Dusk inched closer with every step. The sun starting its daily descent beneath the horizon, taking with it what little daylight remained. I sighed at the realisation; weary from the miles already covered. My joints ached from the simple strain of putting one foot in front of the other. The nearest town was still hours away and fatigue was setting in.
It had been twenty minutes since the last vehicle had passed. Some prick in a customised black pick-up. I remember its gaudy chrome bull-bar and roll cage combo, winking in the sunlight as it swept past. The drone of the engine dropping to a low growl while the driver scoped me out in the rear-view mirror, before rising again to a shrill whine as he powered away and disappeared into the distance.
“Mustn’t have liked the look of me…”
I couldn’t blame him, I guess. Nobody picks up hitchhikers anymore. Why risk it? There are a lot of weirdos out there these days. Safer to just drive by. Although, it does leave me in a precarious position…
I pulled my leather jacket shut and folded my arms. The temperature had dropped in the last hour and I could feel moisture in the air. I grimaced at the thought of trudging through rain. The road stretched far ahead of me, veering to the left and out of sight; an inky black line bordered by dense forestry on either side.
The cool night air and the smell of fresh pine filled my nostrils. A bright, full moon peered down on me from a starless sky. I was glad of the illumination provided by its glow. It wasn’t much, but anything that made me more visible was welcome.
Even still, I hugged the hard shoulder, conscious of the danger posed by some local dipshit driving home after a few beers. I winced as the howl of a timber wolf bellowed from somewhere beyond the treeline.
“Perfect… That’s all I fucking need…”
I looked nervously over my shoulder, hoping not to find a new “furry friend” bounding towards me with stripped teeth. Instead, a set of headlights came into view. A white transit van cresting the brow of a hill; half a mile back. The beams blinked sporadically in the distance, as the nose of the van nodded in and out of hollows in the tarmac.
Turning to face the oncoming vehicle, I raised my thumb in hope. As the van drew near, I was fully enveloped in its beams; dazzled by the brilliance of two unforgiving shafts of light. A newer model; replete with high-powered headlights, capable of lighting up Giant’s stadium on a winter’s night.
I winced and tried to shield my eyes from the harsh glare with my free hand, while the driver of the van gave me the once over. The vehicle slowed perceptibly, as the occupant appraised me. It ambled past me gradually, before pulling into the hard shoulder twenty yards ahead.
“Yes… At long fucking last…”
Eager to take advantage of the situation, I covered the distance between myself and the van in a brisk jog. No sense in giving the driver time to think, lest he change his mind and decide to leave me on the side of the road. As I drew level with the driver’s door, I heard the buzz of his window descending.
I leaned against the door frame and met the driver’s cautious gaze. An athletic looking Latino with an angular jaw and jet-black hair peered back. He was clean-shaven and bore the look of a man who took pride in his appearance.
“What are you doing out here at this time of night? Local?”
His tone conveyed curiosity tempered by caution; those hazel eyes assessing me as a possible threat first and foremost. Understandable. He didn’t have to stop. Most wouldn’t.
“Just passing through. On my way to meet a friend who lives several states over. I live in the city and don’t own a car, so I hired a rental. The fucking engine seized, leaving me stranded. My damn phone died on me too. I was hoping to make my way to the next town and hire a tow truck to collect it. Any chance of a lift?”
I smiled sheepishly. The driver mulled it over, rubbing his hand over his scalp as he weighed up the pros and cons. A form-fitting white-shirt hugged his toned arms.
“Your car a red Chevy?”
“Yeah… Cut out on me about twelve miles back. Left it there on the side of the road and started walking…”
From the darkness of the cab, a distinctly female voice surprised me in a playful sing-song tone. Up until then, I assumed we were on our own.
“C’mon Bruno… We can’t leave him out here. He’ll freeze to death.”
Bruno looked to his side and smiled. Turning back to me, he cocked his head, beckoning me towards the passenger side.
“Get in. We’ll take you as far as Plainview Valley. We’re renting a Motel room on the outskirts of town. At this hour, I suggest you do the same.”
“Thanks, man. Will do. Appreciate it”.
Rounding the bumper, I pulled the passenger door open and slid in on the bench seat beside the female occupant. She smiled warmly towards me, as she made room by tossing her black leather handbag to the floor and edging across the seat towards Bruno. The interior of the van felt uncomfortably warm in comparison to the chill outside. As I shrugged off my jacket, I got my first good look at her.
As the van chugged forward and drifted back onto the road, she turned the radio down and extended her hand towards me.
“Samantha. Call me Sam. Everyone does. Bruno here is my boyfriend. Nice to meet you.”
Grasping her hand in mine, I shook it graciously.
“Name’s Dan. Pleasure to meet you too. Thanks for stopping. I was starting to worry. I thought I’d be walking all night until you two came along.”
Up close, she was a real beauty. A natural brunette; she wore her hair long. Her tresses were dark, glossy and teased into slinky curls; falling well past her bare shoulders to the small of her back. Vibrant forest-green eyes looked intently towards me, appraising me from head-to-toe. She had high-set cheekbones, full lips and a thin pointed nose.
She arched her eyebrow when we made eye contact, running her pink tongue across her plump lips in an exaggerated manner. I felt my cheeks redden; embarrassed by her obvious interest, especially with her boyfriend sitting right beside her. She was an exquisite creature. Her long, smooth legs stretched up from the footwell into a skin-tight pair of “Daisey Duke” hot pants.
The blue denim hugged her rounded ass like a second skin. Her toned abdomen and perky breasts stretched a form-fitting white string vest. Her every curve was on display and she made for quite a distracting sight. She looked like a whole lot of trouble in a tight little package.
The van listed down the road at a steady pace; the cab settling into an awkward silence as we travelled. We left the forestry behind as we pulled onto an open road, swapping fifty-foot pine trees for the occasional streetlight as we neared civilisation. The heavens opened and heavy drops of rain began to thump against the windscreen.
Ahead of us the bright lights of a small town came into view. Just a speck on the horizon at first, but steadily growing larger. The radio murmured quietly in the background; the dial turned to some golden oldies station. Classic rock from yesteryear oozed from the speakers in a distant drawl; competing with the incessant squeak of windscreen wipers gliding to and fro. I cleared my throat and broke the lull in conversation.
“Thanks again for the lift. I really would have been stuck without you. Where are you guys from? What brings you to this neck of the woods?”
Bruno answered; “We’re from Cali. On a road trip too. Much like yourself. Meeting up with a few friends of our own.”
His response was brief, giving no more information than was necessary to answer my question. A gruff counter-point to his more talkative girlfriend. Or maybe he just didn’t like me. Sam grinned mischievously.
“I’m not sure I would call her a friend. I don’t think you want me to be her friend anyway.”
Bruno bristled and looked flustered by Sam’s strange interjection.
“Not in front of…”
“Oh, I’m sure Dan won’t mind. You’re not a prude are ya, Dan? Besides, we’ll be parting company soon enough. We may never see him again. No reason why we can’t be honest. Besides, you never know… Maybe Dan might want to hear why we are all the way out here in the sticks. He might share our ‘hobby’…”
Bruno looked horrified, but Sam continued undeterred. Delighting in her boyfriend’s embarrassment, she continued her torment of Bruno. Apparently amused by her boyfriend’s sudden shyness. She grinned provocatively.
“So, Dan… Do you want to know about our little road trip and exactly what brings us out here?”
My first judgement of Sam was on the money. A lot of trouble in a tight little package… but then again, trouble can be fun…
Intrigued by Sam’s deliberate vagueness and her husband’s sudden reticence, I answered with a little more enthusiasm then I intended.
“Yeah. Tell me. What are you guys up to?”
“Well… Are you familiar with the term sexfighting?”
I sat bolt upright in my seat and looked at the gorgeous creature to my side with what must have been a puzzled expression.
“You got me. What the hell is that?”
As I spoke, Bruno stiffened in the driver’s seat, eyes fixed on the road. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel. The only tell that Sam’s boldness was taking Bruno well outside his comfort zone.
“A newbie! How delightful! Do you know what a catfight is?”
“Yeah, I guess… Like when two women tear it up… Hairpulling, rolling on the floor, that kind of thing…”
“That’s right, honey!”
I grinned as the term of endearment slipped from her sweet lips. Bruno heard it too. His expression hardened; but he remained impassive. No snarky rebuke, no petty insult. Just two eyes firmly on the road, while Sam did the talking. He was a cool customer but I could tell she was pushing his buttons.
“Not so innocent after all.” She cooed excitedly.
“Right again. Believe it or not, catfighting can be a lot of fun. Two scantily-clad ladies talking shit, getting in each other’s faces, putting hands on one another… How’s that sound?”
“Like my new favourite sport!”
Sam seemed genuinely surprised by my enthusiastic approval. Bruno noticed too. She shot a quick glance at her paramour before continuing unabated.
“Bruno thought so too. Ever since we started dating, he’s fantasised about me taking on another woman in my skimpiest of underwear.”
Sam raised her hand to her mouth in mock embarrassment. Leaning towards me, she whispered in my ear; “A little dirty talk about some bitchy neighbour is all it takes… Just a little whisper… And he fucks like a stallion…”
She leaned back in her seat and smiled that mischievous smile.
“From the look on your face, I think it would have a similar effect on you…”
Damn, this woman was sexy. She knew exactly how to push my buttons. The heater had made the cab uncomfortably warm and my face was flushed from Sam’s unabashed account of her sex life. What can I say? The girl knew how to spin a tale.
I stammered awkwardly; “You mentioned sexfighting…”
“I did, didn’t I? Where were we? Ah yes… Ya see… The thing about catfighting is… Well… It tends to get very personal. When two women fight, it tends to devolve into an awkward, impassioned struggle. Clothes are torn, words are exchanged and before you know it, you’re rolling on the floor with some naked, sweaty slut hissing insults inches from your face.”
Sam squirmed in her seat, enraptured in the images woven by her own words. Across from her, Bruno’s once implacable features had cracked into a wry grin. His cool façade crumbling in the face of Sam’s erotic storytelling. I knew then that his woman could play him like a violin. Hell, I’d only met her and she was having a similar effect on me…
“Of course… You don’t just take it… You roll that slut onto her back and give as good as you get. You’re both so hopped up on emotion, so lost in the moment, that you barely notice the constant friction between you as you struggle. Not until you start to moan. Not until you start to feel it.”
“Somewhere along the line, your fight turns into something more sordid. One moment you’re thinking about how much you hate this bitch, the next you’re imagining her pert little ass bouncing against your pelvis as you fuck her with a strap-on.”
“And you can always tell when she’s starting to think those same thoughts. Her hands begin wandering places they wouldn’t dare at the start of the fight. Her taunts become cruder and more sexual. Then it dawns on both of you… I’m not just fighting this bitch, I’m fucking her… And that’s when it really gets intense…”
With the tips of her fingers, she tucked several of those long chestnut strands behind her ear, revealing her pretty face to me.
“Before you know it, the bitch who tried to swing you around the room by your hair, is squealing your name into the rafters. Making noises for you, that her boyfriend only wishes he could coax from her. There’s just no telling what could happen next. No hard and fast rules to follow. Sexfighting is emotive… Instinctual… You just compete any way you can and see where it takes you…”
My jaw dropped. I didn’t know exactly what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that.
“Now I get it. Sexfighting kind of makes sense when you put it like that… There’s just one thing…”
Sam interrupted before I could finish my thought; “I know what you’re about to say. There can’t be many women that share our ‘interest’?”
