Tara Simmons, 43 years old, slender, sandy blond hair, wasn’t sure she wanted to go to the party at Emily’s house, but she decided that she couldn’t really duck it. Emily had been her old friend for years, and this was some charity thing that Emily thought a lot of. Tara knew it was a good cause, but she hadn’t been in the mood to meet a bunch of different people and smile over drinks and hor d’oeuvres.
But duty won out over an evening with Netflix and wine. Tara had been divorced for a few years and she had convinced herself that it was a good thing. After years of drama with Ted, she was content to spend her evenings with good books and a good Chardonnay.
She was also in the habit of indulging in her one somewhat risqué habit of sitting around topless, wearing a long flowing skirt. She enjoyed the feel of the air conditioning on her well-formed b-cup breasts. They weren’t large, but they were crowned with pink nipples that were like little pencil erasers. Sometimes while reading, she would caress them with one hand, pinching and tugging on them lightly. They always got so hard and sensitive.
And sometimes her labia would swell and grow moist and if she reached down and pulled up her skirt and lightly stroked her exquisite closely-trimmed cleft and rub the tingling clit, well there was no harm done. She thought a girl deserved a nice orgasm once in a while.
She was thinking of that when she rang the doorbell and Emily opened it wide and let her in. She smiled broadly and pulled Tara into her arms. They embraced briefly. Emily was exquisitely dressed in a scarlet spaghetti-strapped number that showed off her lovely breasts and hugged her wide hips.
“Oh, thanks so much for coming, darling! Now it’s a party!”
Tara, dressed in a blue strapless cocktail dress, smiled back. She saw that there were about 30 or so people in the house already. She walked in through the foyer, and deposited her bag on a shelf going into the living room.
She put on a mostly genuine smile. “I’m sure it will be wonderful, hon! You always have the best parties!”
“Let me introduce you around, darling. You probably know about half the people here.”
The next few minutes were taken with greetings with people she already knew, accompanied with hugs and air kisses, and introductions to those she didn’t.
The last person she met was a striking redhead in a green cocktail dress with a deep vee neckline. The cleavage was smooth and dappled with freckles.
“Tara, I’d like you meet Elizabeth Shawn. Elizabeth, my dear friend Tara.”
Elizabeth held out her hand briefly, and Tara took it in hers. A brief squeeze and she let it go.
Elizabeth’s voice was a warm contralto. She smiled and said, “How wonderful to meet you, Tara. Emily has told me all about you.” Elizabeth was perhaps an inch or two taller than Tara, somewhat curvy. She filled the green dress perfectly.
Tara wasn’t sure why, but she suddenly felt a quick chill. She said, “Likewise, Elizabeth. Do you prefer Liz or Beth?”
Elizabeth paused, and then said, in a controlled tone, “Elizabeth is fine, Tara.”
“Of course.” She turned to Emily, who heard the doorbell ring. “Oh, I have to get that! You too chat, okay?” And she scurried off.
Trying to make conversation, Tara said, “So, what do you do?”
Elizabeth looked her up and down, as if measuring someone. “Oh, I’m a financial consultant. You?”
Tara felt challenged. For some strange reason, this redhead had all her defenses on alert. At the same time, she was feeling taken in by her. She looked like a perfect package of intelligence and sexuality.
Tara said, “Oh, I’m in marketing.”
They were by the counter separating the kitchen from the living room. Elizabeth said, “Would you like some wine?”
“Sure.” She watched as Elizabeth raised one slender arm. Instantly a caterer in a white pressed shirt and black pants came by with a tray of drinks. Elizabeth took two and handed one to Tara.
Tara raised her glass to Elizabeth and “Here’s to new friendships.”
Elizabeth gave her a half smile and said, “And to new challenges.”
They made small talk for a while. Tara learned that Elizabeth had arrived in town three months before to take her consultant gig and a brokerage house. She had moved into a house a few miles away.
As they talked, Tara got the feeling that she was being evaluated. She caught Elizabeth regarding her with cool green eyes that matched the shade of her dress. Again there was the feeling of challenge.
