Underpass
Portman Street, 23:03
The underpass of Portman Street had a bad reputation. A dirty light hanging in the middle of the tunnel was unable to properly enlighten it; on the contrary, its intermittent flashing created a gloomy atmosphere, almost from a horror movie. Its mild electric buzz seemed to join the whistle of the wind; coming from the south of the tunnel, the wind ran the nearly fifty feet of the underpass before to go free by the north exit.
The place was cold and dark... and lonely. Everyone in the city avoided it, preferring to make a detour through Deepdale Street —a lively and bright wide street— before crossing the tunnel at night, looking for problems.
However, the problems had been brought by the girls this time. Standing in the center of the underpass, Melissa and Natasha looked at each other intently, with fists clenched tightly at her sides. After running away from Black & Blue, both had moved through the streets of the deserted winter night, wandered around the other beauty from opposite sidewalks. Without a word, they finished entering the tunnel. Somehow the two were attracted to it like moths captivated by the light. Their feelings of hate had pushed them to that place of solitude and darkness... and the two young women seemed satisfied with that.
Now, with the mutual provocations of the pub fresh in memory, the stage seemed to take a different nature: there wasn’t fear in darkness, but privacy; there wasn’t cold in the wind, but calming; loneliness wasn’t a curse, but a blessing. The risk was brought by them, but none rejected it: they embraced it.
It had been nearly three weeks since the fight in the park; a fight that had devastated them physically but especially mentally. The struggle hadn’t disappeared of their heads for a single second since then, but in the presence of the opponent seemed far more present than ever. The sweat that had perennially installed on their bodies —on breasts, on thighs, on butt—proliferated even more on the burning flesh, while their breaths were slowly but inexorably getting out of control.
Then came the words, spat to accelerate the clash, not to avoid it.
“Did you think you were going to impress someone in the pub with your stupid game?”
The Natasha’s voice echoed through the tunnel, amplified against the unplastered concrete. The usually sweet tone of the blonde was void of any affection, as always happened in front of Melissa. However, this time the brunette noticed something different: between the animosity and the contempt, it floated some femininity, full of sensuality. Feeling threatened by her, Melissa couldn’t help but let out a growl.
“And you?” she replied, inflating her bust with rage. “Did you think that your cheap porn star positions would work with me?”
The last words didn’t go unnoticed for the go-go dancer. Her nemesis wasn’t talking about the men on the pub, those who both women had supposedly been seducing... she was talking about herself. As a revelation, Natasha remembered what had happened earlier and she understood how much truth there was in Melissa’s words. The blonde reminded herself displaying her cleavage, her butt, on the pool table... to realize that, at all times, she had been guiding her virtues to her rival, not to others. The brunette was the only goal of her poses… and —now she saw it clearly— she had been the only goal of Melissa’s poses.
“Looks like my poses did work with you, darling,” she growled, taking a menacing step forward. “On the other hand, your attempts to affect me failed miserably. You don’t have that power over me.”
The message of the dancer penetrated the brunette’s mind, waking her up to the reality that was becoming evident between the two beauties. Suddenly, the two were talking about how they could impress, influence, disturb the other girl, not to men; suddenly, they were arguing about who among them had real power over her enemy... A power not manifested through physical strength, as Melissa beginning to envision.
“I’ve always had that power over you, baby. You felt it the first time you came into my store.” Advancing a bit, the saleswoman licked her lips. “You fell into my web, and since then you couldn’t escape from it.”
As always, the arrogance of Melissa was perceived by Natasha as a hard punch in the stomach. ‘As the punches that we gave each other in Madame in that first night,’ she evoked, remembering the firmness of the rival’s belly under her fist, the consistency of her own abs under the blow of the other girl. The invocation of the past filled Natasha’s head with frustration and pride at the same time, but the contradictory feeling soon disappeared, dragged down by the current moment: what was about to happen would have very little in common with the first duel; she felt it in the cold winter air, in the flickering light of the tunnel, in the flash of the green eyes of Melissa.
“Do you still have nightmares about the first time I walked into your store?” she muttered, femininely tilting her head as she moved forward another step. “I can still see your face. Intimidated by my presence, you can’t take your eyes off me. But don’t worry, I understand it,” she smiled wickedly. “You weren’t the first one nor will be the last one to fall under my spell.”
An invisible slap crossed the face of the brunette when she heard the insolence of her antagonist. ‘I can never get used to her fucking voice,’ she knew. As the discussion progressed, the feminine aura of Natasha seemed to grow in intensity, competing with hers in the underpass that increasingly seemed to dwarf with the presence of the two rival beauties. Melissa’s fingers trembled, eager to grab the long silky hair of the go-go dancer, but something that was awakening inside her let her know that what it was about to explode wouldn’t be a fight as previous fights.