“Well, you’re not wrong. We’re a small community and we tend to make connections online. Forums, chat groups, that sort of thing. A lot of posers and timewasters though; which can be frustrating. Referrals from other couples are gold dust. Word of mouth from a friend of a friend. Like our own little vetting process. Finding combative women with a kinky side ain’t easy…” Sam’s voice trailed off.
“Hence the road trip?”
“Got it in one.” Sam chirped cheekily.
“We’re on our way to match up with some blonde bitch with big tits, who thinks that she can make me come. She’s a real piece of work with a smart mouth. But I just know by her picture, she’s not as tough as she thinks. She’ll be eating pussy by the time I’m through with her, she just doesn’t know it yet…”
She delivered the line with gusto. Clearly, a woman who enjoys her ‘work.’
“Now, that I would like to see…”
“Really? Because I’m a bit of an exhibitionist. I like to be watched while I compete… We both do…”
“Both?!” I interrupted.
Sam smiled wryly at my puzzled expression.
“Sexfighting isn’t just for the girls. Guys are expected to get involved too. To help out where needed. Tonight, we take it up a notch. We’ll be competing in a competitive sexfight. By ‘we’, I mean all four of us. Blondie and her man versus Bruno and I…”
“We’re nearly there.”
Bruno spoke for the first time in what felt like an age. I was so engrossed in my conversation with Sam, I had lost track of time. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted an old-fashioned neon sign looming on the horizon. Luminous yellow, winking incessantly in the distance – “Plainview Motel – Rooms to Let.”
Bruno shifted down through the gears as we approached. The parking lot looked practically empty. A random scattering of nondescript sedans, hatchbacks, and people carriers were clustered nose-in; either side of the reception area. The cars, much like the premises itself, appeared dated but serviceable. Basic accommodation for clientele on a budget. Perfect for a temporary layover. At least until I could get the rental fixed.
As the car bumped off the blacktop and into the parking lot, Bruno spoke.
“This is it. Last stop.”
“Thanks for the lift, guys. I haven’t a clue what I would have done if you didn’t stop. I guess I’ll see you around.”
Doubtful, but it seemed like the right thing to say given the circumstances. Sam smiled warmly and leaned over for a hug.
“Don’t mention it…” she beamed before pulling me close and whispering softly in my ear;
“…if you want to see more of us, stop by Room 23 at midnight… You won’t be disappointed…”
Embarrassed by her forwardness, I blushed before fumbling awkwardly with the door handle. I said my goodbyes before departing hurriedly. As I walked towards reception to reserve a room for the night, I felt a giddy tension set in. My mind raced with images of what may be waiting for me in Room 23 at midnight, should I take Sam up on her offer.
An illicit, if somewhat ambiguous invite. The rational part of my brain counselled caution.
Go to bed and get a good night’s sleep. You’ve had a long day and not everyone who smiles and says nice things is your friend. For all you know, they could be grifters running a scam. A sweet little honeypot luring horny marks to a motel room in the middle of nowhere.
In my experience, if something sounds too good to be true, it ain’t. But then again, if that was their intention, Sam and Bruno could have stuck a Glock in my face, lifted my wallet and left me for dead on the side of the road.
No witnesses and no law enforcement within ass’s roar. If they had bad intentions for me, they had ample opportunity to act on them already. The same thought echoed again and again throughout my subconscious, like some sort of mantra compelling to take the risk.
“A lot of trouble in a tight little package… but then again, trouble can be fun…”
I faced a dilemma and was unsure of what to do with my evening. Assuming everything Sam said was on the level, I knew exactly where I wanted to be come midnight. But that was a pretty big assumption.
I parked the conundrum for the time being and prioritised the problems facing me in order of urgency – accommodation, food, then rest. The mysterious denizens of Room 23 and their nocturnal activities would have to wait until I had time to ponder the matter further.
My stomach rumbled as I stepped into the Motel and approached a thoroughly bored, middle-aged Receptionist with an attitude. Ensconced behind a heavy mahogany desk, she sported a perm that was out of style by at least a decade and used a computer that was probably cutting edge when the Berlin Wall took a tumble.
She peered at me over the rims of her reading glasses with well-practiced disinterest. Her fingers danced across the keyboard with a speed borne of repetition. It sure as shit wasn’t urgency anyway. Whatever enthusiasm she once had for the job, had left the building long ago.
“Room for one? One-night stay?” she barked.
No company-approved greeting, no small talk and definitely no phony smile. A simple; “Fuck you, what do you want?” Customer service minus the smile. Refreshingly honest; in its own way. Probably the owner of this fine establishment. She definitely wasn’t hired for her charm anyway…
“Yes. On both counts… I’m starving, is there anywhere in town where I could get a bite to eat at this hour?”
She slid a key card across the polished surface of her desk and answered without looking up.
“Barzetti’s Diner. Open till eleven. Out the door and to your left. Keep walking for fifteen minutes and you’ll find it across the street. Next to the local Hardware store.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
I peeled a couple of bills from my wallet and left Ms. Congeniality to her own devices. I turned on my heel and headed towards town.
A small bell rang as I stepped through the door, alerting serving staff to the presence of a new patron. Like most diners, Barzetti’s was stuck in a time warp. Stepping over the threshold felt like being transported back to the 50’s.
All the furnishings reflected a retro motif; trading on nostalgia to harken back to some idealised version of Americana. A playlist of classic rock hits thumped from a Jukebox next to the toilets. The volume subdued, so as not disrupt conversation.
There were no tables in sight, just three rows of booths, each designed to host a party of four. One row tight to the eastern wall, another dividing the long rectangular room in two, and a third just several feet shy of the kitchen area. Despite the stylised trimmings, it was a basic operation.
One fry-cook flipping burgers in the back and two fresh-faced young waitresses in pink smocks moving briskly from booth to booth, weaving their way across a patchwork of black and white tiles like pieces on a life-sized Checkerboard.
Each hovering occasionally to smile and ask patrons if they needed anything. Two college age kids going the extra mile to ensure they received a good tip. The very antithesis of my ‘friend’ working reception back at the Plainview. No concierge came to greet me, so I assumed seating was arranged on a ‘first come, first served’ basis.
I crossed the floor and grabbed a corner booth tight to the Eastern Wall. The booth consisted of a bench coated in pale-blue leather trim, facing a chrome table with a dappled grey and azure top. The surface of the table was bare, apart from a multi-purpose silver rack in the centre holding napkins, condiments, and cutlery.
I plucked a menu from the rack and idly thumbed through my options. In-keeping with the 50’s theme and general diner décor, sitting in the booth felt like settling into the back seat of a Cadillac. All soft, plush leather that moulded itself around my frame. A creature comfort from a time long since gone. Which was undoubtedly the vibe the owner was going for.
When I looked diagonally, my seat granted me an excellent view of the entire diner and its patrons. Which was perfect. I like to ‘people watch’ when I eat out. It passes the time while I wait and sates my natural curiosity. The diner was sparsely populated, which was hardly surprising given the time.
Regardless, you’d be surprised the little things you’d pick up on. Even in the most mundane of settings. Minor details or seemingly innocuous gestures could tell a story. A couple eating in silence, face down like pigs at a trough; a relationship on the rocks.
A burly guy in a baseball cap hurriedly wolfing down a cheeseburger; a hungry long-haul trucker with a deadline to meet. A waitress struggling to maintain her balance atop impractical high heels; a newcomer working her first night in the service industry and learning things the hard way.
Nothing out of the ordinary. All very routine and what one would expect in a place like this. My train of thought was interrupted by the arrival of one of the waitresses. Not the one on ‘stilts.’ The other one. The elder of the pair; clad in comfy white sneakers. Likely to be more experienced than her colleague.
She was a pretty redhead in her early twenties, with a dusting of freckles on her cheeks and an infectious smile. Probably a local of Irish or Scottish stock, paying her way through college. Home for the weekend, but soon to go back.
She pulled a pencil from behind her ear and placed the nib on her notepad, waiting to take my order. Eager and ready; like a sprinter waiting for the starter’s pistol.
“Good evening, sir. My name’s Amber and I’ll be looking after you today. Can I take your order or would you like another few minutes? I can come back, if you prefer.”
“No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll have an Americano and a BLT, please.”
She scratched my order on the pad and smiled; “Of course, sir. That’ll be ten minutes.”
Turning on her heels, she disappeared through the double doors and into the kitchen. Polite but efficient. I made a mental note to give her a good tip before I left. I slipped my wallet out of my jeans pocket and checked to see if I had the means to follow through on my good intentions.
As I rifled through the contents, I heard the bell chime over the entrance for the first time since I arrived. Instinctively I looked up, only to find it nigh on impossible to look away. A vision in a white sundress and matching heels sashayed towards me at a steady pace. Not exactly seasonal, but she pulled it off and then some.
A natural beauty with russet eyes, she exuded feminine grace from every pore. The swing of her hips caused the fabric of her dress to float delightfully in time with the movement of her slender yet womanly curves. A stylish miniature handbag in matching white leather hung from her bare shoulder and completed the look.
Her face was narrow and angular; defined by sharp features and great bone structure. A warm, playful expression played across her lips, as if she was party to a private joke. A pearl-white Alice band revealed her pretty face to anyone fortunate enough to make her acquaintance, and prevented her stylish platinum-blonde bob cut from obscuring her vision. Her creamy complexion resembled a rich café-au-lait in texture; hinting at an ancestry that began somewhere south of the equator.
A well-built Caucasian in a sleeveless muscle top and jeans trailed in her wake. His hair was cropped close to the scalp like a Marine, and he looked to be in his mid-twenties. Both parties looked happy in each other’s company, yet somewhat giddy. Content but not quite relaxed.
They scanned the diner before deciding on the booth next to mine, shifting sideways onto benches either side of an identical table in front of my own. Once seated, they disappeared from view. As they did, the waitress returned with my order and I took a sip of piping hot coffee. Not bad. I’ve had worse at any rate.
As I bit into my sandwich, I couldn’t help but overhear snippets of the conversation between my two new ‘companions’; faint murmurs emanating through the partition separating our respective booths. They spoke in furtive, hushed tones. Like spies safe-guarding a state secret. Which instantly piqued my interest. I leaned forward and craned my neck to hear more. I caught the tail-end of a sentence spoken in a female voice.
“… Ya know? I don’t know why we even came in here, Chris. I’m too damn nervous to eat.”
“Shit… I know what you mean, Larissa.”
“What time is it?”
“Nearly 10.40. We don’t have enough time to order now anyway.”
“What is this little slut’s name again?” Larissa’s tone was playful, yet provocative. The words of a woman fishing for a reaction.
“Samantha… She prefers Sam though. As if you didn’t know…”
Like a bloodhound that caught a scent, my ears pricked up immediately. An involuntary reaction; spurred by excitement and surprise. Holy shit! It couldn’t be…
“Yeah, that’s it. A cocky little slut when she was messaging us online. I bet she’s a real ‘pillow princess’ when it comes to sexfighting… A prissy little bitch who’ll just lie there and take it…”
Well, I’ll be… What are the fucking odds?! Sam’s infamous; “blonde bitch with big tits.” In the here and now. It had to be. Which means Sam and Bruno’s far-fetched tale was true. From the sounds of it, Larissa was everything that Sam was looking for in an opponent and more.
“Goddamn it, Larissa. Keep your voice down.”
Chris’ response didn’t exactly ring true. His voice was a little unsteady and his tone half-hearted at best. You could tell that he enjoyed Larissa’s trash talk by the slight tremor in his speech. It excited him.
