from her mind, Natasha opened the fridge while she remembered what had happened after her long-awaited victory over Melissa.
“I needed Peter,” she whispered, before swallowing water with such force that she ended coughing. Last night, incredibly, she wept, and much, after the fight; she wept for joy, but mostly for fear. The sadistic final of the fight had marked her, flooding her with an anxiety that left her barely breathing. She could hardly believe what she had done, as if the old Natasha, sweet and peaceful, yet had any power over her.
With the daylight coming through the kitchen window, the blonde raised her hands before her. He recalled the feelings that traveled her fingers hours earlier, when she had sunk them fiercely on Melissa’s warm, firm, juicy tits. Now she could recognize without hesitation that she hated the seductive breasts of the brunette, but that couldn’t justify her cruel action. ‘No, it wasn’t just envy…’ she knew, bringing her hands to her own boobs. Gently, she pinched her nipples, hardening them even more than they already were. ‘It was because that bitch stabbed me over and over again.’
Sleepy Peter’s voice reached her ears: the lover of the night began to stretch, and he already missed her. ‘I have to go home, before he sees the marks and starts to ask uncomfortable questions.’ Last night, darkness and passion had hidden her secret, but at full daylight…
Peter had played her role in the history of Natasha, calming her fears with a long session of intense sex. But now it was time to go home.
She had much to think about…
Melissa Carter’s Apartment
Alston Street, 20:25
The lipstick toured the fleshy mouth delicately, sensually, staining Melissa’s virtues with a layer of passion red. That was the last detail: straight in front the mirror, the owner of Madame watched her exquisitely made-up face.
‘Perfect,’ she thought, but she wanted to say ‘unmarked’. With layers of powders and creams, Melissa had managed to hide Natasha blows; fortunately, the swelling was gone too. Below, her body was covered by a tight blue outfit that didn’t show anything: that was the only way to hide the rest of the marks of the struggle.
Then, the doorbell rang. Moving as fast as her muscles still slightly tired allowed her, the brunette crossed the room, dominated by a small table ready for a romantic dinner with chicken, rice and scented candles, and opened the door to her guest. Nathan Parker, the young man who tried to pick her up at the gym for two weeks, smiled.
“I didn’t expect your call,” he said directly, offering her a bouquet of flowers. “Oh, you’re beautiful tonight…”
At that point, the animal took control of Melissa, decided to skip all the preliminaries: he would be her dinner. With a jerk, she pushed him into the apartment; before Nathan knew what was going, he was on the floor with a wildcat mounting it. Her kisses drowned him, as the girl’s pelvis erotically rubbed against his crotch. Soon she felt Melissa grabbed his chest with both hands, squeezing painfully.
“Take this, Natasha.”
The distorted whisper reached the ears of the man, while the brunette dug her nails into his torso. How had she called him? ‘She said Nathan…I think.’
What followed was a long night of passion, with the young man barely able to keep the fiery pace of the beauty. Always in the dark, they both fucked in the living room, in the bedroom and in the bathroom, until at dawn Nathan left the apartment, limping.
Alone, and finally controlled the fire that had been harassing her all day, Melissa fell into a deep sleep, where she recalled her fight with Natasha over and over again…with a very different ending for dancer’s tits…
5. A Notorious End Of Year — Saturday, December 31
Deepdale Street, 22:48
Redemption. The word echoed in Melissa’s head as she crossed the doors of the disco. She entered in the lair of her enemy, in the lioness’ den, to finish what she was unable to finish days earlier.
Many things had happened in the last week. Locked up at home, she had licked her wounds, recovering her physical and mental shape as she visualized the next meeting with Natasha. The ‘when’ found answer right away because the brunette was sure that the Darkness’ go-go dancer wouldn’t miss the most important event of the disco: the New Year party. However, as she walked into the crowded central hall, Melissa began to wonder about the ‘how.’
The music immediately hit her ears heavily, with the bass made her whole body shake. The smell of hundreds of perfumes and sweat filled her nostrils, and her pupils dilated, taking a few seconds to get used to the flashes of light. Then, she saw her…
Beyond the entire crowd, above all of them, as a painful metaphor, Natasha stood, locked in a cell with silver bars, hung almost 30 feet off the ground. To her left, two more go-go girls danced in separate cages, but the attention of the brunette—and of the entire—was focused exclusively on the blonde bombshell.
Unable to stop her steps, Melissa moved around the room, looking at the highly heated movements of the dancer. Jealous bile drowned her palate, with each Natasha’s curve snaking before her with the confidence of who knows that she is the alpha female of the place.
During one fateful moment, the saleswoman believed it, remembering how it had ended the fight between both. But immediately she became convinced that there was nothing in the body of the blonde who beat their own virtues, so she used the angry rush to charge her adrenaline. The longing to fight suddenly lit her mind up with a crazy idea…that seemed perfect.
Few things excited more the blonde who dance before her audience: suspended in the cage, the music always took hold of her, merging with the rhythm of each song as if it were part of her being. But that night the feelings were even more powerful, because it was the first time that Natasha danced in Darkness since her encounter with Melissa. After several days of recovery, the blonde had awakened that morning with a new enthusiasm, a revival of her passion for her work. After spending all week stuck at home, thinking in her nemesis and sickly recalling the fight, Natasha had called her boss to return to the club in the most exciting night of the year. She was the star of the place, and she wasn’t going to miss such an important date.
The energy flowed from the eyes of the starving, from the envious, flooding her body with a rejuvenating sap. Just covered with a golden shorts and a green bra, Natasha swaggered in the cage, with the sweat bursting away from her figure with every move when, suddenly, she felt something changing in the environment. A murmur of approval rose from the audience; the energy that she had stolen fragmented. Before she could react, she saw a fourth cage began to rise, right next to hers, at right.
Her heart doesn’t know whether to stop or accelerate when she recognized who would be the fourth go-go girl of the night. Between the light beams, the long dark hair fluttered in the air when the newcomer, staring at her, dropped her jacket: a howl echoed through the disco, with the amazing body of her archenemy exhibiting to everyone. The audience seemed exalted like a huge wild animal, eager for new blood. The betrayal wounded Natasha, who stopped her dancing to see how the unexpected Melissa finally reached its height.
Separated by a gap of about twelve feet, the rivals fixed their green eyes in the other, proudly erect before the crowd. The beautiful blonde irises analyzed brunette’s body, trembling with barely suppressed anger: the curves of Melissa seemed more impressive than ever, thanks to her short red bra and her jean shorts, as too short as hers. Boots with heels raised both at the same height, equating them above the crowds of fans that, anxious, expecting that the dance began.
When it did, the dance almost collapsed Darkness: the two stunning leggy females began to move with the heavy but sensual rhythm of the music, raising their arms above their heads and shaking their bulging butts like the same dance was a new kind of fight.
Certainly, it was a fight for Natasha. She felt sincerely threatened in her territory by a brunette who seemed able to match her in appearance and ability. For days she had felt superior to Melissa, having beaten in her own shop; however, now the confidence that the brunette transpired filled her agitated brain with doubts. The image of her opponent, defeated and sobbing on the floor of Madame, disappeared to give way to this sexual creature that from her cage competed for the attention of her audience on equal terms.
The unhealthy pride that Natasha had found in herself after meeting Melissa wrapped her entire being at that moment, pushing her to take every ounce of will for this new competition. Grabbing one of the silver bars, the blonde female faced Melissa through the air that separated them, presenting her amazing curvy profile to the public. On the other side, the brunette confronted her in the same way, accepting the game. The dancing intensified, and the eyes of both beauties spoke of resentment, of hatred…but also of sensuality understood as battle force. The graceful figures moved like never before in their lives, with pelvis rubbing against the bars while they shaking their heavy breasts just feet from the nemesis.
Precisely at that moment, blonde tits awoke in Melissa the animal feeling of ripping them with her nails. For days, she had been obsessed with returning the favor to Natasha, destroying her cocky boobs with her bare hands. Now that she saw them jumping under the tiny green bra that her rival had bought at her store just a few weeks earlier, her hunger for revenge grew quickly and ominously.
With the jealous attention of both placed over the other tits, Melissa focused on humiliating Natasha shaking her firm curves in front of her, in an exhibition that the roar of the audience showed that didn’t go unnoticed. Opposite her, the blonde responded by shaking her own bust, making it jump like only an experienced dancer could do. The audience broke out, but amazingly the two amazons were isolated from it, feeling alone at the top of Darkness: there were only two cages, and themselves. The outside world, unreal and distant, had no importance.
Sick of a rookie as Melissa was putting her in trouble, Natasha turned her back, wanting to show her how real women shaking ass. Looking back over her shoulder, the blonde watched the reaction of the saleswoman when she shook her hard buttocks to her. After a hateful look, the other young girl also turned, opening her legs and making vibrate her flashy butts like an expert dancer. Natasha couldn’t help growling, barely consoling herself with the envy that shone in Melissa’s eyes when she looked her over her shoulder.
Under that show, the owner of Darkness was watching the competitive dance between her best girl and the newcomer, knowing that he had a gold mine in his hands. When the stunning brunette had approached him, asking about work as go-go dancer, she had appreciated her suggestive presence. But after years in the business of the night, he knew that a nice looking wouldn’t convert a girl in a good dancer. But the momentum of her, her undeniable desire to get on the free cage here and now to prove herself made him distinguish the passionate fire of the brunette. That caught their attention. Now, with the audience shouting ecstatically around, he knew that he had made the right decision. He had a new go-go dancer…
The truth was that Melissa hadn’t really been interested in the job. Her role before him had been no more than an excuse to face her nemesis in public, in her own territory. However, after more than ten minutes of tense duel with Natasha, the brunette began to think seriously about accepting the job: the chance to humiliate the arrogant blonde every night, over and over again, until forcing her to leave Darkness sounded exciting in her heated head. ‘She has destroyed my store. Now, I will break in pieces her career,’ she mentally groaned, wrapping her right leg around a bar in a gesture that mixed obscenity and eroticism. Fully determined to teach Natasha one or two things about sensuality, she moved her hips up and down, rubbing her crotch lasciviously against long silver bar. The heat that pounded on her sex mixed with the cold from the metal, blowing up several shivers down her spine. The feelings awakened for one second the former Melissa, who wondered what the hell she was doing at that disco, practically fucking the cage that raised her above hundreds of thirsty eyes. However, the mere presence of Natasha was enough to return the most pusillanimous brunette to the oblivion in the back of her mind, letting the new, savage Melissa faced her antagonist with all available weapons.
The first ten minutes quickly became fifteen, then twenty. The two beauties danced in perfect synchronization with each other and the music, dancing rapidly with the dizzying rhythms and shook their curves with more elegantly when the song playing was slower. But at all times, regardless of the cadence, their breasts and butts shake with a destructive lust charged with sweat, while their hips seemed almost disengaged from their feline body with every movement.
And then Natasha had enough. With an angry gesture, she said that she wanted to go down. Her body burned by the conflicting emotions that ran through it up and down. She wanted to sink her hands into the proud raven hair of Melissa; she wanted to continue their competitive dance, hand to hand, on the dance floor, surrounded by her public; she wanted to grab Peter and take him to the alley behind Darkness, to fuck him until dawn…
Their cage began to descend, and Melissa cage followed. The head of the blonde wandered, unable to decide what she would do once she reached the ground. ‘Destroys her in front of everyone!’ the cruel voice of the new Natasha said. ‘Humiliates her in the dance floor!’ a second Natasha cried. ‘Sex, sex, sex!’ a third one yelled. ‘The Angry, the Sadistic and the Kinky,’ she baptized them, giving name to the three faces of her rising and complex personality.
Already on the floor, her boss in person opened the cage; her smiling mouth opened, but the words never came.
“I don’t want to be disturbed,” she said with abruptness, pushing him aside to move toward her dressing room, but not before taking a quick look back. As she expected, Melissa followed her like a predator on the prowl. On her way, Natasha had to push some more men that encouraged by the show wanted to try luck with the beautiful blonde.
The blonde reached the corridor that led to the dancer’s dressing rooms.
“Let the brunette go to my dressing room. She’s a friend,” she growled as she passed the muscular guard who was watching the hallway. “I don’t want anyone to bother us,” she insisted. Seconds later, she rudely opened the door of her dressing room, leaving it open to her rival…
Sometimes, when two people meet, chemistry arises between them: immediately, pheromones floating in the atmosphere, traded as a first act of courtship. However, this reaction, even usual, isn’t the only possible because in rare cases chemistry reacts in a totally opposed way, favoring an illogical, instant hatred; pheromones don’t mix, but competing, fighting for survival.
Surely if some scientist could be in the last of the dressing rooms of Darkness, just at that moment, just before the change of year, he could study the best example of how pheromones can also be agents of hate, can also be environmental warriors.
It had been three minutes since the door was locked; three minutes since the green eyes of both beauties were locked in an eternal staring contest; three minutes since the presence of the girls challenged the opponent through each of their senses: to see the naked body, to smell the sweat mixed with perfume, to hear the busy breathing, to taste the sweet lipstick, to touch the own hips…Everything, absolutely everything, encouraged the couple. The second fight’s preliminaries incited the girls to a level that the first meeting, just a week before, couldn’t match.
Melissa found it difficult to breathe normally. A few steps away, her greatest enemy stood before her with gold shorts that curiously seemed narrower than before, emphasizing those hips as wide as skilled at dancing. Natasha’s green bra clung to her breasts with a thick layer of sweat, making Melissa believe that her boobs looked heavier, more formidable. The hunger to avenge the last week’s humiliation, injuring blonde’s pair just like her rival had hurt hers, grew inside her like an intense flame, especially seeing how two marks highlighted in Natasha’s bra like two accusing and challenging spears.
‘The slut is hard,’ she thought angry, with her crotch pounding as she became obsessed with the nipples of her nemesis. They pushed to such a length and thickness under the bra fabric that she could see small shadows under them. ‘She’s fucking hard.’
But the accusation seemed hypocritical when the blonde looked down at her chest. A shiver ran down Melissa’s spine, knowing she was being analyzed but, above all, knowing she had been discovered. She didn’t need to look down to feel how hard her own nipples were.
“Didn’t you have enough last time?” Natasha’s words broke the tense silence; spitting like a hoarse croak, exhibiting the agitation that filled the girl. “Didn’t you learn the lesson?”
“Maybe your dirty little trick made you win a battle, but it was only that: a battle of many that exist in a war.” The excuse sounded tense, hot.
Natasha’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest. Of course, she had believed that Melissa’s defeat in Madame was the end of what had been happening between them, but the appearance of the saleswoman in Darkness changed everything, especially after her words.
‘A war,’ she mused, savoring the term with the tongue. ‘A battle…of many…’ Again, the feeling that Peter had extinguished after a long night of sex reborn strongly on her, detonating here and there—on her tits, her thighs, her ass, her sex—as an inevitable chain reaction. Her eyes quivered as her face reddened under a mask of sweat.
“If you want a war, bitch, you’ll have a war,” she gasped, dropping again her eyes on Melissa’s firm breasts, on these two striking nipples jostling under her beautiful and wet red bra. “A long, hard war.”
The brunette pushed her tits forward, as if she would capture her indirect, and she replied swollen her boobs. Moving their eyes up and down, they didn’t stop to study the other flushed face, the other powerful bust. Natasha recalled the ardor that Melissa’s glands had spread to her hands when she’s had cruelly lacerated them. Again, she felt in her fingers her thick consistency, the mix of hardness and flexibility of youthfulness. Unconsciously, she licked her thick lips, anticipating the fight.
“You looked for this war, bitch, and I’ll give it to you…to its final consequences.” Melissa felt the truth in her own words as she exhaled them: though she was sure she would achieve the vengeance that she needed, she was also sure that nothing would end today.
Really, the relationship with the other woman went far beyond hatred, beyond a simple rivalry; it wasn’t something which could solve with a couple of fights. The opponent was alienation, disruption, misery…She was directly the Nemesis, with capital and dark letters. She represented the hard awakening, the metamorphosis of sweet girls to wild and malevolent tigresses.
But the two beauties weren’t only the Pandora’s Box of the other young girl: they were something much deeper and complex. Before them, they could see that face, that body so similar; they could feel the antagonist of her odysseys was the perverse reflection of themselves: a sorceress with long hair like snakes, petrifying gaze, sharp-tongued; a Medusa, but with angel face and devil body.
Lost in their thoughts, the girls began unconsciously to move around each other. What personified the rival continued wandering around their heads, crowded with vines hard to break. As they moved, their tits slightly quivered over their torsos, returning to draw the attention of both, bringing back the thorniest issue at the head of their thoughts.
‘What she tries shaking them?’ they thought at the same time, like rolling tits was being intentional. Even now both denied the reactions of their bodies for being irrational as well as pure feminine pride. In the presence of the sweaty rival, their pupils dilated, their boobs harden… and their crotches palpitated. Even now, a week later, they still blamed the sexual drive that had dominated them after the first duel to the carnal drought in recent months, but no one could explain why the desire woke up again there and now…
“Have you come here to watch or to fight?”
The smug voice of Natasha was all that Melissa needed. With a grunt, the brunette rammed and the blonde ran to meet her. The two beauties clashed in the center of the dressing room but, unlike the previous Saturday, none attacked the other hair. For several minutes their fingers itched to fasten them, squeezing them… and so they did. The four hands sank immediately in the other tits, compressing the malleable, hot flesh with hateful passion. The twin screams filled the room, fortunately drowned by the music of the disco, while the couple stumbled back and forth, bumping violently into walls and against Natasha’s makeup table. Unable to prevent tears, they filled her eyes and cheeks, while girls ended up falling to the ground.
“Whore!” the blonde whimpered when she finally could speak. Rolling on the floor with her rival, she amassed Melissa’s round orbs angrily, digging nails through her red bra.
“Slut!” the brunette gasped, closing her eyes in pain. Beneath her claws, Natasha’s covered tits felt burning, throbbing by torture.
Locking legs with Natasha, Melissa desperately tried to mount her, catch her on the ground to get a better leverage on her boobs. But the go-go dancer struggled against her in the same way, looking for climb over her body. Neither did it, but they lost no time in destroying the other breasts in the process.
However, despite all the violence, all the tears and cries, the brunette was unable to abstract from gauge what was holding in her hands: a consistent curves, larger than expected, that spread from her fingers a powerful and jealous feeling through her body. Natasha’s skin felt soft and warm, especially wherever the bra didn’t cover the flesh, but in the depths of her bust had nothing but a tenacious mass, impossible to break, at least for now.
Finally, the two beauties stopped rolling; pausing on their sides, both faced each other in the middle of the dressing room, clutching her tits with rage and strength, trapped between the other legs with no place to escape. With great effort, Natasha managed to open her eyes, meeting Melissa’s green tearful eyes locked on her. Watching every grimace, every moan of her nemesis, the blonde studied her face to find what was causing more damage to her. Moving her fingers up and down over the formidable saleswoman’s boobs, Natasha pressed every inch of flesh, until the grunts of Melissa cried out how sensitive the lower parts of her breasts were. Her hands moved quickly, exploiting the weak point; however, the sobbing brunette found the same weakness in her own tits, so vengeful fingers immediately began to squeeze her own tits underneath.
In some way, locking gazes reduced the violence of the duel, slowing it down but not appeasing it. The two beauties mistreated rival’s tits with envy, wanting to defeat their density, but also looking for long desired answers. Natasha couldn’t help but extend her fingers to the maximum, trying to embrace the entirety of the Melissa’s orbs to measure and compare them with hers; the brunette seemed to look for the same as she squeezed her pair. Twisting under the other assault, the dancer clenched teeth, vainly trying not to moan as the cruel grip of her opponent deepened further and further on her overstimulated and sore breast flesh.
“Mine are bigger.”
Melissa’s words quickened the pulse of the blonde, and the tremors through her body. For the first time, one of them spoke clearly about what they thought about her boobs, and Natasha didn’t lose a second to get into the longed game.
“In your dreams,” she reproached, kneading and being kneaded. “Mine are much bigger than yours. That’s for sure.”
The conceited claim of the blonde led Melissa to dig further on her tits, twisting them between her fingers like it was the best way to show her that she was wrong. For a moment, in her head danced memories of each bra that Natasha had bought at Madame; she recalled how she had obsessively watched her sizes and cups, always comparing them with hers in which had truly been the first test of the nascent rivalry.
“36C? Bullshit!” she growled, suddenly recalling the rainy Tuesday two weeks ago. That day her antagonist had bragged about the new size of her tits, right on her store, right on her face; now, under her hands, she could almost feel enviously that Natasha’s boobs could be even bigger. “You just wanted to make me jealous, but that didn’t work!”
“You’re jealous! Just look how you squeeze me!” Natasha replied with a few serious twists on Melissa’s tits. “And you’re the one who lied about her size, I remember it well!”
“It was you who triturated me first, so you’re the only jealous here! And the only liar too!”
Carried away by hatred, the girls lacerated other tits, crying incessantly, for a full minute. That was when Melissa was aware of how Natasha’s long nipples poked disturbingly into her palms, through the green bra. Determined to take the initiative, she released even further the wild animal from within and without hesitation she pressed those insulting spears between her thumbs and forefingers. The dancer’s howl echoed through the walls of the dressing room like celestial music to Melissa’s ears.
“Dirty slut!” The sobbing grunt of the other woman was accompanied by her own attack: her fingers pinched brunette’s nipples with spiteful sadism, forcing her to scream.
“Fucking bitch!” she cried as she stretched other nipples towards the side.
Redoubling their efforts, females tortured each other without anyone could hear the cries, with no one would even suspect what was happening in the loneliness of the dressing room between the two nicest and sweets women in town. The eyes of both girls opened and closed in tears, emanating a hatred that was dark and jealous, deep and eternal. The fingers were starting to feel heavy, sore after so many minutes working on the dense and unbreakable tit flesh.
And then, after several minutes of torture, with tits and nipples throbbing in agony, Melissa knew that none of them would give up. Both were so proud of their busts that they would never accept defeat, regardless of the ability of the other fingers, regardless how much they suffer. It was time to raise the stakes to a level that Natasha could not reach.
‘She surprised me on Madame with her dirty attack. It’s time to give it back,’ she thought evilly, but not sure what to do exactly. But when she left to focus on other chest, the heat floating around both shorts caught her attention. Her groin was throbbing with excitement…a nonsense because the torment she felt in her body. In front hers, the sight of her nemesis suffering under her fingers turned out to be a kind of forbidden fruit; the ambrosia that was wetting her sex with small explosions.
Then, uncontrolled, she freed her right hand and, before her enemy could react, she sank her fingers into the narrow space between her thighs, looking for answers. The golden tight fabric that was covering dancer’s crotch gave immediately the welcome to Melissa’s long fingers inside.
“Ouch, fuck, fuck!” Natasha mewed, throwing back her head as the brunette grabbed her pubic hair. Without waiting, Melissa pulled them, making her gasp; surprised at the unexpected assault, the blonde ended up falling on her back, with the saleswoman over her.
Feeling the cruel rival’s hands abandoned her tits, and urged by the blonde’s distress, Melissa went further, lasciviously guided by the moisture that she felt in the other sex. She clawed dancer’s labia and under the desolate howl of Natasha, she had her answer: she wasn’t the only excited at the dressing room.
However, it wasn’t all that Melissa got: feeling the blonde’s pussy between her fingers, a kind of vertigo took hold of her. Dizzy, she pulled her hand out of the golden shorts before rolling away from her opponent. Shivering uncontrollably, she stood up, watching Natasha’s body was curled up on the floor, crying as openly as she had cried after losing the first fight. Without knowing why, she also joined the crying, feeling mentally and emotionally broken.
Stumbling over her convulsed legs, Melissa didn’t look back as she left the dressing room. Victorious, but disturbed, the brunette abandoned Darkness just when the bells announced a new year.
Book II — Ignition
“At the ignition point in the combustion reaction, flames are produced. Once ignited, a chain reaction must take place whereby fires can sustain their own heat by the further release of heat energy in the process of combustion and may propagate.”
6. Disturbed Hangover — Sunday, January 1
Natasha Reilly’s Apartment
Dove Street, 7:22
The storm that thundered inside Natasha’s head wouldn’t let her to sleep. Too much had happened that night; too much that she thought she would never get to sleep again: the erotic and competitive dance with Melissa still disconcerted her, while the dirty fight distressed her extremely. The taste of defeat seethed between her full lips, with a bitter aftertaste impossible to ignore. Below, her tits pulsing, swollen and hot, marked with full of bitterness traces of nails. She could barely touch them because when she did it, they exploded into a myriad of painful and pleasurable sensations…Just rubbing her hard nipples with her fingertips caused various and disturbingly delicious discharges through her body. It was pleasure, not pain, which prevented her to massage her afflicted breasts.
‘All this shit is because of that prostitute,’ she thought, over and over, as she squirmed on bed. Since she had met Melissa, nothing in her mind, in her body, seemed fine. Her thinking was becoming murkier and darker, illogical and changing; against an external threat, her character was molded after being destroyed, rebuilt as if evolution had decided that this way she would be prepared for survival. As for her body, it reacted to the presence of her nemesis like if the brunette was some kind of allergen agent, capable of affecting every inch of it in a physical revolution: her skin bristled, her bust widened, hers stomach trembling… and her pussy trembled.
“That slut!” she growled, pushing aside the sheets. A sudden wave of heat flooded her as she remembered how the fight had ended. “That dirty slut!” Her hand slowly down through her belly until graze her panties. “Fuck…” she muttered, noticing it was wet; under the fabric, a fire wanted to be off. “Fuck…”
This time, Peter wasn’t there for her: the man would still be working in the final hours of the Darkness’ eternal night. She didn’t want to return to the disco, with the memory of humiliation too recent. Certainly, her boss shouldn’t have been taken too well that her best go-go dancer disappear that way in the time when he most needed her. Perhaps she had lost her job: another notch in the gun of that bitch named Melissa.
However, none of that mattered right now. The animal took control of her body and, after hours of torment, Natasha finally ceded to the dark desire. Her fingers sank under her soaked and hot panties. The blonde moaned with pleasure, remembering how her opponent had their fingers in that same spot hours earlier. Then and now, she had been wet…and Melissa had discovered it…She had discovered her secret…the secret that Natasha couldn’t answer yet…
“I hate you, Melissa,” she gasped, exhaling her most sincere words while she sank her fingers into the inferno of doubt and pleasure. She howled, femininely flailing on the bed. “I hate you with all my heart, Melissa…”
New Hall Lane, 8:18
The store was completely closed, with blinds drawn and door locked. However, there was someone: female gasps echoed through the air, coming damped from inside Madame’s small bathroom. Every groan was sharper, more irregularly; the sounds finished in a cacophony of grunts, filled with orgasmic pleasure but also with hate whistling.
At last, a curvy figure emerged from the bathroom, sweaty and exhausted. Unable to sleep more than an hour at home, Melissa had returned to Madame for the first time since her first physical confrontation with Natasha. The shattered store seemed a perfect metaphor for what she felt inside her head: chaos, a place torn by violence and rivalry, by the struggle between two antagonistic entities unable to do anything other than oppose. In reality, it was about her and Natasha; in her mind, it was about the new Melissa and the former Melissa. The battle of the real world was in these moments in a difficult point to define because brunette’s revenge had just opened a new path that she wasn’t sure how to follow. But the war between her two psyches had finally concluded; although the former Melissa still managed to return a blow, she could never return…at least until the whole thing was resolved with Natasha, something that it wouldn’t happen in a long time.
As she stood up with some effort the shelf that she had shot down after being hit by the blonde, Melissa blushed remembering what just happened in the bathroom…what had happened the three times she had entered it since she returned to Madame. For some reason, her body had become into an eternal fire, into an uncontrolled conflagration, into a 5’7’’ erogenous zone. This sensation had already martyred after the first fight with Natasha, but the intensity of the moment was infinitely greater. Three times he had surrendered to pleasure in the store’s bathroom, with an eagerness that she had never felt before.
Collecting lingerie, Melissa noticed every throb through her body, in an escalation that she knew that it would end with another trip to the bathroom. Her breasts felt heavy, plump; her nipples, tightly long and hard. Between her legs, her panties were so wet that she knew that she would have to change it once or twice before leaving Madame.
‘This time, Nathan can’t calm this,’ she knew, even without finding logic. For some reason, her body only asked her two contradictory things: on the one hand, search for Natasha to laugh at her defeat and, if the blonde wished, to break the tie between them…or, on the other hand, forget her, ignore her forever. However, she didn’t believe that any election could solve her overstimulation problem. Rather, the opposite: if she faced the blonde again, she believed that her whole being melt in fiery warrior gluttony; but if she didn’t, the perpetual ecstasy could never disappear.
‘Are you afraid?’ she asked herself, recalling the end of the fight, only hours before. ‘She had at your mercy, and you just ran away,’ she reproached herself with last night’s vertigo returning to her head. Her dirty sex attack was definitive for the dancer but also for her. Feel the most private region of her nemesis had devastated her mind, with the moisture that flooded the other crotch reminding her own moisture. Knowing that both were excited in the middle of all that cruel violence had frightened her because the rivalry turned into something much deeper, more intimate, than she had been suspected. ‘Actually, our business was never a common enmity,’ she understood, remembering every glance, every word and every gesture between them. ‘From the beginning, there was something different, something that perhaps none of us fully understand’.
She would have to deal with this, so she made a decision: inaction wasn’t an option. If she did nothing, she would go crazy because of the current burning situation. The animal desire wouldn’t be mitigated until be fed with dancer flesh. It was a headlong rush that the brunette had to go, like it or not. But now that she had tasted victory, she wanted more…much more.
7. Wanted: Alive — Thursday, January 4
Deepdale Street, 12:01
“She no longer works here.” The guy’s words darkened the beautiful young face. “They told me that she disappeared during New Year’s celebration. Apparently, the owner was so angry that he hasn’t even tried to locate her.”
“Oh,” Melissa winced, savoring frustration. “The truth is that she’s a good friend of mine, but I lost her phone number…Can anyone give it to me?”
“I only bring the drinks every morning,” he replied, noting the boxes piled at the entrance. “But you can try your luck tonight, when the boss comes. Although he may take offense that you mention Natasha…”
“Well, recently my friend often has that effect on people,” she released, a reference to her own feelings.