Tara was intrigued. She matched Elizabeth’s posture. She stood up a bit, and moved her bust forward. She wasn’t surprised to see the redhead do the same. At one point, in an effort to be heard over the increasing din of the party, they brought their heads closer together. Tara could smell a sophisticated scent, probably something in the thousand-dollar an ounce range.
As they talked, Elizabeth would rest her hand lightly on Tara’s forearm, her pale fingernails sometimes lightly tapping for emphasis on a conversational point. Tara started to do the same. She caught herself looking at Elizabeth’s cleavage, and Elizabeth smiled at her.
She lightly said, “See something you like?”
Tara stammered, “I- I thought I saw a glimpse of a tattoo there. Pardon me.”
Elizabeth said, “You did. You want a better look?” Again, the challenge.
Tara, not quite believing what she was doing, said, “Sure.”
Elizabeth said, “Come with me.” She took Tara’s hand and led her into a vacant bedroom that was being used for temporary coat storage.
They stood at the foot of the bed. Elizabeth turned to Tara and said, “Here.”
She pulled aside the material over her right breast. Elizabeth said, “Look closer.”
Tara moved her head to within a few inches and saw the dark blue ink resolve into a small rendering of two nude women wrestling. One woman was on her back and the other on top, their legs locked together. Tara was instantly shocked … and aroused.
Elizabeth said, “What do you think?” She pulled the material back another inch, and the nipple slipped out, dark and hard in a coffee-colored areola. “Whoops!”
Tara said, “I have to say I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
Elizabeth looked at her and asked, “Do you want to see it again sometime?”
Tara hesitated. But she couldn’t back away. This woman was challenging her, and Tara suddenly felt more alive than she had in years.
She said, “Perhaps.” And looking around behind her, she impulsively reached out and put her hand on Elizabeth’s breast. Tara looked her steadily in the eye, and pinched the nipple that she had just seen.
Elizabeth’s eyes closed briefly. She took her left hand and placed it on Tara’s right breast and squeezed.
For perhaps ten seconds the two women held that pose. And then they heard a noise and gathered themselves together.
As they left the bedroom Elizabeth said, “I look forward to our next meeting, Tara.”
Tara shivered. “As do I. As do I.”
Tara got home shortly after eleven. The weather was unsettled – scudding clouds obscured most of the sky, and the wind came in gusts. She felt oddly nervous, particularly as she remembered the encounter with Elizabeth Shawn.
She went to her bedroom to get comfortable. She slipped off her high-heeled peep-toe pumps and put them up. She then reached behind her and unzipped her strapless dress. She watched in the mirror as she tugged it down, exposing her well-shaped breasts. The dress puddled on the carpet and she picked it up and deposited in her dry-cleaning basket. She stood up and briefly massaged her breasts, relishing their freedom. The nipples came erect.
She skinned her skimpy blue lace panties down and tossed them into the laundry hamper. She looked in her closet and found a white crepe floor-length skirt. She stepped into that, pulling the waist up to snug over her hips.
Thus bare-breasted in her flowing skirt, she went out to the living room. She had a momentary erotic thrill as she closed the curtains on the wide picture window. Did I give an eyeful to one of the neighbors, she thought? Good.
She sat down in her large easy chair, and brought her legs up onto the ottoman. Her toes were painted a glossy pink. She picked up her laptop and opened it up. The screen came to life and she checked her email and her Twitter feed. The IM window opened automatically, and she saw a few missed messages, nothing important. She could also see the reflection of her own naked breasts in the glass screen. She smiled a bit as she remembered Elizabeth’s hand closing on her breast and squeezing it while in the bedroom. And her own daring in grasping the nipple of someone who was for all intents and purposes, a stranger. She brought one hand up to her breast and looked down at it as she tugged on the stiff nipple. She pinched it between her thumb and index finger, her perfectly manicured nails digging in a bit. She closed her eyes briefly, enjoying the sensation.