“Your spell? Ha! Don’t make me laugh,” Melissa forced a smile, giving another step forward. “You’re obsessed with me, just admit it. I’ve always known, from the beginning, that my body intimidates you.” Taking air, she threw the last words without thinking. “My body is too much for yours.”
“You slut!” Natasha walked forward, really pissed.
“You hooker!” Melissa went to meet her, closing the short distance between them.
“Your body is a fucking shit!” The blonde threw all her hatred through her green eyes, stopping her steps just a few inches from the brunette. “Your body is out of my league, you know that very well!”
“Shut up, you whore!” The brunette controlled at the last moment her desire to spit the beautiful and haughty Natasha’s face. “My body is a thousand times better than yours, as you know!”
“This body of mine was the one that made you cum as an ordinary bitch in heat!”
That paralyzed Melissa. Her face flushed, and her mouth opened wide. The accusation was much more painful than any blow: it did more harm than the punches that her nemesis had delivered on her; it did more harm that the damage suffered on her tits under the fingernails of Natasha. The thought that had haunted her mind since the muddy fight in the park, the thought she had avoided to accept using the full force of her will, was now thrown into her face by the woman she hated most in the world. Without restraint, without delicacy, the message had been delivered… Now it was her turn to clarify the terms.
“MY body was the ONE that made YOU cum, ugly slut!”
“YOU came FIRST, you asshole!”
“Liar! YOU came FIRST, you moron!”
The lovely features of the girls were disfigured with an aversion that will be undoubtedly eternal. There was no turning back in their rivalry... but surely there had never been such a possibility. The Truth that for weeks had wandered around them with indecipherable messages, the Truth that their bodies had understood long before their minds, suddenly became obvious through the exhaled hostility, through the unmet challenge.
Then tits touched each other. Just was a slight push, but it was enough: the heat that burned in them jumped from one to another. As if a branding iron was marking their boobs, the girls groaned, feeling burned. However, none stepped back, gasping alcoholic breath each other almost mouth of mouth. Going with the flow, blonde and brunette accommodated their bodies chest to chest, staring at the nemesis intensely at close range.
“Keep your tits away from mine if you don’t want me to burn them,” Melissa bragged, feeling how their tits were gradually bringing more heated flesh to the confrontation.
“Will be yours which will be burned here if you don’t stay away from my tits,” Natasha said, noting the increasing pressure between the burning busts.
Ignoring their own threats, the young girls slowly circled each other in the center of the tunnel. Although initially both were alert to any sudden movement of the opponent, the two soon realized that this time there would be no violence between them... at least, not the violence they already knew; at least not soon.
Escorted by their shadows, that appeared and disappeared under the flickering underpass’ light, and surrounded by the howling winter wind, the two antagonists pushed themselves a little closer together, pressing the other firmness until a slight hiss reached their ears. With great difficulty, they broke the locked gaze, forcing themselves to look down. To the surprise of both, the source of the sound was between their yet slightly flattened tits: an almost imperceptible steam emanated from the burning breasts, wherever the bare flesh was touching above necklines. The green eyes of the two beauties were opened wide; impressed because their bluster about burn the rival’s roundnesses were coming true, the girls observed with some lascivious pleasure —not free of concern— how layers of sweat boiled in touch, like oil on a frying pan.
“I promise you that my girls will carbonize yours,” the blonde insisted, staring obsessively how her pair lightly twisted against Melissa’s breasts. “I’m gonna burn yours, crush yours, all at once.”
“My girls will be the only ones that scorch and crush your tits,” the brunette affirmed, as hot as her own boobs. “You shouldn’t have brought your little things here, you bitch.”
“We have discussed this before, whore,” Natasha groaned, slowly moving her shoulders to try to control the sensual and unexpected duel. “My tits are bigger than yours. The sooner you accept that, the better.”
“Prove it to me.”
Without missing a second, the hands of the two amazons fell on the other tits’ sides, grabbing them angrily for the umpteenth time to ruining them with their own fingers. This time, however, both were looking for something more than damage them: they wanted to measure, compare and finally declare which pair was larger.
But that wasn’t the only doubt they wanted to clarify, nor were their fingers the only path to the solution. The young tits of the twentyish women were dense but firm, challenging to the force of gravity. However both were wondering which chest overtaken rival’s boobs in integrity, in solidity. Their hands would deepen on the other flesh far more than in previous fights looking for answers, but wouldn’t be alone in this critical mission: this time, the tits of both female would discover the true virtues of adversary’s flesh by themselves.
Thus, in the center of the dark tunnel, the women ended pressing their breasts together, with controlled fury, while they laterally lacerated them with their cruel long fingers. Both brought their foreheads in tight contact, always looking down at the crucial battle between their proudest features.
A tsunami of sensations hit Natasha, who was shipwrecked quickly in that chaotic sea that was Melissa’s presence. Her senses screamed, each in their own way: her sight was blurred facing the tight flesh struggle, while her nose was flooded by the slightly burnt smell of the steam; her ears caught the soft, warm moans that both exhaled against their wills, and a slight alcohol aftertaste danced in her mouth as a reminder of the initial stimulus.