“Perhaps it would be best to ask her companions. They sure can help you. It’s even possible that such a famous brunette is already working here. She was a friend of Natasha.”
Suddenly Melissa’s cheeks glowed, radiating at the sudden evolution of the conversation.
“Ah, really? A famous brunette?”
“Apparently, during New Year’s party came a friend of hers, a stunning brunette. She and Natasha did an awesome dance show. The boss has been searching her desperately, wanting to hire her for the disco. Especially now that her best go-go dancer is gone…”
“Aha…interesting,” she smiled. Under her chest, a proudly burning pounded intensely, especially seeing the boy throwing a quick glance over her body from top to bottom. ‘That’s it, bitch. Nobody misses you.’
“If you want, I could…”
Cutting off the guy, Melissa left him with a quick wave of her hand. Of course, she felt the lascivious gaze locked on her ass, but that only increased the arrogance that flooded her at that time.
‘Where are you hiding, bitch?’ she asked herself, walking down the street. After days at home, leaving her battered tits to heal, today she had finally decided to go hunting. Each step made her breasts bounce slightly; minor shock of pain did her know that she wasn’t hundred percent recovered, but she couldn’t stand any longer confinement. ‘If I haven’t scared her forever, she’ll seek revenge. Will she have the courage to appear in Madame?’
Without further delay, she directed her steps to her store, hoping that fate would smile to her.
New Hall Lane, 12:13
Closed. In front of her beautiful eyes, the little sign showing the more painful word. Her only possible connection with Melissa was her store; if the brunette didn’t open Madame, the real possibilities of locating her were reduced to almost zero.
“Shit,” Natasha whispered, biting her juicy lower lip. Looking to one side, she saw an office; looking at the other, a small medical office. ‘Maybe someone knows her. Maybe they don’t have her phone number, but at least I can find out her last name…’
“Well, again…” The sudden complaint woke the blonde; beside her, a tall guy watched with some despair Madame’s door. “She has me worried…Oh, hello!” Suddenly aware of her, the young man turned to Natasha. “I suppose you also expect that it was open.”
“Do you also know Melissa?”
“Yes, she’s a good friend of mine.”
“Oh, so maybe you can help me. I called her on the phone for days, but she doesn’t answer me. Do you have the same problem?”
The female instinct of Natasha exploded in that instant, crying from the rooftops that here was her chance. The unnamed guy looked fallen from heaven…
“The truth is that you not gonna believe this, but I lost all my phone numbers. So I came here to look for Melissa.” Being aware of the man’s attention, the blonde didn’t hesitate to add with a certain coquetry: “Would it be too much to ask you to help a clueless idiot like me giving me the number of my dear friend?”
“I don’t think you’re idiot. You seem a charming woman.” Smiling stupidly, the young man took his phone. “By the way, my name is Nathan.”
“I’m Natasha. How do you know Melissa?”
“We go to the same gym, but she no longer appears there…”
While the blonde took note of the Melissa’s number, she was aware of a glaringly obvious fact given the desperate physical language of the man: there had been something between him and Melissa. Her new personality immediately devised a plan, a small mischievous idea that would serve as bait for the brunette. ‘If she is arrogant enough to deny me my chance for revenge, this will make her change her mind.’
“Very friendly, Nathan,” smiling, she pushed her chest out, getting all the attention of the guy. At that time, she cursed nail traces that still mark her tits. ‘If instead of this blouse I had used cleavage, he didn’t even remember the name of this cheap whore’. “Hey, why don’t we take a picture of us with my phone? I could send it to Melissa. Surely she’ll be so surprised that she’ll call us soon.”
“Sure,” said Nathan, totally haunted.
A minute later, the two moved away from Madame with separate paths: the man, watching the swinging of her over his shoulder; the woman, obsessively checking the number of Melissa in the screen of her phone.
New Hall Lane, 12:27
Her store, her beloved store, stood silent, surrounded by the noise of the city. As a metaphor for all that had changed in her, Madame looked different: darker, more like a full of dangerous creatures den that the modest lingerie store that it was. Despite having lost an entire morning to fix it, she hadn’t yet been able to open it to the public.
Then, her phone vibrated, pulling her out of the reverie. Shaking her head, Melissa returned to reality, but immediately her stomach trembled when she observed the WhatsApp message she had just received: a photo of Nathan smiling in front of her shop…with Natasha. The number was unknown, but the avatar of the blonde clarified everything.
“Slut,” she muttered, incredibly annoying… without knowing why. She wasn’t sure exactly what annoyed her: To see Nathan happy with her nemesis? Or to rediscover the beauty that Natasha exhibited both in photography and in her little avatar? Of course, the guy meant nothing to her; she hadn’t been more than a pleasant and momentary response to a problem without solution. But there was something about the combination of the stupid grin from him and the exuded sensuality about her that made Melissa nervous.
With her heart beating uncontrollably, Melissa expanded the photography, watching the body of the other woman part by part. Returning to the start of their rivalry, she again felt the intriguing sensation that she had felt every time the blonde had visited Madame: the striking resemblance between the two was still painfully obvious, with Natasha’s eyes also green, with her equally fleshy mouth, with her equally silky skin. Moving the image with quick movements of her fingers, the brunette observed the antagonistic curves, unable to separate it from her own figure.
Then she noticed one thing: like her, Natasha hid her cleavage. A slight shock of pride ran through her body, knowing that her claws had left their marks on the blonde’s heavy tits. But her own boobs throbbed at the memory of her own wounds.
‘I’ve got her number, that’s all that matters’, she finally managed to focus, smiling with a certain perversity. Now, she just had to play her cards, to rile Natasha and, finally, to wait until the dancer fell into their hands like a ripe fruit.
Bird Bookstore Cafe
New Hall Lane, 13:04
The coffee began to cool, but Natasha hadn’t drunk anything. Seated at the most hidden table in the cafe—like she wanted to hide her dark thoughts—the blonde looked at the screen of her mobile obsessively. She saw her archenemy connected, but there was no response to her photo. Every second was felt like a beating of wings in her stomach; every minute, like a squeeze on her exalted heart.
“Why the fuck she doesn’t write anything?” she muttered to herself, shaking the phone as if she feared not having coverage. At that moment, she regretted not sending her a direct challenge; however, do it now, after so many minutes, wasn’t a possibility: she didn’t want to seem anxious…just what she was being. ‘C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!’
In the solitude of the table, Natasha noticed how her body began to burn. The familiar feeling spread up and down, burning skin, flesh and blood vessels. Hunger that dominated her every time she thought about Melissa took control, and the uncertainty over the inaction of the brunette forced her to gasp. Several drops of sweat appeared on her forehead, while the mobile screen still didn’t show any movement.
“I’m gonna call her,” she yielded, trembling with the desire to sink her hands into the flesh of her antagonist. She visualized herself tugging hair, squeezing tits…and seeking revenge against the other sex.
But then something appeared in WhatsApp. Her body stiffened and her eyes had to blink a few times to believe what she saw. ‘What the…?’
Finally, Melissa answered her…and she did it with another image. However, the photograph of her opponent was far, far beyond hers. In front of Natasha’s greenish gaze, the two Melissa’s tits, covered by a black bra, were exhibited with pride, even though the marks of nails that the blonde had imprinted on them. Her irises moved quickly across the image, trembling at the courage of the brunette, mechanically programmed to analyze and record; although she was tired of meeting Melissa’s bust, she knew she would never stop comparing it with hers.
“Is this your game, bitch?” she said to the mobile, visibly angry. “Do you first ignore me, and now… this?” Her chest swelled, shivering over a pounding heart. “Two can play this game…”
In a flash, Natasha stood. Leaving the cold coffee, she walked with hurried steps to the bathroom…
New Hall Lane, 13:13
An eternity later—barely a few minutes in reality—the blonde’s answer came to Melissa’s phone. Locked in her store, the brunette had waited sitting in the dark the next move in the indecent chess game that she had begun—after a malicious delay—with her torrid outburst. The reply, of course, was what she had expected.
“Nice marks, you whore,” she growled, opening her green eyes to the photograph received: Natasha’s tits, partly covered by a silky white bra, looked so round, so juicy that Melissa couldn’t help feeling a jealous aftertaste on her palate. Even the pleasure of seeing the traces that her nails had been left on the boobs could compensate that feeling. Suddenly, the game no longer seemed so funny.
“Wait till I come to get my hands on yours,” she spat, just before noticing a disturbing detail. “Oh, horny slut…”
Expanding the image, she observed with some obsession how Natasha’s nipples were pushing through the bra, barely hidden under the white fabric. Noticing how her own hardness increased, she looked down: before her beauty eyes, her nipples answered to the image by dilating.
“You asked for it…” she said, without even knowing why; the whole issue of the nemesis’ thick nipples seemed—for her twisted mind—a challenge that she must answer. Looking at the nearest shelf, she knew immediately what would be her next move…
Bird Bookstore Cafe
New Hall Lane, 13:25
Even before the waiter was away, Natasha had already devoured the lemon cake with quick bites. A terrible appetite had seized her, especially after Melissa respond to the fire with her own fire. She still couldn’t believe what she had done in the bathroom, but she knew she wasn’t the one that had started this issue.
‘Yes, I sent the first picture,’ she argued with herself. ‘But that bitch is the one who sent me a photo of her fucking tits.’
Uncomfortable on the chair, with her throat suddenly dry, Natasha drank some cold coffee, waiting impatiently for the move of her opponent. Looking obsessively the mobile, her fingers stalked the icon called over and over, hoping to leave behind the chat to move to a direct conversation. However, somehow she felt that this would be a kind of defeat, so she sighed and put the phone on the table like if it was poisonous.
Then it vibrated. Picking it up quickly, Natasha reopened WhatsApp. ‘You’re starting to make me sick, slut!’ she wanted to scream but instead she growled, biting her lower lip. Melissa had sent another snapshot of her tits, but this time covered by a white bra, similar to hers. The blonde took just half a second to realize the intentions of the brunette; although her breasts were as spectacular as in the previous picture, something had changed: highlighting against white, Melissa’s fleshy and long nipples seemed pushed out the bra, pushed out the mobile screen, into a direct provocation.
“Hard bitch… If you were here…” she muttered, suddenly sweaty. ‘If she were here…what?’ she asked herself. Looking at her own bust, she saw the swelling under her blouse. ‘What would you do, Natasha?’ she reiterated herself, but even the new blonde could answer that… yet.
“Let her suffer. Take your time to respond, as she did before,” she said, trying to overcome her doubts, trying to discern the next step. “No, better not: she might think you’re scared. Don’t let her think that her tits are better than yours. Don’t do it.”
Sweat ran down her forehead, while an aura of silence surrounded her; she thought she could hear a nearby clock with an impatient ticking, waiting for her decision.
“Oh, I hate you so much…” she spat. Natasha stood for a second time, back to the bathroom.
New Hall Lane, 13:38
Melissa’s lips and eyes were as wide that it seemed a competition about which ones could be more open. The hand holding the phone shaking so badly that it was a miracle that the mobile wasn’t falling. Her whole being burned; physically and mentally, the brunette felt that she melted, merging into a puddle of sweat.
And all for the last message from Natasha: the image was devastating, but the words that accompanied it—the first written in the hot phone duel—were even more devastating.
“You’re a cheap whore,” the brunette growled to the mobile, standing up and walking nervous around the store. “You’re a fucking disgusting whore.”
Madame’s darkness emphasized even more the bright phone screen. Her eyes recorded hopelessly the photography of the blonde’s panties: white, small, silky, covering a plump, proud vulva which was pushed forcefully against the fabric. Below the photo, the words of Natasha finished off this unexpected attack:
Melissa wanted to scream. There was no doubt what her enemy meant, because she hadn’t stopped thinking about it.
“Yeah, you tramp, I grabbed your pussy. Get over it!” She growled to the message, even though obviously she hadn’t got over it. Having the crotch of her nemesis on screen shook her memories, making them even more vivid than before; her fingers again felt the tangle of hair, the warmth of lips, the moisture waiting inside…A shiver ran through her body, hardening and wetting here and there in a lusty discharge of adrenaline.
“Ok, whore, you asked for it.”
New Hall Lane, 13:58
The January cold breeze could hardly calm Natasha but at least she had managed to escape from the oppressive and claustrophobic feeling that had invaded her in the cafe after receiving Melissa’s response. Needing air, she practically had run away, with her beautiful face now red and sweaty.
Her steps were led to the avenue park, but she hadn’t stopped there: the blonde disappeared into the trees, away from any path, away from view. Then, alone, she looked and read the message again.
The counterattack was accompanied by a snapshot of brunette’s panties. Her green irises were lost in the manifest outlines of her vulva, voluminous as hers, before noticing a detail that burned her own sex. Expanding the image, she couldn’t help but gasp.
“Oh, you bitch…” she complained, seeing a small wet spot on the bottom of Melissa’s panties. Noticing how her own crotch was wet, Natasha swallowed and turned back into the WhatsApp conversation. When she looked her previous picture, she fully understood what Melissa’s words meant.
“It can also see I’m soaked!” she cursed. Her body trembled, halfway between frustration and anger. “That’s the reason why this fucking slut says I miss her fucking wet pussy!”
Without realizing that she was talking too loudly, the blonde couldn’t resist her instincts any more. She wanted to have her nemesis under her claws, right there, right now. Before Natasha knew it, she had already pressed the call button.
The first call tone was accompanied by a thunder in the distance, announcing an unexpected storm. However, there was no second tone.
Melissa was there for her…at the other side of the telephone line…
New Hall Lane, 14:05
When the phone rang, Melissa’s heart stopped. She certainly didn’t expect such a reaction from Natasha, but she also knew that dueling messages couldn’t last forever. One of her fingers acted; before she could draw a plan, she accepted the call.
Then she heard rival’s ragged breathing across the line, and her own gasps responded similarly. A second passed, and then five; ten seconds became twenty, and twenty became thirty, but none said anything. Both girls fed back the nervousness through the call, unable to react until the animal part of Melissa’s brain released a single order, a single word:
“Ribbleton Park,” the voice of the blonde responded immediately; dry, throaty, odious, it was barely a murmur. “I’m in Ribbleton Park. And you?”
“I arrive in 5 minutes,” she said, ending the call. Her heart started beating again, from inaction to decontrol. Dressing hurriedly, she felt her whole body stiffening; her breasts tightened, anticipating the fight, while their female legs trembled. Among them, sex throbbed to the rhythm of her heartbeat, forcing the brunette to gasp.
‘I’ll finish this, whatever it takes,’ she promised, finally going through the door of Madame.
Outside, she was received by a world that made no sense, at least not anymore: cars crossed the avenue, stopping at traffic lights to make way for a mass of people moving from here to there, walking, talking, shopping, working; everything formed a docile flock of sheep under the tutelage of the city lights. For Melissa, the world to which she belonged weeks ago was now the acme of the trivial. Walking along the sidewalk, the words of the crowd reached their ears: relationship problems, higher taxes, soccer matches, celebrity scandals… Everything was anodyne; the brunette beauty felt sorry for their sad existences. ‘I was that way,’ she knew. ‘I was, but now is when I’m really alive.’
The umbrellas were opened when Melissa was near the park. The first drops fell on her, while a flash of lightning crossed the horizon. Just a few seconds later, the thunder accompanied its storm’s brother.
“Close…” she whispered, not sure if she was referring to the storm or Natasha, since she already saw Ribbleton Park’s tress across the street. Accelerating the pace, she reached the park entrance just as the rain intensified. A dozen people ran into the street, fleeing from the sudden storm, but Melissa stood firm in the downpour, looking in all directions.
And then she saw her: just a golden reflection, a quick flash of a mane waving in the humid air…and a look of hatred. Natasha disappeared into the trees on the right, and Melissa went to meet her. Under the increasingly heavy rain, she moved her tense leg muscles with increasing urgency. Her pulse began to race, and her throat dried; the grove seemed so far away that she thought she would never arrive. The fingers of her hands trembled, hungry for flesh, as her tongue licked her own thick lips repeatedly.
Finally, she walked through the trees and, almost immediately, the rain gave a sudden truce. Under a still threatening dark sky, Melissa crossed the grove, surrounded a hedge and then reached a small clearing…
There she was: soaked from top to bottom, Natasha was panting, watching her with a murderous grin. Her long and usually perfect blond hair clung to her head because of the downpour, while red blouse and jeans she wore clung heavily to her body. The brunette felt the burden which had become her own clothes: the blue blouse pulled down her torso, swollen with water, while her jeans, darker than Natasha’s, seemed to weigh twice.
Several drops slid down the beautiful brunette’s face when she moved her hips: she placed the hands on them, slightly lifting her chin in a challenging and feminine pose. Across the clear—barely 10 feet—Natasha imitated her posture, with many streams of water running over her curvaceous body as small waterfalls.
At that moment, a spectacular lightning lit the cold evening air, announcing that it wasn’t done: it was only a small calm before the storm…
And the storm started among young beauties. Without provocation, without insults…without words; just a double battle cry. Dirty intensity of telephone exchange was enough to turn the girls in animals: their claws gripped the other hair, the other curves immediately. Less than five seconds after crashing body to body, the two girls fell; the intense and brief rain had muddied the park, and the accelerated fight couldn’t stand upright on the slippery clearing.
Then the screams came. The tits were crushed with rage, deformed under strong and insatiable fingers through the thick, soaked blouses in a clear exhibition of what the amazons envied more than anything. Each squeeze pulled out a howl of pain from the other, but also a trail of water from the squeezed clothes, matching the already watery eyes.
Rolling across the clearing, the bodies of the girls were filled with mud and grass, anguish and bitterness. The legs locked each other, uncomfortable by jeans, and the hands deepened into the mutual destruction of breasts. Natasha felt how the discharges of that suffering crossed her entire body, exploding here and there as jabs that threatened to paralyze her muscles. One hand finished looking for the other hair, while her own hair was pulled; both were seeking control in the decontrol. A punch hit her side, and she found herself replying with a claw on nemesis’ belly. Sports shoes of both were lost in combat. In the chaos of hair, water, sky, mud and pain, the blonde could barely distinguish anything: was she on top? Was she on the bottom? Did they still hidden in the clearing? Her back hit the trunk of a tree; shortly after—a second, a minute?—she heard Melissa growl when she struck against another one. Nothing was clear, but the important thing: the brunette was suffering; maybe more, maybe less than her, but she was suffering.
Suddenly, this savagery ended. Somehow that the disordered Natasha’s brain couldn’t comprehend, Melissa and she ended up separating, rolling each one sideways. Panting, with her boobs throbbing in distress, the blonde knelt right in the center of the clearing. Just a couple of steps, the brunette also rose to her knees, between two trees. Water returned in the form of light rain, merging itself with the transpiration of the women.
In that short truce between injured tigers, Natasha felt a sort of uncontrollable desire growing inside: unlimited hatred towards the brunette began to take shape, being molded into an ambition whose only goal was to humiliate through the challenge. With her vulva about to explode, the blonde understood that, between them, there was no greater challenge than the physical challenge, so she let that new energy possessed her and, without a word—it wasn’t necessary—she stood up, grabbing the button that closed her jeans. Under the still light rain, Natasha bared her legs; her panties glinted, wet with femininity, in freedom.
For Melissa, the vision of the blonde’s pants being thrown aside was felt as if a glove had crossed her face in a challenge taken from some old movie. However, the vision of the nakedness of those wonderful, toned legs and especially the vision of the soaked white panties were received as if a hundred slaps had struck her seductive cheeks. It wasn’t the first time she faced her nemesis with so little clothes down there, but the preliminaries of the struggle and the context of mutual excitement created an aura of terrible antagonism, as if there was much more at stake than ever before.
Not wanting to be left behind, Melissa rose to her feet, staring defiantly at Natasha. A huge lightning zigzagged over her, followed immediately by thunder. The brunette took off her own muddy pants and intentionally threw them above other woman’s jeans. Girls’ breasts swelled under their blouses, but this time none attempt to compete in this area against her enemy because the attention of the two young beauties was obsessively focused on another crotch. Therefore, without hesitation, both placed the hands on her ample hips, arching themselves slightly to present her panties to the green eyes of the hated opponent.
Under the storm, lasciviously watching the reliefs marked under the fabric and the moisture that emanated from it, both understood that their rivalry went far beyond a physical competition. It wasn’t only a matter of jealousy and resentment, even a matter of who was prettier, or was hotter: the unresolved issue went beyond such limits. But just as the umpteenth lightning crossed the sky, the revelation of the Truth crossed their chaotic minds for a split second…and then disappeared. As a word on the tip of the tongue, the Truth was still there, frustratingly close but at the same time unattainable. The fury buried everything and, before anyone could dig for answers, both jumped into the opponent.
The rain intensified, and the wind came into play with a hurricane blowing than expected to measure up to the events of the grove. The girls bumped chest to chest in that quagmire, snarling face to face while their left hands sank into another wet hair. Their most skilled hands, however, were reserved for the main purpose: one looking for dirty vengeance, the other for a second humiliation, both hands sank between their bodies, grabbing vehemently other pussy through her panties. Gritting their teeth to keep from crying, the couple stumbled from here to there, squeezing the opposite sex anatomy with a passion that was born of envy: under the fingers, under the palms, they could distinguish a generous, warm vulva, big in all aspects. Pain exploded in their cunts, making their legs tremble, but the feeling of having their most intimate parts rubbed under the thin fabric of their panties brought something more than damage to their bodies.
“You’re fucking wet, you bitch!” Melissa yelled the first words of the fight, feeling the blonde’s sex watered her hand even through the white cloth.
“Look who’s talking, you cunt!” Natasha cried, disgusted and excited at the same time to feel the soaked reaction growing on the other crotch.
Fighting between trees, the young girls were about to slip once, twice, three times in just a minute, but somehow this time the two managed to avoid falling into this quagmire, as if clinging to the center of the other femininity were sufficient to keep standing. Each one insisted to hurt the other pussy, squeezing harder each time the enemy did, deepening further into other anatomy each time the other female did; the fingers pressed, the palms crushed. And all the while they were grunting in the face, forehead to forehead, nose to nose, almost mouth to mouth, through tears full of hate.
“You whore! I’ll destroy your pussy like I destroyed it last time!” Melissa spat, pulling blonde hair to bring even closer to her nemesis.
“I wasn’t prepared, you slut!” Natasha replied. Accepting the greater proximity of bodies, she pushed herself tit to tit, belly to belly, against the brunette. “But now I am! Your pussy will be so devastated when I finished with it that even Nathan’s small cock cannot satisfy you!”
“His dick isn’t small!” For some reason, Melissa received this as an insult to her, not to the man, as if the real intention of the blonde was belittle her feminine capacity to conquer the best men. “Unlike your cunt, by the way!”
“Liar!” While they further argued, Natasha felt wetter, and wetter she felt her rival. Suddenly, that surface assault began to be insufficient, frustratingly insufficient for her. “You’re grabbing a cunt much bigger than yours! That’s for sure!”
“That’s not what I’m feeling, cheap slut!” The same sense of insufficiency flooded already the brunette, with her fingers longing for that which they had at the disco, just days before: a direct invasion of the intimacy of the blonde, without barriers.
“Aside from your belly, nothing in your body is bigger! Neither your tits or your nipples or your lips! And of course neither your dirty cunt!” Natasha’s bravado filled Melissa’s mind with even darker storm clouds than those from the sky that was throwing a furious rain over the girls. Blonde’s chest reacted to the challenge hardening, as her lips throbbed in an unfamiliar sensation in extreme closeness of the equally juicy lips of another beauty.
“Oh, you cocky bitch!” Melissa finished snarling, unable to bear all those fronts when some cruel fingers lacerated her crotch so hard. “We’ll solve all this in due time, but now we’ll see who really has the biggest pussy!”
“Fucking whore!” The tormented blonde’s head didn’t know how to take Melissa’s decision to keep the fight exclusively between their pussies, because on the brink of absolute alienation, she even knew if she truly wanted, or she truly could to extend that. So, Natasha decided to unleash their desires, leaving the surface struggle to take the bull by the horns. However, she wasn’t the only one, because while she pulled brunette’s panties aside to fight her way inside, her archenemy did the same with her own panties.
The pull of hair came in unison; both girls somehow understood that this was the logical step: like all fights between women began with hair pulling to mark territory, the battles between cunts had to start the same way. Tears sprang from one face to the other, exchanging salty pain while pubic hair was surely rooted out. The fingers of the amazons were filled with curly dark and light filaments in the razor slaughter.
“Learn how to trim your cunt, you bitch!” Wrapping her fingers around all the hair that she could grab, Natasha deforested the black forest angrily.
“You too, prostitute!” Golden jungle of the other female sanded her fingertips like rose thorns, but that didn’t stop the harvester momentum of Melissa. “I had heard that blonde hair was weak, but I didn’t expect it would be so easy to tear apart!”
“Better worry about your pathetic dark hair! At this rate, your pussy will be bald in less than a minute!”
However none could carry out her threat. At last they slipped, and ground came to receive with a burst of mud and water. Falling on their sides both lost their grip on the other hair, so the anxious fingers clung to the first thing they could. The girls groaned as they felt the touch of the other fingertips on her labia; before they can be controlled, they penetrated the hated antagonist. Two fingers crossed the threshold of Natasha’s wet pussy, and two fingers transgressed Melissa’s hot labia; instigated by that elusive Truth that they couldn’t remember, by that illogical hunger with the sexual orientations of the beauties, fingers sank into the most intimate depths of the females, there in the quagmire, under the torrential rain, in that wet world.
The effect was instantaneous and mutual; pure dynamite: both beauties exploded in the most physically pleasurable, more mentally painful, more completely unexpected orgasm of all their lives. Howling like she-wolves, roaring like lionesses, they shouted their passion face to face, closing watery eyes with the force of delirium. The storm hid the delicious martyrdom under a thunder, illuminating with a sudden lightning the quivering bodies in agonizing convulsions; rain drowned the tears born of broken souls, trying in vain to purify those bodies that both considered so corrupt in those final moments of orgasm.
With the latest tremors running their sexes, Natasha and Melissa managed to move away their vicious fingers. Without looking at each other, they separated, rising between light tremors and soft sobs. With their heads always down, they picked up their jeans and shoes; as they dressed, the cruel storm began to subside, as if it no longer had any show to see.
Then both walked away from the other, ready to get out of this unfortunate grove. However, at the last moment, something forced them to look back: their wet and trembling eyes met for a few seconds. Both gulped, feeling the flame that connected one to another had still not extinguished.
“You have my number,” Natasha said with a husky voice about to break.
“And you have mine,” Melissa responded with barely a whisper.
That kind of challenge was all they could handle. Without further ado, they walked away, aware that once alone they would weep like never before.
8. Inner Chaos — Thursday, January 18
Blumen Women Gym
Caroline Street, 10:02
The leg muscles were tensed to the maximum, nearing exhaustion by intense exercise, but the girl galloped over the treadmill, waving arms in perfect sync with the rhythm of the race. Sweat jumped around from her forehead, her cheeks, her torso and her legs.
Closing her eyes momentarily, the attractive blonde focused on her breathing, seeking to control it in the final stretch of the exercise. She inhaled, puffing her chest, and then she expired in dominated routine…over and over again.
‘You’re fucking wet, you bitch!’
The voice appeared abruptly in her head, as so often in the past two weeks. Immediately, she noticed how a ghostly hand grabbed her sex; a pain that wasn’t real erupted between her legs, forcing her to gasp.
‘I’ll destroy your pussy like I destroyed it last time!’
The threat echoed inside her, with such force that she thought someone was yelling at her at that moment. Opening her eyes to get out of trance, she looked to either side of the half empty gym, looking for something that didn’t exist.
Suddenly, her right foot stepped wrong and the accelerating treadmill almost threw her into the air. Luckily, she managed to hold herself to the machine. Awkwardly turning the program, she could get out of it with her heart pounding, but without a scratch.
“Are you okay?” A worried and short red hair woman approached her. “You almost get hurt there…”
“I just stumbled. But thanks for worrying.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, sweetheart.”
As she saw the redhead walk away to return to her exercise routine, Natasha grabbed her towel to dry her sweaty face. ‘Sweetheart,’ she repeated in her head. ‘Yes, everyone has always considered me a sweetheart. Friendly, charismatic and kindhearted… But what am I now?’
‘You’re a cheap hooker who thinks that being a fucking go-go dancer entitle you to wear a queen’s crown.’
Trembling to hear the answer of the voice of her head—the voice of Melissa—the blonde looked at her own reflection in the numerous mirrors that covered every inch of wall of the gym. As had happened in the last days, she was dragged into a discussion where her memories spoke on behalf of her conceited nemesis.
‘Yes, I’m go-go dancer again, so fuck you,’ she said to the ghost. Days earlier, she had solved everything with Darkness’ owner; that night, she would return to the stage that she should never leave. ‘And yeah, I’m the queen. If you have any problems with it, come back to the disco. I’m ready for another dance, you slut.’
Seeing the hatred gesture that dominated her face with these thoughts, Natasha knew exactly what she had become…or rather, what Melissa had force her to become. Looking back to the redhead, who was working the legs alone on a machine, the blonde understood that, because of the brunette, she had lost the ability to connect with others. Her relations were reduced only to one: Melissa, and nobody else. Every morning, every evening, every night she thought of her; she had no time for friends, or to find a boyfriend. Her life revolved around the brunette, awake or asleep, especially after what happened in the park, two weeks ago.
‘I’m hotter than you.’
Melissa’s voice again attracted her gaze at her reflection. Or was her own voice? Both had provoked each other with the same words in their first meeting at the Lindermann’s mansion, almost a month before. ‘In such a short time, everything has changed radically,’ she mused, looking at her figure. ‘Everything, absolutely everything comes from there,’ she knew, watching her own curves. Her chest swelled, shock up and down to the rhythm of the breathing, blinking erotically under a heavy layer of sweat. Slowly bringing a finger to her tits, Natasha touched them.
“The heat doesn’t disappear…” she whispered to herself, in a soft gasp. “Two weeks and still burning…”
Her feline and green eyes traveled around the rest of her complexion; the combustion wasn’t exclusive to her breasts because her full lips, her stony ass and her juicy thighs boiled with an inextinguishable fire, causing an almost perennial sweat. In the center of this volcanic body, as propagator axis, was her unstable vagina; hungry, throbbing, burning, the sex was unable to be covered by a panty.