She wasn’t quite sure what had come over her, an otherwise mature and proper woman. The whole scene with Elizabeth seemed slightly unreal to her. But there was no denying the odd excitement she felt. The image of the wrestling women tattooed on Elizabeth’s breast was vivid in her mind. What would it be like to test herself against the compelling redhead?
She heard the chime of her IM window. She looked down and saw that someone with the screen name ShawnCat had just sent a message.
Tara? I saw the screen name TaraSim and took chance. This is Elizabeth. From the party.
Tara felt a sudden frisson of excitement. Oh my God, she thought. It’s her!
TaraSim: Oh, hi…how are you?
ShawnCat: I’m doing well. I hope it’s not too late for you.
TaraSim: No, I’m usually up past midnight.
ShawnCat: I’ve been thinking about you. About our … encounter.
TaraSim: Oh…I’ve been thinking about that as well. It was, shall we say, unique.
ShawnCat: That’s true. I’m not sure what came over me. I’m usually not that … forward…lol.
TaraSim: I surprised me by the way I responded. There’s something about you that – oh, I don’t know – triggers me. Don’t take this the wrong way, but when I think of you, I’m feeling ….well, aggressive.
ShawnCat: I think I know what you mean. As you could possibly tell from the tattoo on my boob.
TaraSim: lol – so…you like to wrestle, I take it.
ShawnCat: Look at my screen name.
TaraSim: Ohhh…. Catfights!
Tara was feeling a distinct sensation of warmth. She opened her legs and pressed two fingers over her sex, pressing down on the cloth of the skirt. She let out something between a sigh and a moan.
ShawnCat: Yesss! I’ve been fascinated by them for years. It’s my kink.
TaraSim: Hmmmm…..I have to admit it sounds hot…How many have you had?
ShawnCat: In all honesty, only one. It happened in my senior year in college. I had a roommate and we just didn’t get along. I don’t know why, but there was always an undercurrent of dislike beneath the surface. One night, around 2 in the morning, we were arguing about something dumb. Anyway, the next thing you know we’re rolling around our room, hands in each other’s hair. We wound up ripping our bras off and ….
ShawnCat: We brawled for what seemed forever, until she finally cried that she gave up. That night….I masturbated thinking about and must have come three times.
Tara didn’t touch the keyboard a minute, absorbing the story. Tara wondered what she was getting into here. The cyberchat didn’t seem quite real, and it therefore felt safer. Finally, she typed:
TaraSim: Elizabeth…do you dislike me?
ShawnCat: Ohhh….getting to the heart of the matter, are we?
TaraSim: I guess.
She waited a full minute before Elizabeth responded.
ShawnCat: God, Tara, from the moment I saw you, I wanted to fight you! There…now you know just what a perverted slut I am. I don’t hate you….but something about you makes me want to tear into you. Strip you naked. Fight you again and again.
Tara reached down to her crotch. The cloth was wet and sticky. Her nipples were hard and her breasts throbbed, as if longing to be crushed.
TaraSim: You wouldn’t have to go far to strip me naked right now.
Tara took a quick snap of her face and breasts and sent it to Elizabeth, shocked at what she was doing, but unable to help herself. She saw that Elizabeth accepted the image.
ShawnCat: Oh, my god! Oh, ohhhh…..
The file message window on Tara’s machine popped up. She accepted the file and an image of Elizabeth popped up, topless in panties, her mouth open, eyes wide with excitement. Tara gasped in sexual longing.
TaraSim: Ooohhhh…..you look so fucking hot.
Then she added: You bitch!
ShawnCat: Ohhh, fuck….you whore! If I were there, I’d slap your face!
TaraSim: If you were here, I’d slap you back! I’d wrap my fists in your red hair and pull it so hard!
ShawnCat: Oh God…I’d grab your perfect little breasts and claw them….digging my fingernails into your nipples!
TaraSim: You fucking cun*t, I’d lock my legs around you and slap and tear at you, rolling around the carpet.