But nothing could compare to the contact between chests: to feel how the four spheres were moving in that vicious dance of sensitive skin, flexible flesh and fiery sweat was almost more than she could bear. Not even squeezing Melissa’s boobs with her own hands could match the powerful electric shock that ran through her spine with each direct touch between tits, each delivered and received scald. Of course, the blonde reminded every time they had pressed bust against bust in the previous weeks, but those moments seemed mere girl games next to the current time. The context was completely different, with the violent struggle being replaced by something more personal, more lustful and more sexual. Natasha knew that there, in that lonely underpass, they weren’t solving who could win a catfight, but who could surpass her hated nemesis... in another way…
“You’re gonna cum like last time,” she crackled, glancing up. Her nose crashed into the nose of the other woman while the trembling eyes of both beauties returned to face each other at close range. “You’re gonna cum, and this time I won’t need my fingers.”
At the words of the dancer, Melissa gasped. For answer, her nails dug with outrage in the incredibly hot Natasha’s flesh, and her antagonist answered sinking her claws into her tits: a burst of sweat sprang between the breasts, while they were compressed together a bit more with a passionate jolt.
“Your last cum will be nothing compared to the one that you’ll have tonight,” she said, pushing her face forward to inevitably encounter the pressure in the opposite direction of the blonde’s face. “Seeing how you’re already trembling, I just have to smash your tits a little more before you explode.”
“In your dreams, you bitch!” exclaimed Natasha. “Your tits are small, weak and sensitive. Give me a minute and my girls will give you the best orgasm of your fucking life.”
“No fucking way!” Melissa gasped. “My girls will be the ones to teach you how a real orgasm feels, you slut. Just feel how they’re frying yours.”
“My tits are frying yours, not the other way around.”
The angry girls threw back their shoulders slightly, bending their torsos further. Thus, theirs breasts stuck out a little more above the neckline of the blouses, bringing some valuable and additional inches of incandescent skin to the fight. The contact between the virgin areas was felt like a volcanic eruption; Melissa spat out a moan of pain, as she heard the afflicted lament from Natasha. The brunette knew her prized flesh was being burnt so, following her survival instincts, she pushed the blonde away from her.
Stumbling back, the beauties kept the distance with the rival, keeping a close eye on what was to come. The first assault, short but intense, had ended without a clear winner, but Melissa felt she was one notch below her nemesis; after all, she was the one who had provoked the end of hostilities.
“What’s up, darling?” Natasha’s taunt was predictable, but no less painful. “Are my tits too hot for yours?”
“Not at all, you tramp.” Her eyes sailed through the beautiful body of the other female, jealous at what they saw. The refined blonde who had entered into Black & Blue just an hour and a half before had disappeared after the brief, close fight, giving way to a wild and sweaty lioness, as spectacular as dangerous. Natasha’s white blouse clung to her burning skin, dislodged by the struggle, translucent by the moisture, exhibiting a beautiful bra as red as girl’s short skirt.
‘Will I have the same threatening look?’ she asked herself, suddenly worried about a fact that was very important given the nature and destiny of the confrontation. But the trembling greenish iris of the blonde admitted that there —behind that smug smirk— was also doubt and jealousy.
“So... do you want me to continue burning them?” the dancer smiled with lips, not with eyes.
“You can try it.” something caught the attention of Melissa: the turnaround she needed. “But we’ll make things right. My neckline is deeper than yours, so... why don’t you take off that blouse that protects you so much and we see who truly the hottest one is here?”
The Melissa’s challenge sounded like an excuse in the ears of Natasha, but her opponent wasn’t lying. In the friction between breasts, the brunette was the one who had brought more skin, more flesh to the meeting. ‘If I want to prove who better woman is between us I’ll have to get into her game.’
“I accept that... if you also take off yours and we do this on equal terms.” Her pupils moved by the ferocious figure of Melissa —curvy and soaked, provocative and envious— to stop at her chest. With fabric fully embracing her tits, it was impossible not to notice the blue bra sticking out under the pink blouse. “Let me see what cheap bra you picked up of your store.”
“It will be a pleasure.”
Grabbing her blouse underneath, the brunette paused for a few seconds. Natasha felt her defiant gaze pierced her, just a moment before the saleswoman began to undress her torso. Melissa movements were calculatedly slow, feminine; for the blonde, they were small stabs in her stomach… and further down: her sex throbbed wetly to the seductive half-striptease of the enemy. Only ten seconds had elapsed until the moment that the blouse came out from Melissa’s head, but the whole event was eternally painful for Natasha.
“Well…” the other female muttered her, arrogantly waving her long dark hair in the heated air of the tunnel. Tying the wet blouse over her wide hips, she pushed her tits towards her. “What do you think?”