Then she again felt Melissa’s fingers inside her. She gasped, while the Truth that she had felt in the park, the Truth about the depths that reached her relationship with the brunette, prowled her head, still elusive. Without delay, she ran to the bathroom, where solitude and her own fingers would calm her…for just ten minutes.
An endless cycle…
New Hall Lane, 10:44
Melissa felt uncomfortable under all those stares, but she certainly understood the situation. A cold wave had just arrived in the city; so intense that even store’s heating was insufficient: customers kept their heavy coats, their scarves and even in some cases their caps inside Madame. However, behind the counter, she wore top and skirt…and nothing more.
But the brunette didn’t attract attention only because the short outfit: she was sweating. Her cleavage was surrounded by numerous small beads of sweat, as well as her thighs and butt. That first morning—the reopening of the store—had been a series of questions about it; all had been answered evasively, because she didn’t understand what was happening to her body.
‘But I know when this started…’
The chaotic mudfight in the park, two weeks ago, had marked a turning point. Since then, her body had become a walking eruption: her sex throbbed with its own pulse, dilating under an igneous and endless rain that forced her to avoid wearing panties. The fire spread from her crotch to her thighs, her ass, her tits; thick lips requiring constant hydration, burning in eternal flame.
A client woke Melissa from her reverie, approaching her with a striking black lace bra. ‘She has good taste,’ she thought, in an attempt to focus at work, but when the woman opened her mouth, when the brunette heard her words, she flushed.
“You’re grabbing a cunt much bigger than yours.”
“I was looking for a bigger bra that this one,” the customer repeated, this time with her own voice. Melissa took a hand to her forehead, noticing it hot.
“Are you fine?”
“Yes, yes. Sorry, bad night.” That was true. “What size do you need?”
“36C,” the woman answered. Then, in front of Melissa’s eyes, her face seemed distorted. “Mine are much bigger than yours. That’s for sure.”
“I said that my prettiest bras were bought in your store. That’s for sure.”
She didn’t remember that client, something that had never happened to her before. ‘Who is this blonde?’ her mind stopped, realizing that the woman wasn’t blonde, but chestnut. ‘She’s not blonde? And her eyes were green, not dark…’
“Are you sure you’re fine? You’re sweating…” The customer seemed uncomfortable under the sudden and intense gaze from Melissa.
“Don’t worry. Changes in metabolism…” she replied without thinking. “I think I have that size for that model, but in purple and pink, not black.”
“Purple is okay.” The brunette turned, searching on the shelf behind her, when she heard: “At this rate, your cunt will be bald in less than a minute.”
Melissa froze. Now she was sure: it was Natasha’s voice which she hearing, it was Natasha’s image which she was seeing. But it couldn’t be real.
“What do you said…?” she whispered weakly, not daring to look back.
“At this rate, your store stocks will run out in less than a minute.” Surprised, Melissa looked back: a dozen people entered Madame. “We missed the store these days that has been closed.”
“Yeah, well, I was…really busy.” Leaving the violet bra on the counter, the brunette didn’t dare to look up. But the voices of recently arrived women came to her ears in the form of vicious whispers.
“You’re an arrogant slut, a boastful tramp who doesn’t know what her place.”
“Let’s fight like women, whore.”
“If you want a war, bitch, you’ll have a war.”
‘What hell is wrong with me?’ she finished asking herself in the brink of insanity. Her body burst into even higher flames; her sex called attention with ardor, and the girl couldn’t help but give in to her command.
“Sorry! I have an urgent matter to attend to. I’m really sorry, but I have to close. Come out, please. Now!” She couldn’t wait to pacify her interior, as she had done so often in recent days.
An endless cycle…
9. Nocturnal Wreck — Tuesday, January 23
Black & Blue Pub
Swan Street, 21:59
The atmosphere in the pub was genuinely enthusiastic. Surprisingly the local female soccer team had won a prestigious national tournament: a trophy that nobody expected…and that night was time for celebration. Of course, if Melissa seeking tranquility, she was wrong: young athletes drank, danced and yelled along with their partners and friends, and some excited fans, turning the usually restful Black & Blue in a kind of college party.
Sitting at the bar, the brunette finished her drink with a long swallow, before making a gesture to the waitress.
“Another double whisky.”
“Wow, someone tries to forget someone, right?”
‘She had to be the speaker type. Fucking slut,’ she thought, ashamed at the moment for the insult. ‘Another shit more from Natasha’.
“Something like that,” she forced herself to smile.
“Well, baby, don’t worry.” The waitress, an attractive redhead on their thirties, winked at her. “There are many fish in the sea. Especially for a brunette like you. You have the best possible bait,” she concluded, with a quick glance at her shiny cleavage.
Melissa couldn’t redden because her cheeks already glowed scarlet because of alcohol. For a couple of seconds, she also observed carefully the redhead’s chest: large and firm, challenged gravity just like her own boobs. In her drunken mind appeared images of the waitress and her, alone in one of the pub’s private rooms, bringing breasts together in erotic contact. Melissa saw herself bringing her hands on waitress’ tits, caressing the freckled skin, massaging the soft flesh…squeezing the boobs to make her scream. Suddenly, the redhead faded from her drunken fantasies, giving way to a blonde that she knew well. Natasha was the woman who was under her, in the solitude of the private room, howling as her tits were torn apart by nails, crying a mercy that she would never receive.
Then she noticed that the waitress was looking at her, aware of her attention. Clearing her throat nervously, Melissa grabbed her glass and, at once, she swallowed the half of the burning liquid.
‘Lesbian thoughts! That’s all I needed!’
Around her, the soccer players were having fun. A couple of feet away, one of the girls were kissing passionately—and shamelessly—a boy, while beyond them, as two uncontrolled octopuses, another couple pawed each other between hungry kisses. Melissa took a moment to notice that there were two girls from the soccer team; unavoidably, she turned her head to watch the scene with unhealthy interest: between their eager lips, she could sometimes glimpse the clash of tongues, with a humidity that was reproduced in her own and eternally heated crotch. The hands of a girl eagerly clung to the back of the other, while her lover massaged her tits with equal enthusiasm.
Melissa rubbed her thighs together, suddenly altered by what she saw. But then her sex burst into flames when she noticed certain detail she had overlooked: one was blonde; the other brunette.
“Fuck…” was all she could growl before sinking into another long swig of whisky. Her sweaty breasts pounded on her cleavage, with the everlasting drops of sweat jumping when she rose from the chair abruptly. Not knowing how to escape from that chaos of sensuality, she grabbed her almost empty glass and fled towards one of the private rooms of the pub.
But something stopped her. The air vibrated at that heated atmosphere when the front door was open; a slight cool breeze embraced the neck and back of Melissa, but it wasn’t what caught her attention. A sort of aura was shaken around her, a hot manifestation above the cold kiss of the night. Before turning the head, the brunette knew it: there, at Black & Blue’s front door, against all odds, appeared the woman who haunted her dreams, awake or asleep: Natasha.
The two beauties perceived the rival instantly, on a connection that seemed to be headed by a cruel divine hand. In a big city, with dozens of bars, pubs and nightclubs…How many chances were there that they had met each other in the same place, the same night, at the same time? Perhaps now they could also smell each other, even at the level of pheromones?
Time stopped. After days avoiding one to another, denying the possibility of calling, the two opponents were face to face; worse, face to face with two devastating outfits. Already experts, they studied the opponent’s clothing in less than a blink, analyzing the level of threat they were facing. Natasha found challenging the pink blouse and the black short skirt of the brunette, while Melissa saw provocation in the white blouse and the red short skirt of the blonde; a major challenge was, however, that they wore very similar for the umpteenth time, although the go-go dancer could take comfort in the fact that her skirt was visibly shorter, and although the lingerie saleswoman found breath knowing that her cleavage was more pronounced.
‘We’ll see what draws more eyes: my legs or her tits,’ Natasha thought, entering immediately into the game. Then she realized something. ‘Is she sweating…like me?’
Even to several steps away, the blonde could see the gleam of sweat on nemesis’ chest, illuminated by the lights of the pub. Further down the girl’s thighs exhibited the same peculiarity, bothering Natasha. ‘For real? That bitch copy me even on that!’
The game began with a naturalness that shook Natasha. After days filled with insecurity, fear and frustration, with insatiable sexuality and voices on her head, the blonde got carried away. In view of the unexpected presence of her archenemy, her body and her mind left behind all doubts to fully embrace a new confrontation. Somehow, that was the effect that Melissa provoked on her: when the brunette was absent, she appeared in her thoughts like a ghost of uncertainty; but when she appeared before her eyes, a wind dispelled the dilemmas, dissolving them in spectral shreds. Nothing mattered…just face to that cocky girl to make her swallow every look of superiority.
The game began with the same move of the two beauties: they ignored each other. As if the other woman didn’t exist, each walked to one side of the room; the brunette approached one of the three pub’s pool tables, while the blonde was sitting on a bar stool.
“Double whisky,” said Natasha when the waitress came. Although she usually took softer drinks, she had seen what was drinking Melissa. As if that could be another duel, the blonde decided to prove she could also tolerate a strong drink. Therefore, once served, she didn’t hesitate to start with a long drink.
The burn of alcohol hit her throat, spreading like wildfire through her already heated interior. On the other hand, her mind thanked the searing blow: her neurons seemed stimulated, triggering an electrical explosion of cruel and competitive ideas. Her senses sharpened, with the words of Melissa clearly reaching her ears despite the noise around.
“Sure, gorgeous.” Sideways, Natasha saw her taking a pool cue next to a striking blue eyes’ man. “I’ll give you advantage, Kevin: you begin.”
Obviously seduced by the brunette, the boy was smiling like a fool, or at least that Natasha thought. Grabbing his own cue, the young man leaned over the table and started the game with a too hard hit. ‘Try to impress her,’ knew the blonde, seeing how the balls were scattered here and there, quickly and confusedly in a chaos that seemed to refer to the many evil thoughts that crossed her head at that moment. She hadn’t yet decided what the best idea to confront Melissa was…to provoke and humiliate her that night. As a perfect analogy of her doubts, no ball went into the pool table’s holes.
It was Melissa’s turn. She moved around the pool in a way that Natasha found annoying: walking like a model. Angry because the advantage of the game was in the hands of her rival, the blonde felt that her body could barely fit under her outfit, as if the gestures of the other girl provoke that even her light clothes were a prison for her curves.
Then came the worst: Melissa leaned over the pool for her first shot…guiding her formidable ass directly to her. Even despite being to 18 or 20 feet, the challenge was felt like a punch in the stomach; the brunette even swung her buttocks slightly, adding fuel to the fire of anger. Natasha growled softly, wondering what to do about it when suddenly Melissa glanced at back over her shoulder. Beyond the incredible round butt, the go-go dancer saw the loaded with arrogance flash of her green iris…and she couldn’t control her body more.
‘Fucking whore!’ she screamed into her head before jumping off the stool, which plummeted to the ground. Everything happened very fast: quickly crossing the distance between her and her archenemy, her pelvis ended hitting the provocative ass; amid shouts of surprise of everyone present, the two beauties fell on the pool table, with Natasha riding wildly Melissa in an uncontrolled, full of rage and despair attack. She screamed, and her nemesis joined her shriek…
“Is everything alright, baby?”
The voice of the waitress woke her. Surprised, Natasha was seated quietly in front of the bar…not above her rival who was standing after her shot, on the other side of the room.
“Yeah, everything alright,” she muttered, putting her hand to her sweaty forehead. Her mind, again, had played tricks on her…Excessively real and dirty tricks, because her crotch still throbbed with the imaginary feeling of rubbing against the firm ass of Melissa. “I’m fine…”
Taking another long drink of whisky, Natasha got up, expecting to be this time in reality. Determined to control the situation, she approached the sexiest man she looked around with a smile that didn’t hide her intentions.
Of course, Melissa saw the movement of her rival. Despite apparently centered on the pool table, she hadn’t stopped to watch to the other beauty at any moment; always sideways, except in the malevolent move when her butt was the protagonist. ‘Take that, bitch,’ she had thought, arrogant after the hateful look she had taken from Natasha. However, now that the dancer was in motion, she must be alert to her retaliation… because there would be retaliation.
“In this table, Paul.” Her enemy’s voice surrounded her like a poisonous breeze. Tilting her head to one side, Melissa saw Natasha coming with a captivating tanned Latin; both stopped in the pool table beside hers. “Let’s play here…”
Melissa held her breath for a few seconds, disturbed by blonde’s proximity. A few paces away, Natasha seemed to exude around a kind of female aura. The brunette felt the danger, with her body reacted getting goosebumps; the sweat of breasts and thighs grew and her heart matching the accelerated pounding that was beating into the depths of her sex.
‘You won’t absorb me, slut,’ she thought with a snarl. The presence of Natasha began to overwhelm her, distracting her from the game: her hand trembled slightly, making her fail a clear shot; a minute later, a slight tic bother her eye.
‘She’s also nervous,’ she said herself, pushing her hair out of her face as she tried to believe her own words. She saw—or she thought she saw—small gestures of concern in the blonde, but her relief broke into pieces when Natasha, seeking revenge, bent over the pool table in a shameless posture. Suddenly, the brunette was a short distance from dancer’s ass; squeezing her cue, she felt a burning blush flooded her face.
“Your turn, Melissa.”
The girl didn’t hear to her companion because her ears were plugged with the portentous vision. Natasha soon look back, facing her eyes wide open with her own disdainful glance; leaning a little more, the dancer let her red skirt reaching up just enough to display the bottom of her round butt.
Hating that the nemesis’ skirt was shorter than hers, Melissa lost track of time in that sumptuous ass, sweaty under the light of the pub. The eternally wet saleswoman’s sex throbbed even more by the show while her tits hardened under a deep breath in search of control.
Then her cue fell…and the sound of wood against the floor was the signal. Her warm crotch slammed loudly against Natasha’s ass; before any of the men could stop her, she mowed down the other woman against the pool table, climbing over her to strike her cocky butt…
“Melissa, can you hear me?”
The reality called for the brunette through Kevin’s words. Shaking her head, the fantasy disappeared from her disturbed mind; she was still standing behind Natasha, with the cue in her hands.
“Yeah, sorry, I was distracted,” she whispered. Grabbing her glass with some despair, and feeling how her sex was burning increasingly, the brunette finished with her alcohol in one gulp. Then she forced herself to smile. “Would you invite me to a drink, Kevin?”
“Paul…what if you invite me another drink?” She heard Natasha behind her.
The two boys, feeling the luckiest in the world, smiled before walking away, almost running toward the bar: every second away from these beauties was too painful for both.
However, the proximity was more painful for women. Next to each other, between pool tables, without the company of men… they felt alone, even in the middle of the noisy and crowded pub. Not knowing quite what to do, they threw sideways glances to each other, eager to a confrontation that couldn’t be there…
But another kind of duel began to emerge between both, a natural battle which, no doubt, was beginning to be innate to two women of such caliber. Gradually, they perceived every glance—blatant or secret—falling on them from anywhere in Black & Blue. Natasha felt the urge to treasure every glance like precious gems that her female ego needed to keep from starving; Melissa wanted to collect the glances, every one, to forge them into a weapon of power that could finally defeat her enemy. Turned into the center of attention, they stood up, puffing out the chests proudly to the fans.
“You’re gonna lose.” The whisper surprised the dancer, for her temerity and her arrogance. Melissa’s voice pierced the heated air between both, hitting her ears with insolence.
“You will do,” she mumbled haughtily in this clandestine discussion. Without looking at each other, the girls took a deep breath after the first words between them in weeks, actually finding hard not to jump on the rival.
The boys returned with the drinks, and pool games resumed. However, the girls no longer cared about that secondary game: the competition was on another level. The two beauties began to fail her shots, as none was centered in the pool table; instead of looking for the best plays, they sought the best positions for exposing their bodies to the increasingly lascivious audience. The cleavages were presented with pride, with the sweat of the four tits dripping on the pool tables, while the prominent gym butts were partly exhibited under the short skirts every time they leaned over the pool tables. The pub’s atmosphere warmed…among rivals, among their companions, among other men, even among some females. Most animal instincts emerged among several spectators, with libidinous glances or vicious whispering that their owners not trying to control. The lustful force swelled the sweaty beauties’ tits, sensitizing the boobs under the heavy and stale air of the place. Their sexes dilated, looking for absorb all that wave of energy that was fluctuating between the curvaceous bodies; the other young girl was felt as a burning focus of attraction, a kleptomaniac of attentions that, in her presence, she didn’t deserve.
Then, after a little over ten minutes in this desperate struggle, the girls felt it: the Truth floated over them, whispering how to really solve everything, whispering which was the way of clarifying each and every one of their doubts, whispering what fate awaited them if they dared to accept it…but none was able to distinguish the words, none managed to understand the signals of their bodies. Alcohol was over…and with it, the patience. Both walked along the edge of a sharp knife, ready to explode because of the rival’s curves, because of the rival’s feminine aura…
Natasha and Melissa gave up at the same time. With grunts filled with rage and frustration, they left their cues on the pool tables and left the pub with hurried steps, without a word. Colliding shoulder to shoulder at the exit door, the women were received by an icy wind blow; however, none noticed it…
Portman Street, 23:03
The underpass of Portman Street had a bad reputation. A dirty light hanging in the middle of the tunnel was unable to properly enlighten it; on the contrary, its intermittent flashing created a gloomy atmosphere, almost from a horror movie. Its mild electric buzz seemed to join the whistle of the wind; coming from the south of the tunnel, the wind ran the nearly fifty feet of the underpass before to go free by the north exit.
The place was cold and dark…and lonely. Everyone in the city avoided it, preferring to make a detour through Deepdale Street—a lively and bright wide street—before crossing the tunnel at night, looking for problems.
However, the problems had been brought by the girls this time. Standing in the center of the underpass, Melissa and Natasha looked at each other intently, with fists clenched tightly at her sides. After running away from Black & Blue, both had moved through the streets of the deserted winter night, wandered around the other beauty from opposite sidewalks. Without a word, they finished entering the tunnel. Somehow the two were attracted to it like moths captivated by the light. Their feelings of hate had pushed them to that place of solitude and darkness…and the two young women seemed satisfied with that.
Now, with the mutual provocations of the pub fresh in memory, the stage seemed to take a different nature: there wasn’t fear in darkness, but privacy; there wasn’t cold in the wind, but calming; loneliness wasn’t a curse, but a blessing. The risk was brought by them, but none rejected it: they embraced it.
It had been nearly three weeks since the fight in the park; a fight that had devastated them physically but especially mentally. The struggle hadn’t disappeared of their heads for a single second since then, but in the presence of the opponent seemed far more present than ever. The sweat that had perennially installed on their bodies—on breasts, on thighs, on butt—proliferated even more on the burning flesh, while their breaths were slowly but inexorably getting out of control.
Then came the words, spat to accelerate the clash, not to avoid it.
“Did you think you were going to impress someone in the pub with your stupid game?”
The Natasha’s voice echoed through the tunnel, amplified against the unplastered concrete. The usually sweet tone of the blonde was void of any affection, as always happened in front of Melissa. However, this time the brunette noticed something different: between the animosity and the contempt, it floated some femininity, full of sensuality. Feeling threatened by her, Melissa couldn’t help but let out a growl.
“And you?” she replied, inflating her bust with rage. “Did you think that your cheap porn star positions would work with me?”
The last words didn’t go unnoticed for the go-go dancer. Her nemesis wasn’t talking about the men on the pub, those who both women had supposedly been seducing…she was talking about herself. As a revelation, Natasha remembered what had happened earlier and she understood how much truth there was in Melissa’s words. The blonde reminded herself displaying her cleavage, her butt, on the pool table…to realize that, at all times, she had been guiding her virtues to her rival, not to others. The brunette was the only goal of her poses…and—now she saw it clearly—she had been the only goal of Melissa’s poses.
“Looks like my poses did work with you, darling,” she growled, taking a menacing step forward. “On the other hand, your attempts to affect me failed miserably. You don’t have that power over me.”
The message of the dancer penetrated the brunette’s mind, waking her up to the reality that was becoming evident between the two beauties. Suddenly, the two were talking about how they could impress, influence, disturb the other girl, not to men; suddenly, they were arguing about who among them had real power over her enemy…A power not manifested through physical strength, as Melissa beginning to envision.
“I’ve always had that power over you, baby. You felt it the first time you came into my store.” Advancing a bit, the saleswoman licked her lips. “You fell into my web, and since then you couldn’t escape from it.”
As always, the arrogance of Melissa was perceived by Natasha as a hard punch in the stomach. ‘As the punches that we gave each other in Madame in that first night,’ she evoked, remembering the firmness of the rival’s belly under her fist, the consistency of her own abs under the blow of the other girl. The invocation of the past filled Natasha’s head with frustration and pride at the same time, but the contradictory feeling soon disappeared, dragged down by the current moment: what was about to happen would have very little in common with the first duel; she felt it in the cold winter air, in the flickering light of the tunnel, in the flash of the green eyes of Melissa.
“Do you still have nightmares about the first time I walked into your store?” she muttered, femininely tilting her head as she moved forward another step. “I can still see your face. Intimidated by my presence, you can’t take your eyes off me. But don’t worry, I understand it,” she smiled wickedly. “You weren’t the first one nor will be the last one to fall under my spell.”
An invisible slap crossed the face of the brunette when she heard the insolence of her antagonist. ‘I can never get used to her fucking voice,’ she knew. As the discussion progressed, the feminine aura of Natasha seemed to grow in intensity, competing with hers in the underpass that increasingly seemed to dwarf with the presence of the two rival beauties. Melissa’s fingers trembled, eager to grab the long silky hair of the go-go dancer, but something that was awakening inside her let her know that what it was about to explode wouldn’t be a fight as previous fights.
“Your spell? Ha! Don’t make me laugh,” Melissa forced a smile, giving another step forward. “You’re obsessed with me, just admit it. I’ve always known, from the beginning, that my body intimidates you.” Taking air, she threw the last words without thinking. “My body is too much for yours.”
“You slut!” Natasha walked forward, really pissed.
“You hooker!” Melissa went to meet her, closing the short distance between them.
“Your body is a fucking shit!” The blonde threw all her hatred through her green eyes, stopping her steps just a few inches from the brunette. “Your body is out of my league, you know that very well!”
“Shut up, you whore!” The brunette controlled at the last moment her desire to spit the beautiful and haughty Natasha’s face. “My body is a thousand times better than yours, as you know!”
“This body of mine was the one that made you cum as an ordinary bitch in heat!”
That paralyzed Melissa. Her face flushed, and her mouth opened wide. The accusation was much more painful than any blow: it did more harm than the punches that her nemesis had delivered on her; it did more harm that the damage suffered on her tits under the fingernails of Natasha. The thought that had haunted her mind since the muddy fight in the park, the thought she had avoided to accept using the full force of her will, was now thrown into her face by the woman she hated most in the world. Without restraint, without delicacy, the message had been delivered…Now it was her turn to clarify the terms.
“My body was the one that made you cum, ugly slut!”
“You came first, you asshole!”
“Liar! You came first, you moron!”
The lovely features of the girls were disfigured with an aversion that will be undoubtedly eternal. There was no turning back in their rivalry…but surely there had never been such a possibility. The Truth that for weeks had wandered around them with indecipherable messages, the Truth that their bodies had understood long before their minds, suddenly became obvious through the exhaled hostility, through the unmet challenge.
Then tits touched each other. Just was a slight push, but it was enough: the heat that burned in them jumped from one to another. As if a branding iron was marking their boobs, the girls groaned, feeling burned. However, none stepped back, gasping alcoholic breath each other almost mouth of mouth. Going with the flow, blonde and brunette accommodated their bodies chest to chest, staring at the nemesis intensely at close range.
“Keep your tits away from mine if you don’t want me to burn them,” Melissa bragged, feeling how their tits were gradually bringing more heated flesh to the confrontation.
“Will be yours which will be burned here if you don’t stay away from my tits,” Natasha said, noting the increasing pressure between the burning busts.
Ignoring their own threats, the young girls slowly circled each other in the center of the tunnel. Although initially both were alert to any sudden movement of the opponent, the two soon realized that this time there would be no violence between them…at least, not the violence they already knew; at least not soon.
Escorted by their shadows, that appeared and disappeared under the flickering underpass’ light, and surrounded by the howling winter wind, the two antagonists pushed themselves a little closer together, pressing the other firmness until a slight hiss reached their ears. With great difficulty, they broke the locked gaze, forcing themselves to look down. To the surprise of both, the source of the sound was between their yet slightly flattened tits: an almost imperceptible steam emanated from the burning breasts, wherever the bare flesh was touching above necklines. The green eyes of the two beauties were opened wide; impressed because their bluster about burn the rival’s roundnesses were coming true, the girls observed with some lascivious pleasure—not free of concern—how layers of sweat boiled in touch, like oil on a frying pan.
“I promise you that my girls will carbonize yours,” the blonde insisted, staring obsessively how her pair lightly twisted against Melissa’s breasts. “I’m gonna burn yours, crush yours, all at once.”
“My girls will be the only ones that scorch and crush your tits,” the brunette affirmed, as hot as her own boobs. “You shouldn’t have brought your little things here, you bitch.”
“We have discussed this before, whore,” Natasha groaned, slowly moving her shoulders to try to control the sensual and unexpected duel. “My tits are bigger than yours. The sooner you accept that, the better.”
“Prove it to me.”
Without missing a second, the hands of the two amazons fell on the other tits’ sides, grabbing them angrily for the umpteenth time to ruining them with their own fingers. This time, however, both were looking for something more than damage them: they wanted to measure, compare and finally declare which pair was larger.
But that wasn’t the only doubt they wanted to clarify, nor were their fingers the only path to the solution. The young tits of the twentyish women were dense but firm, challenging to the force of gravity. However both were wondering which chest overtaken rival’s boobs in integrity, in solidity. Their hands would deepen on the other flesh far more than in previous fights looking for answers, but wouldn’t be alone in this critical mission: this time, the tits of both female would discover the true virtues of adversary’s flesh by themselves.
Thus, in the center of the dark tunnel, the women ended pressing their breasts together, with controlled fury, while they laterally lacerated them with their cruel long fingers. Both brought their foreheads in tight contact, always looking down at the crucial battle between their proudest features.
A tsunami of sensations hit Natasha, who was shipwrecked quickly in that chaotic sea that was Melissa’s presence. Her senses screamed, each in their own way: her sight was blurred facing the tight flesh struggle, while her nose was flooded by the slightly burnt smell of the steam; her ears caught the soft, warm moans that both exhaled against their wills, and a slight alcohol aftertaste danced in her mouth as a reminder of the initial stimulus.
But nothing could compare to the contact between chests: to feel how the four spheres were moving in that vicious dance of sensitive skin, flexible flesh and fiery sweat was almost more than she could bear. Not even squeezing Melissa’s boobs with her own hands could match the powerful electric shock that ran through her spine with each direct touch between tits, each delivered and received scald. Of course, the blonde reminded every time they had pressed bust against bust in the previous weeks, but those moments seemed mere girl games next to the current time. The context was completely different, with the violent struggle being replaced by something more personal, more lustful and more sexual. Natasha knew that there, in that lonely underpass, they weren’t solving who could win a catfight, but who could surpass her hated nemesis…in another way…
“You’re gonna cum like last time,” she crackled, glancing up. Her nose crashed into the nose of the other woman while the trembling eyes of both beauties returned to face each other at close range. “You’re gonna cum, and this time I won’t need my fingers.”
At the words of the dancer, Melissa gasped. For answer, her nails dug with outrage in the incredibly hot Natasha’s flesh, and her antagonist answered sinking her claws into her tits: a burst of sweat sprang between the breasts, while they were compressed together a bit more with a passionate jolt.
“Your last cum will be nothing compared to the one that you’ll have tonight,” she said, pushing her face forward to inevitably encounter the pressure in the opposite direction of the blonde’s face. “Seeing how you’re already trembling, I just have to smash your tits a little more before you explode.”
“In your dreams, you bitch!” exclaimed Natasha. “Your tits are small, weak and sensitive. Give me a minute and my girls will give you the best orgasm of your fucking life.”
“No fucking way!” Melissa gasped. “My girls will be the ones to teach you how a real orgasm feels, you slut. Just feel how they’re frying yours.”
“My tits are frying yours, not the other way around.”
The angry girls threw back their shoulders slightly, bending their torsos further. Thus, theirs breasts stuck out a little more above the neckline of the blouses, bringing some valuable and additional inches of incandescent skin to the fight. The contact between the virgin areas was felt like a volcanic eruption; Melissa spat out a moan of pain, as she heard the afflicted lament from Natasha. The brunette knew her prized flesh was being burnt so, following her survival instincts, she pushed the blonde away from her.
Stumbling back, the beauties kept the distance with the rival, keeping a close eye on what was to come. The first assault, short but intense, had ended without a clear winner, but Melissa felt she was one notch below her nemesis; after all, she was the one who had provoked the end of hostilities.
“What’s up, darling?” Natasha’s taunt was predictable, but no less painful. “Are my tits too hot for yours?”
“Not at all, you tramp.” Her eyes sailed through the beautiful body of the other female, jealous at what they saw. The refined blonde who had entered into Black & Blue just an hour and a half before had disappeared after the brief, close fight, giving way to a wild and sweaty lioness, as spectacular as dangerous. Natasha’s white blouse clung to her burning skin, dislodged by the struggle, translucent by the moisture, exhibiting a beautiful bra as red as girl’s short skirt.
‘Will I have the same threatening look?’ she asked herself, suddenly worried about a fact that was very important given the nature and destiny of the confrontation. But the trembling greenish iris of the blonde admitted that there —behind that smug smirk— was also doubt and jealousy.
“So…do you want me to continue burning them?” the dancer smiled with lips, not with eyes.
“You can try it.” something caught the attention of Melissa: the turnaround she needed. “But we’ll make things right. My neckline is deeper than yours, so…why don’t you take off that blouse that protects you so much and we see who truly the hottest one is here?”
Melissa’s challenge sounded like an excuse in the ears of Natasha, but her opponent wasn’t lying. In the friction between breasts, the brunette was the one who had brought more skin, more flesh to the meeting. ‘If I want to prove who better woman is between us I’ll have to get into her game.’