ShawnCat: Ooohh. God yessss! I slam my wet shaven pussy onto yours….I’d crush it…your wet hot sex….oohhhhhhh…ohhhhhhhhhh….
That did it. Tara had been stroking her pussy and at seeing those words, she cried out and came, spurting into the folds of her long skirt, her hips thrashing on the chair.
ShawnCat: You bitch. I just came. All over my fingers. I can taste it.
TaraSim: I just came too, you redheaded whore. I’m going to have to clean my skirt.
Tara thought for a moment before sending the next message. But she decided that she had no choice. She had to see this through. Her pussy still leaking, she sent:
TaraSim: Okay, Elizabeth….that…that was awesome. So, slut….do you want the real thing? My house, tomorrow, at noon?
She sent the address and waited.
Finally, the response came:
ShawnCat: Ohh…my…I can’t believe I’m going to do this again. Okay….you bitch. Tomorrow, we have ourselves a catfight.
TaraSim: God. I can’t wait. I can’t wait to tear into you. Look what you’ve done to me.
ShawnCat: I’ll be there. And I’ll do it you again. Till tomorrow, darling. Au voir.
TaraSim: Ciao, my sweet.
Tara pulled off her skirt and sat in the chair. She stuck two fingers in her pussy and rubbed her clit with her thumb. She came three times before she was satisfied.
As she lay naked in bed, she wondered what tomorrow would really be like.
Tara spent the next morning carefully choosing her outfit. She wanted to be sexy without looking like a stereotypical pole dancer. And she wanted to wear clothes that would allow her enough freedom of movement to catfight effectively.
After carefully bathing and applying suitable emollients and scents, she looked at her lingerie collection, mixing and matching bras and panties, laying them out on the comforter stretched over her king-size bed. She stood there, naked, hair in a towel, chin in hand, as reviewed her choices.
Finally she selected a Victoria’s Secret aqua demi-bra and matching lace panties. She stepped into the panties, and admired the way the material looked as she pulled over her freshly bare mound. Her plump labia filled the crotch of the lace nicely, the cleft subtly visible.
She slipped into the bra and fitted her breasts into the cups. The top of the cups settled about one inch over her long pink nipples. She fastened it expertly in back. She then pulled on a white translucent half-slip that ended six inches above her knees. She looked in the mirror and imagined what it would be like to face Elizabeth dressed in similar fashion. But she decided she was going to fully dressed…and they would rip each other’s clothes off in the course of their delicious combat.
She decided on a separate skirt and blouse rather than a dress. She slipped on a wraparound skirt in a bold geometric black and white pattern. She paired that with a black tank top with a scoop neckline that revealed the curves of her breasts. Finally she put on a thin black silk shrug that was quite fetching. She smiled at her image in the mirror, and said to herself, “Girl, you look hot! I’d fight you!”
Checking her shoe shelf, she picked a gold-colored high-heeled sandal with an ankle strap. She put them on and the effect was sexy and sophisticated. Finally she dabbed on some Chanel.
She looked at clock on her nightstand. 11 AM. One hour to go. She cleared away the lingerie and clothes from the bed. She then went to the kitchen, got out the ice bucket, and a bottle of Cristal champagne that she had been saving for a special occasion. She thought this would qualify.
Tara was a bit nervous. She was highly turned on, but she had never been in any real fight in her life. She had seen some on movies and TV, and while she recalled that the fights had always stirred something in her, she faced the possibility that she was going to be tangled in the real thing very soon. She knew she didn’t want to be injured or severely hurt. She would discuss rules with Elizabeth when she arrived.
Her dreams during the night were a mish-mash of the party and her Messenger session with Elizabeth. She remembered dreaming that she and Elizabeth came out of that bedroom holding hands, then went into the living room and, surrounded by the guests, started to disrobe. When they were entirely naked, they took turns slapping each other. When they each had completed a slap, they would turn to the watching guests and smile, who would then politely applaud. And then the two of them would start to wrestle until they fell to the carpet and they rolled around while the guests moved back to give them room. When she had awakened from that dream, she was not surprised to find that she was quite wet.