The blonde didn’t find an immediate answer. It certainly wasn’t the first time she saw Melissa’s round glands in her bra, but it was the first time she saw them in that vicious and hot context. In the altercation of Madame, the other woman’s breasts —under a meager black bra— had awakened in her an uncontrollable hate; in Darkness, during the second fight, she had been eaten away by jealousy at the sight of Melissa’s red bra and the firm curves that it held. She still remembered the photographs exchanged by WhatsApp; there was no day or night in which she wasn’t looking obsessively the images that her opponent had sent her that fateful day of the duel in the rainy park: the formidable brunette’s tits and her thick nipples covered by sexy bras —black in a snapshot, white in the other— were already part of her long, sleepless nights.
But none of that had prepared her for what she faced at that moment: Melissa’s boobs looked bigger, rounder and more solid than ever before. Full of sweat, they exuded steam, perceptible only through the flashing of the solitary focus of the underpass. The nipples became terribly obvious under the blue, thin cloth, pushed ahead with a thickness and length than the go-go dancer couldn’t help but find lustful and jealously defiant.
“I think they’re a fucking crap,” she lied through clenched teeth. Melissa’s eyes hardened, with a shade of resentment crossing her beautiful face, while the blonde continued: “I’ll show you how real woman’s tits are.”
Natasha took off her blouse with the same calm that her rival, adding a few dance tricks: shaking her bust and hips, she broke free from cloth prison to exhibit her swollen tits to Melissa. The brunette, licking her lips nervously, carefully observed the weapons that her archenemy brought to the encounter, while Natasha tied the blouse on her hips; two weapons she knew well after weeks of conflicts. But there was something different about them, because in the darkness of the tunnel she could swear that blonde’s boobs were more dangerous than before: her hot flesh seemed to overflow the red bra and her nipples seemed about to pierce it. The dim light of the tunnel showed the burning air fluctuations around Natasha’s tits, as haunting reminder of the last and hot clash of chests.
“If those are the tits of a real woman, then I’m one of those stupid blonde that live in this city,” Melissa growled, just unable to control the jealousy. However the insult seemed to affect the other female as her eyes narrowed with hatred. “They have no chance against mine, girl, so you’d better run away from here while you can.”
Natasha’s response came in the form of steps. Walking forward, she headed straight for Melissa, and the brunette didn’t hesitate to go against her. Looking for a decisive psychological advantage, both shook their curves, but this didn’t stop the pace of the sexy rivals.
“I’m gonna destroy yours, hooker,” the blonde spat, with her face twisting into a hostile grimace.
“Not before mine crush yours, you bitch,” the brunette gasped, suddenly hungry for contact. “And once I flatten yours, your pussy will cum while you scream my name.”
“Get ready to have your tits crushed and burnt and your pussy spitting cum in large amounts.”
Accelerating at the last moment, young women collided in tunnel’s center with breasts in front without caution. The slap of flesh echoed through the concrete while the wet and hot tits crashing together in a burst of pain that forced their owners to moan. The tits were so extremely hard at that tense moment that barely deformed by the blow, while the sweat jumped around like a rain of fire that burned torsos and faces. The arms encircled the other body instinctively; one by the waist, one by the neck, they closed a perfect embrace between the raging amazon that didn’t hesitate to collide forehead to forehead and nose to nose to throw all the hatred at close range.
Then they felt it: the feminine and bare skin that their bras didn’t protect —and it was a lot, considering the small size of lingerie— made direct contact. A fire broke out between the boobs, with such a strong force that first assault’s burns seemed only a faint and distant torch in comparison. The beautiful faces twisted in agony, exhaling anguished whistles while the skins were scalded each other.
This time it was Natasha who gave first. Just five seconds after get entangled bust to bust with Melissa, she threw back her proud virtues, unable to bear the hot connection between the firm fleshes. In front of her, the brunette sighed with relief, but she was mistaken if she thought the dancer had already surrendered: immediately, rival’s tits returned with a resounding thud, vigorous despite the short thrust that allowed the close hug. Melissa growled, throwing back her head and clenched teeth, but she forced herself not to back anchoring her long and toned right leg behind her.
“Bitch!” she cried, opening some space between the two fighting torsos. Then, with a quick movement, she lunged forward, shaking the opposite chest with a cavalry charge led by her thick nipples. On the other side, Natasha moaned and closed her eyes, already on the verge of tears.
“Slut!” the blonde replied, seeking revenge with another attack. However, this time her nemesis also attacked, and the four insolent tits broke together in a painful train wreck.
“Fuck!” it was the shared curse, while even more drops of burning sweat splashed their faces. The breasts were kept together two or three seconds, seeking to fulfill the promise to crush the opposing pair, but the waves of burning agony forced the females to desist —for now— from such an endeavor.