“Besides… I won’t be the only one competing tonight. You better not let the side down, big boy…” Larissa’s teasing, taunting tone had returned in earnest and she was pushing Chris’ buttons.
“Shit… I can’t wait around any longer. Let’s go, Larissa. Let’s fucking do this.”
“Do you know where we’re going?”
“Yeah… A place called the Plainview Motel. Room 23. Eleven sharp they said.”
“Let’s go. We don’t want to be late.”
A visibly excited Chris and Larissa slid out of their booth and practically bounded towards the diner door hand in hand. I watched them through the window, until they disappeared from sight. I gave them a five-minute head start before draining the dregs from my mug and following suit. I paid the bill and left a tip under the coffee mug.
My appetite was gone and all of a sudden, I found myself with an appointment to keep…
I traversed the fifteen-minute journey back to the Plainview in a brisk ten. Propelled by the enticing prospect of witnessing this strange spectacle, so vividly described by Sam earlier that evening. I wasn’t the only one in a hurry.
Despite setting out from the same starting point mere minutes before myself, neither Chris nor Larissa were visible on the street during my return trip. I kept my eyes peeled for that flowing white sundress in the distance, expecting to see that willowy silhouette illuminated by a streetlight or passing cab.
Yet, my haste did not match that of my erstwhile dining ‘companions.’ The morbid curiosity driving me, proving lacklustre in comparison to the base desires helping the attractive young couple on their way. They remained stubbornly out of sight.
My athleticism proving no match for theirs. I upped the pace, eager not to miss the ‘fireworks.’ I breezed through the Motel entrance without acknowledging the receptionist, powering my way down the hall and past my own room. Not that she gave a shit anyway, now that she had my money.
As I marched down the hall I pivoted left and right; checking the room numbers on each door as I passed. 17… 18… 19… My heart thumped faster as I neared Sam and Bruno’s room. What the hell am I going to say when I get there?! 20… 21… 22…
Sam may like being watched as she ‘performs’, but what about Bruno, Chris, and Larissa? What if I knock on the door, and they decide to call the cops? I’d rather not get my ass kicked, or worse still, spend the night in a county lockup before copping a charge as some sort of ‘Peeping Tom.’
And 23… The moment of truth. The numbers were emblazoned on the door in brass overlay. Like much of the establishment, the numerals appeared to be in need of a good polish. Through the door, I could hear the muffled sound of young voices in conversation. The sounds audible, but the actual content of the conversation indecipherable.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a sliver of light escape from the gap between the doorframe and door’s edge. A narrow shaft of light that broadened ever so slightly, as I put my ear to the surface. Unbeknownst to myself, the door was not on the latch, most likely due to a nervy Larissa and Chris making a rushed entrance. The door swung slowly on its hinge.
Now or never… Carpe Diem… I stepped through…
I quickly surveyed my surroundings. As expected, the room itself was drab and minimal. Sparsely furnished. A barley-coloured carpet, aged wallpaper with a faded floral pattern, and a queen-sized bed.
The accompanying bedside locker housed two leather handbags in clashing colours; one black as night, the other brilliant white. The curtains were pulled shut and the light provided by the bulb hanging overhead was dim. You get what you pay for…
The fringes of the room were shrouded in shadow. The bed dominated its centre and benefited most from the wash of what little light was emitted. Sam sat at the foot of the bed with her partner Bruno, looking up at Larissa and Chris standing before her.
As I entered the room, both Chris and Bruno turned to acknowledge my presence. Larissa and Sam didn’t, preferring to hold each other’s gaze in a smouldering stare that landed somewhere between fight me or fuck me…
I cleared my throat, announcing my presence to the ladies. Sam looked in my direction and smiled.
“Ah Dan… We’ve been expecting you. I’m so glad you came. Larissa, meet Dan.”
The beautiful blonde smiled politely, before resuming her stare down with the sultry brunette. Sam snorted derisively before continuing; “I just met Dan today. I told him why we’re here and I invited him to watch as an observer. An objective judge who will determine the victors in our ‘contest.’”
As she spoke, I could see Larissa tense. My presence was unexpected. I was fearful of her reaction. Sam clearly wasn’t.
“You know the challenge. A competitive sexfight. Couple versus couple. Skin-on-skin. We pit our sexual skill and stamina against one another. We fuck until one couple concedes. Failing that, Dan here determines the victors. He can be our independent invigilator. No safe words and nothing is out-of-bounds. May the kinkiest pair prevail. Accept the challenge or get the fuck out of my room.”
Sam delivered the last line with relish. A tossing of the gauntlet; made in the hope of an emotive response. Larissa was game and promptly tossed it back. Her lips curled into a gleeful smile;
“Challenge accepted. Enough talk. Clothes off. Now! We’re going to rock your fucking world…”
Sam rose from the bed; undoing the buttons of her “Daisy Dukes” as she ascended. Hooking her thumbs in the belt loops on her hips, she shimmied and wiggled out of the figure-hugging garment. Her fingertips traced the soft skin of her abdomen as she grabbed the hem of her string vest and pulled it over her head.
Similarly, Larissa disrobed, albeit more efficiently. Chris pulled down the zip on the back of Larissa’s summer dress and stepped away. Larissa seductively peeled the light fabric of her left shoulder, then her right. Gravity did the rest.
The white cloth fell away from her bare breasts before catching on the expanse of her tanned hips. A quick tug deposited the flimsy item on the floor, whereupon Larisa stepped out of it, and came within a hair’s breadth of her brunette rival.
Two exquisite creatures, beautiful and feminine, looking at each other with what could only be described as an ambiguous intensity. A long-lingering look that somehow conveyed both disdain and naked lust.
The uncertainty of the situation was intoxicating. An unmistakable air of menace and mystery pervaded. In that moment, it felt as if Sam and Larissa could dive at each other with balled fists, or envelope one another in a passionate embrace, and neither result would come as a surprise.
Both women were of similar stature and age. Both alluring and sensual; yet each in their own distinct way. Genetics providing two equally enticing routes towards the same glorious destination – feminine beauty.
The blonde and bronzed Larissa was the more buxom of the two. She whipped her Alice-band from her shoulder length platinum hair and tossed it aside with what looked like rehearsed indifference. She arched her back and thrust her breasts provocatively outward towards Sam.
The brunette allowed her baleful glare to travel up and down Larissa’s toned figure; intently surveying her 32C-24-30 curves. Nude save for a pearl-white thong with two decorative bows on the front, precariously holding fast against a narrow slit in the fabric. A discreet parting just over the area covering the mons pubis.
A long, pregnant pause followed, those jade eyes assessing the beautiful blonde as both a woman and an opponent. Like a General choosing a battleground, she examined Larissa with a critical eye and smiled mischievously as she trapped her own perky nipples between thumb and forefinger.
She rubbed and teased the trapped skin between her digits as her body readily responded. Her pert nipples stirred to life. Sam stepped towards the blonde; just ever so slightly off-centre. Her left tit intruded in the valley between Larissa’s more buxom cleavage.
Likewise, Larissa felt her right boob press against Sam’s breast bone, as she parted the brunette’s tits with a forward step. With a swish of her shoulders, Sam pivoted left then right, raking the soft flesh of breasts over and back against Larissa’s pair in a gradual and deliberate tease.
Clad only in shear black panties and a black choker, Sam brought her 34B-25-36 figure to bear against her blonde rival in well-practiced, fluid movements. She pivoted with grace and confidence. Clearly not her first rodeo…
For her part, Larissa responded in kind. Using her well-developed shoulders to foist her breasts over and back against Sam’s. Soft, pliable flesh rubbed together in clumsy, ponderous collisions; again and again in a continuous loop.
Skin warm to the touch, blood quickly flowing to erogenous zones; causing two sets of tits to respond to physical stimuli exactly as nature intended. Opposing pairs of nipples puckered and stiffened; rising upwards and reaching outwards from bumpy areolae.
Physical contact proved the spark to ignite the inferno, as both women traded crude barbs and insults dripping with sexual inuendo. A distinctly feminine form of warfare. Soft whispers and husky voices; intense desire fuelled by spite and competitive spirit.
“That’s it bitch… How’s that feel?”
“Fucking slut… You know it feels damn good…Ummm…”
“Mmmm… Yeah… I know it… Tell me… Does Bruno bite your nipples when you fuck? Or are you too prissy to play rough?”
Sam smirked and allowed herself a throaty moan; Larissa’s provocative question conjuring distracting thoughts from the primal part of her brain.
Lost in the haze of her fantasy, Sam responded without embarrassment or inhibition.
“Yes… I ask him to… I beg him to ‘toughen’ my boobs when we fuck… When I stand tit-to-tit with a bitch, I want her to feel who she’s messing with…”
It was Larissa’s turn to smirk; Sam returning the serve with interest. Excited by Sam’s spunky attitude and penchant for ‘dirty talk’, Larissa attended to their breast battle with renewed vigour. Like medieval knights of old tilting towards one another with lowered lances, Larissa’s tight buds met and brushed against Sam’s peaked tips; moving in opposite directions and at cross purposes.
Both women were fully engaged in their “contest”, thrusting their breasts side to side, adopting a repetitive over and back momentum, akin to an old-fashioned pendulum swinging this way and that. Sam’s stiff dusky crests raked against Larissa’s lighter-hued nubs, only to feel the irksome flick of the blonde’s melon-coloured tips on the “return journey.”
“… Fuck that’s good… Hhmmm… Yeah… C’mon slut… Work my tits… I want to feel it…”
“… mmmh… Fucking skank… I’m going to sit on your pretty little face…”
“That so… The bimbo’s a real badass, eh?”
Anger and resentment flashed across Sam’s face. She felt the momentum shift as Larissa seized the initiative. She fired back;
“Ummm… I bet you don’t even let Chris fuck you doggy… Probably afraid he might stretch your tight little ass…”
“You bet wrong Sam… Face it… You’re out of your depth and your boyfriend is going to finish the night balls deep in a real woman for a change…”
It was evident from their facial expressions that both Larissa and Sam felt the crown of their tits grow ever more turgid; lashed into an aching stiffness by the unrelenting friction and “assault” of the other woman’s pair. Soft moans emanated from the lips of both women amidst laboured breathing.
Larissa and Sam’s tips had tightened to hardened little pebbles. Protruding peaks that visibly pulsed with excitement, angry and defiant in appearance, yet somehow uncommonly sensitive.
What had started as the occasional stifled grunt and muffled sigh of pleasure had graduated to a continuous and unyielding chorus of sapphic-sounding moans. Respite was needed – by both parties. Larissa pulled away first, breaking contact by a distance of mere millimetres. Rather than pursue, Sam drew back as well; signalling her agreement to this brief détente. Millimetres became inches and inches became feet. A tactical retreat; honours even.
The opening engagement had clearly excited them, titillation causing a discreet dampness to seep through the panties of both women. Slightly more evident in Larissa’s case, due to the darker texture of Sam’s knickers.
While Sam and Larissa had been getting acquainted, their men had been far from idle. Bruno was now shorn of his t-shirt and jeans, kicked into a rumpled pile at the side of the bed; watching developments with rapt attention in a pair of tight-fitting boxer-briefs. Clearly well endowed, his manhood tented the white fabric of his underwear, his arousal making his boxer-briefs tighter still.
Likewise, Chris had shed his clothing. Muscle-top and jeans cast to the far corner of the room. Standing barefoot on the moth-eaten carpet; his athletic frame bare. A pair of black cotton briefs preserved his modesty, but only just. Passion and testosterone tested the strength of his cod-piece; his cock unfurled and flourishing in response to Sam and Larissa’s ‘performance’ thus far.
