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« Last post by bcw8 on Today at 12:01:23 AM »
The clever combatant looks to the effect of combined energy.
We cannot enter into alliances until we are acquainted with the designs of our neighbors.
- Sun Tzu, The Art of War
They all had seen each other during the week. Beautiful girls always look for other beautiful girls. At times, they do this because they want to be friends, even if just for show to flaunt their attractiveness, or to achieve some temporary goal. These alliances are illusory and fleeting, because their nature is to compete.
Yes, Denise had seen Lissa, seen her with Will - that envy was the impetus for her seduction of him the very next day. Keisha had marked Molly on day one, and had since then nursed her instant loathing of the sleek-bodied auburn-tressed spitfire; so when Molly moved on Will her temper flared. And why did Molly first reach for Will’s cock? Because Denise had bragged to a beach gathering of how she’d had him, how he’d choked her with it down her throat.
Chaos finds order through alliances.
Keisha left Lissa dazed and limp on the floor. Her surgically bobbed nose was broken. Her breasts were streaked with its blood like a Pollack canvas, rising and falling in ragged hitches, her sinus filling until she convulsively coughed and rolled onto her side.
Keisha’s hands twisted into Molly’s hair. The redhead’s teeth were still embedded in Denise’s flesh as her head was dragged back, and so she dragged the breast with her like a leopard lifting its kill. Screaming, Denise stabbed her hand under Molly’s jaw, into her throat. The redhead let go, her teeth bared in a snarl. Keisha released her hair and pulled both of her arms back, arching her spine like a longbow.
Denise attacked Molly’s body like a cat at a scratching post. Her lacquered nails cut deep into the redhead’s breasts, tearing ragged, livid rows like a plow in soft earth. Molly struggled mightily, but Keisha had her. Denise clawed her ribs, her belly, then returned to her tits, raking sideways across them.
“Cut her fuckin’ nipples!” Keisha grated through clenched teeth. She knew what Will wanted and the way he had so easily forced her to climax made her wild to please him. He grinned at her words and she ached to have him. Denise obliged and Molly’s screams were desperate and deafening as the brunette carefully dug the blades of her thumbs into her engorged cherries. Keisha jerked Molly’s arms further, bringing her wrists together. Denise’s hands flexed as she forced her thumbs inward. A thin trickle of blood oozed from the pits she made in Molly’s titmeat.
“My turn,” Keisha gasped, but Denise shook her head and crushed sadistically deeper into Molly’s breasts. “She bit my tits!” Denise snarled. Will stepped to Denise and slid his cock through her hair and across her cheek as she took her revenge on Molly and Keisha burned with fury to see it. The design of her neighbor. She released Molly’s wrists and gripped her auburn hair at her scalp and drove her head forward like a wrecking ball into Denise’s face.
The three white girls lay stretched on the floor as Keisha on her knees took Will’s cock in her mouth. The berserking crowd chanted, counting his thrusts as he gripped her thick dark hair and fucked her mouth with hard deep strokes that caused her tits to sway and slap together according to his rhythm. He could have warned her when the other stirred, but no … it was more interesting to see a new alliance form. He pushed Keisha’s head back to pull himself free of teeth and watched her surprised face in the split second before Lissa wrapped a discarded bikini top around her throat and twisted it like a tourniquet.
Molly, too, her nipples raw and oozing. She drove her fist into Keisha’s belly with primal fury then ripped aside her bikini bottom and sank her nails into the gleaming pink of her pussy. Keisha’s face was tilted up as Lissa strangled her, the blonde girl grinning down at her as her dark body shuddered. Molly’s fingers invaded Keisha; deeper than Will had gone and with knives deployed. She mercilessly raked the spongy tissue of the black girl’s g-spot, harrowing the hyper-sensitive nerves that lay there.
Keisha clawed at the garrote cutting into her throat. She swung wildly, blindly, at both white girls but they evaded the blows. Molly had four fingers in her and a thumbnail in her clit. Lissa pulled her head back further and held her noose with one hand and began to punch her breasts with the other, heavy, downward blows with knuckles twisting into the soft tissue of her teacup saucer nipples. Keisha’s body was strong and lithe but they were breaking her. Molly was savaging her vagina and now lifted her free hand into the underside of one dark breast, crushing it. Lissa bent her face down as if to kiss Keisha and bit her instead, her full lips, her regal cheekbone.
And now Denise rose to her feet.
“Pick her up. Hold her arms.” She snarled the words through bloody lips. Molly and Lissa did, but not from obedience. The effect of combined energy.
Keisha dragged gulps of oxygen into her starved lungs. Denise didn’t let it stay. Her fist sank deep into Keisha’s belly. The black girl sagged but Molly and Lissa bore her weight. Denise hit her again, and again, careful, measured, heavy blows into her stomach. Bloody drool dripped from Keisha’s lips. She moaned like a dying animal. Her head hung forward, the bikini top still around her throat, as Denise destroyed her abs, turning the muscle into jelly, spearing her ovaries with punch after punch.
“He won’t touch you again, bitch,” Denise whispered to her pain-slack face. “And I’ll wipe your stink off his fingers and his cock.” Molly and Lissa held Keisha’s arms in crucifixion pose for Denise’s final, cruelest gutting, then simply let her fall. Last in, first out. No longer empowered by unspoken racial identity, the three white girls were momentarily frozen, eyes shifting, minds working.
What alliance can be forged in mutual hate? The strong against the stronger, of course.
Molly and Lissa turned on Denise, who nodded and smirked as they separated and began to circle her. The crowd subsided momentarily as Keisha’s friends dragged her unconscious body from the field.
“She humiliated you, Lissa. She saw me with you and she took me. Then she showed everyone here that you’re weaker than her.” Will’s voice was low and mocking. “Your tits, Molly, your beautiful tits. She carved your cherry nipples like you are nothing.” He goaded them, the steady drip of his words like oil spattering into a glowing hot skillet. He fed them fuel for their fury.
From behind, Lissa kicked Denise in the back of her leg, in her hamstring. Denise staggered but didn’t fall. Molly darted forward with a fist that ripped through her breast from inside curve to outside, twisting her at her waist. Lissa dove a knee into her spine. Denise cried out and fell to her knees and her two enemies swarmed her, both of them viciously hitting her, her face and breasts and back and belly. When Denise slumped to the floor, Lissa left Molly to strip her bikini bottom off as she retrieved the ironing board and set it back on its sturdy legs.
Together they lifted Denise onto it, like a body onto a gurney. Her legs and arms dangled off the sides, her pussy flagrantly displayed, her bruised and bitten tits slumped outward. Her head hung off the end, her thick brown hair like a curtain halfway to the floor. Her enemies paused, breathing hard, and gazed at her, the tableau of suffering they had created. She stirred, and moaned, and again they fell on her like raptors plunging from the sky, like vampires awakening to feed, like goddesses claiming the sacrifice laid on the altar. Her body shuddered and jerked as they did their worst, as they hit and clawed and bit until she went limp.
When at last the board collapsed and spilled Denise’s unconscious form at Will’s feet, Molly and Lissa lifted mad eyes to each other. Their mouths were red with blood. Their hands ached and flexed.
Spring break is not the real world; it is a bubble of fantasy, a temporary reprieve from the real world. A time to do things that you never imagined possible.
“Well?” Will asked them. “What are you waiting for?” He spread his hands and clapped them together as they obeyed him and flung themselves together, a brutal collision of their young bodies as primitive as the sun and sand and sea.
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