She surrendered to imagination, thinking what it would be like for the first contact. Would they start with pulling hair? She tugged at her medium length waves, visualizing Elizabeth’s hands curled there. Or would they start with face slaps? Experimentally, Tara took her right hand and delivered a stinging slap to her cheek. She gasped, feeling the pain and relishing it.
She went back to her bedroom and retrieved her compact, and adjusted her makeup again. She checked her mascara and eyeliner, and gave a quick dab of vibrant red to her lips. She patted her hair into place and went to the living room.
She glanced outside. The disturbed weather of the night before was gathering to a culmination. She saw towering cumulonimbus building against blue sky. As she watched, a fork of lightning stabbed down a couple of miles away. Ten seconds later she heard the rumbling of thunder. There was a storm coming.
At 11:59. Tara heard a car pull into her driveway. She looked and saw a red Lexus SUV stop. She saw the mostly hidden shape of a head behind the window tinting. The door opened and Elizabeth Shawn got out, carrying a medium sized bag with what looked like clothing inside.
The doorbell rang. Tara swallowed, and her nervousness level went up a notch. She took a quick look around the house and went to the door.
She opened it and she smiled as she saw Elizabeth standing there. Elizabeth smiled back and said softly, “Hello Tara. It’s noon.”
At those words Tara felt a thrill of excitement and she said, “Indeed it is. Won’t you come in?” She stood back and Elizabeth walked into the foyer.
Tara extended her arms and they embraced briefly. Elizabeth kissed her lightly on the cheek and Tara returned the kiss. Tara noticed that Elizabeth’s scent matched her own.
Tara stood back and said, “Oh, let me look at you!”
It was worth a look. Elizabeth was dressed in a soft emerald dress that matched her eyes, and her long red hair made a lovely contrast as it fell about her shoulders. The dress had a deep-v neckline and medium-length sleeves, and the hem was two inches above the knee. Her breasts were quite obviously bare under the bodice. Her freckle-spotted cleavage delighted the eye. She had on nude sandals with a three-inch heel, toes painted a pretty dark red.
Elizabeth deposited her bag on the floor by the foyer console. She smiled slightly, and said, “See something you like?”
Tara blushed at the words, the same ones that Elizabeth had uttered when Tara had caught a glimpse of the tattoo. She looked at the redhead and then deliberately pushed back on Elizabeth’s neckline to reveal the catfighting art.
She said evenly, “I see something I’ll see more of later.”
They stood there for a long minute, and then Tara brightened and said, “Champagne?”
Elizabeth smiled more broadly and said, “I’d love some.”
They went into the kitchen and Tara popped the cork on the Cristal and poured two flutes. She handed one to Elizabeth. Holding up the glass, she said, “Here’s to adventure.”
They each drank, and then Tara said, “Living room?”
They walked into the living room and Tara sat down in her easy chair while Elizabeth took the corner of the couch. They each had a couple of more sips of champagne.
Elizabeth said, “I have to say, I wasn’t quite sure until this morning that I would actually come over. I’ve been a bit nervous about the whole thing.”
Tara put down her glass and crossed her legs on the ottoman. She said gratefully, “Ohhh, thanks – I thought I was nervous about this. In the cold light of day, it seemed somewhat insane.”
There was a bright flash of light outside followed in a few seconds by a loud clap of thunder. Elizabeth laughed uneasily. “Oh, my. Are we crazy to think about this?”
Tara looked at her and said, “Crazy? Oh, I think that ship sailed a long time ago. But…I decided that I can’t give up on the idea. I’ve been living small these past three years. I’ve been cautious. I’ve been so damn careful. I’m tired of that life.”
Elizabeth said, “Last night was … liberating, wasn’t it?”
“Oh, god, yes! I never dreamed that – that testing myself against you could be so hot. I had violent dreams all night!”
Elizabeth took a deep breath and said, “Oh yes! Me too. I dreamed we met in a open field and wrestled in the nude. I was so fucking excited.”