“I accept that…if you also take off yours and we do this on equal terms.” Her pupils moved by the ferocious figure of Melissa—curvy and soaked, provocative and envious—to stop at her chest. With fabric fully embracing her tits, it was impossible not to notice the blue bra sticking out under the pink blouse. “Let me see what cheap bra you picked up of your store.”
“It will be a pleasure.”
Grabbing her blouse underneath, the brunette paused for a few seconds. Natasha felt her defiant gaze pierced her, just a moment before the saleswoman began to undress her torso. Melissa movements were calculatedly slow, feminine; for the blonde, they were small stabs in her stomach… and further down: her sex throbbed wetly to the seductive half-striptease of the enemy. Only ten seconds had elapsed until the moment that the blouse came out from Melissa’s head, but the whole event was eternally painful for Natasha.
“Well…” the other female muttered her, arrogantly waving her long dark hair in the heated air of the tunnel. Tying the wet blouse over her wide hips, she pushed her tits towards her. “What do you think?”
The blonde didn’t find an immediate answer. It certainly wasn’t the first time she saw Melissa’s round glands in her bra, but it was the first time she saw them in that vicious and hot context. In the altercation of Madame, the other woman’s breasts—under a meager black bra—had awakened in her an uncontrollable hate; in Darkness, during the second fight, she had been eaten away by jealousy at the sight of Melissa’s red bra and the firm curves that it held. She still remembered the photographs exchanged by WhatsApp; there was no day or night in which she wasn’t looking obsessively the images that her opponent had sent her that fateful day of the duel in the rainy park: the formidable brunette’s tits and her thick nipples covered by sexy bras—black in a snapshot, white in the other—were already part of her long, sleepless nights.
But none of that had prepared her for what she faced at that moment: Melissa’s boobs looked bigger, rounder and more solid than ever before. Full of sweat, they exuded steam, perceptible only through the flashing of the solitary focus of the underpass. The nipples became terribly obvious under the blue, thin cloth, pushed ahead with a thickness and length than the go-go dancer couldn’t help but find lustful and jealously defiant.
“I think they’re a fucking crap,” she lied through clenched teeth. Melissa’s eyes hardened, with a shade of resentment crossing her beautiful face, while the blonde continued: “I’ll show you how real woman’s tits are.”
Natasha took off her blouse with the same calm that her rival, adding a few dance tricks: shaking her bust and hips, she broke free from cloth prison to exhibit her swollen tits to Melissa. The brunette, licking her lips nervously, carefully observed the weapons that her archenemy brought to the encounter, while Natasha tied the blouse on her hips; two weapons she knew well after weeks of conflicts. But there was something different about them, because in the darkness of the tunnel she could swear that blonde’s boobs were more dangerous than before: her hot flesh seemed to overflow the red bra and her nipples seemed about to pierce it. The dim light of the tunnel showed the burning air fluctuations around Natasha’s tits, as haunting reminder of the last and hot clash of chests.
“If those are the tits of a real woman, then I’m one of those stupid blonde that live in this city,” Melissa growled, just unable to control the jealousy. However the insult seemed to affect the other female as her eyes narrowed with hatred. “They have no chance against mine, girl, so you’d better run away from here while you can.”
Natasha’s response came in the form of steps. Walking forward, she headed straight for Melissa, and the brunette didn’t hesitate to go against her. Looking for a decisive psychological advantage, both shook their curves, but this didn’t stop the pace of the sexy rivals.
“I’m gonna destroy yours, hooker,” the blonde spat, with her face twisting into a hostile grimace.
“Not before mine crush yours, you bitch,” the brunette gasped, suddenly hungry for contact. “And once I flatten yours, your pussy will cum while you scream my name.”
“Get ready to have your tits crushed and burnt and your pussy spitting cum in large amounts.”
Accelerating at the last moment, young women collided in tunnel’s center with breasts in front without caution. The slap of flesh echoed through the concrete while the wet and hot tits crashing together in a burst of pain that forced their owners to moan. The tits were so extremely hard at that tense moment that barely deformed by the blow, while the sweat jumped around like a rain of fire that burned torsos and faces. The arms encircled the other body instinctively; one by the waist, one by the neck, they closed a perfect embrace between the raging amazon that didn’t hesitate to collide forehead to forehead and nose to nose to throw all the hatred at close range.
Then they felt it: the feminine and bare skin that their bras didn’t protect—and it was a lot, considering the small size of lingerie—made direct contact. A fire broke out between the boobs, with such a strong force that first assault’s burns seemed only a faint and distant torch in comparison. The beautiful faces twisted in agony, exhaling anguished whistles while the skins were scalded each other.
This time it was Natasha who gave first. Just five seconds after get entangled bust to bust with Melissa, she threw back her proud virtues, unable to bear the hot connection between the firm fleshes. In front of her, the brunette sighed with relief, but she was mistaken if she thought the dancer had already surrendered: immediately, rival’s tits returned with a resounding thud, vigorous despite the short thrust that allowed the close hug. Melissa growled, throwing back her head and clenched teeth, but she forced herself not to back anchoring her long and toned right leg behind her.
“Bitch!” she cried, opening some space between the two fighting torsos. Then, with a quick movement, she lunged forward, shaking the opposite chest with a cavalry charge led by her thick nipples. On the other side, Natasha moaned and closed her eyes, already on the verge of tears.
“Slut!” the blonde replied, seeking revenge with another attack. However, this time her nemesis also attacked, and the four insolent tits broke together in a painful train wreck.
“Fuck!” it was the shared curse, while even more drops of burning sweat splashed their faces. The breasts were kept together two or three seconds, seeking to fulfill the promise to crush the opposing pair, but the waves of burning agony forced the females to desist—for now—from such an endeavor.
Looking for a sufficient gap to return to lash out, but at the same time not wanting to let the enemy get far enough away to hit hard, the girls struggled in the tunnel, pounding her tits together over and over again. Melissa never stop moaning, feeling how the discharges of pain were born in her trembling boobs before spreading through her entire body, but Natasha’s gasps and convulsions made that all the suffering worthwhile.
For now, it didn’t seem to solve anything. Despite all the anguish and torment, Melissa felt that none of the four tits yielded more than the others. Dense, firm and stubborn, they failed to be crushed beyond the flexible outer layer of flesh. ‘I need more space,’ the brunette understood, if really wanted to drill these cocky boobs.
“Come on, you sow,” she spat against Natasha’s mouth. “This is getting us nowhere. Let us break the hug to see what you do when I can hit you hard.”
“It will be your funeral,” the dancer said. However, none freed the enemy: they kept fighting breast to breast for half a minute, unable to tame their warlike wishes until—after an exalted exchange of blows—both escaped from the other clinch.
Trying to control their gasps, the two beauties went backwards slowly, without looking away from the other girl. Her tits were throbbing, sore and burnt but at the same time eager to return to the transcendental battle with rival’s breasts. Natasha observed with delight the marks that her hot boobs had left in the brunette’s bust; reddish and small, they were scattered throughout the flesh that Melissa’s blue bra couldn’t hide. But the blonde could feel that her own tits had been rubricated in the same way as minor burns throbbed with some stinging under the night breeze. ‘And we’ve barely rubbed them together,’ she was surprised, but she used the slight discomfort to increase her bloodlust.
With deliberate parsimony, Natasha put her arms behind her back, looking to challenge her nemesis to a fight without hands…only to find Melissa doing the same, at the same time. ‘Fucking copycat,’ she cursed inside her head, still surprised by the parallels between their lines of thought: what crossed the mind of one also crossed the mind of the other. ‘Maybe that’s why our fights are always so matched,’ she mused, just before shaking the head. ‘No, this bitch can’t match me in anything.’
“More distance, you whore,” she spat, trying to overwhelm the ideas of the brunette. “Six more feet, and then we charge against each other.”
“As you wish, loser,” Melissa nodded, stepping back a few steps further. “But you also go back. I want to crush those reddened tits of yours once and for all.”
“Keep your hands off my body and I’ll keep mine off yours,” the dancer reminded, stepping back. “This is between my big tits and your burned tits… until the end.”
“Until the end,” the brunette accepted, before starting to run. On the other side, Natasha also ran toward her.
The distance was quickly closed between them, but for the confused minds of the young women, the time dilated while the few seconds that preceded the crash seemed to turn into eternal minutes. Melissa watched her nemesis’ breasts jumped on her bust, about to be thrown out of the bra; the red color of the lingerie quickened her pulse, like a bull against a red cape, while her tits were hardened, dancing under her chin.
Nine feet, and time kept dilating in that lonely tunnel. Seeing the closer and closer Melissa’s curves, Natasha noticed that her nipples reacted growing in the middle of her tits. Inch by inch, the blonde perceived how her nipples lengthened, how her nipples widened, inexorably toward the ultimate shape that they had never before reached.
Six feet, and Melissa already felt the hot and dangerous aura of her enemy surrounding her, hugging her into rivalry. Her eyes looked up, and Natasha’s feline gaze met hers. The chemistry brought them together again, but there was something else those pheromones: a kind of ancient magic, from primitive eras, when the matriarchs decided—alone, in caves as dark as that underpass—who would rule the tribe.
Three feet, just three feet, and Natasha felt herself falling within the deep green iris, within menacingly black pupils of Melissa. Their presences—full of youth and sensuality—crashed together before their bodies. The heat that emanated from brunette’s tits got into battle with the ardor of blonde’s breasts a moment later.
And then, at last…
Collision. The sensations were started on the front of each boob; the outer, flexible and adipose layers of the tits vibrated as gelatin, into the epicenter of an atrocious earthquake that instantly spread through the inner firmness. Both perceived how the tight and resistant mass that formed the foundation of their feminine virtues vibrated in serious threat of crack and yield to the rival force. The quake was internalized, expanding in all directions; buttocks and thighs trembled while crash waves clung to girl’s spines, rising to their throats. They exhaled twin sharply cries, full of frustration and suffering, before the beauties stumbled backward, pushed by the collision.
Melissa back three, four steps before she could stop. Her body still was shaking because the mighty clash, but certainly her tits had taken the brunt: they throbbed as if they possessed their own hearts, burning under the cold of the night, rising and falling with the beat of the heavy breaths that the brunette exhaled. The twinges of pain roamed every inch of skin, every ounce of flesh, like relentless incitement to return to combat, but Melissa wanted to check something before: her eyes looked for the feline eyes of Natasha, and there she found bitterness and pain…but also competition. The go-go dancer wanted revenge for the injury as much as she.
Taking air, the lingerie saleswoman walked forward, determined and arrogant. The blonde did the same, puffing out her chest. However, this time none ran: Melissa wasn’t ready for another impact like the previous one and Natasha seemed to accept the change in strategy.
Then the busts clashed again with a direct hit. The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed through the tunnel, accompanied by a double groan. The brunette felt how the tits pounded together for an instant, without any of them taking advantage before backing. Shaking shoulders, her rival and she returned to crush them together. The breasts trembled against each other in a painful explosion.
“Fuck!” came into the air, but Melissa didn’t know who of them had growled it. She just knew that she had to strike again, and again, and again…until her nemesis surrender and accept who had the best chest.
But Natasha was as determined as the brunette to emerge victorious from that female struggle, so soon the fight was accelerated by both, becoming violent amid tormented groans. The blonde constantly looked for rival tits, beating them with hers with the hardest impacts that she was able to throw. In her head that seemed a kind of vicious combat of corrupted boxing, where fists were replaced by tenacious boobs. Natasha realized that her tits had never before suffered so much…not even when Melissa had put her cruel fingers over them. In those moments, every time she struck her breasts against round weapons of her antagonist, every time she felt the firmness and the heat of her rival, the dancer understood that nothing could harm their tits more than just what they were doing; perhaps a well-directed punch against the center of a breast could leave any of them incapacitated for a moment, but Natasha perfectly knew that would be nothing compared to the pain—physical and mental—they would suffer if rival’s boobs managed to crush and humiliate the other tits by themselves.
“Fucking slut!” the blonde croaked, pissed after putting such thoughts together.
“Cheap bitch!” the brunette replied, with the same tears shining in her eyes that the drops that flashed in the eyes of the dancer.
Desperate, hungry, the tits kept mashing together, meeting against each other in painfully and rough explosions; explosions that always threatened to free the flexible curves trapped under the bras.
Then Natasha noticed it: a slight vibration, an internal shudder, like distant thunder, like an echo inside a cave wet, throbbed in the most hidden depths of her sex. A second and slightly stronger tremor followed the first one, forcing Natasha to gasp in a completely different way of how she was gasping after each clash of tits. Her pupils momentarily stopped paying attention to the whining Melissa’s face to focus obsessively on the other breasts; her gaze was soon lost in the rough struggle between her curves and brunette’s curves. Each time they clashed together, the four breasts jumped under bras, swelling between quakes that threatened to strip the flesh. Natasha couldn’t help wishing that Melissa’s tits jump out of her bra; the mere thought about it increased the intensity of the palpitations from the depths of her pussy.
“Oh, you sow!” she exclaimed, watching in frustration as saleswoman’s blue bra kept her well confined bust. Her hands escaped from her back, momentarily out of control, to undress once and for all the thick tits of her nemesis but, at the last moment, Natasha managed to redirect them towards the dark hair of the other girl.
“Whore!” Melissa protested, immediately digging her fingers into the silky, blonde hair. “You said no hands, you coward!”
“Shut up, stupid! This is a fight!”
Even in the middle of the discussion and the change of rules, the beauties didn’t give up their attempts to crush the other tits with their own breasts. The blows grew in intensity and the grunts of the couple joined the growing passion. The seismic sensation in Natasha’s pussy began to inundate her, becoming dangerously present; the girl knew it was an orgasm, but not an ordinary orgasm: her feminine intuition told her that if it kept growing at this frenzied pace, it would be the best—and worse—orgasm of her entire life.
“That’s right. Cum for me, slut!”
Melissa’s scream froze Natasha for a split second…enough to force her back a few steps, for the first time before the rival: two powerful breast strokes from her enemy pushed back Natasha, bringing her closer to the dangerously rough wall of the tunnel. Consolidating her feet on the floor, the dancer managed to stop the advance of the brunette at the expense of a double pain cry, but that was the least of her problems.
‘Can she read my mind?’ she asked herself, before hearing her own breath and understand the obvious: her gasps had stopped sounding painful to become overtly sexual. ‘And certainly, my face must also be betraying me,’ she knew from vicious gaze that Melissa on her face.
But the telltale connection between their bodies, between their eyes, was a two-way street. Still stamping her tits against the antagonist’s boobs, Natasha saw encouraging details in the reddened features of the other young woman: her full lips exhaled breaths loaded with pleasure and burning, while her pupils dilated in a glance saturated with enthusiasm. Against her breasts, Melissa’s tits seemed to shake more and more, in a way that a sexually active woman as Natasha knew well: the brunette was obviously as excited as she was. Not all was lost.
“You cum for me, you bitch!” she demanded, with furious and fast boob blows.
For a full minute, the fight went out of control: using their hands to tug and subdue, the two beauties advanced and retreated through the underpass between fury thrusts and roars of sexual distress. Each collision brought tears to the four beautiful green eyes, and contractions to their cunts.
Suddenly, Melissa’s back hit a tunnel wall; the sullen hardness lacerated her ass and the rear of her shoulders and head, forcing her to close the teeth to stifle a scream, while her opponent cornered her. Immediately, a rain of blows fell on her chest like a raging summer storm.
“Gotcha!” Natasha roared, beating her tits over and over again. Trapped between the wall and the hot rival’s body, Melissa could only groan under the violent assault: the blonde’s bust, overflowed with determination, felt harder, more ruthless than ever before. Like a sledgehammer, her tits pounded, retreated and pounded again, hurting the flexible flesh breast of the brunette.
“Bitch!” Melissa spat, twisting Natasha’s hair between her fingers as she felt her curves—for the first time—were yielding under the attacks. The dancer’s tits began to weaken her boobs, eroding her inner firmness with increasingly violent blows.
“Your tits…ugh…are weaker…ugh…than I thought!” Natasha boasted, letting her know that she was also feeling the decay of her breasts.
“Yours…oh…are fucking…ugh…flabby!” Melissa lied, arrogant even in defeat. Her irreducible tits, massive and proud since adolescence, were softened for the first time in her life. Each onslaught from Natasha aggravated the situation, filling the brunette’s head with fears that she don’t wanted to accept, so she just let out her frustration through more insults. “And of course…ugh…yours aren’t so hot…oh…as mine!”
“Mine are far…ugh…hotter than…ugh…yours!”
The provocation worked, even though Melissa was just looking for insult Natasha’s boobs. Before she knew it, she had rival’s breasts crushed against hers: immediately, she felt the crushing pressure between the fleshes, forcing her to moan. However, the blonde also sobbed, letting her know that despite all, both were similarly injured after just a few intense minutes of titfight. Natasha’s bust kept hard against hers, but what she felt, it was undeniable that the other tits were beginning to soften.
But in this desperate nocturnal fight there was little room for complacency by these small achievements; perhaps the firmness of the curves of both beauties was beginning to decline, but the fire crackling in them would not stop growing in intensity. Instantly, Melissa could feel the heat jumped from one chest to another, burning the sensitive skin in an insatiable fire. Natasha moaned against Melissa’s face, visibly burned by the contact between tits, but this time she didn’t separate her curves from the saleswoman’s breasts. The brunette joined her regret, exhaling her anguish through a long moan as her boobs throbbed under the hot contact; the sweat of two beauties looked more boiling oil than just transpiration, as shown by the tears that ran both faces, contorted under the torment.
“I’m gonna burn yours”, Melissa cried, suddenly going beyond Natasha’s hair to encircle her neck in a close embrace and forcing her to back a few valuable steps. Instinctively, the go-go dancer’s arms wrapped the brunette’s body around the waist, and the four tits were trapped between the warring torsos, under a pressure that they had never had. The combination of crushing and combustion forced to the couple to howl with pain; their panting, increasingly erratic, were spat directly above the other left shoulder, where none of them found consolation.
In those moments, Natasha felt that fire pierced her skin, penetrating through the solid breast flesh to reach her arteries, her veins. The blood vessels spread the fire through her body: from her head to the last of her toes, her whole being burst into flames. Her inflamed lungs quickly burned all the oxygen they were getting, and the breath of the blonde began to ring choked. Noticing her muscles fainted, falling one after another like domino pieces, she concentrated her decrease forces into her arms, desperately looking for flatten the formidable tits of Melissa before the end.
Begging for fresh air, Natasha opened her mouth like a fish out of water; she looked up, breathed hungry…and the feminine odor of her rival flooded her senses. The mixture of perfume and sweat accelerated her already racing heart, at the same time forcing her crotch to moisten further. Uncontrollably, the blonde buried the nose in the wet dark hair, inhaling the aroma like a horny lover. Her senses were drugged, and her thoughts were lost into a black hole that absorbed all the answers, leaving on her head only doubt and animal passion.
“I hate you,” she managed to whisper, without spirit, without will. Her lips, plump and pink, brushed Melissa’s ear, and her first instinct—aborted at the last moment—was biting it.
“I hate you,” said the lingerie saleswoman, also against her ear.
Stumbling through the tunnel, the young girls kept spitting all the hot resentment they felt for each other, whispering—despite being alone—through the perfumed falls of silky filaments that formed their long manes. That kind of vicious privacy sickened Natasha but, at the same time, excited her in a way she never ever have imagined.
“I warned you that my girls would burn yours,” the dancer reminded with just a whisper.
“And I warned you that my girls would scorch yours,” her nemesis reproached her, in a whisper so softly as hers.
“Well, they aren’t doing it, you whore.”
“Oh, of course they’re doing it, sow.”
“Yours are already soft,” Natasha growled. “One more minute and I’ll have them cooked.”
“Before that happens, you tramp, I’ll turn yours on burgers: flat and fried.”
“It’s impossible that two small pears like yours flatten my melons, bitch.”
“Your little tits are already flattened,” Melissa muttered. “And my tits aren’t small; your weak tits were never a match for my big ones, either in size or firmness.”
The arrogance of the other girl, able to believe that her breasts were better than hers, began to take a toll on Natasha. Challenging whispers altered her body, her mind, her own ego, adding fuel to the fire of passion that had exploded when she matched her best virtues against the best virtues of Melissa. The blonde felt that the control over her body—once determined—began to disappear: her incinerated chest lost firmness; her green eyes were crying openly; her panting, broken and uneven, were already impossible to subdue; her arms and legs were spending the last ounces of vigor in the close battle…
And her pussy…Her pussy demanded to explode. The convulsions couldn’t be tamed for much longer. Despite all her efforts, the threat of Melissa was going to be painfully true: only with her tits—and her fucking voice, her fucking sexy voice—she would force her to cum like never before in her life.
“No, slut, no!”
The cry that echoed through the tunnel walls could have been hers, as the blonde’s mind screamed those words incessantly…But it had been her nemesis that had exhaled it against her ear. Lost in defeating thoughts, lost in the sensations of her own body, Natasha hadn’t realized Melissa’s condition: the brunette was shaking, shuddering against her as much as she shuddered against the brunette; the gasps from her rival matched hers in exhaustion, pain and heaviness; the saleswoman’s tits decayed at the same rate as her tits, burning and being burned. Natasha knew she was about to lose, but Melissa was so close to be defeat as herself.
“Yes, slut, yes!” she spat, going all out for it. Her belly slammed into Melissa’s abdomen, and the couple moaned at the clash between sweaty, toned flesh. Her skirts came together a second later and, with them, the warmed crotches. A powerful shock took hold of Natasha as she felt—even through the skirts—the flames that Melissa’s pussy was throwing. “No, slut, no!”
“No, slut! No, no!” the brunette cried, closing the eyes, burying her face into the hair of her rival. Despite herself, her sex was hooked to Natasha’s pussy, with their mounds welded together through the fabric. The convulsions were instantaneous and—as Melissa quickly understood—unstoppable. Her nails dug into the shoulder blades of the other woman, and the blonde replied scratching the lower part of her back while the heated night air was filled with female pleas.
Melissa knew it was a matter of seconds. The connection between her sensitive breasts and her pre-orgasmic pussy was a high voltage cable that, full of holes, was throwing electricity through the rest of her body: every brunette’s erogenous zone—including some that she was unaware—blew into pleasant pieces, going beyond what is humanly bearable.
And then she noticed it: hard and thick, the Natasha’s nipples were digging into her tits, lacerating them in a final humiliation. Surprised, Melissa didn’t understand how she had not felt them before; perhaps, in her obsession to crush, she had forgotten them, or perhaps the tremendous struggle of heat had hidden them until then. However, they were there, at that decisive moment.
‘Now, Melissa, now!’
The voice in her head sounded distorted, near and far at the same time. It was her voice, but also sounded with the Natasha’s annoying tone; it was the voice that had tortured her for days at her store, on the street, at home. The voice from her dreams, but also from her nightmares. The voice of the new Melissa that after hibernate for more than two decades now awakened.
She knew what to do. Looking for the last connection between their bodies, Melissa pulled her nipples out of the flexible Natasha’s flesh and, among tremors, she stabbed the thick stilettos of her archenemy. The shock was painful, shocking…neuralgic. Through the eroded bras, the two beauties felt the impalement between nipples: none yielded, in all its splendor, but it was enough.
Natasha cried like she’d been mortally wounded, writhing uncontrollably against Melissa. Connected body to body with her, the brunette felt almost in her own flesh the dancer’s orgasm: destructive, it traveled like a tsunami through her interior, mentally and physically destroying Natasha. The blonde collapsed into the embrace and Melissa, exhausted after the intense hot struggle, could barely hold her. She staggered back, with her rival between the arms, to hit the tunnel wall again.
Then she sighed: the impending orgasm, after bordering the boundaries of her sex, backed in an anticlimax moment, leaving her an empty feeling, frustrating and balsamic at the same time. She sighed again, and let her antagonist to fall: the dancer collapsed on the floor, semiconscious, shaking softly with the latest orgasm jolts.
“Don’t ever put your tits in front of mine,” mumbled Melissa. Now that the combat adrenaline evaporated from her body, she felt incredibly tired. “Don’t ever say, or even think, you’re hotter than me. Now we both know the truth.”
With slow, unsteady steps, the lingerie saleswoman walked away, leaving Natasha in that lonely underpass. However, she couldn’t avoid stopping at the exit to send a warning, without looking back.
“If I see you again in my town, I’ll finish with your tits and your cunt…definitely.” Melissa moved forward, into the darkness. Her last words echoed in the tunnel, wrapping the humiliated blonde. “You know I have the body to do it…”
10. No Truce, No Rest — Wednesday, January 24
Natasha Reilly’s Apartment
Dove Street, 15:07
The hot steam fogged the bathroom, misting mirrors and tiles. The soft and slow music hung in the air, forging a relaxed atmosphere in which, however, Natasha couldn’t dive. Lying in the bathtub, with only her head out of hot water, the blonde tried to ease her pain…without success.
After all, her pain was barely physical. Certainly, she still felt the muscular exhaustion and some stabbing pain of discomfort in tits and scalp; nothing compared to the pain she had felt after the other fights with Melissa, much more violent and dangerous than the last meeting. Last night neither she nor the brunette had thrown a single punch, a single kick. The hairpulling weren’t wild, but controlling, while the struggle between their bodies had been reduced to a single area: their four firm boobs.
‘No, that’s not what hurts me,’ Natasha thought, closing the eyes to try to feel the music. The water that covered her naked figure couldn’t relax her: it was burning, but her body seemed to be able to absorb the heat to feed her own fire. Restless, the beauty girl moved slightly to better accommodate in the bathtub.
“I hate you with all my heart, you brunette slut,” she gasped, unable to contain that pain that tortured her. Her pain, her real pain, was emotional, and Natasha couldn’t find a way to subdue it, or at least reduce it. The defeat against her nemesis wouldn’t stop repeating in her head, as a cruel echo of the past coming back again and again to torture her.
Moving one hand, the dancer grabbed the beer bottle she had left on the edge of the bathtub. She took a long drink, but alcohol didn’t help her either. On the verge of tears, the girl left again the drink on her site…right next to her mobile.
‘What if…?’ she wondered, looking at the phone screen as if it was a lifeline in the middle of a shipwreck. There—right at her fingertips—was the link between her and her enemy, between her bitterness and the potential solution…‘Or the gate to hell,’ she mused negatively, looking forward to her own body. Underwater, her vagina pounded softly, as if it knew that her mistress was thinking about her.
“Why did you fail me?” she inquired with bitterness in her female voice. Then the blonde grabbed her tits rather abruptly; some water fell out of the tub. “Why did you fail us?”
Natasha knew her chest was up to the task last night, battling on equal terms with Melissa’s hard bust. At the end of the duel, her tits had begun get soft, that’s true, but brunette’s breasts had also lost strength. None could claim victory in the passionate struggle of firmness and burning; though the draw was frustrating for the competitive blonde, at least it doesn’t put her at a disadvantage against Melissa.
But her pussy was a very different issue: when push came to shove, it had broken out in a devastating orgasm that had drained the blonde’s body of energy and will. All this after promising her rival she would win the hot duel…
“You…you…” she tried to complain, but her voice broke. Unable to follow in the bathtub, Natasha got up, and the tears that flowed from her eyes were mixed with water that ran down her skin.
Then she stopped in front of the larger mirror in bathroom. With her hand, the go-go dancer wiped the mist to see a full image of her body. Her boobs stood out red, partly because of the heat of the water, in part by the abuse of the previous night; at that moment, just seconds after coming out of the tub, the eternal combustion filled already her breasts with sweat. ‘How long?’ she mused, watching the transpiration spread through belly and thighs.
Natasha ran her hand over again through the mirror, looking to see beyond. Her curves were reflected more clearly, and she could see the perfect shapes of her hips and waist, the toning of her flat belly, the femininity of her legs; her tits, even punished, were still two solid and erect spheres, with significant, thick nipples.
Looking down, the blonde met again with her sex. Gently spreading the legs, she glimpsed her generous mound, her golden and neatly trimmed hair, her big and wet lips…and her clitoris, her stunning clitoris. Since the humiliating surrender to Melissa’s body—just a few hours before—the sensitive female spear had remained erect, tense, hard; the young girl was unable to do anything to calm it. When her fingers touched the clitoris, explosive waves seriously threatened her body with an orgasm…After last night, Natasha didn’t want feel anything like it again. Now all climaxes that she enjoy—or, rather, suffer—would be associated with the antagonistic saleswoman; of course, the dancer didn’t intend to accept it.
“But I’m not leaving the city,” she cried at her reflection, remembering the final threat of Melissa, and her reflection replied hardening the features. Suddenly, every arrogant word, every cocky gesture, every defiant look from the brunette appeared in her head; instinctively, she clenched in anger the fists. The adrenaline began to fill her body with spirit and rage, anaesthetizing the emotional pain from the orgasmic defeat.
“It was a matter of seconds,” she said herself, shivering in a contained fit. “She was also on the edge, I know it,” Natasha evoked Melissa’s gasps, grunts, cries; how her rival trembled against her body, as her broken by passion. “I had her. She was mine… she was almost mine.”
Now, muscle fatigue, physical torment or mental humiliation didn’t matter: just imagine the smug smiling brunette after her victory was enough to make Natasha regained her lost courage.
She looked at her phone, and thought about the possibilities. But she soon discarded them all, choosing the only one that could satisfy her…
New Hall Lane, 16:33
In her store, Melissa was living in a dream: the air was breathable; the light came more radiant from the street. The customers smiled more, buy more. The world certainly was a happier place.
“Today you look very happy,” one of her most faithful clients said. “The last few weeks you were acting strangely, honey, but today you are our smiley Melissa again.”
“Thanks, Joanna,” she replied, smiling. ‘But no, I’m not the same girl,’ she added inside her head. Her body was so full of self-fulfillment, of self-improvement, that she felt ascend to Heaven. ‘A different Heaven. Heaven that the religions sell us is false,’ she mused. ‘Heaven isn’t earned being a wimp who prays and forgives, but putting into place the snooty bitches who think they are above others.’
She cared little for that still throbbing pain on her tits. Melissa knew they would remain sensitive for days, feeling them uncomfortable under any clothes; they would remain soft for a week or more, without the firmness for that she had always been so proud. However, the compensation was delicious: knowing that her girls had fought a duel with the nemesis’ presumptuous boobs until—after burn and soften them—push her owner to cum in humiliation…was priceless.