Looking for a sufficient gap to return to lash out, but at the same time not wanting to let the enemy get far enough away to hit hard, the girls struggled in the tunnel, pounding her tits together over and over again. Melissa never stop moaning, feeling how the discharges of pain were born in her trembling boobs before spreading through her entire body, but Natasha’s gasps and convulsions made that all the suffering worthwhile.
For now, it didn’t seem to solve anything. Despite all the anguish and torment, Melissa felt that none of the four tits yielded more than the others. Dense, firm and stubborn, they failed to be crushed beyond the flexible outer layer of flesh. ‘I need more space,’ the brunette understood, if really wanted to drill these cocky boobs.
“Come on, you sow,” she spat against Natasha’s mouth. “This is getting us nowhere. Let us break the hug to see what you do when I can hit you hard.”
“It will be your funeral,” the dancer said. However, none freed the enemy: they kept fighting breast to breast for half a minute, unable to tame their warlike wishes until —after an exalted exchange of blows— both escaped from the other clinch.
Trying to control their gasps, the two beauties went backwards slowly, without looking away from the other girl. Her tits were throbbing, sore and burnt but at the same time eager to return to the transcendental battle with rival’s breasts. Natasha observed with delight the marks that her hot boobs had left in the brunette’s bust; reddish and small, they were scattered throughout the flesh that Melissa’s blue bra couldn’t hide. But the blonde could feel that her own tits had been rubricated in the same way as minor burns throbbed with some stinging under the night breeze. ‘And we’ve barely rubbed them together,’ she was surprised, but she used the slight discomfort to increase her bloodlust.
With deliberate parsimony, Natasha put her arms behind her back, looking to challenge her nemesis to a fight without hands... only to find Melissa doing the same, at the same time. ‘Fucking copycat,’ she cursed inside her head, still surprised by the parallels between their lines of thought: what crossed the mind of one also crossed the mind of the other. ‘Maybe that’s why our fights are always so matched,’ she mused, just before shaking the head. ‘No, this bitch can’t match me in anything.’
“More distance, you whore,” she spat, trying to overwhelm the ideas of the brunette. “Six more feet, and then we charge against each other.”
“As you wish, loser,” Melissa nodded, stepping back a few steps further. “But you also go back. I want to crush those reddened tits of yours once and for all.”
“Keep your hands off my body and I’ll keep mine off yours,” the dancer reminded, stepping back. “This is between my big tits and your burned tits… until the end.”
“Until the end,” the brunette accepted, before starting to run. On the other side, Natasha also ran toward her.
The distance was quickly closed between them, but for the confused minds of the young women, the time dilated while the few seconds that preceded the crash seemed to turn into eternal minutes. Melissa watched her nemesis’ breasts jumped on her bust, about to be thrown out of the bra; the red color of the lingerie quickened her pulse, like a bull against a red cape, while her tits were hardened, dancing under her chin.
Nine feet, and time kept dilating in that lonely tunnel. Seeing the closer and closer Melissa’s curves, Natasha noticed that her nipples reacted growing in the middle of her tits. Inch by inch, the blonde perceived how her nipples lengthened, how her nipples widened, inexorably toward the ultimate shape that they had never before reached.
Six feet, and Melissa already felt the hot and dangerous aura of her enemy surrounding her, hugging her into rivalry. Her eyes looked up, and Natasha’s feline gaze met hers. The chemistry brought them together again, but there was something else that pheromones: a kind of ancient magic, from primitive eras, when the matriarchs decided —alone, in caves as dark as that underpass— who would rule the tribe.
Three feet, just three feet, and Natasha felt herself falling within the deep green iris, within menacingly black pupils of Melissa. Their presences —full of youth and sensuality— crashed together before their bodies. The heat that emanated from brunette’s tits got into battle with the ardor of blonde’s breasts a moment later.
And then, at last...
Collision. The sensations were started on the front of each boob; the outer, flexible and adipose layers of the tits vibrated as gelatin, into the epicenter of an atrocious earthquake that instantly spread through the inner firmness. Both perceived how the tight and resistant mass that formed the foundation of their feminine virtues vibrated in serious threat of crack and yield to the rival force. The quake was internalized, expanding in all directions; buttocks and thighs trembled while crash waves clung to girl’s spines, rising to their throats. They exhaled twin sharply cries, full of frustration and suffering, before the beauties stumbled backward, pushed by the collision.
Melissa back three, four steps before she could stop. Her body still was shaking because the mighty clash, but certainly her tits had taken the brunt: they throbbed as if they possessed their own hearts, burning under the cold of the night, rising and falling with the beat of the heavy breaths that the brunette exhaled. The twinges of pain roamed every inch of skin, every ounce of meat, like relentless incitement to return to combat, but Melissa wanted to check something before: her eyes looked for the feline eyes of Natasha, and there she found bitterness and pain… but also competition. The go-go dancer wanted revenge for the injury as much as she.
