Weepy and woeful, spitting away the traces of your kiss, I sag along the wall after you discarded me. My mind is already whirling about the pending struggle, and I am aghast. As your swishing buns swagger off, I realize you fully intend on having another fight with me. I gather up my flapping boobs, as they hurt if I just let them hang, and shake my head at the prospects ahead. I hear a little snicker, and realize that Maria is watching the gamut of emotions my face is displaying. Sincerely trying to be helpful, she offers me ice, bags of it, saying “Ms Linda, it will tighten those up and calm the pain. It will help you heal without marks from the stretching”.
About to curse her, I rethink it and just take the ice “help me to my room, I feel dizzy”. As I stagger, and she assists, I ask how well she knows my foe, and she naively replies “Very, she is one of my favorite patrons. I enjoy massaging her”. My mind registers this information, and as beat up as I feel, I start to plot. “Where does she enjoy your massaging, have you rubbed…umm…down there? I am so curious, how does her cooch compare to mine?” She replies “I will check, after we clean you up a little. Perhaps you are not as fresh as you would like right now”.
Maybe I can turn this around, I know you have a well traveled twat, I’ll bet you are loose as a goose. As mercurial as ever, as Maria runs the bath, I dream of having Vanessa writhing in bliss, before I bring her out of it and make her realize she is just a horny btich, only fit for junkyard dogs. That will pay her back. I jump as the water brushes my sagging breasts, but love the ministrations of the gentle oiling Maria is providing. I doze off, and awake to find my pink nipples have resurfaced, with maria advising that “it took awhile, but they came out of hiding. Do you always talk so much when you sleep, you certainly did a very thorough job cleansing your pussy!” she giggles.
“You are very sweet, just tell me about Vanessa’s and how you think mine compares. I am sure mine is much cuter and sweeter.” She blushes and says mine has very delicate folds and is most womanly, which obviously means better.
After she remembers her instructions from you, she scurries off to get a deluxe lunch, and I get my hair as nicely put together as I can, and cinch my blue robe up under my boobs, lifting the proud girls, as I gather my wits and balance and march back to the ‘arena’.