“Excuse me, can you help me?”
The voice of a client woke her. Shaking the head, she left her succulent dream to return to the present. ‘How long has it been?’ she wondered, seeing that Joanna was no longer at Madame.
“Sorry, I was distracted. How can I help y…?”
The doorbell rang at that moment, but it wasn’t what interrupted to the saleswoman. Air suddenly became denser, while the temperature rose. A disturbance ran through the store, from the entrance to her…
Natasha came intro Madame, staring at the brunette.
“Hello?” the client insisted, clearly annoyed. In front of her, Melissa couldn’t take hers eyes off the blonde; throwing glances, her rival moved between full of lingerie shelves.
“Yeah, sorry.” Swallowing, Melissa helped the woman to choose what bra to take, though she was more attentive to the newcomer than her. ‘What the fuck is she doing here?’
For several minutes—minutes stretched as if the passage of time had slowed in the store—the girl attended her customers between quick glances to the dancer. The blonde returned each of them, as haughty as ever. ‘Have this slut forgotten what happened last night?’ She became angry, growling under her breath more than once. The presence of Natasha was infuriating her on a low flame, upsetting her to lose track of placidity she had felt since the victory of hours earlier.
On the other end of the unhealthy connection between the women, the blonde began to feel impatient. Her idea of appearing in Madame without warning had worked, watching the rival’s reaction, but now she felt stuck in that place: she couldn’t attack Melissa publicly because she knew they would be separated instantly, causing an embarrassing scandal, and she also couldn’t get her out there.
Even worse: the store doesn’t close in three hours, three endless hours. ‘I cannot stand so long in this way,’ Natasha knew, being engaged yet again with Melissa’s eyes. The supreme hatred of the couple hit through the pupils, angering the rivalry even more… if that was possible.
‘You just wait until we get back to put together our tits, cheap whore,’ the blonde growled in her head, trying to send the silent message to the brunette. Under her chin, her breasts quivered, tense by the eternal delay. ‘Easy, girls, I’ll find a way…’
The time continued slowly crawling forward, sometimes almost stopping. Distractedly looking panties, stockings and bras, Natasha cursed every woman and every man that, coming into the store, delayed her greatest desire. The sound of the doorbell began to seem detestable, painfully agonizing. Soon she began to hyperventilate.
“Fuck,” the blonde whispered, running her hand over her full of sweat forehead. Trying to control herself, she glanced at Melissa, finding some comfort in the clearly irregular breathing of the lingerie saleswoman. ‘She’s as nervous and impatient as me…Perfect’.
Several paces away, Melissa swallowed hard. ‘Should I close the store?’ she thought, unable to bear the walks of her opponent through her store. The situation reminded her of their early antagonism, when Natasha came to Madame to buy her sexiest lingerie for her performances in Darkness. ‘How long has it been since the first day?’ she mused, feeling that time extremely distant and innocent. ‘We were like two stupid and clumsy girls, unable to understand what was happening. But look at us now…’
Several adrenaline rushes tightened her chest as she kept an eye over the blonde, analyzing her just as she had done months ago in this same place, but now seeing beyond: her tits, displayed by a blue and generous low cut blouse, weren’t only sexy curves, but also effective weapons; her toned and feminine legs, shown by her short black skirt, had hidden a physical power that Melissa now understood; her thin arms, with firm hands with long fingers, were more dangerous than she had ever imagined.
‘She’s a walking weapon,’ she thought. ‘But I’m a weapon too, although then I didn’t know it.’ Her eyes fell on Natasha’s body, making her to see how many things she didn’t know about the blonde yet. ‘And her ass? Can she also use it in a fight? Could we…?’
Her line of thought was cut at that moment. For the first time since the go-go dancer had arrived, she was facing her defiantly.
“You bitch, close the store before people keeps screwing us.”
Surprised by the direct contempt, Melissa looked around…to meet the empty store. Within her reveries, she hadn’t realized that just seconds before the last customer had left Madame.
“Close the fucking store…or are you afraid of what happens when we’re alone?” Natasha insisted, visibly upset.
“You’re the one who should be afraid, slut,” Melissa finally reacted, grabbing the keys to go toward the door with hurried steps. Without delay, she activated the metal shutters: while they insulated Madame from the outside world, the brunette locked the door, running her small curtain to hide them.
Even with lighted lamps, the place seemed to darken, as if what was there about to happen was destined to secrecy, to most absolute female privacy. Melissa and Natasha discovered that they wished some light bulb to flicker, evoking memories of the last night’s fiery duel: one to commemorate a hard triumph, the other to avenge a humiliating defeat.
“Well?” The voice of the brunette, smug and full of satisfaction, was enough whispery to make understand to both girls that despite all, they just were separated from reality by a thin layer of steel. A scream… and the street would know what was going on in the store.
“Take off that ugly white blouse so we can finish what we started yesterday,” Natasha exclaimed directly. The overwhelming waiting and the frustration over last night capitulation melted into an impatience by settling old scores that the blonde couldn’t hold.
“Finish?” A haughty smile appeared on the face of her opponent. “I could swear our last night discussion was more than finished. It wasn’t your pussy the one that cum just as I promised you?”
“Maybe you got lucky, bitch, but I assure you that your pussy will be the loser today…And I’ll finish crushing your pathetic tits too.”
“Do you speak about this tits, you slut?” Grabbing her blouse, Melissa pulled her up, baring her torso without hesitation. Before Natasha’s green eyes, the rival tits emerged bouncing under a black bra: the flesh glowed red and sweaty, round and sensual. “Do you really think they’re pathetic?”
“Yes…and weak,” she insulted, watching how, despite its spectacular nature, the other boobs wore a slight flabbiness they had never before shown.
“Show me yours, if you think you can compete with mine,” the lingerie saleswoman proposed. “I want to see how I left them last night.”
“In much better shape than your little ones, that’s for sure.”
With a quick gesture, the dancer took off her blue blouse; tossing it aside, she stood proud to Melissa, pushing her chest—barely covered by a purple bra—out.
“I always thought your little pears are ugly and soft, but now they are worse than ever,” the brunette insulted, announcing to Natasha that her enemy had noticed the subtle weakness of her bust. “I’m sorry for abusing so much yours in that tunnel.”
“I’m sorry for wrecking and burning your sagging girls,” she replied, enjoying with red marks of the other girl’s chest. In order for Melissa didn’t discover her thoughts, Natasha didn’t look down, but she tried to remember her own burns in a vain attempt to find out who was worse after the last night’s hot combustion duel.
“Cut the crap.” Suddenly, the brunette’s beautiful features hardened, as if she were sick of the dirty discussion. “If you think seriously that your tits can compete with mine, come here to prove it. I’ll be happy to crush them again.”
“Not so fast, prostitute,” the dancer cut off with a strange gleam in her eyes that disturbed Melissa. “This time, no more games.”
“There have never been games between us,” the saleswoman replied, although she didn’t understand what her rival was talking about.
“No more games,” her opponent insisted, moving with deliberate parsimony her fingers into her bra. That’s when the brunette noticed a little detail: Natasha’s bra had the clasp ahead. Before she could say anything, her nemesis unceremoniously unzipped it and exposed her breasts suddenly and unexpectedly.
Melissa gasped with eyes and mouth open wide. For the first time, the tits of her hated rival, her bitter rival, was exhibited naked before her, without fabric between her eager eyes and the proud curves. With the pulse out of control, the brunette observed how Natasha arched her back to better present her pair. ‘What a slut!’ she cried inside her head, feeling her last night win was overshadowed by the obvious psychological advantage of her enemy. ‘Fucking slut!’
Blonde’s boobs were bigger than she had imagined: spherical and firm, with pinkish and thick nipples, they looked milky partly by the absence of tan, so the sweat that filled the delicate skin stood out even more in the center of the breasts.
“Ugly and soft?” the dancer said ironically, undeniably proud of her move.
The saleswoman couldn’t give an immediate response. The opponent’s audacity had caught her completely by surprise but, above all, she just felt paralyzed by sensations that these two tits were transmitting. Her instincts rang like bells throughout her body, by sounding the alarm about the imminent danger.
“They don’t impress me,” she muttered with a false tone. Swallowing hard, Melissa saw Natasha’s nipples grew slowly but inevitably towards her still covered boobs.
“Of course they do,” the blonde smiled, looking straight into her eyes. The arrogance of the girl drove Melissa crazy.
“You bitch, don’t forget who lost last night!” she spat, and a shadow of anger covered Natasha’s face. Quickly grabbing her own bra, the brunette wanted to even the score. “Mine are tits for real!”
Almost breaking her clasp, Melissa took off her dark bra, throwing aside with some fury. Her big, nude breasts, hot for the challenge, bounced for just a couple of seconds before stabilized over her torso in a show of firmness.
Immediately, Natasha’s face moved from resentment to a feeling that her undaunted but futile gesture couldn’t hide: envy. Melissa felt in the pit of her stomach how jealousy bubbled like volcanic magma, ready to explode, but knowing that her opponent exhibited the same envy for her tits that she exhibited by blonde’s tits somehow eased her internal volcano.
“Something to say?” Melissa asked with all the arrogance that she could build up in her mouth. She didn’t need to look down to know how her own breasts were shown after the last physical changes: fat, round and sweaty, they showed the same paleness that Natasha’s chest there where the sun hadn’t kissed them. Through various palpitations, the brunette knew her brown nipples, already long and thick, were spreading even further at those moments, in the midst of the showdown.
“Yours are disgusting,” the go-go dancer lied.
Both beauties were getting lost in the other bust; the pupils moved quickly and tremblingly, analyzing and comparing before the inevitable crash, and the painful sensations that had always surrounded the young women about the striking similarities between their figures returned to their hearts, poisoning them with the anxiety of those who felt copied.
“The only disgusting are yours,” Melissa croaked, even despite the fact that Natasha’s tits seemed to match hers in size, shape and seduction. The other weapons were raised to the same height as her breasts, exultant under a waterfall of sweat; the other nipples, pink swords in front of her brown spears, were surprisingly generous in thickness and length, though Melissa was sure her pair—her powerful new pair—matched each of her virtues. The saleswoman realized that even blonde’s rough areolas were matched to her large, round areolas.
“Maybe you think yours look like mine, so I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Natasha grumbled, making her see that the dancer had come to the same conclusion that she. “One thing is the appearance, and quite another to discover the reality that lies beneath an illusion.”
“For once we’re in agreement, you slut,” Melissa replied, her eyes still fixed on enemy’s bust. “You may think we have similar tits, but just remember last night; remember how you tried for yourself which pair dominated the fight.”
“You have a shit memory if you think that, whore,” the go-go dancer refuted, delighting Melissa with a slightly angry tone. “My girls crushed yours. Get lucky at the end doesn’t change that.”
“You talk a lot of luck, stupid cunt. We’ll see what excuse you use when I beat you again today…”
With slow steps, the two beauties approached the antagonist. Outside, the city was trying to draw attention of both with noises of reality, but beyond the steel shutters the only truth that existed were two women united by hatred impossible to contain. Somehow, an aura of silence surrounded the girls, isolating them from the outside but at the same time distorting their usually sweet voices to turn them in female daggers.
“I’m gonna enjoy burning your flesh, you slut,” Natasha savored her own words, viciously watching the red marks on her nemesis’ breasts. “If yesterday it was painful, just imagine how you’ll feel now…”
“My girls are hotter than last night,” Melissa exclaimed, studying the burns she had left in rival’s tits. “But my nipples are even far hotter. As soon as you feel mine against yours, you’re gonna scream…you’re gonna cum…”
Reaching the other beauty, the young women began to surround each other, extending a little more the time of the words before the real duel. Natasha always found energy in these preludes, even although every word that came from Melissa’s fleshy mouth was detestable.
“You aren’t ready for my nipples,” the blonde challenged, now so absorbed in the rival’s lengths as the own brunette. “Your nipples aren’t ready for mine.”
“Do you want to prove that?”
“Yeah, bitch, please…”
Stopping, the girls faced each other just a step away. Natasha just lost a second to look up the defiant Melissa’s face; immediately, she looked again at the brunette’s breasts, at her fearsome brown nipples. ‘They’re fucking fat,’ she thought, with a shadow of doubt crossing her thoughts. ‘And fucking long’.
Before the uncertainty poisoned her, her own nipples throbbed, in a sort of wakeup call. Looking down, Natasha found two weapons that appeared to harden even more…if that was possible ‘They have never been so big,’ she marveled. Looking forward and back, she tried to figure out if her pinkish daggers exceeded in some aspect to the knives that Melissa’s bust brandished. But nothing could solve hers eyes.
Like two objects irretrievably attracted by the gravity of the opposite, the bodies of the beauties began to close the space between them. The dancer seemed to fall on the saleswoman in slow motion, with rival’s nipples inexorably moving toward hers; a drop of sweat gleamed on one of them, just before falling into the void…and then…
It was total joint, and instantly devastating: the four nipples connected at their tips, joining in an electric discharge in closed circuit that traveled tits’ girls at full speed. A thousandth later, the sparks lost control and a conflagration broke out between the thick spears; the indomitable fire inflamed the sensitive nerves of the nipples.
“Fuck!” Natasha yelled, throwing her head back and closing her eyes. On the other hand, she heard the helpless, unintelligible curse from Melissa, whose face also sobbed toward the ceiling.
The contact between tits last night was terribly fiery, but it was nothing compared to the engagement between naked nipples at that moment: unbearably scorching, the union was breaking Natasha, physically and mentally, just a second after the start. However, through her nipples, she could also feel how much was suffering the other beauty…and it wasn’t a little. Gritting her teeth, the blonde took refuge in the suffering of her nemesis, refusing to give in, to withdraw: her hands flew over rival’s arms, clinging to them while Melissa’s fingers gripped hers. Opening her watery eyes, she looked ahead to the brunette’s agonized face, to her trembling but still arrogant look, while both adjusted their torsos nipple to nipple.
Before her, Melissa opened her mouth, but she failed to utter a word. Her gesture twisted, while a pitiful hissing arose crawling between her lips. Natasha also wanted to spit her hate, but nothing different than a moan came out of her.
For a few long seconds, her nipples continued burning each other in mutual and humanly impossible cooking before sliding further. The go-go dancer gasped to perceive how the rival’s spears laterally roamed the entire length of her nipples, finally sinking in her hot areolas. The penetration was felt as a humiliation—another more—but was accompanied by a reward: her weapons drilled simultaneously the brown areolas of the saleswoman, forcing the brunette to growl as her flesh was hotly lacerated.
“Bitch!” Melissa managed to grumble; for some stupid reason, Natasha hated that her enemy, and not her, was the first to exhale something intelligible, although it had been only an instinctive insult.
“Bitch!” she cried against the brunette, trying to spit the word harder, with more intonation, that her rival. It was amazing, but now they were competing even at that level.
“Bitch!” Melissa repeated, shaking her nipples inside the dancer’s areolas. Natasha felt the rough skin yielded to the burning swords, wavering to her hardness. Gritting her teeth, she focused on the counterattack: she brandished her own nipples against other areolas, making it softer with a strong combination of firmness and heat.
At that time, when a word was a luxury hard to achieve, the faces became the only possible language. Natasha knew—and hated—the pretty face of Melissa perfectly, so she could read and understand her gestures with a level of detail that no one else in the world could do: each contraction on her full lips, each delicate skin shiver, every spasm in her green eyes was a message, private and exclusive, that spoke of suffering, concentration, resentment. The blonde enjoyed making to talk to brunette’s face, savoring her silent screams in that discussion without words. However, the vicious sparks danced in the eyes of Melissa informed Natasha that she wasn’t the only one who enjoyed the anguish of the other one.
Hurting each other for three, four minutes, the girls didn’t give up their efforts to impale the opposite areolas, aware by the grimaces of the rival that they finally had found a weakness in the mighty bust of the other beauty. But just behind the thick, irreducible nipples and sensitive areolas, the heavy tits agitated, anxious to get into the lusty battle.
‘Hold on a little more,’ Natasha requested them, as impatient as her boobs for get completely into a titfight with the brunette. ‘Give me time to finish with her nipples, and then we crush her’.
‘Patience, my dears. Let me grind her nipples before humiliate her tits once and for all,’ Melissa claimed, as anxious as her breasts. Her gaze had left the twisted face of the blonde to focus on the obscenely precise fencing battle. Moving her shoulders gently, and without leaving the rival’s areolas, she began to push her nipples against the weapons of Natasha, side against side, in a desperate attempt to bend them. Instantly, she felt the resistance of the other thick nipples, but they seemed reluctant to give.
“I’m gonna break yours, you slut!” she cried out, concentrating all her vigor in her long spears. Suddenly she was aware that she could connect words again: the fire that burned between the two youths was internalized; still tormented her, terrible and hot, but it was becoming tamable. Like everything in the intense relationship between her and the dancer, what was unbearable and senseless at first, was tolerable and logical at the end…Even fight with nipples instead of fists could appear normal.
“I’m gonna break yours first!” Natasha growled, and Melissa felt the pressure against her couple.
Matched in length and thickness, nipples pushed with all the strength that the two beauties were able to collect in very specific points. For a few seconds, nothing moved; several drops of sweat fell for faces and breasts, for bellies and backs, under their skirts until reach their shoes, while girls clenched their teeth and squeezed the other arms to the effort. Melissa was surprised to feel how much energy was spent on this phase of the battle, with virtually all the tendons in her body dilated in support.
Gradually, the two sets of nipples began to tremble, letting the brunette know that the moment of truth was approaching. With satisfaction, she saw Natasha’s spears yielded slightly, curving just a little, but her joy was short: her own weapons were faltering simultaneously, became arched the same way as her rivals. Redoubling the efforts, Melissa mentally encouraged her nipples to stand firm, stony against assault of Natasha, but there’s no turning back: her daggers kept twisting, like the blonde’s nipples.
Then they reached the point of maximum tension. Nipples, mutually bowed, quivered next to each other, forcing the girls to moan before, with a burst, they surpass the opposing spears sharply. However, that didn’t stop the fight, because the beauties returned to nail their nipples into the areolas with rage and precision, now matched from the other side.
“I bent you first!” Melissa muttered, pushing back her weapons against the weapons of her nemesis.
“You liar hooker! You gave up before I did!” Natasha replied, accepting the challenge of the lingerie saleswoman.
Again, their nipples rivaled for warping each other. Melissa watched how for the second time the erections disputed the supremacy length against length, and she got lost in the hypnotic struggle. ‘Come on, come on!’ she encouraged inside her head, watching her spears proudly resist the pressure.
“Is this all your nipples can do?” she heard her antagonist whistling through clenched teeth.
“Just wait and you’ll see,” the brunette warned. “You wish not having crossed my path.”
Soon the nipples began to bend each other again, quivering with tension until finally returning to skip past the others.
“Come on, slut!”
For several minutes, Melissa and Natasha kept mentally blinded in that exasperated desire to overwhelm other nipples with lateral thrusts… without success. Equality between the erogenous spears was so obvious that the girls could only get frustration and hatred of all that; the nails dug deeper into the other arms, while the groans of effort were filled more and more with resentment towards the opposite nipples.
“Enough of this nonsense!”
Natasha’s growl broke the board, starting a new game: tired of stagnation, she boosted her weapons forward. As torpedoes, they hit just below nipple’s waterline of Melissa, drilling them from the bottom up. The anguished cry of the brunette made the blonde enjoying a wave of satisfaction: she quickly looked at her rival’s face, contorted in pain, before lowering the sight and enjoy Melissa’s nipples being twisted up because her blow. But the moment passed quickly, and the counterattack was fast: the spears of the other woman retreated slightly before turning to one side and, quick like a cobra bite, they rammed the sides of Natasha’s nipples. The push was felt as a blow to small scale, with erections of the sexy saleswoman bending and crossing her weapons with ruthless ease. It was her turn to sob, and the time of her nemesis —the blonde could feel it in the tense air—to rejoice for her suffering.
Then the most surgically precise fencing combat of the history erupted in the solitary lingerie store of the city center, hidden from passersby who, unaware of the tragic death duel that was happening just a few feet from them, walked through the crowded New Hall Lane. Grabbing the other arms with even more strength, the jealous couple of beauties moved her shoulders, her busts with accuracy, shaking them back and forth, left and right, to fight with their hungry thick nipples.
“Put them harder if you want to have a chance against mine!” Melissa challenged after several clashes and scrapes.
Natasha was already mentally cheering her nipples to maintain the stony rigidity until her opponent’s nipples became soft. Under her skin, under her flesh, she could almost feel the blood flowing quickly and hotly to her boobs, concentrating on her stiffnesses, while her will called for resistance.
“Just worry about yours!” the blonde spat, locking briefly nipple to nipple with Melissa. The four peculiar foils were chained together for one, two, three agonizing seconds; they scorched mutually before separating with a blast of heat.
There was no ceasefire. The next attack came from above, with the brunette dropping her nipples on the set of Natasha. The go-go dancer moaned as she felt the blow, but luckily her weapons managed to stop the onslaught. For a moment, Melissa daggers put pressure down, slightly curving rival’s knives with a feeling of weight that surprised to the blonde. Natasha was quick to react, rolling her nipples through much of the thick circumference of others nipples, rubbing them harshly to force the other beauty to growl, overwhelmed.
“Slut,” Melissa gasped softly, accepting the challenge and returning each friction with angry intensity. Bordering each nipple, the amazons rotated their spears together, one rotating clockwise, other counterclockwise, in this erosive war. The teat skin began to break off, with microscopic cracks—invisible to the human eye—opening in the rough process. Natasha felt the hell that burned for days inside her escaped through imperceptible cracks, but also how Melissa’s nipples expelling her own fire dragon.
“Fucking whore!” the dancer exhaled, again feeling scorched by the other girl. The response of her opponent was just a long moan without words, as full of anguish as her own voice.
Then, both separated their swords, but again there was no armistice between fencers. The blonde watched Melissa rose slightly on her feet, and instinctively she bent her knees a bit, guiding her nipples upward while the stiffnesses of the other girl fell on her. The four sensitive but stubborn rapiers clashed tip to tip at an angle of almost 45 degrees and the two beauties could only grunt in pain. Although gravity was playing in favor of the weapons of the brunette, Natasha noted with pride how her nipples were able to support the full weight of Melissa’s massive boobs for a couple of seconds, even pushing them slightly upward before the four nipples inevitably slipping sharply beyond the others. The breasts of the brunette fell on the blonde’s tits heavily with a resounding thud that echoed throughout the store.
“Fuck, you bitch!” Melissa complained, pushing her curves forward eagerly. The dancer was momentarily outweighed by the overwhelming flesh, that ran over her own bust and over the satisfaction she had felt stopping the onslaught of the brunette just with her nipples.
“Damned whore!” she growled, gasping at the first full contact between her bare tits. The burning and firmness of the breasts battled for a vicious moment, but the lingerie saleswoman’s boobs had the initiative, having taken the best position after the collision. Therefore, Natasha used her hands to force her enemy to back down enough to return the assault; with a short step back, she opened space between torsos…and attacked.
Just as Melissa had done before, Natasha got up on her feet, hoping that the arrogance of the brunette forced her to accept the change of roles. So it was: her nemesis slightly lowered her torso, bending the legs, and prepared herself for the onslaught. The thick pinkish nipples came down upon the long brown erections and again both pairs impaled together, tip to tip. This time, however, the double pained growl turned into a little tormented cry. Natasha became exasperated to feel that Melissa’s weapons responded by holding her boobs in the air before losing the support point. For the second time, the four bare tits clashed together in a powerful train wreck.
“Oh, slut!” the blonde cried, still pressing forward. Her flesh overpowered the rival’s chest, avenging the humiliation of a minute before.
“You sow!” Melissa insulted, shaking with rage under the assault. The go-go dancer tried to go even further, definitely crushing those cocky tits, but the other woman pushed her enough to separate their warring busts.
“Are you afraid of my tits, loser?” Natasha attacked, ramming ahead at the same time as Melissa. The curves abruptly slammed, and sweat blew up like a salty rain that splashed over the twisted and beautiful faces.
“You were the first to move back, you coward,” the brunette replied, just before the second collision of tits. Her flesh quivered like jelly, and so did the blonde’s chest. To the trained eye of the saleswoman, there was no doubt that the last night duel at the underpass was taking a toll on both youth girls: her tits would never have shaken that way if they had her former firmness. Certainly, after four fights—five with the current one—against her archenemy, she knew how solids were go-go dancer’s breasts, especially after having felt them in her hands and finally against her own boobs. The question now was: what set of tits would lose all consistency first?
Seeking the answer, Melissa slammed her tits against Natasha once, twice, three times, always meeting the thick glands of the other girl halfway. Each shock filled the air with groans and echoes of flesh, the eyes with tears, and the hearts with frustrated anger. The throbbing pain seeped through the skin, spreading throughout the mass of tits and beyond with an impossible to ignore strength, but Melissa could feel the adrenaline and hatred suffocated part of the torture; her animal desire to dominate mixed with the feminine instinct to humiliate, creating a hunger for supremacy; although at that time it focused on her breasts, it wouldn’t be satisfied until she completely devour the body of her nemesis.
“Come on!” she growled, still hitting tit to tit with Natasha. Soon, violence exceeded the ritual nature which had the confrontation, and the girls left the other arms to hold onto the other long mane. The hairpulling put out several afflicted gasps from Melissa, but she wasn’t left behind ripping all the golden filaments that she could from the dancer’s head. However, none renounced to the real target, and the busts continued crashing together with lascivious impatience.
“I’ll destroy yours, bitch!” Natasha howled.
“You won’t make it, slut!” Melissa cried.
Staggering, the girls immersed in the hit and pull chaotic dance; the sweat of chests kept bursting after each impact, soaking even more the soaked faces of the amazons. For some reason, this attracted the attention of Melissa to Natasha’s face, only to find her opponent’s eyes fixed on her. For a moment the saleswoman felt certain magnetism toward the face of the other female, judging her features as she had never done before. After each bust aggression, the brunette watched how her eyes, with intensely green iris, trembled; how her nose, thin and delicate, exhaled; how her mouth, with pinkish fleshy lips, growled; how her skin, smooth and slightly tanned, tensed under a cascade of fragrant transpiration. The features were so similar to hers that Melissa remembered what the origin of the rivalry was; a wave of cold fury strengthened her belligerent spirit, but the feelings were furthest: her crotch throbbed under her skirt, resurrecting the real purpose of the whole meeting.
“Do you have something to tell me?”
The words of Natasha broke the reverie of brunette. Suddenly, she realized that the fight had stopped, with both motionless females in the center of the solitary store. Melissa’s breasts were firmly pressed against dancer’s tits, but it wasn’t all that both faced: below, the girl felt the flat stomach of Natasha crushed against hers, while the thighs of both beauties kissed each other through skirts. The enemies were panting on the other face at close range, with their noses and chins almost touching. Melissa knew her scrutiny couldn’t have been more obvious.
“I have many things to tell you.” Her answer came after a long and intense silence. Melissa didn’t even know what she meant exactly with this, but in her heart she could feel that, despite the countless and mutual insults and disdain, her hatred for the blonde hadn’t been verbalized completely.
“Me too, you fucking lesbian,” Natasha said. Melissa trembled slightly as she heard the last word: though she was aware that it had been spit as an offense, she was surprised that she considered it an insult; she always had an open mind about these issues, so being a lesbian wasn’t something insulting, but the fact that the blonde consider her a lesbian was dishonorable for her.
“You’re the only lesbian here.” Going against her message, the brunette pushed her pelvis forward in search of a tighter contact. “Just a dyke as vicious as you could cum when you’re fighting another woman.”
“Look who’s talking.” Accepting the challenge, the go-go dancer impaled her crotch between the thighs of her rival, and both women growled softly. “Do you have already forgotten how you cum in the park? And I just had to get a couple of fingers down there…”
“You’re the stupid without memory here. Two orgasms, you bitch, two fucking orgasms I got from your pathetic body. And in the last one, just last night, I didn’t even need to sink my fingers under your panties.”
“Whore, I wasn’t wearing panties!” Natasha was sharply sincere. Her nose was crushed against Melissa’s nose and both moaned as she felt their bodies closed together even more. “I wasn’t wearing panties, nor wearing panties now!”
“Me neither, you fucking prostitute!” the brunette gasped, pulling slightly from the other mane, as she felt the pressure of the blonde’s fingers on hers. “Not last night, not now!”
“Good!” Natasha’s hands quickly fell through Melissa’s back…to grab her powerful butt vehemently. Immediately, she pushed her crotch forward, rubbing it dirtily against the other pelvis. The brunette moaned, closing the eyes momentarily, before grabbing the hard buttocks of Natasha and return every friction with her own sex. Like last night, their mounds of Venus were linked electrically and ardently through the fabric, trapping the girls in a devastating and excited link without escape.
This was the moment that the blonde had actually been waiting, without even knowing it until now. She had come to Madame seeking revenge, seeking to avenge the humiliation of hours earlier. Aware of the rivalry that throbbed between her heavy, firm tits, she had focused her retaliation in the titfight, the nipplefight…the same kind of fight that had broken out among them, last night, in the dark tunnel. But now that her enemy and she brought their pussies together through their skirts, a lament of the past returned to her head: ‘Why did you fail me?’ She remembered the painful moment in the bathtub when she understood that hers chest hadn’t failed last night…but her sex. The threats that both girls had spat at the beginning of the fight had gone in that direction, but only now Natasha fully understood that, like last night, nothing would be solved if their crotches don’t fight face to face; that way had happened hours earlier when they had joined together their mounds of Venus, and that way should happen here and now.
“You’re going to cum, bitch, and then we’ll see if you continue being so stuck-up!” she yelled, throwing her torso back to increase pressure on the other pussy. As if she read her mind, Melissa did the same, separating for the first time the battler, naked breasts.
“You didn’t beat my tits, stupid, and you won’t beat my pussy!” the brunette objected, thrusting her crotch against hers over and over again.
That’s when Natasha noticed how the match turned out of control: like last night, the fight suddenly and quickly was approaching to its final as their most intimate anatomies came into play. ‘Since last night, and as usual,’ the go-go dancer knew, recalling how many times their quarrels had ended after burying their fingers on the other pussy, or after coupling them together. Closing her eyes and panting heavily, the girl kept rubbing against her opponent while she understood that the real question that both trying to solve was who was sexier…and this could only settle in this way: sex to sex. The vicious revelation blew her pussy, bringing it closer to an orgasm that Natasha didn’t want. ‘Don’t fail me again!’ she begged, trembling against hers opponent just as her opponent trembled against her.