Taking air, the lingerie saleswoman walked forward, determined and arrogant. The blonde did the same, puffing out her chest. However, this time none ran: Melissa wasn’t ready for another impact like the previous one and Natasha seemed to accept the change in strategy.
Then the busts clashed again with a direct hit. The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed through the tunnel, accompanied by a double groan. The brunette felt how the tits pounded together for an instant, without any of them taking advantage before backing. Shaking shoulders, her rival and she returned to crush them together. The breasts trembled against each other in a painful explosion.
“Fuck!” came into the air, but Melissa didn’t know who of them had growled it. She just knew that she had to strike again, and again, and again... until her nemesis surrender and accept who had the best chest.
But Natasha was as determined as the brunette to emerge victorious from that female struggle, so soon the fight was accelerated by both, becoming violent amid tormented groans. The blonde constantly looked for rival tits, beating them with hers with the hardest impacts that she was able to throw. In her head that seemed a kind of vicious combat of corrupted boxing, where fists were replaced by tenacious boobs. Natasha realized that her tits had never before suffered so much... not even when Melissa had put her cruel fingers over them. In those moments, every time she struck her breasts against round weapons of her antagonist, every time she felt the firmness and the heat of her rival, the dancer understood that nothing could harm their tits more than just what they were doing; perhaps a well-directed punch against the center of a breast could leave any of them incapacitated for a moment, but Natasha perfectly knew that would be nothing compared to the pain — physical and mental— they would suffer if rival’s boobs managed to crush and humiliate the other tits by themselves.
“Fucking slut!” the blonde croaked, pissed after putting such thoughts together.
“Cheap bitch!” the brunette replied, with the same tears shining in her eyes that the drops that flashed in the eyes of the dancer.
Desperate, hungry, the tits kept mashing together, meeting against each other in painfully and rough explosions; explosions that always threatened to free the flexible curves trapped under the bras.
Then Natasha noticed it: a slight vibration, an internal shudder, like distant thunder, like an echo inside a cave wet, throbbed in the most hidden depths of her sex. A second and slightly stronger tremor followed the first one, forcing Natasha to gasp in a completely different way of how she was gasping after each clash of tits. Her pupils momentarily stopped paying attention to the whining Melissa’s face to focus obsessively on the other breasts; her gaze was soon lost in the rough struggle between her curves and brunette’s curves. Each time they clashed together, the four breasts jumped under bras, swelling between quakes that threatened to strip the flesh. Natasha couldn’t help wishing that Melissa’s tits jump out of her bra; the mere thought about it increased the intensity of the palpitations from the depths of her pussy.
“Oh, you sow!” she exclaimed, watching in frustration as saleswoman’s blue bra kept her well confined bust. Her hands escaped from her back, momentarily out of control, to undress once and for all the thick tits of her nemesis but, at the last moment, Natasha managed to redirect them towards the dark hair of the other girl.
“Whore!” Melissa protested, immediately digging her fingers into the silky, blonde hair. “You said no hands, you coward!”
“Shut up, stupid! This is a fight!”
Even in the middle of the discussion and the change of rules, the beauties didn’t give up their attempts to crush the other tits with their own breasts. The blows grew in intensity and the grunts of the couple joined the growing passion. The seismic sensation in Natasha’s pussy began to inundate her, becoming dangerously present; the girl knew it was an orgasm, but not an ordinary orgasm: her feminine intuition told her that if it kept growing at this frenzied pace, it would be the best —and worse— orgasm of her entire life.
“That’s right. Cum for me, slut!”
Melissa’s scream froze Natasha for a split second… enough to force her back a few steps, for the first time before the rival: two powerful breast strokes from her enemy pushed back Natasha, bringing her closer to the dangerously rough wall of the tunnel. Consolidating her feet on the floor, the dancer managed to stop the advance of the brunette at the expense of a double pain cry, but that was the least of her problems.
‘Can she read my mind?’ she asked herself, before hearing her own breath and understand the obvious: her gasps had stopped sounding painful to become overtly sexual. ‘And certainly, my face must also be betraying me,’ she knew from vicious gaze that Melissa on her face.
But the telltale connection between their bodies, between their eyes, was a two-way street. Still stamping her tits against the antagonist’s boobs, Natasha saw encouraging details in the reddened features of the other young woman: her full lips exhaled breaths loaded with pleasure and burning, while her pupils dilated in a glance saturated with enthusiasm. Against her breasts, Melissa’s tits seemed to shake more and more, in a way that a sexually active woman as Natasha knew well: the brunette was obviously as excited as she was. Not all was lost.
“You cum for me, you bitch!” she demanded, with furious and fast boob blows.
For a full minute, the fight went out of control: using their hands to tug and subdue, the two beauties advanced and retreated through the underpass between fury thrusts and roars of sexual distress. Each collision brought tears to the four beautiful green eyes, and contractions to their cxnts.