Both women turned towards their respective lovers and stepped away from one another. Chris moved first, closing the distance between himself and Larissa, he cupped her pert ass and pulled her into a fervid embrace.
He felt the heft of Larissa’s breast with his left hand, firmly groping her, teasing a distended nipple with his thumb, while she toyed with his rapidly growing erection. She clearly loved the attention, the intensity of Chris’ ardour practically overwhelming her, causing her to slowly shuffle backwards in the face of his unyielding amorous intentions.
Sam too found herself swept up in the tidal wave of her lover’s lust. She grinded against Bruno’s toned torso, thrilled by the sensation of her excited nipples being tickled and flattened against her boyfriend’s beefy pectoral muscles.
Her tongue danced across the Latino’s lips as she kissed him vehemently. She moaned deeply in response to Bruno’s hand dropping below her waistline and massaging her slick pussy through her sheer-black panties.
Utterly lost in the moment…
That is until she realised what Bruno and Chris had been up to. Each man had ravished their girlfriend with attentiveness and keen foreplay. A cunning distraction, affording them the opportunity to guide ‘their’ oblivious woman back towards her ‘would be rival’.
A realisation that dawned only after Sam felt the soft skin of Larissa’s ass graze her own, their shoulder blades kissing as they stood back-to back.
Taken by surprise, Sam came to a sudden stop with a surprised gasp. Both she and Larissa found themselves sandwiched together, back to back, held firmly in place by Bruno and Chris whose roaming hands traversed their nubile, nude bodies.
Not that either woman minded, each content to suffer temporary ‘imprisonment’ for the sake of foreplay infused with passion and verve. Their men’s surging libido a happy by-product of indulging their shared sexfight fetish.
Though it went unacknowledged, the dynamic had noticeably shifted. Bruno and Chris had seized the initiative, with the fairer sex assuming a more passive, supine role. Whether by design or instinct, each party moved with confidence and certainty.
Chris placed a hand on Larissa’s bare shoulder, pressing gently on her warm skin, guiding her to her knees. Bruno cupped Sam’s pretty face in his hands and kissed her deeply. When he came up for air, he whispered;
“On your knees, babe… I want you to show Larissa how a ‘real woman’ sucks cock…”
Larissa and Sam peered up at their men from the floor. Larissa in her flimsy egg-shell white thong panties, Sam in her shear black knickers. They each looked stunning; their perfectly rounded asses touching and rubbing as they hovered on their knees, lustily eyeing the bulge in their boyfriend’s boxers.
Sam moved first. She tugged at Bruno’s’ underwear, lowering it from his hips in 4-inch intervals. A slow, teasing disrobing. The garment hung briefly mid-thigh, before falling to the floor in front of her.
Bruno’s jutting prick sprang free; a strong and sturdy appendage. Red and angry, rigid and upright; it hovered in front of the brunette’s lips for the briefest of moments. She eagerly lowered her mouth on his excited phallus, her full lips puckered into a wide oval, as she orally accommodated Chris’ considerable girth.
Her fingers gently massaged his base, the muscles in her back rippling as she nodded enthusiastically, dipping up and down the length of her adoring lover’s dick. He grunted his approval.
Over her shoulder, Larissa squeezed and kneaded Chris’ cock through his form-fitting black cotton briefs. His potent erection stirred in response to her touch, robust and visibly straining against the fabric of his underwear. She cupped his balls through his briefs, giving his heavy scrotum a playful squeeze, before liberating his cock from its snug confines.
A relieved sigh escaped Chris’ lips, as Larissa peeled his briefs from his throbbing erection. A slow process at first, that gradually increased in urgency. The longer it took to unwrap her boyfriend’s well-endowed dick, the more frustrated and animated the beautiful blonde became.
Finally wrenching the offending item from her boyfriend’s pelvis, she ran her tongue up the length of his shaft several times; from the base of his penis to the head of his cock. On her fifth upwards stroke she changed tack, peppering his ample glans with light kisses, her pink lips grazing the soft flesh of his mushroom.
A chorus of male grunts and female sighs filled the room, as Sam and Larissa pleasured their men. Wet kisses and undignified slurps punctuated the stillness of an otherwise silent Motel room. The aural side-effect of moist mouths busily coaxing their lovers towards an impending orgasm.
It was Bruno’s turn to take the lead. He withdrew from Sam’s yearning mouth before the inevitable happened. He walked slowly around Sam in clockwise direction, circumnavigating the kneeling women.
While approaching Chris, he cleared his throat; deliberately announcing his presence. Chris looked up and read his intention. He too began a slow clockwise march away from his woman, both men stopping only when they had swapped their original positions; Sam bowed before Chris and Larissa hunched before Bruno.
I sensed a dramatic shift in the atmosphere the very instant Bruno and Chris assumed their respective positions. The same competitive spirit that pervaded during Larissa and Sam’s titfight, returning with a vengeance.
“Chris… Honey… I want you to slap her irritating, pouty little face with your rock-hard cock… Please Honey…Slap her senseless…” Larissa begged in a sickly-sweet voice.
“She’s such a slut, honey… She deserves it… We both know it… I want you to humiliate her… For me…”
Without a second’s hesitation, Chris did as commanded. He stepped towards the pretty brunette, his heavy phallus hovering over the bridge of her cute button nose. Bending his knees, he lowered himself slightly and drew level with her high-set cheeks.
In the blink of an eye, Chris twisted his hips and brought his cock to bear against the brunette’s angelic features. His engorged manhood connected with a resounding slap; a shuddering blow that made Sam’s forest-green eyes blaze with indignity.
Yet she remained as she was; apparently paralysed by an impotent fury. Or perhaps, her hand stayed by some sort of peculiar ‘sexfighter’s code’ unknown to me. A demonstration of determination for Larissa’s benefit. Seemingly part of the contest…
Chris’ heavy member crashed against her other cheek. Sam fumed at the affront, her nostrils flared and her expression hardened. The intensity of her glare was frightening. For a second, I entertained the thought of stepping in. I was on the cusp of intervention. Sam noticed and motioned for me to stay back with an out-stretched palm, hissing her disapproval through gritted teeth.
She looked up at Chris, just in time to see his saliva-flecked truncheon crash against her pouting lips. Exasperated by Larissa’s audacity, she howled her dissatisfaction;
“Two can play that game… Bruno… I want you to take your big cock and smudge the bimbo’s make-up… She fucking well has it coming…”
Bruno did as he was bid, going on the offensive immediately. With a flick of his hips, he sent his hard cock arrowing upwards. He grazed Larissa’s chin and smudged her pink lip gloss with his thick mushroom. He followed this strike with a pivot of his hips, whipping his cock right, then left.
The Latino’s sex organ lashed Larissa’s long, angular face. Much like Sam, Larissa refused to take any evasive action. Her chin cocked at a defiant angle, she seemed to present her attractive face to Bruno. She barked her impudence;
“Again… I’m not your meek little girlfriend… Don’t play patty-cake with me… I like it rough…”
Sam and Larissa panted, their faces reddened, as Chris and Bruno’s efforts slowed. Both men were fatigued and retreated from each other’s girlfriend. Sweat beaded on Chris’ forehead and trickled down his cheek. A healthy sheen of perspiration coated his naked body.
Bruno’s bronzed torso was similarly slick from exertion. He could sense the alkaline taste of his own sweat on the tip of his tongue. He interlaced his fingers behind his head and felt the dampness of his jet-black hair. Leaning back, he took long, exaggerated breathes, struggling to catch his wind.
Leaning forward, with her hands on her knees, still back to back with her blonde nemesis, Sam huffed;
“That was a cheap trick, Larissa. Trying to use your boyfriend to humiliate me… Luckily, your boyfriend’s cock ain’t shit…”
Sam’s jibe hit paydirt, as a visibly irritated Larissa summoned her boyfriend to her side and growled over her shoulder;
“You think so, bitch? You think Bruno’s dick is better? Maybe you’re willing to put that theory to the test, huh?”
Sam grinned like a Cheshire Cat, taking sadistic glee in Larissa’s agitated rejoinder. In her most sexy, seductive voice, she beckoned her man forward and set the stage for what was to come.
“Bruno… Get over here sweetie… It’s your turn…”
Larissa shifted her weight awkwardly, performing an improvised pirouette without leaving her knees. She winced as the threadbare surface of the carpet rubbed abrasively against the smooth skin of her shins. Sam did likewise, turning a full 180 degrees, until she faced the beautiful blonde.
Opposing one another from a kneeling position, each woman sat back on her haunches. Firm, pert posteriors resting on bare heels. Sam leaned forward to catch her breath, placing her hands on her thighs. She steeled herself for what was to come.
Running her fingers through her platinum-blonde hair, Larissa arched her back upwards in an effort to banish whatever stiffness remained within her toned physique. Both women were red-faced and indignant; still smarting from what had just transpired.
It seemed bitchy behaviour, crude insults, and catty tactics were par for the course when it came to sexfighting. Yet, Sam and Larissa’s facial expressions told a different tale. Each seemingly felt the other had gone beyond the pale; violating some implied warrior’s code.
The competitive juices of all present were clearly in full flow. Nothing would be off-limits from here on in. Sam’s words from earlier that evening came to mind;
“I’m not just fighting this bitch, I’m fucking her… And that’s when it really starts getting intense…”
Perhaps the level of emotion on display was unavoidable. A natural but unintended consequence of warring couples engaged in sexual competition. Or maybe it was an integral part of the “high” all four combatants were chasing.
The ‘catalyst’ needed to drive each of them past their comfort zone and beyond their self-imposed limits. The trigger for an endorphin rush; coursing wildly through the veins of only those who dared to partake in this illicit activity.
Either way, I was hooked. Utterly enthralled by the taboo nature of it all. A privileged voyeur, bearing witness to a deeply private and personal contest…
My train of thought went unfinished, as the male contingent caught their breath and resumed an aggressive stance. Chris and Bruno neared their girlfriends from opposite sides, standing tall and proud, towering over the kneeling women. The sultry brunette licked her lips provocatively as Bruno approached from her left.
Hard and erect, the Latino’s turgid cock came into view. The swollen head of his member temporarily blocking the line of sight between Sam and Larissa. Chris closed in on Larissa’s left, stealthily gliding towards her, his excited manhood poised mere inches from Bruno’s.
Sam and Larissa leaned forward; energised by the sudden proximity of their men. Subconsciously ‘mirroring’ the other’s pose, each woman braced herself, placing a hand either side of Chris and Bruno’s muscular thighs. Comparing ‘meat’ from an intimate and all-encompassing angle.
From my vantage point, somewhat removed from the ‘thick’ of things, both men were well-endowed, sporting appendages of commensurate length and girth. Two thick shafts, taut and stiff, rearing high and proud like twin serpents about to strike.
With their partners kneeling either side of them, some sort of primal drive kicked in, causing both men to revert to animalistic instinct. Like peacocks spreading their patterned plumage, or silverback gorillas thumping their chest, each man used body language and stance to show aggression and compete for Larissa and Sam’s lusty attention.
Teased to full extension, Chris’ cock wavered millimetres from that of Bruno. Both looked to be approximately eight inches from root to stem. Two firm, proud erections; steep in angle and reaching upwards towards the navel.
An uneasy tension reigned. An atmosphere of unbearable suspense; feeding the skyrocketing libidos of both female spectators. As if utterly enveloped by some hormonal trance, Sam allowed her hand to glide across the smooth skin of her abdomen and into the moist confines of her black panties.