A minute passed, then two, and the battle between the pelvises kept accelerating. The skirts were turning on hips with every sexual friction, tearing under the fingernails that desperately imprisoned the energetic buttocks. The bodies were exuding streams of fire in drops of sweat, which evaporated after just a moment of contact with female, burning skin, consuming the surrounding air to let a lack of oxygen atmosphere for the panting amazons. Natasha could feel her tits, erect and free, burned like never before in that strange spontaneous combustion that quickly spread through the rest of her body: her thick lips quivered under the heat wave, while her belly, legs and ass throbbed by that unstoppable fire. She was fire, and the fire was woman.
“Fuck!” she heard in the store, but the beautiful blonde didn’t know which of them had complained. Under her claws, the enviously solid buttocks of Melissa burned her fingers, her palms, almost as if she were holding a metal exposed to the desert sun. However, that was nothing compared to the ignition thaw was jumping from the brunette’s pussy to hers. The pre-orgasmic waves were fed by that flame, growing in intensity, bringing them to the final climax of a war that just begun between sexes.
Then, with a superhuman effort, the blonde managed to open the eyes; the accumulated tears sprang for her contorted face, melting on contact with her cheeks while her tarnished sight showing her the lustful suffering of Melissa: her enemy was shaking, moaning, crying. Her fleshy heart-shaped mouth was open wide, throwing overexcited gasps as her feline eyes remained tightly closed. That image stimulated Natasha in two opposite directions: it excited her heated pussy, approaching the humiliating, explosive defeat to her, but on the other hand, it encouraged her will, letting her know that Melissa was about to be humiliated.
It was at that moment when erect nipples of the brunette caught her attention. At the center of these hated, thick tits, Melissa’s formidable weapons was shaking free, pointing directly at dancer’s face. Natasha couldn’t help licking her feverish lips, a second before remembering what had been the trigger for the last night defeat…It was hers turn.
Abruptly, the blonde threw out her chest and, with pinpoint accuracy, nailed her nipples tip to tip against the long spears of her rival. The link was created, and the circle completed: from their nipples to their pussies, and back to their nipples, a wave of sexual shock ran both bodies over and over again, jumping from one to another, rotating with an increasing speed. Natasha and Melissa shrieked, with a cry born in the deepest depths of their psyches, a cry that was heard on the avenue. But the fear of being defeated and being discovered took control of the blonde; she reacted following an instinct born somewhere in her subconscious… Her mouth closed over brunette’s mouth, silencing her with a rough kiss.
That was the last straw that broke the camel’s back, and it unbalanced the balance. An excessive, impetuous orgasm blew up Melissa’s vagina, crushing the rest of her body with an earthquake that broke the Richter scale before crossing the bridge between pussies and nipples and flood the athletic body of Natasha. The dancer screamed inside the mouth of the saleswoman, wanting an orgasm that at the same time she didn’t wanted. Her enemy, suddenly weak, fell to the ground; she managed to release her before collapsing with her. Panting and sweating, the dancer felt a powerful orgasm stroking the limits of her femininity, like waves on a shore, just before receding and fading into a painful but desired absence.
On the floor, the defeated body of the other beauty writhed slowly, fascinatingly. ‘Revenge!’ Natasha bragged, feeding on the image.
“Remember this moment, Melissa,” she managed to exhale after a few seconds. “Remember this moment every time you come into your store. You’ve humiliated here twice, in your home ground.” With exhausted steps, Natasha recovered her clothes, dressing parsimoniously. “Remember that orgasm. Remember I’m the only one who gave you an orgasm like that in your life,” she boasted, rescuing her own feelings from last night. “Remember my body, and never forget that it’s better than yours.”
Finally fully clothed, the blonde picked up the keys of the store. During an evil moment, she thought to activate the metal shutters and let the entire city to see the beloved Melissa at that pathetic state. But something stopped her: her relationship with her nemesis was private, and only they had the right to know what happened inside that formidable rivalry. However, she couldn’t help but take an erotic lingerie set of red silk, in a kind of payment for everything. Only then she opened the door, dropping the keys behind her. So, she just opened the door, dropping the keys behind her.
“I won’t tell you to leave the city, you bitch, because we still have to break the tie,” she said at the threshold. “Find me when you feel ready.”
The door closed, along with that chapter of their long antagonism.
Book III — Fusion
“Heat fusion involves heating both pieces simultaneously and pressing them together, forming a permanent bond where the two parts become indistinguishable from each other.”
11. Golden Opportunity — Thursday, January 25
Fever Dance Centre
Percy Street, 13:30
“Well done, girls.”
The dance lesson ended with applause from everyone…except Melissa. The girl gasped out of breath, with her tits rising and falling on her chest with an anxiety against which she could only fight with more hard exercise. From her beautiful face to her feet in sports shoes, a layer of sweat covered her skin, soaking her tight sport top and her narrow sport tights.
“Beth,” she called the teacher of the class, approaching her quickly. The muscles of Melissa’s legs were near the limit, suffering slight twinges of pain with every step. “Can we keep dancing a little more?”
“A little more?” Beth was surprised. The rest of the girls were leaving the classroom; soon, Beth and Melissa were alone. “Sorry, my dear, but there’s no more dance lessons until four in the afternoon.”
“Is there something wrong, Melissa? This is the first time you come to class in the morning. But also you have done today two consecutive lessons without rest…and you still want more…”
“I’m fine,” the brunette lied. “I just want to keep burning calories.”
“Precisely you aren’t the type of girl who needs to burn many calories,” Beth said, watching Melissa’s toned body. The look was totally innocent, but it stimulated a negative feeling in the saleswoman.
“Stop analyzing me!” Melissa growled with some violence. The other woman opened her mouth wide, astonished by the unusual behavior of a cute girl who had never raised her voice in a year of dance lessons.
“I’m sorry, I…”
“No, Beth, I’m the one who’s sorry,” the brunette said, with her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Melissa took a step forward, touching the shoulder of her dance teacher softly. “I had a really bad night…and I’m taking it out on you.”
“Don’t worry, my dear,” Beth answered fondly. But Melissa still read in her eyes that she didn’t understand what was happening. “Just get some rest.”
“Sure,” the brunette forced a smile. With a slight nod, Beth said goodbye to her, leaving her alone in the classroom. The silence surrounded Melissa; as she had been doing all night in her bed, the beautiful woman began to cry. The tears slowly fell for her downcast face, while her mouth moaned softly. Recalling what had happened the previous evening, her heart shrunk.
Then, the brunette felt eyes on her. Raising her face, she saw a crowd of defeated Melissas surrounding her: the countless mirrors that covered the four walls of the classroom were watching her intently.
“Why did you let her beat you again?” she asked, looking at one of her reflections, but the question was returned to her. Turning her tearful face, the brunette interrogated another Melissa, and another, and another…Each reflection returned the question, but she was unable to answer. “A month…a month since she humiliated me in my own store, since the goddamn Christmas Eve, and all of you have let her beat me again…in a way even worse than the first one…”
Dropping to her knees, the brunette hid her face with her hands, covering her humiliation. After an eternal sleepless night, Melissa had sought solace in the physical exercise, burying the bitter taste of the defeat under hours of gym and dance.
It had worked: running on the treadmill, she had left behind the cruel past; lifting weights, she had got beyond the bad memories; dancing to the rhythm of the music, she had forgotten… the feeling that now was hitting her soul again. Her body felt again the orgasm—the horrible and delicious orgasm—that Natasha had forced from her, like a ghost from the past. Her pussy quivered, eager to obtain more from the blonde…and Melissa understood the depth of her defeat.
“It wants more,” the brunette regretted. “It desires her, when I hate her.”
Fighting against the weight of her shoulders, the young girl got up. Wiping away her tears, she decided to return home, where she could weep alone…
Blumen Women Gym
Caroline Street, 13:42
Every glance that she received was a treasure. Puffing out her chest and raising her chin, the blonde walked across the gym towards the exit, devouring all the attention with her insatiable pride. ‘I deserve it’, she said herself. ‘I deserve it after weeks of doubts and fears.’
“I thought that you never would leave the gym, Natasha.”
The voice stopped her right at the exit. Smiling, the girl turned around to meet the owner of the gym.
“Hey, Karen. Why do you say that?”
“Well, you came as soon as we opened, at nine o’clock…and look what time it is! I was thinking about leaving you in charge to take a break.”
The dancer laughed: the happiness flooded every pore of her body and everything around her was nice, sweet or funny. ‘I love my new life,’ she said, with her heart pounding hard.
“If you want a partner, you just only have to ask me,” Natasha finally said with a wink. Then, with a gesture of her hand, she said goodbye to the other woman.
“And the shower? I thought it was sacred for you,” the blonde heard behind her.
“I have to make peace with my bathtub.”
Opening the door, Natasha went outside, being received by a winter breeze that smelled of rain. Closing her green eyes, she enjoyed the clash between the cold air and her warm skin: the chill began to sexually arouse her. ‘As soon as I get home, my dear.’
Finally, she had forgiven her pussy.
Fletcher Street, 13:56
Melissa took an aspirin as soon as she leaved the pharmacy, in an attempt to extinguish the headache that she was feeling for some minutes. Her depression was starting to play dirty tricks on her—physical and mental tricks. The brunette wasn’t sure how to get over it.
She moved down the street with tired steps, conscious of being the center of attention; the men felt that the young beauty—dressed in a tight sport outfit—was a real gift from the heavens, but for her all this interest was nothing more than a sad reminder: although it could seem very wonderful, her body had failed her.
Unexpectedly it began to rain. ‘Perfect,’ she complained, shrinking under the sudden downpour. Forcing herself to run, Melissa crossed the street for shelter…and a tunnel came into view.
“Is it the…?” she hesitated, with a lightning streaking across the sky. Without time to finish the sentence, Melissa hurried to take cover, going into the underpass that she knew so well.
Panting after running in the rain, Melissa grabbed her long raven hair, squeezing it to drain the water. Looking around, she spotted the dirty focus which had lighted up between flashes the hot struggle that she and her blond nemesis had fought right there two days before. With her heart and her sex pounding at the same time, the brunette thought that she saw two female figures, locked chest to chest, fighting in the center of the underpass; the spectral silhouettes grunted and groaned, insulting each other dirtily while they tested their best attributes in an endless tussle.
“What the hell…?” Melissa mumbled, shaking her head. The hallucination disappeared; only the sound of the storm remained in the tunnel.
Leaning against the wall, the girl ran her hand across her face, trying to clarify her thoughts. In search of the inner peace, she began to inhale and exhale slowly; the relaxing smell of the rain filled her nose, slowly moving away her headache. As if it were a metaphor, the sudden storm also began to calm down, and soon the rain was reduced to a fine, soft water curtain.
“Time to go home,” she told herself, taking air for the last time… but then she smelled it: hot, dense, intense. Turning her face, Melissa sought the origin of this sudden scent; every step increasingly submerged her into it, to the point that she began to feel some taste in her mouth. Running her tongue across her full pinkish lips, she savored that striking smell—halfway between salty and sweet. An excited groan arose suddenly in her throat, with the lingerie saleswoman finally understood what she was it. “Sex…Smells like sex.”
Her vision became fuzzy again: the ghostly figures reappeared before her, hazy and bellicose. The war between them continued, but soon one of them fell to the ground in front of the other, shaking like just an overexcited woman could shake. The golden flashes of her hair flashed before the pupils of Melissa, a moment before the scene disappeared again.
“I beat her,” she declared, sticking her chest out. “I humiliated her…right here.” The tears returned to her beautiful eyes, but this time the tears were tears of expiation. Her voice began to sound hard, with a vigor that it had lost hours earlier. “I beat her body, I beat her cunt.” She took air. “I did it, and I can do it again.”
Before she knew it, she had her phone in her hand. The screen flashed in the shadows of the tunnel, moving them away from her soul.
‘We still have to break the tie,’ Melissa heard the voice of her hated enemy in her head as she opened the mobile agenda. ‘Find me when you feel ready.’
“I’m ready, bitch,” she snarled at her cell phone. “I’ve never been more ready…”
But when she went to press the call button, the brunette received an unexpected message. Annoyed by the interruption, she opened the message in a hurry; however, she smiled from ear to ear when she read the text.
“Thank you,” Melissa whispered, praising her fate.
Bird Bookstore Cafe
New Hall Lane, 14:11
The coffee tasted delicious, but Natasha wasn’t sure if it was the coffee bean or the views that she had from her table and through the window.
‘It’s certainly my favorite store,’ she thought sarcastically, looking at the neon sign of Madame beyond the rainy street. ‘I have only good memories from it.’
Her thick lips came back to the cup and a second sip of coffee delighted her palate. However, Natasha received no sensation of heat, because the fire that for days filled her body was several degrees above the temperature of the hot coffee.
“Did it ever end?” she asked herself quietly, although the view of the lingerie business responded to her question. “Not while she prowl around here…”
A message then came to her mobile, with a short, soft tone. ‘Is she?’ the blonde thought, but the sender was none other than Klaus Lindermann.
‘Wow,’ she smiled, reading the invitation. ‘This man certainly has the gift of timing…’ Her fingers began to write a reply but, before she could answer, a call to her phone startled her… but not as much as the impression that she felt when she saw who wanted to talk to her. ‘Not here,’ Natasha said herself, looking at two boys that had been keeping an eye on her from a nearby table. Getting to her feet, she sought privacy in the labyrinthine interior of the bookstore-cafe, before accepting the call.
“What do you want?” She growled softly.
“Have you also got the message from Klaus?”
For a moment, there was no answer. Across the line, Natasha heard that the breathing of her nemesis was becoming heavier and heavier; soon her own restless gasps mixed with the breaths of Melissa, increasing
the nervousness of the call.
“If you have something to say me, you bitch, say it now,” the dancer insisted, squeezing her mobile between her fingers.
“I will dress up as she-devil…”
The call ended abruptly, with Natasha holding her breath. For a moment, she let that the statement of her nemesis penetrated her skin. ‘It’s a challenge,’ the blonde understood, at last breathing. ‘If she thinks I won’t accept it…’
Immediately, an image popped into her head, along with an evil smile that contradicted the costume that she was already visualizing.
“If you want that people compare us even more than they did before… so be it,” she whispered to herself. “You’ll come out on the bottom…”
12. A Myriad of Flavors — Friday, February 2
Klaus Lindermann’s Mansion
In the outskirts, 21:08
Klaus’ party was being a success: the spacious main room of her luxurious mansion was full of guests, all dressed up in the costume party. The music could barely contain the sound of the voices, the sound of the crystal glasses bumping on toast and the high heels clicking on the floor. The large windows, closed because of the early February’s cold, were keeping the human warmth floating among the mass of people…among which Natasha was moving like a panther waiting for her prey.
Surrounded by burly superheroes, sexy witches, science fiction characters and dangerous female vampires, the blonde felt slightly dizzy. However, neither alcohol nor the heated atmosphere were to blame for it…but the wait, the long wait. After eight days without knowing anything about Melissa, after eight days ignoring her and being ignored by her, she was about to be reunited with her in a few minutes. During the unexpected truce, Natasha had felt sure of herself, had felt cocky after her last victory, but also terribly impatient. Every day she had found herself counting almost every second before come face to face with her brunette nemesis again; every night, she had hungrily dreamed about the moment when, for the first time since the last meeting, Melissa’s eyes found hers, speaking of insecurity and even fear for the humiliating defeat in Madame.
But now somehow she felt more like a teenager before her first date: nervous and troubled, unsure of her feelings. The arrogant and defiant voice of Melissa in the last call hit her memories, momentarily eclipsing the victorious emotions to drag her to the memory of the humiliating and harsh defeat in the underpass.
‘That slut is still capable of affect me,’ she cursed, biting her full lower lip, watching eagerly the front door of the mansion. ‘She can still make me doubt even when I defeated her body the last time.’ Around her, the atmosphere starting to heat up: Batman was kissing passionately Red Riding Hood, Goldilocks was whispering dirty words in the ear of a firefighter…and two attractive elves, tall and thin, were dancing so close together that it wasn’t necessary to observe their gazes of desire to know what would happen when the night progressed a little more. ‘I wouldn’t mind rubbing the pathetic body of that bitch of Melissa before dragging her into one of the bedrooms,’ she thought, visualizing herself body to body with her rival in the improvised dance floor in the center of the main room.
Someone tried to flirt with her at that time but, as she had been doing since she came to the party, Natasha ignored the admirer; her only thought was heading in one direction, like all the physical and mental energies of her being. Melissa, she savored inside her head, in a desperate attempt to conjure the brunette. To a few feet from her, the blonde saw the party host, but not even her friend Klaus could push her away of her own reality, a distorted reality where hatred, lust, anger and fear moved with some incomprehensible parameters.
Then, the mistress of her dreams and nightmares finally appeared. The first thing that Natasha saw was her raven hair, crowned by red horns that warned of the arrival of danger: as she had warned, Melissa walked into the party dressed as a she-devil…but her blonde rival hadn’t been prepared for the exuberance of her costume: the short and tight, red and black dress clung to her toned figure, was displaying a risky heart-shaped neckline while the lack of straps was exposing her womanly shoulders. Below, the fabric of the dress ended in a short skirt that barely hid the delicious thighs of Melissa. The set was completed by dark fishnet stockings and high matching heels.
Before the show made woman, the heart of the go-go dancer didn’t know whether accelerate or stop, so it seemed to do both and neither at the same time when finally the green eyes of the two beauties met each other amid the crowded party. The doubts drowned her mind, threatening with suffocate her under a sea of passion and anxiety.
However, she wasn’t the only one whose skin bristled, whose flesh burned: Melissa had been paralyzed close to the entrance, unable to decide whether to run away…or run into Natasha. For days, she had been making a prodigious mental effort to face this moment with the assurance that her ego needed; she had lost count of the times she had said herself that this party would end as the tunnel brawl or the New Year’s celebration had finished… and not as the two times that Natasha had humiliated her in her own lingerie store…
Now that psychological armor was cracking because of the extraordinary blonde’s silhouette, because of the suggestive costume that she had pushed her opponent to choose. The small white angel wings sprang from dancer’s back as if Natasha was a Victoria’s Secret model, while the figure of the curvaceous girl was accentuated by a dress as short and tight as her own she-devil dress. Where her costume was black and red, Natasha’s was black and blue but, beyond these differences, there was no many more: her cleavage was equally daring, her skirt equally suggestive. Above the light blue high heels, Melissa recognized the white fishnet stockings that her foe wore because, after all, she had sold them to her during one of the first visits of Natasha to Madame.
‘She-angel versus she-devil,’ she mused, already aware of the stares moving from one to another. ‘I have provoked this, I wanted people comparing us, and that they are doing.’ For a moment, a wave of raw desperation ran through her head, knowing how many eyes fell on that angel with sinful body; her arrogance became fear, her ambition became anxiety and her will turned into an autumn leaf, lost in the wind.
‘Look at her body,’ a voice said her head, a voice alarmingly similar to viper’s hissing of Natasha. ‘Look at the body that tamed yours in your own store.’ A tremor ran through the figure of Melissa, from top to bottom. ‘Remember her tits crushing yours; remember her fingers tearing apart your ass…’ Each enumeration woke a phantom sensation in her breasts, on her buttocks. ‘Remember above all her pussy fucking your pussy.’
Her sex throbbed under the dress, under her panties, and every instinct cried to get away from there, to turn around and run out the front door. But on that fateful moment, the brunette saw something in the green depths of Natasha’s eyes: insecurity, varnished with a layer of dirty lust.
‘Look at her body,’ the voices resounded in her head again, but this time it wasn’t the voice of the blonde: it was her own voice, full of animal momentum. ‘Look at the body that you tamed with yours in the tunnel.’ Melissa’s crotch moistened by the memory. ‘Remember her tits crushed by yours; remember her ass torn apart by your fingers…’ The ghostly feelings changed their nature, with the saleswoman perceiving an electric shock through her body. ‘Remember above all your pussy fucking her pussy.’
With the two opposing perceptions battling inside her mind, with the two voices arguing inside her head, Melissa took a deep breath and finally walked toward her enemy, almost pushing everyone who crossed her path. On the other side, the blonde thrust out her chest under angel’s costume, waiting for her with a tense, fake smile.
“At last you’ve arrived,” Natasha said in a tone that pretended to be cheerful. “For a moment I thought you had backed out…”
“In your dreams, honey,” the brunette answered, forcing her own smile. “I wouldn’t miss
our reunion for anything in the world…”
Despite the arrogance that was distilling in their voices, both perceived the bitter uncertainty that the other eyes was trying to hide under a layer of security. The two beauties clung to that hesitation as if it were a lifesaver in the middle of a shipwreck at sea, eager to rip the ego of her nemesis from that weak point.
Just then, a waiter dressed as a policeman stood beside them, offering a tray crammed with glasses of punch. Immediately, the most spectacular women at the party took a drink.
“Drink, you will need it,” Melissa whispered as the man went away.
“We will need it,” Natasha was sincere. The girls engulfed the fiery liquid in one gulp, before stick out their chests to the opponent; with the arrogance that gave the alcohol, they felt—or wanted to feel—that they were more observed and desired that her enemy.
Actually, none were far from reality: the she-angel and the she-devil were the focus of the party, they were the women who attracted more eyes, who more interest and envy raised in the mansion of Klaus. As yin and yang, they were complemented through the costumes of opposite colors; like good and evil, they competed in a death struggle that angels and demons had been fighting all eternity; as practically twin beauties, they were compared in a painfully matched competition that only they themselves could solve.
A slight movement of Natasha then drew Melissa’s look down: the dancer repositioned her tense body before her, and the gesture shaken the breasts of her opponent. Under the tight, sexy angel dress, the curves of the blonde wobbled with a freedom that Melissa felt like a stab in her heart and in her woman’s ego. ‘The slut is not wearing bra,’ she cursed, watching with envy as the bust of another female settle over her body in a sample of presumptuous solidity. Unable to avoid the reflex action, the brunette gently shook her own tits, drawing the jealous eyes of Natasha on her virtues. ‘That’s right, bitch, I’m not wearing bra, either,” she thought as she consoled herself by the coldly furious face of her rival.
Gritting her teeth, Melissa felt a heat wave through her body, hardening her under the she-devil costume. Without losing a second, she threw a second and quick glance on Natasha’s tits to meet the body of her archenemy reacting the same way: the thick blonde’s nipples begin to show through the white and blue fabric, in an act of war that her own sexual daggers responded with an even higher hardness.
“Am I getting you hard, sweetie?” Natasha’s whisper couldn’t be heard under the noise of the crowded room, but Melissa had reached such a mutual understanding with the person she hated most in the world that she could read her full lips without problem. With a feminine eyelashes fall, the go-go dancer threw a quick glance over her breasts before returning to face her eyes. “Are your fatties looking for another fight?”
“Always,” Melissa vocalized without voice. Her pupils didn’t stop moving subtly from top to bottom, focusing the sharp weapons that threatened her nipples from the torso of another young girl and the angry and burning gaze of that malevolent she-angel. “Mine will always be ready to face yours. Any day, any night.”
Natasha stifled the angry growl that came from her throat at the challenge of Melissa. It was undeniable that, after more than a week of absence, the other girl was as anxious for a new confrontation as herself, even despite the doubts that the eyes of both women still distilled. ‘If I don’t humiliate her as I never before have done, she’ll never surrender.’
“So, why you and I aren’t looking for some privacy…?”
The daredevil forward leap of Natasha was frustrated by the sudden appearance of Klaus. The blonde had to bite her lower lip to stifle her sentence while, on the other side of the connection of hatred, the lingerie saleswoman forced a smile at the mutual friend.
“Hey, girls,” the host greeted them, dressed up as a 20s gangster. “Are you having a great time?”
For a few seconds, the undercover enemies couldn’t utter a word: an intense inner fire consumed their guts, a fire that only the physical consummation of the rivalry with the other woman could extinguish…a fire that now they should control at the intrusion of Klaus.
“Yeah, it’s a great party,” the brunette finally said.
“Melissa and I are having a good time here, thanks,” the blonde added.
“The truth is that my first idea was to organize something in your club, Natasha,” the man revealed, unable to read the hidden hatred behind the eyes of the young girls. “But in the end I didn’t have time to talk with your boss.”
“That would have been amazing,” the dancer smiled, always watching her rival, always struggling to keep her emotions under control. “In fact, not long ago I was in Melissa’s store to buy a nice set of lingerie that I still don’t have wear for the first time, so it would have been nice to wear it in your party in Darkness, my dear.”
Gritting her teeth furtively, the brunette suppressed the angry whistle that wanted to escape from her mouth. ‘So she was who took the expensive lingerie set that was missing,’ she growled in her head. Certainly, her enemy was playing strong in the verbal war, so she didn’t hesitate to descend to the same dirty level to prevail mentally over the smug dancer.
“You had good taste in choosing that lingerie, honey.” Cocking her head slightly, Melissa sank her eyes in the equally green irises of the other beauty. “I take another lingerie set…identical to yours. Maybe one night we can repeat that dance we did in your disco on New Year’s Eve, but with our twin lingerie.”
“It would be great…” Natasha’s lips twitched with a vicious pout. “Just imagine us, this time dancing in the same cage in front of everyone…”
Klaus narrowed his eyes suspiciously. For the first time, he felt that something was wrong there, that the conversation between the women didn’t seem the most appropriate for two friends, that the verbal language but also the physical weren’t synchronized to a healthy relationship. However, his trusting nature ended up denying his misgivings, even while in front of him, the surreptitious conflict, buried under deceptive smiles and words whose honey hid the bitterness, began to be so real that both beauties were already feeling an innate need to grab the other hair.
But that violence wasn’t the only need that the girls felt at that moment, because their bodies, as receiving antennas, were absorbing all the underlying sensuality in their veiled threats, becoming erogenous masses hard to control. Natasha felt her nipples jostling even more against the fabric of her costume as poles of a camping tent. A few inches away, the long weapons of her antagonist stressed in the she-devil costume in a display of the transcendental rivalry between the two hot busts.
‘I can’t wait to face them with mine,’ Natasha craved, licking her lips while she squirmed uneasily beside her friend and her enemy. Between her thighs, the moisture began to be uncomfortable, with her panties barely able to contain the flood; her clit, meanwhile, poked its head from the skin folds of her sex. ‘As for you…’
The thought was never completed because suddenly something exploded at the party: the screams of surprise mixed in the air with shrieks filled with hate and, before anyone could react, two young girls fell to the floor between hair pulling and cruel scratches. The partygoers jumped on the women, trying to separate Supergirl from Wonder Woman as they offended each other with vicious insults about the other body.
Melissa felt extremely excited at the spectacle of nails and teeth, letting out one soft moan after another, seeing how Supergirl was biting the neck of her opponent, seeing how Wonder Woman was scratching the other tits. Her eyes strayed to Natasha, meeting two pupils as dilated as her own.
“Let’s go outside,” the brunette whispered, unable to contain herself. The blonde simply nodded, knowing that they should seize the moment of distraction…
The first snowflakes fell slowly over luxurious gardens of Klaus Lindermann while Natasha and Melissa moved through the hedges to get away from the mansion. The sounds of the party and the fight that gave them the opportunity to slip away could be heard ever more distant, muffled through windows and walls, and the soft whistle of the night breeze.
Surprisingly, and despite the cold kiss of the night and snow, both beauties felt the sweat waterfalls under their short dresses. The contradictory combination of hot flesh and cold atmosphere only amplified the electric shocks that the amazons felt in the presence of the other. Feeling a shiver run down her back, Natasha trembled; beside her, the body of Melissa was shaken gently under the conflicting feelings that ran over her skin…and her mind.
‘We hate each other, but we can’t stay away from the other,’ she said herself, aware that, after more than a week apart, both had agreed to meet again at the party instead of forgetting about the other woman forever. ‘Even we pretend to be friends to be together.’
Finally, the rivals halted behind a high hedge that would hide them from any look, any interruption. There they faced each other with their breaths already slightly altered. Under their feet, the grass was soft, almost fluffy; the two girls visualized themselves fighting over that soft mantle of snow, rolling from side to side amid shouts and blows. Their hearts quickened, seduced by the ravings that filled their heads, out of control under their chests, but both dismissed that fantasy immediately: if they returned to the party with any sign of fight—red marks on their faces, wounds in their arms or legs, their precious manes shattered into a chaos of messy hair—everyone would know what was going on between them…
‘This is between me and her,’ Melissa groaned inside her head. ‘No one needs to know…’
‘And anyway, it’s not the kind of fight we want,’ Natasha completed the thought. ‘Not now…’
“I’ve been waiting for this for eight long days,” the lingerie saleswoman started plainly. She knew what she wanted and she wouldn’t delay it more than necessary. “And I know you’ve been waiting for this too, so…let’s forget the words and let’s start this once and for all.”
“You’re really impatient to be humiliated again,” Natasha didn’t lose her chance to strut. “But don’t worry, Melissa, because I won’t waste your time remembering what happened last time.” Swelling her chest, the blonde placed both hands on her ample hips. “My body will do the work for me.”
“Not this time.” Copying the arrogant stance of her nemesis, the lingerie saleswoman shook her dark mane in the air. “We can’t draw attention of the people in the mansion, so we’ll do this slow and hard… if you dare.”
“I hear you.”
“Right here, in topless,” Melissa licked her lips. “Unfortunately, we don’t know if Klaus will fetch us, or if someone will come to the gardens, so we can’t risk taking off our jeans too…luckily for you.”
“For you, you mean,” the blonde growled, starting to be bothered with her arrogant opponent. “So that’s it? Your tits against mine…and nothing more?”
“No, this time we’ll go a little further,” the brunette licking her lips again and, this time, the reality hit the thoughts of Natasha.