Suddenly, Melissa’s back hit a tunnel wall; the sullen hardness lacerated her ass and the rear of her shoulders and head, forcing her to close the teeth to stifle a scream, while her opponent cornered her. Immediately, a rain of blows fell on her chest like a raging summer storm.
“Gotcha!” Natasha roared, beating her tits over and over again. Trapped between the wall and the hot rival’s body, Melissa could only groan under the violent assault: the blonde’s bust, overflowed with determination, felt harder, more ruthless than ever before. Like a sledgehammer, her tits pounded, retreated and pounded again, hurting the flexible flesh breast of the brunette.
“Bitch!” Melissa spat, twisting Natasha’s hair between her fingers as she felt her curves —for the first time— were yielding under the attacks. The dancer’s tits began to weaken her boobs, eroding her inner firmness with increasingly violent blows.
“Your tits... ugh... are weaker... ugh... than I thought!” Natasha boasted, letting her know that she was also feeling the decay of her breasts.
“Yours... oh... are fucking... ugh... flabby!” Melissa lied, arrogant even in defeat. Her irreducible tits, massive and proud since adolescence, were softened for the first time in her life. Each onslaught from Natasha aggravated the situation, filling the brunette’s head with fears that she don’t wanted to accept, so she just let out her frustration through more insults. “And of course ... ugh... yours aren’t so hot... oh... as mine!”
“Mine are far... ugh... hotter than... ugh... yours!”
The provocation worked, even though Melissa was just looking for insult Natasha’s boobs. Before she knew it, she had rival’s breasts crushed against hers: immediately, she felt the crushing pressure between the fleshes, forcing her to moan. However, the blonde also sobbed, letting her know that despite all, both were similarly injured after just a few intense minutes of titfight. Natasha’s bust kept hard against hers, but what she felt, it was undeniable that the other tits were beginning to soften.
But in this desperate nocturnal fight there was little room for complacency by these small achievements; perhaps the firmness of the curves of both beauties was beginning to decline, but the fire crackling in them would not stop growing in intensity. Instantly, Melissa could feel the heat jumped from one chest to another, burning the sensitive skin in an insatiable fire. Natasha moaned against Melissa’s face, visibly burned by the contact between tits, but this time she didn’t separate her curves from the saleswoman’s breasts. The brunette joined her regret, exhaling her anguish through a long moan as her boobs throbbed under the hot contact; the sweat of two beauties looked more boiling oil than just transpiration, as shown by the tears that ran both faces, contorted under the torment.
“I’m gonna burn yours”, Melissa cried, suddenly going beyond Natasha’s hair to encircle her neck in a close embrace and forcing her to back a few valuable steps. Instinctively, the go-go dancer’s arms wrapped the brunette’s body around the waist, and the four tits were trapped between the warring torsos, under a pressure that they had never had. The combination of crushing and combustion forced to the couple to howl with pain; their panting, increasingly erratic, were spat directly above the other left shoulder, where none of them found consolation.
In those moments, Natasha felt that fire pierced her skin, penetrating through the solid breast flesh to reach her arteries, her veins. The blood vessels spread the fire through her body: from her head to the last of her toes, her whole being burst into flames. Her inflamed lungs quickly burned all the oxygen they were getting, and the breath of the blonde began to ring choked. Noticing her muscles fainted, falling one after another like domino pieces, she concentrated her decrease forces into her arms, desperately looking for flatten the formidable tits of Melissa before the end.
Begging for fresh air, Natasha opened her mouth like a fish out of water; she looked up, breathed hungry... and the feminine odor of her rival flooded her senses. The mixture of perfume and sweat accelerated her already racing heart, at the same time forcing her crotch to moisten further. Uncontrollably, the blonde buried the nose in the wet dark hair, inhaling the aroma like a horny lover. Her senses were drugged, and her thoughts were lost into a black hole that absorbed all the answers, leaving on his head only doubt and animal passion.
“I hate you,” she managed to whisper, without spirit, without will. Her lips, plump and pink, brushed Melissa’s ear, and her first instinct —aborted at the last moment— was biting it.
“I hate you,” said the lingerie saleswoman, also against her ear.
Stumbling through the tunnel, the young girls kept spitting all the hot resentment they felt for each other, whispering —despite being alone— through the perfumed falls of silky filaments that formed their long manes. That kind of vicious privacy sickened Natasha but, at the same time, excited her in a way she never ever have imagined.
“I warned you that my girls would burn yours,” the dancer reminded with just a whisper.
“And I warned you that my girls would scorch yours,” her nemesis reproached her, in a whisper so softly as hers.
“Well, they aren’t doing it, you whore.”
“Oh, of course they’re doing it, sow.”
“Yours are already soft,” Natasha growled. “One more minute and I’ll have them cooked.”
“Before that happens, you tramp, I’ll turn yours on burgers: flat and fried.”
“It’s impossible that two small pears like yours flatten my melons, bitch.”