A licentiousness shared by Larissa; the same fierce yearning guiding her fingers beneath the waistband of her own pearl-white underwear. Busy digits delved amidst soft, wet labia lips; teasing and coaxing pleasurable sensations from deep within.
Emerald and chocolate-brown eyes peered at the lewd display in front of them. A halting chorus of wanton moans and carnal gasps filled the room, seeping from Sam and Larissa’s soft lips, infusing their men’s ‘performance’ with renewed zeal and restless energy.
I closely examined the source of Sam and Larissa’s lustfulness; eager to learn that which enraptured them so. On closer inspection, Chris’ glans looked to be marginally bigger than Bruno’s, but the Latino sported a slightly thicker shaft.
Chris being Caucasian and Bruno Latino, the contrast of their respective skin tones was striking. Bruno flexed his abdominal muscles. A provocative gesture; causing his coffee-coloured shaft to twitch restlessly.
Not to be outdone, Chris arched his back and tilted his pelvis upwards, determined to make his angry, red cock tower triumphantly over Bruno’s. Primitive displays of sexual prowess made in tight proximity for approving female eyes.
Their actions the fruit of dormant instincts long since banished by polite society; newly resurgent in this cauldron of sexual jealousy and simmering resentment. I felt like a time traveller pitched backwards to a darker age.
One where desire governed at the expense of reason. One in which men and women behaved like their animal cousins; competing to procreate and propagate their species on a physical level. Females in estrum observing testosterone-fuelled displays of virility. A pair of sparring bucks vying for alpha status.
The sexual politics of the animal kingdom writ large in a dark, dusty motel room. Larissa ended the silence of this complex mating ritual, whispering seductively;
“Fight him honey… C’mon Chris… Fight his cock with yours’…”
“Show her Bruno… Show that blonde bitch what you got… Show her man what you’re made of…”
As they spoke, they beckoned their men forward towards battle. The blonde and brunette, cupping a muscular male buttock in each hand, they pressed softly at first, and then more persistently. The time for preening and theatrics was at an end. It was time for the men to test their mettle…
Chris and Bruno closed the distance between them in two tentative steps; inching forward in cautious increments at the behest of the watching women. In contrast to Sam and Larissa’s initial sparring, ‘first contact’ between the men would be a more hesitant affair.
Apparent novices to sexual competition; each equally apprehensive of being upstaged in front of their partner. Their initial bravado gradually being replaced by a nervous tension. From her knees, Larissa grasped Chris’ cock around the base of his shaft; encircling her man’s phallus between thumb and forefinger.
As she did, the buxom blonde gave her man the slightest of squeezes, causing his bulbous mushroom to swell. Larissa smiled vindictively as she goaded Sam;
“Don’t think I’m done with you yet, Sam… How about a little swordfight? Ya confident your man can stay hard longer than mine?”
The brunette remained silent as her hand ghosted towards Bruno’s manhood. She grasped his bulging scrotum in her hand, caressing her man; allowing her slender fingers to linger momentarily, before gliding upwards to enclose around the base of the Latino’s cock.
Sam was impressed by her boyfriend’s considerable hardness, his excitement more than evident. Clearing her throat, Sam responded in a soft yet determined voice;
“You bet your ass I do… Believe me honey, I know the kind of staying power Bruno has…”
The brunette’s retort was delivered with a knowing look. From my vantage point, somewhat removed from the crucible of combat, both men appeared stiff to the point of discomfort. Their arousal had reached fever-pitch. If Sam or Larissa were anticipating the waning of either erection, they could be in for a long wait…
Then it occurred to me. This would be a contest of skill and sexual guile, not brute force. Sam and Larissa planned on using their boyfriends’ hardened cocks, in tandem with their own feminine wiles, to force an orgasm from their rival’s man.
A contest typified by deft movement and teasing touches, rather than clumsy, bludgeoning strokes. Closer in practice to the graceful fencing of rapiers, than the clumsy clash of mighty claymores. Each woman knew her man intimately, as only a lover could.
How to ‘get him off’, how to tease and torment, and how to delay their boyfriend’s orgasm just long enough to achieve their own satisfaction. As Bruno and Chris would now be the instruments through which Sam and Larissa competed, each woman would have to call on that very knowledge to successfully negotiate this ‘cockfight’.
For their part, Chris and Bruno would be expected to withstand whatever pleasurable sensations that ensued, as their girlfriends used their member to pleasure another man to the point of orgasm. I marvelled at the creativity of the contest, not to mention the boldness of those present. Clearly, nothing would be off limits in the pursuit of sexual supremacy…
Once more, words spoken by Sam earlier that evening came to mind;
“There’s just no telling what could happen next. No hard and fast rules to follow. Sexfighting is emotive… Instinctual… You just compete any way you can and see where it takes you…”
As they neared one another, both women grasped their boyfriend at the base of the cock, angling slightly downwards. Both of them being virile young men in their prime, the rigidity and steepness of each erection allowed for little play. All the same, Chris and Bruno’s first contact was ‘head-on’, so to speak.
Larissa pressed Chris’ puffy, red glans against Bruno’s ample, bronze mushroom. No sooner had Bruno felt the warmth of Chris’ cockflesh, then Sam’s busy fingers commenced the process of returning fire.
Using her grip on Bruno, the brunette pivoted Bruno’s dick in shallow, concentric circles; manipulating his shaft in a slow swivel, forcing his cock to glide along the smooth skin of Chris’ cockhead in a gradual 360° clockwise movement. The Latino’s phallus effectively ‘lapping’ the tip of the Caucasian’s dick, all the while maintaining constant contact.
The sweat and secretion of pre-cum from both men reduced friction; expediting the teasing slip and slide of distended cock meat. Bruno and Chris groaned in unison, a slow tortured moan. Sam and Larissa grinned in response; each delighting in the sexual anguish they inflicted upon their rival’s man.
Larissa mimicked the brunette’s tactics, allowing Chris’ bloated glans to rub up and over the tip of Bruno’s cock, circumnavigating it in a shallow, counter-clockwise sensuous motion. As she pivoted underneath Bruno’s shaft, she angled her man upwards for the briefest of moments, gently snagging the underside of the Latino’s helmet; causing an involuntary shudder.
“You see that, Sam… Not long now… Bruno’s on the ropes… His bitch-cock is going to nut any second now…”
“Oh Larissa… Sweetie… My man is not your man… Bruno doesn’t come the second he feels his cock tingle…”
Yet, Sam’s bravado masked genuine concern. She knew Bruno’s body like no other, and could tell he was staving off orgasm with every inch of willpower that dwelled within. As erotic as she found the whole spectacle unfolding in front of her, she was loath to concede the upper hand to the statuesque blonde.
Rubbing and grinding against one another, their clumsy efforts channelled through the delicate, deft fingers of their women, Chris and Bruno persisted with their keenly fought prick-to-prick contest. Their heavy helmets clashing every so often, like two great pendulums meeting. With each connection; shuddering, pleasurable spasms coursed through the manhood of both parties.
Aligning Bruno’s shaft parallel to his opponent’s, Sam dragged her boyfriend’s heavily engorged dick up and down Chris’ potent erection. Time and again, their meaty cocks made heavy contact as Sam and Larissa sought to seize the upper hand in their shared struggle.
Male abdominal muscles rippled as both men were methodically manipulated by their relentless women. Their cocks used to torment and tantalise in equal measure. Larissa pumped Chris’ thick cock against Bruno’s ‘diamond-hard’ dick; determined to rub the very last ounce of resistance from the sex-organ of her rival’s man.
While Larissa’s focus remained firmly on ‘swordplay’, Sam was already scheming to change the dynamic of Chris and Bruno’s struggle, if only to provide her beleaguered boyfriend with a moment’s respite from the pleasurable sensations coursing from his very core and pulsing up the length of his overly-stimulated cock.
“If you’re so confident in Chris’ staying-power, step back and let our men decide the matter… We’ll see who the real man is…I know who my money’s on…”
The jibe worked as intended, and Larissa stopped instantly. Releasing her grasp on Chris, the buxom blonde rose from her knees and placed the flat of her palm on Chris’ pectoral muscle, gently easing him backwards and ‘out-of-range.’ Chris sighed, breathing heavily as he struggled to “compose” himself.
Sam repeated the same motion with Bruno, drawing him back several feet from his cockfight rival. Sam smiled to herself, revelling in having out-foxed Larissa; denying her the satisfaction of watching Bruno succumb to Chris in spectacular fashion.
Both women stood in front of their men; whispering encouragement and lavishing praise on their performance, insisting that victory was close. Each knew that sexfighting is as much about the cerebral as the physical. Sustaining their boyfriend’s confidence could very well be the difference in this game of inches.
Larissa peered mischievously over her shoulder and chided;
“Yeah… You’d probably change your mind if you felt what Bruno was up against… I think it’s only fair I let you scope out the competition before I take your money…So long as I can do the same…”
Sam cursed the blonde’s ingenuity. She clearly suspected what Sam was up to, and had called her bluff. If Sam refused, Larissa would crow that she was shielding Bruno from her. For the sake of Bruno’s ego, she would have to agree. Besides, she couldn’t bear to show weakness in front of the smug blonde. She hissed her response through gritted teeth;
Sam and Larissa turned on their heels, confidently sashaying past one other with vindictive smiles and sneering sideways glances. Both women knew that the other would use this interlude to try and “stack the deck” in favour of their man.
As the brunette reached Chris, she grasped his hard cock with both hands and massaged it with three firm strokes before tracing the thumb of her right hand languidly across his sensitive glans.
Chris trembled to her touch and pre-cum sluiced out of his excited urethra in response. In that moment, the sultry brunette learned that Chris was just as close to coming as her boyfriend. Sam grinned as a wicked thought popped into her head.
“Bruno can still win this…”
She pouted dramatically as she lavished attention on Chris’ overly-stimulated cock;
“Poor baby… How long’s it been since you fucked someone other than Larissa? How long since you were ‘balls-deep’ in another woman?”
As she spoke, Sam slipped her thumbs under the waistband of her black underwear, easing it off her hips and to the floor. She stooped to retrieve the item, and as she rose, she draped the flimsy garment over Chris’ erection.
“Oh honey… I can feel your cock twitch every time I rub the wet patch of my panties against your helmet… Your poor cock’s aching for some strange… Can’t Larissa satisfy your needs?”
Larissa bristled as Sam’s tawdry insult carried across the room. It was the blonde’s turn to curse inwardly, as the momentum shifted once more. Larissa’s slender fingers squeezed Bruno’s cock playfully, as she used her free hand to pull him into an impassioned embrace. She kissed him with a vigour borne of spite and resentment.
When she finally released their kiss, both were panting for air. Through ragged gasps, she announced to the room;
“How about you, sweetie? Are you thinking about my wet, little pussy? You’re thinking about fucking me while Sam watches, aren’t you?”
Larissa tested Bruno’s resolve as she spoke, shimmying out of her pearl-white panties and wrapping the skimpy apparel around the Latino’s rock-hard cock. The irritable blonde made a point of massaging the damp crotch of her underwear against Bruno’s cock.
“Oh dear…It’s been a while since you were inside a real woman, hasn’t it? I better take those off or you’re going to come all over my panties…”
By this point, both Sam and Larissa had succeeded in needling one another. Each woman turned away from the other’s man and faced each other across the room in a harsh glare. Words and deeds had inflamed passions. As emerald eyes bore into brown, a palpable tension descended on the room once more. All present instinctively knew that Bruno and Chris would have to relinquish the ‘stage.’ Sam spoke first;
“I think the men have earned a break. Don’t you?”