‘Further!’ the dancer shouted in her head, with her beautiful green eyes fixed obsessively on the full lips of the other woman. A torrent of emotions ran through her, fanning the flames even more inside her, but nothing could compare to the taste that filled her mouth: a sweet, vicious, extremely feminine aftertaste. Her nipples tightened in her chest while further down her clit, hungry and lascivious, stretched completely out of her hood of skin. ‘It’s the taste of her lips,’ she recalled, remembering the surprise ending—even for her—of their last duel in Madame. ‘I kissed her,’ she acknowledged. ‘I kissed her, and she couldn’t take it. Now she wants revenge.’ Taking a deep breath, the dancer narrowed her eyes before licking her full lips slowly. ‘If it’s what she’s looking for, I’m ready.’
“As far as you want, girl.”
Keeping an eye on the rival, the statuesque females began to turn in circles behind the hedge, alert to any movement of the other hot woman. Natasha unconsciously licked her lips again, and Melissa copied the gesture.
Then, the girls prepared themselves to bare their torsos to the other beauty for the second time in their burning rivalry. Nine days earlier, during the torrid struggle in Melissa’s lingerie store, both beauties had done it for the first time, discovering their firm and round boobs before the eyes of the hated nemesis. That crucial moment still besieged the two young women—no matter whether they were awake or asleep—so even now, when the time was running out, none could take the time to undress as if it wasn’t critically important. There was too much at stake between her tits, especially after they faced against each other many times without reaching a clear conclusion about who dominated and who was dominated.
“At the same time, you bitch,” the go-go dancer verbalized, charging her voice with impatience and anger. Melissa just nodded. With the two girls grabbing their dresses necklines, one last challenging look erupted between them; finally, the amazing girls pulled up.
The long hairs were shaken in the air, while the Snow fell on the garden, on the half-naked figures of the amazons. The bare breasts were pushed out, directly towards the flushed face of the foe, as the two females readjusted their costumes around their delicate waists.
“I hate you,” the double groan rose from the depths of their souls at the same time, with both girls regretting the unexpected sincerity instantly. Before their eyes, the boobs stood proud and stuck-up, dense and solid, almost as pale as the snow around. Under a heavy layer of sweat that gleamed in the last light of day, the tits seemed definitive demolition weapons, ready to grind and break the foundations of the other femininity.
But there was more danger in that milky flesh, as both provocative fighters’ nipples stood amid the rugged large areolas as hoplites spears. The she-devil and the she-angel knew perfectly those pikes, as almost from their first body to body meeting they had been causing problems even through clothes. Both beauties felt a wave of heat when they remembered in detail the matched and fiery struggle of naked nipples that they had days ago; the thought was enough to further tighten their big pairs.
For a moment, Melissa felt so threatened by Natasha’s breasts that she thought seriously about abandoning her plan to raise the stakes between them and focused on destroying the presumptuous bust of the dancer. However, her lust immediately took the control, letting her know that she could confront it from several and different fronts and eventually emerge victorious in all of them.
“Ready?” Melissa mumbled, and it was the only word that she was able to articulate.
“Always,” Natasha croaked.
Finally, the women walked directly toward each other, with their skins bristling because the snowy environment and the tension of the pre-fight.
The nipples came first: a crackling was heard in the air, followed by a soft, sweet burning smell. The women groaned through their clenched teeth, holding their rapiers together while a small steam began to float around them. Looking for the first advantage of the dispute, Natasha pushed forward with delicacy and firmness at the same time, trying to impale opponent’s nipple tip to tip. But Melissa’s weapons stood firm against the pressure, returning the squeeze with equal force.
Attracted by the other stare of hatred, the girls gradually brought the rest of their bodies together: the beautiful faces, twisted in agony concentration, were pressed against each other nose to nose, forehead to forehead, while further down the hard nipples got lost under four mountains of flesh. The pressure of the hot tits scorched both beauties, forcing them to tremble against the other figure.
Then the bellies came: sweaty and naked, they were forced against each other in a muscular test that reminded the two rivals that they could compete at many different levels. The soaked belly buttons slid together, forcing small sensations of emptiness when they crossed each other.
While their bodies fit together, the hands of the beauties fell instinctively on the hips of the other girl, before finally slide past to grasp jealously the opposite ass. The fingers squeezed the flesh through the thin costumes, urging the excited crotch to come together. As soon as she impaled her pelvis against Natasha’s, Melissa clearly felt the firestorm that was waiting for her under both jeans, and some specific memories came to her mind. ‘I have felt that firestorm between my fingers, and she also has felt it.’ A blush overwhelmed the brunette’s cheeks by evoking the red hot events from the past when, almost a month earlier, the two enemies had masturbated each other under the storm, in the main park of the town. ‘It was the first time that…’ Unable to finish the thought, she savored the evoked emotions: the fury and the passion in the rain, the convulsions as culmination of the eternal hatred, the bittersweet feeling of victory and defeat at once. ‘Soon… maybe…’
Finally faced from head to toe, the females kept their bodies together in a competition that, being seen from outside with inexperienced eyes, couldn’t look like a fight: as two beautiful biblical sculptures carved in the center of Klaus Lindermann’s garden, the she-angel and the she-devil seemed immobile, but the reality is that they were immersed in one of the toughest and tenser fight possible. Each atom of the front of their bodies was using their charge to project repulsion energy against rival’s constitution, affecting her at microscopic levels; each inch of skin was burning between exhaled igneous tongues that were fused with enemy’s flares in an incandescent war; all flesh was throbbing, scorched but stiff under the pressure that, almost without movement, was receiving by the opposing flesh.
It kept snowing on them, with a lightness that two lovers would enjoy but, despite the lust and sexuality inherent to the antagonism between the young women, there was no love. The snowflakes melted as soon as they touched the burning female bodies, whistling in their extinction; none felt the icy caress of the night, with the combustion of their bodies growing up more and more as the duel progressed. Suddenly, an imprecise and damp mist—daughter of heat and cold—surrounded the girls
“Is this as far as you wanted to go?” Breaking the silence, Natasha forced a mocking smile on her face. “If you just wanted to feel my body burning yours, you could have saved the chitchat.”
“It’s my body the one that is burning yours,” Melissa replied, lying just like the blonde, because both beauties were scorching and being scorched in the same way. But for the first time the women felt able to stand against the unusual heat given off by the other body; as a constant in the rivalry between the lingerie saleswoman and the go-go dancer, the unbearable in a fight ended up being tolerable in the next one, so the two girls always had to force themselves beyond the limits in each new battle.
Thinking about it, the she-devil licked her lips again, this time almost against she-angel’s mouth.
“Do you want to know how far I want to go?” she asked, with a look broken by lust.
“I’m dying to know that.” Running her tongue over her lips, the go-go dancer returned the ball to the court of her rival. “But I hope that you endure a little more than last time.”
The heart of the brunette, buried under the chest crushed against the breasts of her opponent, almost exploded at those words. ‘It’s obvious that I wasn’t the only one who has been thinking about this’, she understood, seeing Natasha licking her lips again. For days, Melissa had been preparing herself mentally for the next meeting with her archenemy; for that, she had been reviewing into her head every confrontation with the blonde, even if it was insignificant. The saleswoman had evoked their violent fights, their tit duels and their forced orgasms, but her obsession had focused on the last humiliation that she had suffered…when the thick and silky dancer’s lips had closed on hers in a violent kiss, without affection but with hot passion.
‘For sure that she thinks she kisses better than me,’ Melissa had meditated in frustration every night, in the solitude of his bed, and now she was doing it again. Her eyes were mesmerized by the nearby mouth of Natasha; plump and with a striking pink hue, the mouth curved with arrogance in front of the brunette, defiant against what both girls knew that was coming. Melissa’s lips twitched impatiently, eager to show what they were capable of. ‘Mine are fleshier,’ the saleswoman tried to convince herself, measuring and comparing the assets at close range. However, the reality wasn’t so sure about that smug statement: both mouths were heirs of the same canon of beauty, with wavy lines enclosing a suggestive and juicy heart, as bulky as appetizing. As mirror images, their lips were so identical in their shapes that the lines that outlined them didn’t diverge a single fraction of an inch from the shape that their genes had apparently agreed on. At the same time, the volumes of the twin mouths replicated their opposite’s dimension and thickness with a perfection that no cloning could duplicate.
Amid the tense comparison, and on the other side of the connection of hatred, Natasha’s head was filled with heated words: a passionate debate began between the Angry, the Sadistic and the Kinky, the three shades of the personality of the beautiful blonde who had conquered her mind weeks ago. ‘Kiss her until she becomes suffocated!’ the Sadistic exclaimed with a cry full of perversion. ‘Bite, bite, bite!’ the Angry demanded, hitting the walls of the psyche of the beauty. ‘Tongue against tongue! It’s the only way to show her who the boss is!” the Kinky said, riding her essence of woman. ‘No! Lips against lips!’ The Sadistic replied. ‘No! Tooth against tooth!’ the Furious protested.
An unstoppable force took control, with the mouths of both girls converted suddenly in the center of the universe. As planets entering another orbit, their lips were hopelessly attracted to each other, caught in a kind of gravitational influence that no one could stop. The heads tilted to the right docilely, extremely slowly, while green eyes drilled each other with a lust that both beauties tried to hide under a layer of indifference.
“Do you remember our first time in the mansion of Klaus?” Natasha whispered, licking her lips again. “Do you remember our confrontation in the room?”
“Of course,” Melissa kept tilting her head, alert to the beautiful face of the blonde. “I remember every gesture, every smell, every word…”
“You called me cheap copy,” the go-go dancer’s voice sounded slightly angry, maybe hurt. In slow motion, her head kept leaning. “You said that I was messing with a body that I cannot handle.” A slight smile, cruel in its ends, shone in her face. “Now, remember what happened in your store, nine days ago.”
“What you tell me about you?” the brunette understood the game of Natasha immediately, and she didn’t hesitate to jump head first into it. “On that first night, your words were that I would never have your sex appeal.” It was her turn to smile with arrogance, just before licking her full lips. “So it’s time for you to remember what happened in the tunnel, ten days ago.”
Finally, the noses moved beyond the other, and a strange vertigo flooded hearts and stomachs: suddenly, the road to the other mouth was clear, with no more than a few inches of hot air between them.
“You got lucky, that’s what happened,” the blonde snarled.
“The only one that has got lucky here is you,” Melissa replied. “Only in this way you have been able to withstand a body superior to yours.”
“Not only my body is better than yours, but I also know how to use it, unlike you.”
“Show me how you use it, my dear.”
With their heads tilted at angles of almost 45 degrees, the girls licked their lips one last time, just before taking air. Very, very slowly, their faces were approaching each other and their fleshy and throbbing lips were closing the dying distance between them. Instinctively, the fingers of both beauties squeezed the ass of the antagonist, clawing the firm roundness under the tension of the moment. A slight tremor ran through Natasha before jumping into the body of Melissa and pierce skin, flesh and soul.
Then the brunette’s mouth twisted into a soft beast growl, and the blonde replied with her own animal snort. In their torsos, the nipples were lost in an ocean of incandescent flesh, perforating each other more harshly, while the minds of the young warriors burst into a storm of fire and smoke.
Natasha kept her eyes open, staring at the deep look of Melissa, despite all the senses in her body was crying the contrary. What was a few inches away would be a conflict of emotions, as hot as dirty, so the go-go dancer understood that closing her eyes would intensify absolutely each sensation to infinity: an advantage and a weakness at the same time, because on one hand she could feel the effects of the duel more clearly and tame them, but at the same time she would be terribly exposed to the whole force of these same perceptions. Not only that: with eyes closed, she would miss the face reactions of Melissa under her attacks, failing to take note of her enlightening gestures of weakness, failing to enjoy her grimaces of excited defeat. But she could also feel everything—the ecstasy, the submission, the surrender—through the contact between lips, just like she could feel it without eyes through their flattened breasts, their glued bellies, their intertwined thighs.
Unable to decide, Natasha narrowed her eyes, while the lingerie saleswoman did the same. As usual in the unusual connection between the two girls, Melissa was harboring exactly the same doubts about such a trivial—in theory—decision like coming to battle with open or closed eyes. But for a long time the brunette beauty had learned that nothing in her relationship with the other amazon was insignificant; any decision, no matter how small it was, was a courageous and essential step, almost an axiom, in the rivalry between them. But such a decision wasn’t always unilateral, as Melissa well knew; in fact, it not used to be, because the principle of cause and effect between them worked well thanks to their perfectly synchronized minds. The clashes between the two foes were always harmonized in a natural way because what one of them proposed—with or without words—was always instinctively accepted by the other—with or without words. Cause and effect, challenge and deal.
The time slowly crawled in the snowy night, with the antagonist’s mouths still being separated by an abyss of an inch. Both beauties waited for the challenge, knowing that if one of them closed her eyes, the other would accept it; knowing that if one of them decided to fight with open eyes, the other would accept it.
At last, Melissa’s narrowed eyes were opened wide, and so did the eyes of Natasha. With the decision taken and signed, there was no time for more…
The lips brushed each other, causing a small, hot discharge that danced between the mouths in touch. A low moan vibrated in the air, followed by a gasp that was drowned with the advance of the faces. The mouths pressed together, with the meatiness of the brunette molding itself to the meatiness of the blonde; the full lips slid up and down, to one side to the other, for now getting along with rubbing and sharing sensations.
Letting out a grunt, Melissa felt her lips burning: a dangerous fire inflamed her silky mouth, crossing her length and breadth mercilessly. In front of her, Natasha’s feminine eyes shuddered, letting her know that her nemesis also felt that blast. The brunette’s lips curved slightly against the lips of the other girl in a cruel, arrogant smile after marking the territory.
Half a second later, her smile faded. The lingerie saleswoman felt a wave of heat through the lips of Natasha; falling over her mouth, the discharge overwhelmed with its high temperature. The face of the young brunette quivered as her enemy savored her little revenge in the other side of the lip engagement.
With locked eyes and lips, the fiery females hardened the friction between their fleshy virtues, in a sort of mating ritual without love. The flames jumped from mouth to mouth, equally scorching and outraging in an igneous war that, although both women knew perfectly, it was different from the previous ones: the firmness of the tits had been replaced by the softness of the lips, setting a new environment—perhaps more dangerous—for the firestorm.
Natasha began to open her mouth, ready to take the next step in the hot duel. Feeling the movement against her mouth, Melissa also began to separate her lips, ready for the moment of truth. The pupils dilated in their eyes, the naked boobs tightened against each other and the nails dug deeper into rival’s butt. The tongues, hidden within the wet mouths, stirred impatiently on high alert. In a wordless pact, the brunette and the blonde began to close their eyes…
The shout broke the spell. With a sharp and frustrated shove, the females moved away from her rival, looking around fearfully. The garden had been swallowed by the night and the snow. All around, the wind swirled with some violence, in what seemed like the beginning of a snowstorm.
“Girls! Where are you?”
Klaus Lindermann’s voice sounded worried, and choked by bad weather; it was the herald, unfortunately for the women, that was announcing the end of hostilities. Aware that their friend would soon find them, they knew that the time was up…for now.
“Cover your ugly tits, you whore, before he find us!” Natasha urged, feeling the hateful stare of the brunette on her. Quickly, the young women covered their sweaty torsos with their dresses and, with a frustrated gesture, they returned to the mansion to shelter from bad weather.
The stormy wind struck the windows and the doors of the living room with fury but, fortunately, the crackling fire in the fireplace seduced the few remaining guests at the mansion, moving her thoughts away from the inclement exterior. The party had ended with the beginning of the storm, when most of the guests had decided to return to the city before the modest road that connected the city with the property of Klaus Lindermann will turn impracticable.
The mood, however, was high: sitting here and there—some people on the sofas, others on the carpet—everyone was enjoying the reviving warmth of the coffee cups while they chatted animatedly about their friendships and love affairs, about work and even about the big show of the night: the unexpected fight between Valentine Silverman and Kris Anderson.
“I know Valentine for years,” was saying a young woman dressed as Jessica Rabbit. “I would never have imagined that she was capable of something like that.”
“Kris also surprised me,” a man characterized as the Joker exclaimed. “She’s so sweet and nice…”
“You never know what can hide the heart of a woman,” Klaus commented. Most of the guests nodded, but Melissa and Natasha were in a bad mood that the words of her friend only managed to infuriate them even more. The interruption of their showdown in the garden had been frustrating, but even more to know that they couldn’t finish it that same night.
‘Bad fucking luck,’ Natasha cursed. ‘If we had back in town, now we could end this in one of our homes…’
Although they were seated in opposite corners of the room, the blonde and the brunette couldn’t take the eyes off the other girl, watching each other through the living room. Even at this distance, Natasha could discern the progressive dilation of Melissa’s pupils, which quivered slightly in a sign of impatience, of frustration. With the sweet taste of the brunette’s mouth still dancing between her lips, the dancer perfectly understood the feelings of her nemesis, as she felt her femininity also sinking in the stormy ocean of the unfinished business.
‘Something common between us’, she knew, remembering how often her confrontations with Melissa hadn’t reached its conclusion. ‘Even during the first months at her lingerie store, when the only weapons were tense words charged with double meanings.’ Watching carefully to the saleswoman, Natasha subtly tilted her head, recalling the origins of the rivalry. Her mind traveled to the end of August, and the wet heat of that time inflamed her body, her mind and her soul. She saw herself going into Madame, the newest lingerie store in town, looking for suggestive clothes for her performances in Darkness…
There she had met Melissa’s green eyes, beyond the counter, the same green eyes that pierced her gaze in the present day. ‘She looks at me in the same way that she looked at me that first day…as a predator,’ she mused, swallowing. ‘But at that moment she tried to hide herself under the skin of the sheep, but now I can see the wolf.’
Her world had changed at that moment, being turned around by that disturbed look, by that twisted mouth in a contained gesture. Natasha could feel the vertigo in her stomach by the sudden, painful vision of a young beauty who could be her fraternal twin sister. Then and now, she felt every parallelism as a stab in her heart, like a violent shove that wanted to push her out of her place in the world. Her own essence as a unique being was in question because of an imitator that, in some inexplicable way, had stolen her eyes, her mouth, her breasts, her hips, her butt and her legs from the same mold of where she was born.
‘I’ll force you to return everything you have stolen from me,’ the blonde growled in her head, trying to send that message through her eyes. ‘Whatever the cost, I’ll force you to admit that you’re the cheap copy, and that I’m the original one.’
“Natasha,” a voice broke the reverie, abruptly pushing her out of the tense look of Melissa. Glancing aside, she saw Klaus getting up from the couch. “Alice and Juan have volunteered to sleep here on the sofas. You and Melissa can sleep in the guest bedroom on the floor above. I will light the fireplace so you can sleep warm. I’ll let you some nighties of my sister on the beds.”
Not understanding what was going on, the blonde looked around: to her surprise, everyone had left the living room except for her nemesis, Klaus and the young couple that, with a thinly veiled look of passion, was waiting to be alone in the room.
“But…what time is it?” Natasha was puzzled.
“A little after eleven o’clock.”
“What?” the dancer couldn’t believe it, so she turned her face to look at the clock above the fireplace. ‘It’s five past eleven! How is that possible? I’ve been one whole hour staring at Melissa?’ she wondered, trying to assimilate it. ‘This whore even steals my time!’
“Are you okay?” the man asked, watching the strange gesture of his friend. “Today you’re a little distracted…”
“Yeah, yeah, I just get lost in my own thoughts.” Natasha got to her feet, exchanging a quick glance with Melissa before returning her attention to Klaus. “So… will we have the room just for us?” she asked with a slight anxious tone in her voice.
“There are two beds for you. There’s also a double bed, but Megan and Oliver had asked me for that one,” the man replied. Misunderstanding the slightly frustrated gesture of the dancer, he quickly adding: “But don’t worry, they won’t do anything with both of you in the room.”
The she-angel looked back at the she-devil, reading the same frustration on her face. ‘There’s always something stopping us,’ she croaked, eager to continue the hot garden’s meeting against the mouth of her enemy as Melissa’s meaty lips curled with hatred and contempt. With a slight groan, the blonde barely stifled the instinct to jump on her nemesis right there, before turning and leaving the room, followed by the brunette beauty.
13. A Night of Passion — Saturday, February 3
Klaus Lindermann’s Mansion
In the outskirts, 0:17
Breaths sounded stable, low, almost synchronized in the ears of Melissa: Megan and Oliver seemed to sleep quietly, oblivious to the whistling wind, to the crackling of the flames of the fireplace. However, the brunette couldn’t sleep; her hot body had become the air under the sheets, under the blanket, in an oven, forcing the girl to lie over her own sweat.
But her sleeplessness wasn’t due exclusively to the heat that her skin was exuding. The air floating around her was thick and saturated with a kind of fragrance that Melissa had perceived—consciously or unconsciously—on countless occasions, but never before so clearly: the pheromones charged of femininity of Natasha. As a chemical weapon, the effluvium fell on her, surrounding her, harassing her, in an act of war that the brunette couldn’t ignore.
‘Are you so obsessed with me that you can’t live without me?’ a distorted female voice echoed inside her head; Melissa recognized the voice instantly, because after all it wasn’t the first time that she heard it. Closing her eyes, the brunette visualized Natasha, dressed as the first day they met: with a tight black top and a provocative red shorts. ‘I can’t wait to dream tonight; I want to tear you apart again.’
“I’m the one, you fucking bitch, that tear you apart every night,” Melissa cried out in a whisper so low that it was almost a voiceless vocalization. In her vision, she also wore the same clothes—a tight blue skirt and a body-hugging white top—that she had worn that day in late August, when her bitter rival had appeared abruptly in her life, announced by the Madame’s door bell. “I’m the one who wins every fight, every night.”
‘Bullshit,’ the voice of the blonde growled, so vicious and hateful as the real voice of the girl. ‘I’ve turned all your dreams into nightmares, and I’ll keep doing it, night after night.’
“We’ll see it shortly, you slut,” Melissa threatened, with her body tightening in bed. The nightie of Klaus’ sister was covering a body full of sweat and curves, but nothing more: for weeks, the brunette had barely stand the feeling of covering her breasts or her sex with bras or panties; only occasionally she has been able to wear underwear, only to discard it one or two hours after, totally soaked. That had happened to her last panties, now just a ball of moisture into her handbag after the brief fight with Natasha in the garden.
‘Whore, I wasn’t wearing panties! I wasn’t wearing panties, nor wearing panties now!’
Natasha’s arrogant voice again flooded her mind, this time with a shout from the past. Melissa felt her clit hardened between her legs, responding to the wild imagination of the young woman, while her dark and twisted pubic hair bristled. ‘I think tonight won’t be enough with another of my dreams,’ she told herself, feeling about to explode. ‘After the issue of the garden, after bragging about that nightie body, I can’t be satisfied with humiliating her in a dream,’ she meditated as she remembered the moment before going to bed, when both young women had secretly scrutinized each other in front of the other couple. Melissa recalled how her skin had bristled at seeing Natasha wearing a nightie identical to hers: short, with spaghetti straps tied behind the neck, generous necklines and hems cut halfway up her thighs; fortunately for the saleswoman, the colors of the silks were antagonistic: while Melissa was wearing a light pink nightie, Natasha wore a completely black one.
Shaking inside the bed, Melissa turned around, watching the room: the fire in the fireplace glowed capriciously, creating an uneven game of lights and shadows in the room. Before her dilated pupils there were two shapes: Alice and Juan under the blanket of their bed.
But there was something else, something lurking her in the dark from the back of the room: two beautiful green eyes. The irises flashed under the fire’s spell, forcing a shiver through the body of the brunette. ‘Natasha,’ Melissa knew, narrowing her beautiful eyes. Separated by several meters, the enemies observed each other attentively in a silent duel of angry eyes. For a brief moment, the fireplace lit only half face of Natasha, leaving the rest of her handsome features in the darkness. Melissa felt that as a metaphor for the two sides of the blonde: a luminous exterior, a loving and friendly woman; a dark interior, a vicious and cruel animal. ‘Just like me,” she mused.
The face of the dancer returned to total darkness, with only her eyes standing out in the shadows, like a dangerous alley cat. At that moment, a strange, unstoppable feeling took control of Melissa’s body and, before she knew what she was doing, she crawled outside the bed carefully. Standing up silently, the brunette noticed the wet heaviness of her nightie.
‘It’s time way to finish this,’ she desired as her bare feet was moving silently across the bedroom. On the other side, Natasha shuddered uneasily, waiting for her.
‘Come here, you cunt,’ the blonde ordered inside her head, knowing what was about to happen. Lying on her side, Natasha moved her body back instinctively, leaving a little more free space in her bed; barely enough room for a slender body… like Melissa’s. Watching her rival approaching her step by step, Natasha waited and waited, with her heart stopped for an eternity, with her eyes feeding on the naked and wet body of Melissa that, under the increasingly transparent nightie, began to appear before her.
Finally, Melissa stood beside her, and the go-go dancer couldn’t suppress a slight snarl of rage: the simple fact of seeing her enemy raising over her it was enough to drive her crazy. Gritting her teeth, Natasha challenged the brunette with her eyes, daring her to do what she knew that Melissa had come to do. ‘Get in the fucking bed once and for all!’
As if her mental command had worked, the saleswoman bent down and, without the sleeping couple knew it, she got into the blonde’s bed with enough skill to not touch an inch of her enemy’s skin despite the narrow space. However, although Natasha didn’t notice any physical rubbing against her body, the assault was real: the heat that Melissa gave off hit her like the breath of a dragon. The interior of the bed became an oven, with the flames of the two beauties mingling and competing in an unprecedented fire. The nightie’s dancer stuck to her body like a second and soaked skin, making her feel a nakedness that was true only under the fabric.
But the igneous duel wasn’t the only battle that Natasha was dragged, because a chaotic mess of emotions and thoughts flooded her whole being as Melissa came into her bed. Knowing that her hated, vicious nemesis was confined with her in such a narrow and closed space forced her to fight against anxiety and nerves with all her will; knowing that both women would face each very, very close to two strangers in a mansion full of people, with the consequent risk of being discovered, increased her agitation as much as her libido.
Trapped inside the hot battle arena, Natasha and Melissa examined one another at close range during a full minute, waiting for their eyes were adapted to the fluctuating shadows caused by the fireplace. Driven by the most recent memories, none took too long to locate the last weapon that both had brought into their rivalry: the pinkish lips of the other beauty flashed suggestively under the occasional light of the flames, reflecting an ardor that the two young amazons already knew.
None needed more incentive: the unfinished business seethed within their hearts, and they didn’t know how much time they would have before Oliver or Megan awakened, interrupting them, so immediately Melissa and Natasha moved forward their faces. The firm breasts of the women flattened together, and the wet nighties could do nothing to avoid the impression of being immersed in a war of naked tits. That just accelerated things, because the husky gasps of pleasure that threatened to emerge from their throats could only be drowned in a way: the young mouths closed together in a passionate kiss. With hot hunger, the enemies caught with one hand the other hair in an attempt to control the fight, opening their mouths to suck the delicious thickness of the rival lips. Just seconds later, Natasha’s teeth sank into the fleshy lower lip of Melissa, and both beauties had to smother a groan again. The brunette sought revenge with her own bite, chewing viciously the blonde’s tempting mouth.
The teeth clashed together, echoing softly in the room above the crackle of the fire and the breath of the sleepers. The lips locked each other again, passion against passion, and slid together, sharing the wet fire around them. Melissa quivered against Natasha’s burning mouth and the dancer replied throbbing against hers. Free hands left the rearguard, diving among dueling torsos to fall upon the flexible but solid breast flesh: blonde’s right hand squeezed severely left tit of Melissa, while brunette’s left hand squeezed cruelly the right tit of Natasha. Soon the avid fingers found the opposite nipple through the nightie, and the pinches closed the eyes of the antagonists.
Sweating and trembling, Melissa deepened her kiss, pushing her lips more aggressively against Natasha’s mouth. The other girl countered leaving her hair to surround and hug her shoulders, crushing even more their two sets of boobs. The two rivals groaned inside the other mouth, still able to maintain the struggle almost in silence: choked by the kiss, the grunts and whines barely rang beyond their tied mouths. Eager to crush the tough chest of Natasha for the umpteenth time, Melissa also embraced her foe’s shoulders, while her other hand was still ruining the right breast of the rival beauty.
Gradually, the rest of the saleswoman’s hot body was adapting against the burning figure of the go-go dancer, from the belly to the feet. The ankles met in a lock that brought the girls’ legs together, and soon the thighs were burning each other in a war of abrasion. Sucking Natasha’s mouth, the brunette felt the magnificent contours of the other warrior crushed in duel against her own curves; the thin fabric of sensual nighties couldn’t hide the emotions that were jumping from body to body in the erotic combat, and Melissa was soon unable to distinguish what feelings were hers and what feelings weren’t hers.
Natasha found herself into the same problem as she was grinding her body against her enemy’s figure: the intensity of the kiss and the growing tension inside the bed was disturbing her feelings, to the point of being unable to distinguish where her body ended and where Melissa’s body began; suddenly, she failed to see the conflict as a challenging encounter between two different bodies, but as an agonizing struggle between two antagonistic beings who shared body. Wishing anxiously to expel the brunette away from her feelings, Natasha opened her mouth all she could, like a hungry predator, and surrounded Melissa’s full lips. Completely devouring the mouth of her nemesis, the blonde quivered when she felt the sweet fruit that were the opposite lips: wet and hot, fleshy and soft, they were pure ambrosia, but also poison. Natasha felt herself enraptured and intoxicated by sucking that treasure, and unable to prevent the powerful palpitation that erupted between her legs.
Melissa also shivered under the vicious, dirty trick of the dancer; knowing that her thick lips had been confined by the plump mouth of another woman, some brushstrokes of humiliation turning red her cheeks. With a furious but delicate assault, the brunette broke free from the oppressive kiss and, with a quick movement, she wrapped Natasha’s delicious mouth just as her antagonist had just wrapped hers before. The young women groaned in unison, with the amazon who was attacking as aroused as the amazon who was defending.
For a few minutes, the swollen lips exchanged positions, surrounding the challenger’s mouth with a lustful siege before the enemy broke the blockade and counter-attacked. The lips slowly slid together with a certain feel of heaviness, as each girl could feel the succulent thickness of the other mouth in conflict with her meatiness. Demanding answers, blonde and brunette ended up bringing their mouths together, face to face, to feel the contours of other lips and measured each other. Natasha growled furious and softly against Melissa’s mouth, perceiving that the lines that drew the boundaries of the lips of the other beauty copied perfectly the outline of her own lips.