“Your little tits are already flattened,” Melissa muttered. “And my tits aren’t small; your weak tits were never a match for my big ones, either in size or firmness.”
The arrogance of the other girl, able to believe that her breasts were better than hers, began to take a toll on Natasha. Challenging whispers altered her body, her mind, her own ego, adding fuel to the fire of passion that had exploded when she matched her best virtues against the best virtues of Melissa. The blonde felt that the control over her body —once determined— began to disappear: her incinerated chest lost firmness; her green eyes were crying openly; her panting, broken and uneven, were already impossible to subdue; her arms and legs were spending the last ounces of vigor in the close battle...
And her pussy... Her pussy demanded to explode. The convulsions couldn’t be tamed for much longer. Despite all her efforts, the threat of Melissa was going to be painfully true: only with her tits —and her fucking voice, her fucking sexy voice— she would force her to cum like never before in her life.
“No, slut, no!”
The cry that echoed through the tunnel walls could have been hers, as the blonde’s mind screamed those words incessantly… But it had been her nemesis that had exhaled it against her ear. Lost in defeating thoughts, lost in the sensations of her own body, Natasha hadn’t realized Melissa’s condition: the brunette was shaking, shuddering against her as much as she shuddered against the brunette; the gasps from her rival matched hers in exhaustion, pain and heaviness; the saleswoman’s tits decayed at the same rate as her tits, burning and being burned. Natasha knew she was about to lose, but Melissa was so close to be defeat as herself.
“Yes, slut, yes!” she spat, going all out for it. Her belly slammed into Melissa’s abdomen, and the couple moaned at the clash between sweaty, toned flesh. Her skirts came together a second later and, with them, the warmed crotches. A powerful shock took hold of Natasha as she felt —even through the skirts— the flames that Melissa’s pussy was throwing. “No, slut, no!”
“No, slut! No, no!” the brunette cried, closing the eyes, burying her face into the hair of her rival. Despite herself, her sex was hooked to Natasha’s pussy, with their mounds welded together through the fabric. The convulsions were instantaneous and —as Melissa quickly understood— unstoppable. Her nails dug into the shoulder blades of the other woman, and the blonde replied scratching the lower part of her back while the heated night air was filled with female pleas.
Melissa knew it was a matter of seconds. The connection between her sensitive breasts and her pre-orgasmic pussy was a high voltage cable that, full of holes, was throwing electricity through the rest of her body: every brunette’s erogenous zone —including some that she was unaware— blew into pleasant pieces, going beyond what is humanly bearable.
And then she noticed it: hard and thick, the Natasha’s nipples were digging into her tits, lacerating them in a final humiliation. Surprised, Melissa didn’t understand how she had not felt them before; perhaps, in her obsession to crush, she had forgotten them, or perhaps the tremendous struggle of heat had hidden them until then. However, they were there, at that decisive moment.
‘Now, Melissa, now!’
The voice in her head sounded distorted, near and far at the same time. It was her voice, but also sounded with the Natasha’s annoying tone; it was the voice that had tortured her for days at her store, on the street, at home. The voice from her dreams, but also from her nightmares. The voice of the new Melissa that after hibernate for more than two decades now awakened.
She knew what to do. Looking for the last connection between their bodies, Melissa pulled her nipples out of the flexible Natasha’s flesh and, among tremors, she stabbed the thick stilettos of her archenemy. The shock was painful, shocking... neuralgic. Through the eroded bras, the two beauties felt the impalement between nipples: none yielded, in all its splendor, but it was enough.
Natasha cried like she’d been mortally wounded, writhing uncontrollably against Melissa. Connected body to body with her, the brunette felt almost in her own flesh the dancer’s orgasm: destructive, it traveled like a tsunami through her interior, mentally and physically destroying Natasha. The blonde collapsed into the embrace and Melissa, exhausted after the intense hot struggle, could barely hold her. She staggered back, with her rival between the arms, to hit the tunnel wall again.
Then she sighed: the impending orgasm, after bordering the boundaries of her sex, backed in an anticlimax moment, leaving her an empty feeling, frustrating and balsamic at the same time. She sighed again, and let her antagonist to fall: the dancer collapsed on the floor, semiconscious, shaking softly with the latest orgasm jolts.
“Don’t ever put your tits in front of mine,” mumbled Melissa. Now that the combat adrenaline evaporated from her body, she felt incredibly tired. “Don’t ever say, or even think, you’re hotter than me. Now we both know the truth.”
With slow, unsteady steps, the lingerie saleswoman walked away, leaving Natasha in that lonely underpass. However, she couldn’t avoid stopping at the exit to send a warning, without looking back.
“If I see you again in my town, I’ll finish with your tits and your cxnt… definitely.” Melissa moved forward, into the darkness. Her last words echoed in the tunnel, wrapping the humiliated blonde. “You know I have the body to do it...”
To be continued...