“Besides… I don’t like the idea of Bruno’s cock smelling of skank pussy… Are you going to take those off right know, or am I going to have to go through you and do it myself?”
Larissa arched her eyebrow, exhilarated by the brunette’s feistiness. Determined to meet fire with fire, she spat;
“You think I want to taste your slut-pussy next time I go down on Chris? You first! Take em off or I’ll leave footprints on your pretty little face before doing it myself…”
Nostrils flared and adrenaline surged as each woman knew exactly where this was going. With feminine pride at stake, neither could cave. Once more, sexual jealousy sky-rocketed; banishing reason to the deepest recesses of the female psyche.
Sam gave voice to what both were clearly thinking;
“Catfight. Here and now. Are you willing to fight like a woman? Up close and personal…”
Larissa nodded her agreement, confirming the terms of engagement;
“Skin-on-skin. Hairpulling, grabbing, slapping and kicking are all fair game. I’ll fight you on my feet or on the floor. Whatever it takes, for as long as you can hold out…”
Sam licked her lips and added one final condition;
“Whomever is woman enough to walk through her rival and remove their “claim” to his cock wins the fight…”
Larissa sneered in response; “Works for me.”
Sam slinked towards Larissa furtively; her movement seemingly at odds with her aggressive intent. A confident strut, characterised by an exaggerated sway of her hips. She padded across the carpet without any show of reticence, her gait easy yet sensual, as if rushing towards the arms of an eager lover, rather than a bitter rival.
Larissa embarked on the same journey from the opposite end of the room; her mannerisms similarly ambiguous, and seemingly at odds with the aggressive exchange of words that preceded them. Her long, elegant legs propelling the statuesque blonde across the motel room in several self-assured and distinctly feminine strides.
Both women checked each other’s momentum in the centre of the room, coming together in a muted collision. Once more Sam felt the warmth of Larissa’s bronzed skin pressing against her nubile body. Being of commensurate height, they met nose-to-nose and breast-to-breast; locked in an intense, smouldering glare. The calm before the storm…
“Last chance to back out, Larissa… Wanna step aside so I can take your nasty shit off my boyfriend’s cock?”
As she spoke, Sam’s hands snaked past Larissa’s shoulder blades and secured a vice-like grip in the platinum tresses at the back of her head. Her grip lingered, inert for now, but firm.
Larissa showed no outward signs of feeling threated by Sam’s actions. The blonde made no effort to force her rival’s hands from her hair. Rather she reached downwards, cupping the feisty brunette’s pert ass, pulling her tight little body into a claustrophobic clinch. Pressing the bridge of her nose tight to Sam’s, Larissa sternly whispered her husky response;
Those softly spoken words ignited an inferno of activity between the two. With Larissa’s hands still firmly grasping her ass cheeks, Sam lifted her legs and locked them around Larissa’s waist, while simultaneously tugging harshly on the blonde’s hair.
Larissa grimaced, taken aback by the explosion of aggression from the slightly smaller woman. Her neck muscles straining under the tenacious brunette’s determined grasp. The sexy blonde teetered clumsily across the beige carpet; her athletic frame now encumbered by the full heft of Sam’s body weight.
Her lungs taxed by the vice-like scissors-hold around her waist, Larissa breathed hard as Sam straightened her legs parallel to the floor, locking her ankles the far side of Larissa’s back and squeezing with as much might as her toned thighs could muster.
Sam’s face tightened into a determined expression, as a resurgent competitive spirit seized control of her perspiring limbs. Larissa emitted a tortured groan, struggling fitfully in the anaconda-like hold of her rival. Her efforts clearly for naught. Larissa returned fire in the only way she could. She dropped to the floor with a heavy thud…
Sam grunted as her back thumped against the carpet, forcing the air to rush out of her lungs; the impact causing her legs to spasm. In that split second, Larissa surged forward, freeing one of her legs before Sam could re-engage her scissors-hold. She managed to trap her in a half-guard of sorts – one leg free, the other trapped.
Sam found herself squirming uncomfortably beneath Larissa’s sweaty body, the blonde’s ample bosom pressed tightly to her own perky tits, taut bellies rubbing together as Larissa reached up to test the strength of Sam’s long, lustrous chestnut curls. Still smarting from Sam’s earlier show of aggression, Larissa used her right hand to pull hard and at an angle, hissing into her rival’s face;
“How does that feel, bitch?”
Despite herself, Sam forced a mocking grin;
“Like I’m being fucked by a virgin!”
Larissa pulled harder in retaliation, clearly wounded by the verbal barb. From beneath the imperious blonde, Sam began her impassioned fight back, the sole of her foot kicking against the floor as her knee shot forward, her thigh colliding against Larissa’s wet sex with a heavy slap of skin-on-skin.
Once, twice, and then on the third strike, Larissa flicked her long blonde hair from her face, screwed her eyes shut, and moaned deeply;
In the midst of the violence, Larissa was clearly deriving some form of carnal delight from the exuberant Sam’s incessant squirming. While Larissa rode a hedonistic high, Sam sensed an opportunity.
The brunette bridged her hips and heaved to the left, tossing the oblivious blonde up and off her body. However, with both women welded together by a harpy-like grip on one other’s hair, Sam found herself carried along by Larissa’s momentum, landing squarely atop the startled blonde.
Sam trapped Larissa’s right thigh between her own in a tight pincer movement; immobilising the offending limb and preventing a retaliatory strike from her rival. Enjoying the reversal of fortunes, Sam smiled sadistically and rubbed her stiff nipples against the underside of Larissa’s areolae in a slow, sweeping motion.
The act clearly titillated both women, distracting them temporarily from the task at hand. Larissa’s eyes shut tight as she attempted to stifle a pleasured sigh from escaping her lips, allowing her grip on Sam’s hair to momentarily loosen.
Sensing the pressure on her scalp alleviate slightly, the brunette hurriedly wrenched the blonde’s talons from her curls and pinned her wrists to the floor. Trapped and frustrated, Larissa howled her frustration, her cry echoing throughout the dingy motel room – “Fuck!”
Sam peered down at her foe from behind dishevelled brown curls, revelling in her anger, biting her lower lip each time the struggling blonde bucked beneath her. Then slowly but surely, the tone of the struggle shifted. Sam began to thrust her hips, a slow but deliberate motion, grinding her pussy against Larissa’s thigh.
“Ugh slut! You fighting or fucking me?” Larissa protested.
Sam grinned vindictively, continuing to pleasure herself against the wriggling Goddess below; pointedly ignoring her objections.
“Either way, I’m making you my bitch!”
“Yeah, is that right?!”
With astounding strength, no doubt borne of frustration due to Sam’s premature gloating, Larissa managed to yank her left wrist free. Her palm lashed harshly against the brunette’s pretty face; the force of the slap knocking her from her perch and onto to the flat of her ass beside the prone blonde.
Sam clambered awkwardly to her feet, shuffling unsteadily as she waited for the fog to clear. She shook her head and held the heel of her hand to her temple in a futile attempt to banish the cobwebs.
Larissa sat up quickly, rising from the floor, she marched towards the dazed brunette with purpose. Eager to exploit her vulnerability. Gripping Sam’s throat firmly with her right hand, she pinned the startled brunette’s naked form tight to the floral print adorning the wall behind her.
While Sam slowly regained lucidity, Larissa’s free hand delved between her legs and towards her wet pussy. The blonde’s busy fingers parted Sam’s labia lips, as Larissa slipped inside her wet sex with ease.
She pumped Sam’s pussy with a steadily-increasing tempo, coaxing satisfied grunts from the brunette with each thrust. Relinquishing her chokehold, Larissa pressed her larger breasts against Sam’s perky pair, holding her fast to the wall; all the while continuing to stroke her clitoris with index and middle finger.
“Ugh… Ugh… Ugh… Fuck…”
As Sam’s vision swam back into focus, she found herself fighting the urge to squirt all over Larissa’s questing digits. Cocking her head upwards, Sam’s gaze met Larissa’s for the first time since having her bell rung. The blonde smiled wickedly and whispered;
“Now, who’s the bitch?”
Larissa lurched forward, trapping Sam in a passionate embrace. Sam was ready however; returning the kiss with matched vigour and then some. Their wet tongues jostled for position, pink lips parting as each woman explored their sapphic desires in a heated French kiss.
Amidst the searing intensity of their kiss, both women lost themselves in the passion of the moment, rolling over and back across the wall, taking it in turns to pin each other against the faded wallpaper. All the while, roving hands groped and kneaded, slapped and squeezed, tortured and teased.
Chris and Bruno watched from the far side of the room, utterly entranced by their girlfriends. Their own personal competition paling in comparison to the sexual display put forth by their warring women. Each man still wearing the underwear of their lover’s opponent on their throbbing erection.
Slowing poling their hands up and down their cocks, sensually rubbing the lacy underwear of the “other woman” against their raging horns. A crude attempt at spurring their partner on to greater efforts through incitement of sexual jealousy.
With Larissa pinned to the wall, Sam stepped away, but not before giving her puckered nipple a sharp pinch. Backing towards the foot of the bed, Sam held eye contact with Larissa as she moved, emerald and russet eyes holding a shared gaze, both sets vivid and alive with a frenetic and unpredictable passion.
Sam sat on the bed, and inched her way towards the centre. Her dark brown curls looked wild and untamed. Her facial expression spoke volumes; virtually crackling with wanton desire. Reclining on her elbows, Sam beckoned Larissa forward with a curled finger and sardonic smile;
“Enough foreplay… If you’re woman enough, let’s finish this…”
Feminine pride welled from deep within, forcing Larissa to follow her nemesis. She crawled from the foot of the bed towards the centre, her back arched like a jungle cat, stalking her prey with feline grace. Larissa mounted Sam, clambering across her tired limbs, the blonde’s thighs coming to rest either side of the brunette’s bare hips.
Gently resting the soft skin of her right palm against Sam’s bare left shoulder, she eased the brunette back onto the mattress. Not a violent act as such, more of an insistent pressing motion. Just enough to return Sam to the flat of her back.
Sam found herself staring up at white plaster once more, but only for a second. Larissa leaned forward, looming over her. Her heavy breasts rose and fell with every breath. Her sweat-soaked hair was matted and clung doggedly to her forehead and cheeks.
Sam peered up at her beautiful nemesis with a simmering resentment fed by lust and jealousy. At odds with herself; conflicting emotions tremored within. Her psyche a two-headed chimera, telling her to both hurt and pleasure the writhing vixen astride her bare hips. Suddenly realising the weakness of her position, she chose the latter, bringing her hands up and reaching for Larissa’s glossy hair.
Larissa had anticipated the brunette’s attack, sensing a sudden flash of movement in her peripheral vision. As slender fingers grabbed for platinum tresses, Larissa intercepted them; her own fingers fastening around the wrists of her nubile opponent, halting her progress with immediate effect.
There their hands hovered, suspended in mid-air, pushing against each other in an impromptu test of strength. Forearms trembling in silent exertion, before the leverage of Larissa’s advantageous position aided her in winning out, forcing Sam’s hands backwards in agonisingly slow increments.
Inch by inch, Larissa gradually lowered a seething Sam’s hands to the soft pillow upon which her head rested. Trapping the pair palms up, either side of her pretty features. Both parties immobile. A stalemate.
Trapped, but in no apparent danger, Sam glowered up at the sexy Blonde. Her whole world shrinking to encompass Larissa’s perfectly-proportioned nose, fulsome lips, and deep brown eyes. An irritatingly attractive face, framed by Larissa’s long, luscious hair. Extending just past the nape of her neck. Long enough to enhance her allure, but unfortunately for Sam, not long enough to grasp.