Tara replied, “Oh, I dreamed we fought in front of all the guests at the party. We started out taking turns slapping each other.”
Elizabeth did a sharp intake of breath. “Ohhhh….I like that.”
She put her drink down and stood up, tall in her high heels. She walked over to Tara’s chair and looked down. She said, “Why don’t you stand up.”
Tara brushed back her blond hair, and shivered with excitement. She slid her legs off the ottoman and rose to her feet. She stood a foot from Elizabeth and noticed that the redhead was about an inch taller than her.
Elizabeth said, “Would you like to slap my face, Tara? Go ahead. Please …”
Tara raised her hand. This was it. She held her right hand up at shoulder height. It trembled slightly.
“I’m … I’m afraid.”
“Me too. Hit me!”
Tara gathered her will and struck. Her hand whipped around and smacked into Elizabeth’s cheek with a cracking sound. Elizabeth’s head rocked back and she gasped in sudden pain and shock. Her cheek reddened from the blow.
Tara’s hand was by her left side, frozen there as she watched what she had done. She was surprised….and definitely worked up. Her face felt hot.
Elizabeth looked at her and rubbed her cheek softly. Tara said, “Slap me.”
Elizabeth was only too happy to oblige. She slapped Tara’s face and watched as the blond absorbed the blow.
Tara felt the impact and the pain, stinging and sharp. Her first thought was, she slapped me! And then a second later she felt aroused. She looked at Elizabeth, eyes narrowed.
“Oh, yes!” And she slapped Elizabeth again, this time with her left hand. Elizabeth returned the slap and hissed, “Oh my…. that does feel good. Bitch!”
At the sound of the word, Tara whipped her hand around again, harder, saying “Whore!”.
Elizabeth said, “That’s it, you cow!” And she struck one more time, which was immediately met with one more sharp slap from Tara.
Tara was immediately back in the zone. She moaned and whispered “yessss” and fastened her hands in Elizabeth’s russet hair. The redhead cried out and grabbed two fistfuls of Tara’s blond hair they pulled each other’s heads from side to side, their faces inches apart, and their bodies jammed together. They felt their breasts meet and rub together, their nipples stiff and tingling.
Finally Elizabeth let go and stepped back. Tara stood there, hands extended and fingers moving back and forth in a clawing motion. Her breath was coming fast.
Elizabeth reached down and unhooked her sandals, her eyes on Tara. Tara saw what she was doing and decided to do the same. She raised each leg in turn and unstrapped her own high heel sandals and kicked them aside.
Breathing deeply, the two women slowly circled each other in their now bare feet. Then Tara came closer to the redheaded vixen and stood still. Elizabeth matched her stance and there faces were inches apart. Tara felt her breasts fetch up against Elizabeth’s, her nipples hard under her bra. She looked down briefly and saw Elizabeth’s nipples poking through the emerald material.
Tara whispered, “So you want to fight, do you? You want to fight me? Ohh….I hope so, because I so want to fight you!”.
In answer, Elizabeth made a snapping gesture with her teeth, and a sound that could have been a snarl. She brought her hands up to Tara’s breasts and ran her fingers lightly across her chest, then put her sharp fingernails on the swell of the breasts.
“Oh, we are going to fight…and fight…and fight, my dear little blond bitch,” she said in low tones. “I will have you begging for my mercy.” She pinched the nipples quickly, rubbing on the cloth.
Tara grabbed the back of Elizabeth’s hair and pulled her head back. She leaned forward and ran her teeth lightly on the redhead’s throat. Elizabeth jerked her head forward and crushed her mouth onto Tara’s in a violent kiss. The women groaned and chewed at each other’s lips, their bodies moving hard together. Elizabeth inserted her leg between Tara’s thighs. Tara felt her skirt moving up and Elizabeth’s thigh moving against her lacy panty-covered crotch. She moaned.