With a double moan born from the frustration at the umpteenth equality between them, the women sucked the other lips with mad passion, hoping to beat the other kiss once and for all. Natasha noticed that the arm around her shoulders was coming down by her back now, with Melissa’s hand moving through her soaked and smooth skin like a sensual five-legged spider. Just a few seconds later, the fingers of the lingerie saleswoman grabbed her right buttock. Panting inside the kiss, the blonde shaken at the double assault from the claws of Melissa on her chest and her ass; feeling mortified by the incredible capacity of her archenemy to cause her pleasure, Natasha intensified her kiss, nibbling again the passionate lips of the brunette before moving down her left hand to squeeze Melissa’s left buttock with her long fingers.
Hell broke out between bodies at war, with the temperature inside the bed reaching such high levels that only two extraordinary women like Melissa and Natasha could resist it. From the neck down, their confined bodies were sweating so profusely that both girls needed to use their fingernails to keep a grip on tits and buns, while their heads, despite being out of the bed, seemed about to explode from the heat stress that they were suffering from endless kiss. Melissa felt her lips burning because of contact with flames in the shape of mouth of Natasha, with her body vibrating with increasingly lack of control: that blonde bitch was crushing her will gradually with burning kisses and vicious hands but, luckily for her, the shakes of her rival let her know that Natasha was beginning to lose control like her.
Growling softly, the enemies sucked and chewed lips for two, three minutes, savoring the female sweetness of the other girl with envy. Their bodies kept adapting themself to the other curves, burning each other while their hands mistreated the flesh at their disposal. But although the warriors were welded to each other from head to toe, not all their virtues were competing with each other. Natasha kept her crotch away from Melissa’s sex, and the brunette seemed to agree with the status… at least for now. Somehow, the tacit agreement implied to keep separate their pussies, although none of them was really sure if they did it because of fear, because of pure tactic or because of, deep in their subconscious, the two beauties understood that it wasn’t time yet. Both girls remembered the intensity of their earlier pelvis battles, always decisive, always hot; however, the duels had never been actually straightforward, since none of them had completely stripped before the antagonist: despite the mutual curiosity, Natasha and Melissa had never seen the most private anatomy of other young amazon, feeling it only through the protective coating of the cloth… or through their fingers.
With their thoughts synchronized, the females evoked a frustration that had accompanied them for nearly a month since, in the main park of the town, they had masturbated each other under a terrible storm until reaching a mutual and double orgasm. Both beauties recalled that instant as one of the key moments in their mutual hatred, with the humiliation suffered at the hands —never better said— of her nemesis as a dishonor that had to be avenged.
Still kissing each other, the two gorgeous women left the other ass to bring their fingers over the other crotch. Knowing that the adversary wasn’t wearing panties, both sank their phalanges through the thin nighties’ fabric, penetrating the foe’s pussy with a tangle of flesh, nail, bone and silk.
The double rape forced a hot moan that, coming from both throats, resounded in the room. Pressing their mouths together, the girls managed to control it, but it was too late: Megan and Oliver moved within their bed, half asleep, half awake, and a puzzled murmur came to the ears of the fiery amazons. Paralyzed —but also excited— by the fear of being found in the act, Melissa and Natasha kept quiet, mouth to mouth, with the fingers sunk into the other sex completely motionless. Through the fabric, both felt the excessive humidity inside rival’s pussy, surrounded by a threatening and absorbent heat.
Gradually, the attention that they had raised was gone, with the other couple falling back into the arms of Morpheus. But this delicate moment had remembered where the girls were: any sound, however slight it was, could cause everyone knew what was going on inside the bed, so they had to keep the battle as silent as possible, even although the sexual nature of the contest.
Undoubtedly, the rivals knew perfectly how to gag each other: bending their heads and opening their mouths, they sealed their lips together in an eternal kiss that, despite all efforts, still didn’t solve anything between the hot females. Melissa then moved her fingers inside the pussy of Natasha, rubbing the fabric of her nightie against the vaginal walls with a softness that was seeking to force the defeat of her nemesis without causing too much noise. In front of her, the blonde moaned quietly against her mouth, returning each friction with delicate fingers movements inside saleswoman’s sex. The couple choked the sexual paroxysm within the kiss, suppressing any cry of pleasure and humiliation.
Exploring each other, the girls kept fighting under the blankets for several minutes, sliding their lips together, kneading the other boob, violating the other pussy. Natasha felt her body gradually weaken, giving up more and more against the sexual power of the brunette but, at the same time, the go-go dancer could feel that the will of her antagonist was cracking under her assault. Out of breath and covered by a layer of perpetual sweat, the attractive blonde read the shakes that ran across both embracing bodies, understanding that the sexual struggle between them was close to its end. Fingers abused vaginas and nipples with more impetus, and teeth returned to the fight sinking on the other lips.
For the first time, the tongues went into action; summoned to war for the cracked female egos, they rushed forward with the momentum of two starving, long-suppressed animals. Melissa’s tongue suddenly crashed against Natasha’s tongue, getting tangle with her damp enemy in a knot full of frenzy and need. Immediately, a tsunami of sensations broke down the wall that protected Melissa’s weakened mental stamina and, before she could stop it, an excited, long meow escaped from her lips. Her broken moan joined the female gasp of Natasha, creating a harmonious sexual cry that echoed on the walls of the bedroom. Again, Megan and Oliver moved uneasily a few meters from them, but this time neither brunette nor blonde could stop: their tongues were locked in an obstinate struggle, full of fire and electricity, that none of them would abandon until its resolution. The dancer dug her nails into the chest of the saleswoman, and Melissa replied tugging her opponent’s nipple while both were trying to choke the other woman with her tongue. The battle between the burning oral organs moved from the interior of a mouth to the other, with the desperation taking control of the duel as it was coming close to the final climax. The hands of the amazons kept lacerating the rival’s sex, burying a third finger in the depths of the hated adversary.
The voice of Megan whispered something unintelligible for the burning amazons, precisely when the exasperated battle reached its last seconds. Natasha and Melissa felt that they were running the final meters of a long race that they had begun a few hours earlier, in the great hall of the mansion, when their eyes had met each other for the first time in days. Next to each other, the beauties ran toward the goal, to the ribbon that would decide who had dominated who in that long traveling day. Tongues intertwined with increased lust, tits flattened with greater strength, legs squeezed with bigger hatred… and fingers accelerated the masturbation, flooding the senses of the young women with the closeness of an intense orgasm.
‘You first, you first!’ they demanded inside their heads. After weeks of fierce competition, both girls reached this point matched in delivered and received humiliations, so they were fully aware of how much was at stake. Both wanted to leave the mansion as the queen of the antagonism that they shared, surrounded by the aura of victory, possessors of the psychological advantage.
The orgasm exploded in their pussies in unison, knocking them down from the throne to which they aspired. As an uncontrolled flood of magma, the vaginal fluids burned cloth and fingers before jumping to the exterior, soaking inside the silky nighties and the delicious toned thighs. Ecstatic grunts of defeat were lost in their locked mouths, but some hot whistles escaped to attract more attention from the increasingly awake Megan and Oliver. With the latest shakes going through their bodies, blonde and brunette opened their eyes, watching each other at close range with hatred as they untangled tongues and lips and moved their fingers away of the other beauty reluctantly.
As if suddenly the other body was pure poison, the two rivals backed down the little that the bed allowed, separating their soaked nighties and skins for the first time in an hour. They remained that way for several minutes, controlling their ragged breaths, looking each other with rage, lust and frustration as they waited that other people return to sleep.
Then, when there was only the crackle of the fire, when Oliver and Megan fell asleep again, Melissa and Natasha leaned forward, delivering the ultimate challenge in unison against the other sweaty face.
“Let’s go out…”
Wherever their bare feet trod on, a steaming footprint remained in the snow. Surrounded by the wind and the last flakes of a storm that began to subside, Natasha and Melissa returned to the gardens where, not long before, both had started a long sexual duel they hadn’t yet managed to conclude. The fiery match after the hedges had been a desperate prelude to the vicious struggle in the blonde’s bed…which had solved nothing; on the contrary, the draw had only served to fuel even more their mutual hatred. Now, only a battle to the bitter end on the frozen outside seemed able to finish that their bodies and minds craved from the beginning of the night, from the beginning of their rivalry: the definitive answer about who was the hottest woman, the best woman.
Sweating under their thin nighties, the girls went into the snowy gardens, leaving behind hedges and trees in search of the farthest point of the mansion. All the way, the beautiful green eyes of the two beauties observed over and over the long fingers of the opponent, in a painful and frustrating reminder of the destructive feelings that the skillful claws of the other girl had provoked in their proud sexes.
‘She’ll pay dearly for it,’ Natasha thought, reading the same revengeful thought in the slightly shaky irises of Melissa. The bitter aftertaste of being raped by the fingers of her hated antagonist dances in her palate, mixed with the sweetness from humiliation achieved over the brunette’s pussy. ‘This bitch will pay all that she has done to me,’ she mused, feeling full by the contradictory emotions that ran her tongue. Unavoidably, she licked her lips, invoking another aspect of the last battle.
‘Her tongue is incredibly oversweet and torrid, as a hot chocolate fountain,’ she sighed, for a moment seduced by memories. ‘But she’s poison too, toxic and vicious poison.’ Fearing fall into the overvaluation of her rival, Natasha relived in her head every gasp, every moan, every tremor of Melissa during the long night, gloating over the time of the final explosion of the girl. ‘I’m her poison,’ she consoled herself. ‘A sweet poison that this bitch can’t stop desiring.’
Walking beside her, Melissa narrowed her eyes, almost as if she could read the thoughts of the blonde. Feeling challenged by the gesture of licking the lips, she moved her tongue over her thick mouth, always locked with the tense gaze of Natasha. If the brunette had concluded something about the hot sexual struggle of kisses that they had begun shortly before, was that her nemesis and she now had even more to solve than before. Despite all her efforts, she had not overtaken the striking dancer in any way— lip to lip, tongue to tongue, chest to chest, leg to leg—as neither Natasha had overtaken her in any battlefield. Even when both had compared her feminine skills to give pleasure with their burning hands—squeezing tits, pinching nipples, massaging buttocks and finally, profaning cunts—there had been no winner. The equality of faces and bodies seemed to move to their sexual abilities; something that Melissa found incredibly painful.
‘We’ll see if this cheap tramp is so good when we don’t have to control us,’ she said herself, knowing that the perfect place and time to face her bitter nemesis again were just a few steps. ‘I can’t wait to show her how a real woman fucks,’ she growled, biting her lower lip.
The tension between the two could almost feel in the air when they stopped at the farthest point from Klaus’ mansion. On one side, a hedge blocked the way, while on the other a slight slope descended to a small and partially frozen stream. The clipped lawn of the improvised fighting arena was covered by several inches of snow that, before the hot closeness of the couple, was already beginning to melt.
The word spat by Natasha didn’t seek to calm the situation. Before her, Melissa came back to bite her fleshy lower lip, for once silencing the insult that came from her throat. Facing her nemesis, the brunette pushed her chest out as she forced a fake smile, intended to mock her rival.
“You don’t look so good, honey,” she said, speaking above the wind. “You must be very tired after what happened on the bed.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me, girl,” the dancer replied. “That has just been a pastime for me. You, instead…you look exhausted.”
“I’m fine. It takes much, much more to wear me out,” the lingerie saleswoman answered. “No man has ever exhausted me, so you don’t expect than a second-class woman can do it.”
“This second-class woman has fucked your cunt easily, don’t forget it.”
“My cunt has not been the only one fucked good tonight, so you should have some memory problem.”
A few steps from the other, the women looked at each other with hate, clenching teeth and using the full force of their wills to avoid jumping on the opponent.
“I know exactly what happened in bed, whore,” Natasha growled. “Another stroke of luck for a losing bitch.”
“You’re talking about luck? Really?” Melissa spat. “You’re the lucky slut; it’s the only thing that can explain some things…”
“Are you talking about I did to you in Madame?” The blonde took a step forward. “Do you think I beat your body twice by sheer luck?”
“What you tell me about what happened in Darkness? And in the underpass?” The brunette matched the challenge with her own step. “Are you so stupid that you really think that I’m the lucky one?”
For a few seconds, the women kept silent, unable to advance in that impasse. They clenching their fists, both hardened glances as they tried to convince themselves of the truth in their words; however, none of them would ever admit that her hated nemesis had beaten them twice.
Then, the two beauties began to walk in circles. Their steps raised small mists of steam, with their bare feet melting the snow as more and more fog was surrounding their bodies on fire. Never before their bodies had been so hot, with the inhuman combustion causing that the flesh of the young girls was almost erupting into ignition. The nighties stuck to their sweaty skins, so immediately their bare boobs were displayed through the sheer fabric; without bras, the firm flesh swayed on their torsos, remembering with her erotic weight the dramatic competition that both women shared about their formidable breasts.
“I’m going to smash your fucking tits once and for all,” Natasha threatened. Feeling the intensity and animosity in the voice of the go-go dancer as a blow to her ego, her enemy almost grabbed her nightie to get rid of it in an act of rage, but she managed to hold back at the last second.
“Will you try it with your hands like a while ago?” the brunette exclaimed, clutching her breasts through the fabric in a defiant gesture. “Because it’s impossible that you can achieve that feat with your weak tits.”
Natasha’s fingers trembled as impatient claws, eager to immediately grab the arrogant boobs of the saleswoman in a much more painful way of what Melissa’s fingers were doing now. However, the blonde also dominate her craving, taking air and channeling her hostility through her melodious voice.
“You’re most stupid than I thought if you still think I need my hands to crush your pathetic tits. Just remember how many times we have brought them together, and how many times my girls have flattened yours, and how many times mine have burned yours.”
“Neither one thing nor the other, you bitch. My girls have never been flattened or burned by your little things. Quite the opposite.”
“I hope you keep that shit badass speech when we return to be tit to tit…in a few seconds…”
The challenge rushed the brunette’s heartbeat, as the heavy layer of sweat covering her body began to overwhelm her.
“I’m going to push your bare boobs against my bare tits… and then we’ll fight to the end…”
Natasha had to swallow hard, feeling her dry throat. The mere idea of getting back to fight chest against chest with her bitter rival was enough to stiffen her nipples even more than they already were, and to wet a crotch that was looking for revenge.
“So be it.”
“But I don’t only want your tits, whore. I will go after your pretty mouth too. Don’t think we finished what we started earlier.”
“I expected to have shown you that you’re no match for my kisses, you dirty tramp, but if you’re so eager to feel my tongue choking you, then I’ll make your dreams come true.”
Melissa and Natasha moved their tongues over their lips, shivering at the gesture of the antagonist. A sort of vibration in the air surrounded the girls that, sweaty and hot, knew they couldn’t hold back their lust for war much more.
“I’ll make your worst nightmares come true: I’ll suffocate you with my full lips while I plunge my tongue in your throat,” the brunette threatened.
“Your tongue is not so long, bitch. It’s not even as long as mine,” the blonde challenged.
Melissa’s tongue moved uneasily inside her mouth. For a moment, the lingerie saleswoman visualized herself jumping on Natasha, forcing her tongue into the plump mouth of the dancer and forcing her to capitulate. The abstraction further stirred her tongue but, especially, moistened her sex and stretched her nipples, free of a bra.
“My tongue is longer and stronger than yours, sow, as my nipples are longer and stronger than yours.”
Natasha’s chest swelled so much to the offense that the blonde thought that her boobs will burst free from one moment to another.
“My tongue will beat your tongue, my nipples will stab your nipples…and your pussy will be fucked like never before have been fucked.”
“Your fingers aren’t good enough for that.”
“Who is talking about fingers?”
The girl’s feminine cheeks reddened instantly, as their pupils dilated, full of doubts: Melissa didn’t expect that the final challenge arise so suddenly, and Natasha couldn’t believe that she had exhaled it so abruptly. The suggested issue took shape in the air: an atmosphere where gravity was two or three times heavier surrounded rivals, sinking them at the snowy landscape. The hearts stopped, the throats dried and the bodies stiffened. The gestures fluctuated between the coldness and the passion, while several bombs exploded in the most sensitive points of both curvaceous figures.
Finally, the women were able to move their mouths, but without uttering a sound. Sweat jets toured foreheads and chins while below, beyond energized nipples, beyond sensual navels, the clits stood with an unbeatable toughness. The ultimate Truth was before them: they were about to walk a secret and private path that would allow them to spit out all the hatred they felt for the other female through the most authentic sexual competition.
“I’m gonna fuck your body,” the brunette’s voice sounded broken by lust and animosity. “I’m gonna fuck you, I’m gonna wear you out until you were lying in the snow. And tomorrow they’ll find you here, humiliated, crying your defeat. Then you can tell everyone that Melissa Carter is better woman than you…and that she fucked you like never before did anyone.”
“I’ll be the one who fucks your body,” the blonde replied with a bitter tone, full of excitement and resentment. “I’ll fuck you all night if necessary, until you admit that I’m the superior woman. And in the morning, they’ll find your defeated body right here, and you’ll have to admit that Natasha Reilly beat you…and that she fucked you like never before did anyone.”
“I have already sick of all this,” Melissa growled through gritted teeth. “This is the end of the road: this will be the last confrontation, the definitive one. We won’t leave from here until settle who wins and who loses, even if we have to be fighting until dawn. And when the sun comes up, one of us will have to leave town forever…”
“It couldn’t be any other way.” Natasha’s heart almost jumped out of her chest at the very high stakes between the two females. “Once I have finished with you, it will be a pleasure to see you catch the first bus in the morning and to lose sight of you forever.
The city will again be mine, and mine alone.”
“Don’t count on that!”
Abruptly, hotly, the girls clashed body to body, chest to chest, her nails looking for thin and wet fabric of their nighties, the only and last obstacle for the total war of female flesh. With their claws flashing between the snowflakes that fell on the amazons, both women ripped between groans that mingled pain and pleasure. The eager sexes were already throbbing with powerful pre-orgasmic waves, as the bodies of both beauties feeling unable to control themselves now that the sexual tension accumulated during months reached its inevitable conclusion.
Soon, the dreams that were born and raised in their subconscious, the dreams that wetly had been hidden in the depths of their thoughts since their eyes had met for the first time, became reality: the last shreds of cloth were torn, and total nudity became the last armor. Breasts, bellies and thighs were crushed together, feeling completely…and the orgasms erupted in unison, as if they were one.
Howling in the dark, Melissa and Natasha came for the second time that fateful night, this time overstimulated by their vicious desires and the devastating feeling of nudity in close contact. Shuddering between snow and sweat, the couple trembled in the other arms, sobbing as their swollen egos slid as valuable juices for their thick thighs.
“Never again!” they promised each other with a cry, tired of giving their femininity to their nemesis through uncontrollable outbursts. Sinking their hands on the other long hair, the blonde and the brunette intertwined their legs as every part of their bodies was anxiously searching for its sensual counterpart. A chaos of moans and groans came from the throats, as memories of the long rivalry flooding their minds as fuel for war.
The mouths met, and with them, their perfect white teeth; nibbles lacerated lips plump as they slid together in an animal, angry kiss. The tongues intertwined in the cold air before sinking inside a mouth, and then the other. Closed eyes poured tears that, like the snow that touched the heated skin of the females, instantly evaporated in a cloud of steam.
Natasha’s momentum pushed Melissa against one of the hedges. Feeling the sting of the plants against her back and her bare ass, the lingerie saleswoman squawked against the go-go dancer’s lascivious lips. Tightening the hug, the young beauties crushed their chests together for a few seconds of intense fighting, until Melissa managed to get out of the trap with a sharp turn; hitting Natasha against the same hedge.
“Fucking bitch,” the blonde cried, squeezing the thighs of her opponent so hard that both girls howled in pain. With a war cry, Natasha pushed back the brunette…and the locked legs tore down the amazons in competition.
The snow melted even before their burning bodies fell on the grass. The blow however didn’t stop or slow the fight: the women struggled fiercely and hotly, trying to mount each other, rubbing each other skin to skin with a murderer impulse. The scalps were abused, the tits were crushed together and the muscles of the legs were dilated at maximum capacity, in a test of strength that seemed doomed to an eternal tie.
“Fucking slut,” Melissa spat, biting the fleshy and luscious lips of Natasha as the teeth of the dancer replied with hateful bites of passion. At the same time, the tongues looked for the other, licking and tangling with powerful electric shocks of pleasure.
The line between violence and sex had definitely blown up, and now neither beauty could tell if they were fighting or fucking. At this point, both things were actually the same: mouths, breasts, bellies and thighs looked for each other with rancor and sensuality, and the hands squeezed with furious lust all flesh that was within reach of their long fingers. The bodies transpired sweat and heat, turned into twin volcanoes, into magma and fire throwers.
Then, for the first time, their naked pussies made contact; for the first and last time, because as metal in a forge, the genitals of the beauties fused into one piece, a link that would be broken only when the big question was answered…
The orgasm was destructive, instantaneous, but not the only one: as waterfalls violated by a terrible storm, endless climaxes erupted between their legs, forcing howls of humiliation and eternal pleasure from the females’ throats. From the start, the relationship between Natasha and Melissa had been a long and downward distance race; a race full of harder and more complex obstacles. Now, however, both were before the last challenge, before the final stage of a race that had lasted too long. Cumming like never before, blonde and brunette knew they were in the final sprint, a long, exhausting and matched sprint, terribly dirty and passionate, but conclusive and necessary…
Despite the eternal orgasm, the young women managed to overcome the pleasure and pain, rubbing their cunts furiously in a battle that would decide everything. With teary, closed eyes and mouths locked in a never-ending kiss, the saleswoman and the dancer knew how was the other sex through what they felt at the nerve center of their rivalry…and they didn’t like what they felt…
“Whore, I’m going to crush your ugly cunt,” Natasha mumbled between bites, feeling how the bile filled with envy and rage choked her. What she was feeling down, what she was feeling impaling against her proud womanly sex, seemed a perfect reflection of what she saw in her mirror every time she walked naked at home.
“Not before I crush yours, bitch,” Melissa replied, furious at the comparison that she felt between her legs: the mounts of Venus were equally swollen, the labia were equally thick, the pubes were equally trimmed. She couldn’t believe it, but even in her most intimate anatomy, the other girl was able to copy her.
Both had grabbed the nemesis’ pussy before and even they had raped it several times; they had felt the similarities, of course…but now the connection between females was full…and there were no secrets between their bodies: from top to bottom, they were genuine twins, perfect clones.
“I’ll rip out that nasty pubes that you have with mine,” the brunette threatened angrily.
“Your pathetic pubes have no chance against mine,” the blonde attacked with a fury impossible to calm as each hair were intertwining with rivals in an almost individual battle.
However, the attention immediately shifted to the excited horn that was jutting in the other groin. Drippy, hard and long, the clits touched each other again and again, triggering electrical sparks that deepened the intensity of the powerful, endless orgasms. The overwhelming rivalry between the two beauties had transformed their bodies in erotic and erogenous weapons of heat and flesh, and their clitoris were just the personalization of all that: the beginning and the end, the alpha and the omega of their female egos and their souls of warriors, their sexualities in the form of magnificent spears. Everything, absolutely everything that Natasha and Melissa were, it was focused on those hot, fleshy, super-sensitized daggers: their dreams of domination, their fears of a defeat that they could never get over.
As the nipples of the girls, the clits now welded together had almost always been hard, day and night, but unlike the weapons of their tits, their testing, their long-awaited battle, had never come…until now. The incredible females had needed time, a lot of time, to accept the nature of their confrontation, and even longer to decide to resolve their differences as they should make the first day they met. The war between their sexualities should be settled at all levels, and only now, alone, outside the mansion where they gave the first real step, both knew where they would decide who the better woman was.
The sweat was now a second skin, sliding down their resentful faces, their hot boobs, their nervous bellies, their quivering thighs, in a cascade that was born of inner fire, a fire that none of them could stop even if they wanted to. The orgasms kept detonating, fasten together in a vicious explosive chain, as more and more skin clung to each other: their bellies were connected navel to navel and, seconds later, their thighs were glued together. Rolling over and under the snow, Melissa and Natasha bitten lips and chins and licked necks and tongues, penetrating other nipples and clits in a whole body to body war.
Their dense and firm tits were chained through their nipples; the hot, hard rapiers locked each other tip to tip, with milk holes absorbing each other in a vacuum that accelerated the climactic shocks that ran through both bodies. The breasts crushed and were crushed, winning and losing a ground that belonged equally to both erotic chests, but none prevailed. Below, their bare butts were scratched with pleasure, anger and passion, pushed forward as if in some way, the contact between the hottest pussies of the city was never close enough.
Locked from head to toe, brunette and blonde fell down the slope. Rolling faster and faster, the amazons kept fucking each other, kept fighting in the biggest test of their lives. The icy stream received them and, immediately, the ice melted at the contact of the dragon flares exuded from both bodies. Water kissed the couple, evaporating as the mouths sought and found each other with hatred and impetuosity, as the tits squeezed each other with rage and energy, as the legs are squeezed each other with strength and hedonism…as the cunts exploded relentlessly, in the greatest orgasm ever.
The more the temperature rose, the more spasms of ecstasy intensified, the less control they had over their bodies…closer was the end that, after months of rivalry, after plenty of mental and physical confrontations, both beauties had subconsciously desired. Half sunk in the water, excited beyond humanly possible, neither could have imagined that the first meeting between them in Madame in late August was to drive them to this burning moment, but for some reason they weren’t surprised, as if in the depths of their souls both had known that there was no way to avoid all that had happened, it happened and it would happen between them. From the moment when Natasha entered Melissa’s lingerie store, the fate had united them…for better or for worse. And the outcome was in front of them, in a stream on the outskirts of the city.
On their sides, brunette and blonde speeded their pelvis, fucking each other with all the feminine strength that they could gather in that final consummation. Sexual power dominated any tactic or ability, with the clits consuming rival’s ego through the unbreakable and hot connection.
“You’re mine, bitch,” they whispered at the same time, scratching the other back, biting the other mouth, with eyes and cheeks full of tears. “You’re mine,” they kept saying, over and over again, cumming without end, bot hot and wet. “You’re mine, you’re mine,” the whispers were lost in the night, that advanced inexorably toward the sunrise while the beauties rolled down the stream, surrounded by a little mist, by the sucking sound of two cunts stuck in an endless war. “You’re mine,” it was heard again and again; a desire repeated ad nauseam, eager to be fulfilled despite the opposition of the other body, of the other formidable and powerful female sexuality. “You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine,” the mantra was mixed with the fleshiness of their lips, with the hot breath that wrapped their tongues in combat, as the time was running out in the biggest erogenous battle. “You’re mine…mine…” None noticed the dawn, immersed in the other femininity. The sun lit up their hot, sweaty skin as the passion overwhelmed the girls. It was then, and only then, when the truth that was hiding under the arrogance came from their throats as the last gasp of a dying woman: “I’m yours, bitch.”
There it was: the admission…and then, the spontaneous combustion. The orgasm of the orgasms detonated in their bodies, tying all the erogenous zones of their formidable bodies into something that felt like an explosion and an implosion at once, as a nirvana that released all female and sexual energy which had filled flesh and spirit. The heat burned skin and soul, and the mouths opened wide, screaming with no voice. An earthquake ran through the figures of the women for an eternity, and beyond…
It was over: the two rival beauties, physical, mental, moral and sexually exhausted, hugged each other the middle of the stream, their bodies throbbing softly, gently. The water kissed their figures, calming the post-orgasmic trauma, relaxing muscles that take weeks to fully recover.
Slowly, hands pushing the other girl; slowly, feet kicked to cut the now gentle contact between bodies. Perhaps it took an hour, maybe two, maybe more, because the sun was rising over the horizon when brunette and blonde managed to kneel before the other, surrounded by a snowy landscape that couldn’t come within nine feet of the hot couple.
Eyes flashed, full of humiliation and anger at the conclusion of the duel. The defeat was mutual, and deep; the hatred was greater than ever, and never, ever could they forgive the other beauty.
“I hate you, Melissa,” the blonde whispered.
“I hate you, Natasha,” the brunette replied.
They rose, and their knees buckled, but the two managed to remain standing proudly. Before them, the other body looked wasted, defeated: the long and hard nipples now were only minor, languid erections; the firm labia now looked flaccid… From top to bottom, everything was weakness…with one exception…
Pretentious and dilated, the sexual swords gleamed wet, reddish, with a very slight haze of steam surrounding them. The clitoris pointed directly toward the antagonist…to her ego, to her femininity…and to her own weapon. The burning had ended the strength of all of their female bodies…with that honorable exception.
“Get out of my city,” they whispered at the same time, their voices broken by exhaustion, somehow threatening each with their still erect weapons. However, after
Epilogue — Monday, February 5
New Hall Lane, 9:33
That morning, the rain fell smoothly on the city, but the streets boiled with movement. Under their umbrellas, men and women moved here and there like ants in a consumerist frenzy from that the modest lingerie store somehow escaped.
However, the beautiful owner of the local thanked the solitude: she needed time, a long time to talk with herself, to accept the radical changes that had shaken her perfect life…
In the gloom of the store, surrounded by contradictory thoughts, Melissa grabbed her boobs, feeling the weight, the firmness…the absence of heat. Since Saturday night, since her incredible final battle with Natasha, her body was free of the suffocating but passionate heat that had flooded her since weeks ago. And now, somehow, she missed it.
“But all is not gone,” she told herself, feeling the deep palpitations that ran over her clitoris, perpetually swollen since the fight in the stream. Her most intimate weapon seemed reluctant to release the igneous charge, as if it knew that it still had work to do.
Then the doorbell awoke her from her reverie. To her surprise, Natasha was crossing the door…dressed as the first day they met, with a tight black top and provocative red shorts. The brunette, as if she had intuited all this with a feminine sixth sense, was wearing the same tight blue skirt and the same white top of that first morning, when their eyes had met for the first time.
“Are you still in town?” the go-go dancer asked, in a tone that mingled frustration, desire and hatred.
The lingerie saleswoman noticed it then: a small and burning discharge burst into her nipples, into her pussy, before starting a wave that swept her body from top to bottom. The road to a new spontaneous combustion was making their way in her flesh again…
“Close the door,” she growled, excited, aware that, after months of rivalry, nothing had been resolved…and certainly it never would…