Her perky 32C breasts jiggling in accordance with Sam’s movements beneath her, Larissa exuded power and femininity. Pressing down on Sam’s wrists, Larissa lowered her face towards the inert brunette, and hissed at her in hushed tones;
‘Had enough, bitch?!’
Larissa was breathing hard, her lungs greedy for oxygen. The flurry of activity that preceded her trek to the bed, leaving her winded astride her determined foe. Squirming incessantly underneath her, Sam was the very picture of indignant fury.
Her chestnut hair wild and loose. Untamable, much like the woman herself. Larissa scrutinised the agitated amazon trapped between her thighs. Ruby red lips, vibrant and vivid; the colour of passion and aggression. Her skin as white as the driven snow, slowly becoming flushed with strain.
Her thin nose wrinkled with annoyance, her forest-green eyes staring up at Larissa, through two determined slits. She writhed and wriggled against Larissa’s every move, voicing her displeasure in a hushed and urgent whisper;
‘Get… the… fuck… off… me… Slut!’
The reserve of the warring women ebbing away; what few inhibitions they entered the room with, long since eroded by mutual animosity. The struggling women becoming progressively more energetic in their fumbling…
Somehow, through sheer perseverance no doubt, Sam managed to wrench her left hand free of Larissa’s grasp. With the speed of a rattlesnake striking, Sam latched onto a fistful of flaxen strands to the rear of Larissa’s head, firmly grasping the blonde by the turf of her hair. Feeling an immediate strain on her neck, Larissa relinquished her grip on Sam’s right hand and responded in kind.
Within seconds, their struggle devolved into a hair-pulling duel, as delicate fingers glided through freshly-washed hair. Brown and blonde strands continuously tested, two experienced catfighters seeking just the right purchase in their quest to cause as much discomfort as possible.
Nose to nose, body to body; firm feminine flesh compressed so tightly, that sinews strain and supple bodies ripple with effort. A knot of limbs and unresolved tension, so rigidly bound, that Sam and Larissa could each feel the others’ breath on their face. From her ‘perch’ atop Sam, Larissa spitefully whispered;
‘Ya really want to do this, don’t ya? You want to fight like whores while they watch… Don’t ya?! Say it, damn you!’
A vexed Sam hissed her response:
‘You bet your ass I do! I want to beat you in front of our men. I want their eyes on me when you scream my name into the rafters like a good little fuck-slut!’
The ruthless brunette balled her fists in Larissa’s platinum hair, tugging with gusto. As the brunette struggled from the flat of her back, Larissa could feel every curve of Sam’s body. The soft, smooth flesh of Sam’s Venus mound melding with her own.
Her strong thighs; taut, tight tummy; firm, unyielding 34B breasts. Every inch of Sam’s body rubbing and grinding against her. Resisting her every attempt at restraint and control. Paradoxically infuriating and titillating in equal measure.
Resentment surged through Sam, fuelling her resistance, imbuing it with the kind of tenacity, that only the pretty Blonde could provoke in her. Her heels dug against the mattress, as she attempted to unseat her rival. Even as Larissa clung limpet-like to her long flowing hair, Sam’s determination remained resolute.
Every muscle in her back strained, as she arched again and again; each movement leading to an exquisite friction between Sam and her sultry rival. With every upward motion, Sam could feel Larissa’s strong legs astride her hips; Larissa’s wet pussy rubbing against her own; the weight of Larissa’s heaving 32C tits; the swell of the blonde’s engorged nipples.
The rustle of bedsheets becoming more audible as the struggle grew more animated; feminine grunts and groans now more pronounced. Bed springs began to squeak; as tremors from the embattled women transferred down into the mattress hosting their duel. The subterfuge of their secret struggle, coming perilously close to discovery by whatever tenants lay snoring next door.
‘That all you got… Cunt…’
‘Fuck you… Whore…’
Larissa sighed with relief as Sam released her two-handed grip on her hair; anticipating a premature end to their contest. A fleeting thought. Larissa winced, as she felt a shooting pain emanate from south of the equator, instantly realising what Sam had done.
Having relinquished her grasp on Larissa’s hair, Sam changed tactics immediately; exploring Larissa’s asshole with her middle finger, probing deeper and deeper, gauging her reaction. Larissa squirmed uncomfortably, cursing Sam under her breath.
Her efforts to subdue Sam grew frantic, but were ultimately fruitless from her current position. She simply could not reach low enough to force Sam’s hands from her beleaguered asshole. As such, she did the only thing she could… she bid a hasty retreat…
Rolling to the left, and away from the brunette, the sexy blonde managed to liberate her besieged orifice from Sam’s determined clutches… colliding with Bruno’s bare torso as she did.
Unbeknownst to both women, their partners had joined them on the bed. Sam and Larissa had become so invested in their struggle, they barely even noticed when Chris and Bruno sidled onto opposite sides of the bed for a better view of the action.
Chris marvelled at the vision before him, sandwiched between him and an equally attentive Bruno. A bustling tumult of sweat-soaked, supine female flesh; two exotic creatures locked in a catty battle. Hands buried deep in each other’s hair, forearms trembling with effort, fulsome breasts heaving with each movement, amid exasperated groans and sighed curses.
Just looking at the spectacle of ‘feminine ferocity’ before him, Chris could feel his cock stiffen to its full 8” potential. Momentarily gazing across the warring women, Chris could see it plain as day in Bruno’s eyes; he was utterly transfixed by the actions of Sam and Larissa. The glassy-eyed stare of a man not quite sure if he is dreaming or awake.
A passionate catfight between beautiful women. A powerful aphrodisiac for any man. Doubly so for Bruno… He too sported an eight-inch, rock hard erection; sprouting from a thatch of neatly-trimmed black pubic hair. Bruno’s mind raced with lustful thoughts, the unyielding nature of Larissa and Sam’s rivalry fuelling his libido, almost to the point of torment.
Catching each other’s eye for the briefest of moments, both men could sense the sexual frustration, felt so acutely by the other. Both parties, a cocktail of conflicting emotions and impulses. Each man longing to see Larissa and Sam continue their improvised catball. Yet, each also longing to clamber atop their girlfriend, and fuck them vigorously. An easy choice, all things considered…
Chris and Bruno wanted to see the catfight continue. However, they needed to go balls deep in their women, to feel their cunts moisten on entry, to bring them panting and moaning to a shuddering climax.
Unbeknownst to their women, Bruno and Chris were forming an unspoken pact of their own. Collaborating with the enemy as it were. A mutual recognition of what needed to happen next…
‘Our girlfriends have managed to wrestle one another onto the wrong side of the bed. Let’s stop this now, return them to the correct side, then take advantage of their enflamed passions…’
Working in tandem, each boyfriend went about restraining the other’s irritable spouse. Bruno cast his right hand over the struggling Larissa, the palm of his hand resting on her tight abdomen, before pulling her away from the fiery brunette and back towards his own body. The intention being to provide respite to his embattled girlfriend…
Facing him, Chris intervened in a similar fashion. He clumsily draped his arm over Sam’s shoulder, awkwardly placing his hand over her bust. Using his superior strength, he fastened the infuriated brunette to his toned physique; separating both women temporarily.
“You’re lucky Bruno is holding me or I’d be swinging you around this room by your hair!”
“Like you did last time?! Don’t talk shit! You’re not woman enough to best me!”
“Ya want a piece of me, bitch?”
“Nasty cunt! You’re real tough when Chris is keeping me from tearing into you!”
No longer bound by a desire to keep their spat secret, both women hissed their insults at each other in increasingly shrill tones. The tension between Sam and Larissa had reached boiling point. Sam felt her heart thump like a war drum at the prospect of making Larissa squeal in pain. Likewise, Larissa’s pulse quickened at the thought of burying her hands in Sam’s chestnut brown hair. Yet stubbornly, both Bruno and Chris maintained their firms grips on the warring women.
Bruno peered over Larissa’s shoulder at Chris; a quizzical glance, communicating growing uncertainty. He wanted to take advantage of Sam’s increased ardour and fuck. Yet, the prospect of fresh fodder to fuel his catfight fetish was too tempting to resist.
He made eye contact with Chris again and visibly relaxed his grip, allowing the squirming Larissa to lunge towards Sam before pulling her back again; communicating through gestures.
“We both want to see this… You let Sam go and I’ll release Larissa… May the best woman win…”
The glint in Chris’s eye told him that they were on the same page. Bruno readied himself to release the sultry vixen in his grasp; awaiting the signal from Chris that he would do likewise… but fate intervened…
Chris sighed loudly; a pleasured groan. Larissa scowled. The mischievous grin on Sam’s face telling Larissa all she needed to know. Slender fingers reaching backwards, encompassing the girth of Chris’s manhood. Fingertips grazing his thick shaft with a delicate, teasing touch.
“I can see why you’re with him…” Sam cooed provocatively.
In all their struggles, both women had taunted, grappled and strained against each other in ways known only to catfighting women. In their quest to humiliate the other, they had come to know each other’s bodies as intimately as lovers. Every curve and crevice. How to torture and titillate.
Sam knew all too well the anguished gasp Larissa emitted when her puckered nipple was twisted between thumb and forefinger, and relished hearing it. For her part Larissa had thrilled every time the brunette squirmed and whimpered between her thighs; every tortured moan a testament to her strength as a woman.
Both women paradoxically jealous of the others’ femininity, yet confident in their ability to best each the other in combat. However, throughout it all, one rule had remained sacrosanct – boyfriends were out of bounds. With the lightest of touches, Sam had crossed the Rubicon; infusing their rivalry with a venomous rage.
Hairpulling, slapping, pinching and verbal sparring were to be expected. The squeezing and grasping of the most intimate areas were fair game when two women gave into their baser instincts and pitted their bodies against one another.
Particularly so when their conflict was subject to the male gaze. Every act not just in defiance of your opponent; but an expression of femininity and sexuality for the lover who looked on.
Inches from her erstwhile rival, Larissa fumed. An impotent rage, at least while Bruno continued to impede her movement. Her arms firmly imprisoned by his strong grip. Not rough nor violent, but unbreakable nonetheless. She hissed at the smug brunette.
“Hands off… Final warning!”
A parse exchange; over as soon as it began. Yet in the space of seconds, the blonde’s emotions were reaching volcanic proportions; threatening to erupt in an uncontrollable flurry. She felt like howling in rage.
“How dare she?!”
Unable to reach out and physically punish Sam for her insolence; Larissa returned fire the only way she could. Hurting Sam, the same way the brunette had wounded her. A woman’s revenge. Yielding to Bruno’s might, rather than straining against him. Her hands traced the outline of his hardness.
“Ugh… Shit, that feels good…”
Bruno shuddered and moaned. An instinctual response, not a conscious decision. A verbal expression of the gratification coursing through his throbbing cock. A sure signal that Larissa had retaliated in kind to Sam’s lewd escalation of their conflict.
Both men tensed as the other’s girlfriend fondled their hard cocks. Pretty brown eyes glared harshly at piercing forest-green pupils through a fog of lust and resentment. Two relationships hanging by a thread, as womanly pride threatened to push both couples past the point of no return.
A husky female voice punctuated the silence. Impassioned, yet irritable. Sexual jealousy masquerading as the voice of reason.
“Enough Larissa… I’ll stop if you will…”
“You started it… Not me…”
Seconds passed in what felt like a lifetime for both women. A lifetime in which neither relinquished their “hold” on the other’s boyfriend. Neither could see exactly what the other was doing to their boyfriend behind their back, but Bruno and Chris’ facial expressions told the tale.