Tara clawed at the front of Elizabeth’s dress, pulling apart the front at the neckline, exposing the breasts and that decadent tattoo. Her hands landed on Elizabeth’s breasts, squeezing and scratching. The redheaded woman screamed and hooked her hands into the shrug that Tara wore. The thin black cloth ripped apart and Elizabeth pulled the tank top’s straps down, revealing Tara’s demi-bra.
Tara found her arms constricted by the straps of the top. She struggled to pull away and the top ripped down the middle. She fell backwards onto the chair, legs spread apart.
The storm outside roared, lightning flashing and the thunder loud enough to make the walls vibrate. The interior lights flickered and the wind and rain howled.
Elizabeth jumped on Tara and straddled her waist. She slapped the blond again and again, and Tara yipped and yowled with each impact. Seeking a way out, she balled her fist and shot it hard into Elizabeth’s belly. Elizabeth grunted with pain, clutched her abdomen and rolled to the side and fell to the carpeted floor.
Tara pulled off her ripped tank top, leaving her in her bra, one strap falling down her shoulder. She twisted and fell onto Elizabeth on the floor by the chair. Her pelvis planted itself firmly on the squirming woman under her. She ripped the front of Elizabeth’s dress to shreds and, leaning forward, pushed the palms of her hands down on the redheaded woman’s breasts, feeling the nipples stiff against her palm.
Elizabeth mewled in pain. She cried out, “Oh you BITCH!” and brought her hands up to Tara’s bra and tried to pull it down. The cups slipped past the nipples and Elizabeth dug her nails in the tender flesh.
“Yeoowwwchhh!” Tara yelped. She slapped Elizabeth twice quickly, her head bouncing left and right. Elizabeth squealed, and tried to bridge. Her dress had rucked up to her hips and her dark blue panties were revealed. Her crotch was jammed against Tara’s, and both women gasped as their panty-clad vulvas rubbed together.
Tara saw her advantage and in a haze of heated sexual violence, ground her sex into Elizabeth’s. Elizabeth felt the wet fever of her pussy and knew she would be forced into an orgasm if she didn’t do something. She raised one knee and pushed down, and managed to push Tara to the side. She kept twisting, and the two women rolled across the floor, bare legs entwining, their breasts crushed together, and their arms locked around each other. The shoved their hips against each other, trying to batter each other’s sex into submission.
They rolled back and forth across the carpet, bumping the couch and coffee table, spitting yelping catball of mature female rage and lust. They grew closer and closer, holding each other even tighter, slapping and punching. In the back of her mind, Tara had never dreamed of anything so violent and hot and desired. She and Elizabeth both cried out, whimpering and howling in pain and urgent need, and then then Elizabeth pinned Tara down and spread her legs in a painful grapevine, ankles locked.
Tara tried to get out of it but couldn’t and she felt the redheaded bitch crush her pussy. Pain and pleasure coursed through her and as Elizabeth stared down at her, she submitted. Through a fog of tears, she felt her body betray her and she orgasmed, the contractions rippling through her. She howled her climax, her pussy spurting into her panties, and then Elizabeth shut her eyes tight and came herself, spasms rocking her pussy, streaming her own spits of nectar into her lace panties.
They stayed like, the quakes of the climax shaking them, Elizabeth on top of Tara. Their pussies moved against each other softly, and they each made small moans of surrender and satiation.
The swiftly moving storm had passed. There was a light patter of rain they could hear.
Elizabeth rolled off. She sat up. Like Tara, her breasts and skin were a roadmap of scratches and bruises. She extended her hand and Tara took it. Elizabeth pulled her to a sitting position. They leaned their foreheads together, resting. They held each other, wounded breasts merging.
Tara said, “Oooh….I’m going to feel that for a while. You defeated me, Elizabeth. You are more of a woman than me. Ohhhh….” She rubbed her tender breasts.
Elizabeth said, “Ohh…yes, this time. But I have a feeling….that this isn’t the last time we will do our … battle.”
Tara realized how true that was. And she said, smiling, “Bitch. Want to fight naked this time?”
But that is a story for another time.