Small, delicate hands busily explored the firmness and potency of an unfamiliar cock. Each could tell that efforts were being ramped up, not scaled back. For his part, Chris tried his level-best not to show how much he was enjoying the “attentions” of the nubile brunette, even as contented grunts escaped his lips. Likewise, Bruno had to will himself not to succumb to the ministrations of the bronzed beauty before him. Larissa whispered softly to Sam;
“Poor Bruno… He feels a little backed up… Afraid I might show you up? Would it be so bad to watch another woman make your boyfriend cum like a fire hose?”
The gauntlet cast once more. A deeply personal challenge. Sam picked it up and cast it back;
“Been a while since I’ve fucked another man… So gushingly glad you’re here to share the experience with me…”
Each woman made their intention clear. This was happening. All inhibitions shorn; the other’s boyfriend was fair game. The new terms of engagement defined. If I can’t fight you, I’m going to fuck your man in front of you…
As if a starter’s pistol had been fired, both Bruno and Chris made the leap from awed spectators to active participants. Their enraged wives had laid claim to the other’s boyfriend in a sordid display.
Not just goading each other, but signalling to the muscular studs restraining them, exactly what they wanted;
“Touch me… Kiss me… Fuck me… Make me come… Make your girlfriend watch…”
Sam tensed momentarily, as she sensed the feeling of unfamiliar rough hands creep slowly up her thigh. Chris glided past her hips before pulling the sexy brunette tight to his rippling physique. The curve of her ass felt exquisite pressed against his engorged manhood. Chris playfully bit her shoulder and was rewarded with a slow, ponderous moan.
Facing them, Larissa practically melted into Bruno’s embrace. His strong arms encircled her waist as she grinded against him. Bruno couldn’t himself, stealing a glimpse of her perfectly-formed derriere. Seized by lust, Bruno pressed his hard cock against the stunning blonde, rubbing his impressive bulge up and down that pert little ass.
“Yes Bruno… Ya gonna give me that cock? C’mon…Fuck me in front of your jealous girlfriend…”
Larissa’s remark lit the blue touch paper, triggering an increased urgency in each of the occupants of the bed. Hands rustled busily; slender feminine fingers greedily tugging at stiff erections; blindly seeking to guide the potent erections of the men behind them to the warm wet confines of their awaiting cunts.
Within seconds, each woman thrilled to the sensation of an unfamiliar naked cock grazing their taints, before nestling snugly against the slick, soft flesh of their labia. Sam grinned excitedly at the sensation.
From touch alone, she could tell Chris’ substantial cock was no less than Bruno’s. An impressively thick knot of muscle that throbbed excitedly as it nestled against her pussy lips. Sam’s pulse quickened at the thought of the handsome Caucasian moving inside her.
Facing her, Larissa was similarly satisfied by Bruno’s well-endowed manhood. While the head of his meaty cock was somewhat lesser than Chris’s by mere millimetres, there was no denying that his girth was superior. The Latino was undoubtedly well-hung, but did he know how to use it…
The busty blonde allowed herself a glance at the woman currently being ravished by her boyfriend. Sam’s emerald eyes opened lazily, as Chris’ hands traversed her curves. Both women made heavy eye contact and held it in a steady glare.
As they traded petty insults, each woman arched her hips; opening their horny pussies to the aroused stallions quivering at the thought of fucking them. Chris’s glans separated Sam’s pink pussy lips; his long shaft disappearing into the wet confines of her aroused cunt.
Within seconds, Bruno’s thick cock stretched Larissa’s pussy; burying itself deep within her. Both women grinded hard against their new paramour, as both men rocked their hips methodically; stroking themselves in and out of Sam and Larissa. The distinctive slap of rounded asses against toned pelvises began to reverberate around the small bedroom.
Bruno and Chris lost themselves in the revelry of lusty fuck; the kinky hedonistic pleasure of the situation over-ruling all other concerns. Not so for Sam and Larissa. Even as well-endowed men pleased them, vigorously fucking them from behind, they found themselves incapable of divorcing their emotions from the carnal act they all participated in.
As they lay on their sides panting and moaning, luxuriating in the touch of skilled lover, a man not their own, one inescapable truth haunted both women – “She… is… fucking… my… boyfriend!”
Even while lost in a fog of unbridled lust; resentment and sexual jealousy coursed through their supple bodies. Paradoxically both Sam and Larissa felt cuckqueaned and humiliated.
Seized by a volatile cocktail of passion and anger, the sultry blonde reached for Sam; burying her talons in her mahogany tresses. The beautiful brunette, likewise caught in a sex-crazed emotional tempest, grabbed for Larissa’s blonde hair and found purchase.
Both women had tested each other in numerous ways that night, indulging their boyfriends’ catfight fetish in a variety of sleazy, sexually-charged struggles; blurring the line between sex and violence. Each woman naively thinking they had reached the summit of their sordid hobby. As another woman’s boyfriend plunged in and out of their gaping pussies, they now knew better.
Fighting to prove your feminine superiority was one thing. Fighting for cock another. Fighting while fucking was uncharted territory…
Frightening and titillating Larissa and Sam in equal measure…
Chris braced himself by seizing a firm grasp of Sam’s hipbone with his right hand, pulling her back into him with each thrust; ensuring each stroke penetrated deeply. While fucking the squirming hellcat on her side proved cumbersome, particularly as she struggled against his enraged girlfriend, Chris revelled in the sensation of fucking another woman.
Likewise, Bruno found his rhythm and pounded Larissa from behind, plunging in and out of her wet sex again and again, as the leggy blonde tugged venomously at Sam’s long brown curls. The bed creaked under the stress of four virile lovers grinding and writhing energetically.
Sam loosened her grip on Larissa’s tresses and allowed her right hand to drop towards Larissa’s breast. Her bosom heaved and moved; quivering in time with Bruno’s eager attempts to make her come. Her plump nipple protruded proudly from her broad areola, as if in defiance to the woman who faced her.
At first, Sam firmly grasped the full of Larissa’s breast, feeling the heft of her heavy chest in her palm, trapping a wide expanse of sun-kissed flesh between her splayed fingers. She squeezed the excited sex organ with a pulsing motion, tensing then relaxing her grip. As Chris pounded her excited pussy; the presence of Larissa’s tented nipple announced itself through the sensation of touch, tickling the palm of her hand through a thin film of perspiration.
“How’s that feel, bitch?”
Through a haze of lust and pent-up aggression, Larissa snorted angrily. Bruno’s cock felt damn good. Fighting Sam felt even better. Loathe as she was to admit it, Larissa was right where she wanted to be.
“Pretty damn good. That all you got, Sam? Still can’t decide whether to fight or fuck me?” Larissa breathlessly whispered. Sam immediately escalated in response to the barb, changing her grip and roughly groping Larissa’s tit, kneading the perspiring flesh with increasing tenacity.
For her part, Larissa retaliated by sliding her hand down Sam’s taut mid-riff, delving downwards towards her Venus mound. Sam’s mons pubis was neatly manicured, but not shorn. Larissa had gambled; hoping that might be the case. She snatched at wisps of Sam’s damp pubes, trapping a sizeable clump between thumb and forefinger, before harshly tugging upwards.
The reaction was instantaneous. One moment, Sam was luxuriating in the pleasure of a good fuck, while punishing the woman who had the audacity to cream herself on Bruno’s cock, only to be yanked back to reality by the intense pain of her pussy hair being pulled. Her lips curled into a pained expression, as an involuntary yelp leapt from her pouting lips.
“Ow… Fuck… Cut it out!”
“Make me… Come on, skank! Show me what ya got!”
Larissa felt emboldened; finally returning fire against the woman currently atop Chris’ meaty cock. She wrested her other arm from between torso and mattress, stalking towards Sam’s perky, milk-white chest; a pair of horny, agitated nipples flared defiantly towards her from proud breasts.
Larissa imprisoned the perky pink nub nearest the mattress in a tight pincer-grip. The blonde smiled sadistically; twisting the pliable flesh counter-clockwise. She almost came all over Bruno’s thick cock as Sam visibly grimaced.
Larissa winced, as Sam balled her free hand into a fist, burying it deep in the blonde’s solar-plexus. The impact of the brunette’s slug was muted, her movement inhibited by the fact she was forced to use the limb closest the mattress.
Sam managed to eke out three solid body shots, before Larissa halted a forth strike by snatching hold of her wrist. Larissa attempted to go on the offensive, using her free hand to snatch at Sam’s hair- only to find her own wrist imprisoned in a similar fashion. A stalemate.
Both women reduced to watching the other’s impending orgasm. Each woman’s heart thumped like a war drum, almost ringing in her ears, as their boyfriend pleasured the sow panting inches away. Violent retaliation no longer an option, Sam and Larissa responded the only way they could. Using feminine wiles to wound and torment, they traded barbs one final time;
“Oh God Chris! I can feel your cock twitch. Oh honey, you need to come badly, don’t you?! Give it to me…. Give me your come… Let Larissa see how good it feels to fuck a real woman!”
“That’s it, Bruno… Right there, stud… Oooh… Fuck… You’re close… I can tell… I know you like it, sweetie… Make Sam watch as I steal your come…”
Stern expressions slowly give way to sex-crazed cries. A growing cacophony of frustrated grunts and groans, arcing towards a spectacular shared climax. Four athletic bodies writhing in concert, a sweaty tangle of untrammelled libido and pent-up sexual tension.
The unmistakable scent of female arousal hung in the air; a pungent but sweet tang. The dingy motel room echoed to the ever-increasing tempo of bed squeaks and the rhythmic slapping of skin-on-skin.
All parties present at odds, yet careening inevitably towards a shared shuddering climax. Utterly lost in the moment, Larissa and Sam engaged each other in a lusty, spiteful kiss. Their tight, toned bodies stiffening, as they moaned their satisfaction into one another’s mouth, luxuriating in release at long last. Their orgasms heralded by excited shrieks and curses.
As they did, Bruno and Chris succumb to the sexual nirvana of watching their girlfriends give themselves so completely to the intensity of the struggle. They grunted animalistically, as the tight contracting pussy of the “other woman” milked every last drop of semen Bruno and Chris had to give. An eery silence finally descended on the room; all parties lying utterly spent in an undignified heap.
I stood there dumbfounded. Speechless. Shocked by the strange turn of events that brought me to this point. Spellbound by the raw passion of what I had just been privileged to witness.
Sam looked up at me through tired eyes and breathlessly croaked;
Larissa opened her eyes, just as weary from her recent exertion, pleading in a similar fashion;
“Yeah… who won?”
I could feel a sly grin tug at the corner of my mouth, as I sensed an opportunity present itself.
“Far too close to call, ladies. A great bout, well fought. I got to be honest, I’m leaning towards honours even. I think I may need to mull it over before reaching a final decision. We’ll meet back here in the morning and I’ll announce the result then.”
As I turn to leave, I casually call over my shoulder;
“In the meantime, should either of you ladies feel inclined to state your case for victory, I’m staying in the room across the hall. Feel free to swing by and we can discuss the matter further. I’m nice like that…”
As I exit, both ladies lock eyes, competitive juices starting to flow again. Hearts quicken and nipples pucker at the prospect of further conflict. Their men may be done for the night, but Larissa and Sam aren’t. The brunette raises her eyebrow quizzically;
“I didn’t think so.”
“I’ll see you in Dan’s room… If your woman enough to finish this.”
“Lead the way.”