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Out of necessity Mom's collide

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Offline Proper_Fight

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Out of necessity Mom's collide
« on: January 14, 2026, 07:51:41 PM »
Two moms- years of pent up fantasy, and dislike. The facade of perfect little wives will be evaporated. Their fantasies will come to life.  Are they ready to live it, or like so many fantasies, just better off not coming to fruition.


In the golden haze of mid-morning spring air, warm and laced with the faint bloom of jasmine from nearby gardens, Jen and Riley emerged onto their facing porches like mirror images forged in rivalry. Both early-thirties visions of toned perfection—5'6" frames carrying 127 firm pounds each, light brown hair tumbling in soft waves over shoulders, 34C breasts swelling proudly against the whisper-thin floral summer dresses that danced with the slightest breeze. The dresses were identical temptations: pastel petals printed on gossamer fabric so light it molded to every curve, hems flirting mid-thigh, necklines dipping just low enough to tease the shadowed valleys of cleavage. Their sons—those wild boys who'd always orbited each other in boyish chaos—were both marooned in school suspension today for their latest clash: vandalizing lockers, each mom blaming the other's spawn as the ringleader. Nine years of neighborly disdain hung thick between them, born in that first year of polite nods that curdled into silence, exploding privately in bedroom rants to husbands about slutty outfits, lax parenting, everything wrong with the *other* woman. They'd never stood this close, never truly measured their eerie similarities, but the hate simmered with an undercurrent neither acknowledged: a dark, throbbing curiosity.

Jen settled onto her lounger first, crossing her shapely legs with deliberate slowness—the toned thigh muscle flexing visibly under sun-kissed skin, hem riding up an inch to expose more smooth expanse. She lifted her watering can, the cool stream pattering against vibrant petals, but her eyes—hazel fire—locked onto Riley across the shared yard. Riley mirrored her instantly: legs uncrossing with a languid stretch that made her calf arch, then recrossing the opposite way, the motion pulling her dress taut across hips that swayed imperceptibly. A hair flip—fingers threading through those silky waves, tossing them back with a flick that caught sunlight like sparks. Jen's gaze narrowed, squinted to slits of contempt, as she brought her coffee mug to full lips, sipping with exaggerated calm, steam curling like unspoken threats. Riley's eyes matched—darkened to stormy pools—flipping her own hair in retaliation, the strands whispering against her bare shoulders. Legs shifted again: Jen uncrossing, thigh sliding over knee with a soft rustle of fabric, exposing the inner curve where skin met skin; Riley countering, her cross lingering a beat longer, muscle quivering under the strain. The air hummed with it—no words, just this visual duel, posturing that screamed *I see you, I loathe you, I own this space*. Coffee sips drawn out, watering cans tilted in sync, every glance a blade, every posture a promise of violence wrapped in floral silk. Minutes stretched, the spring breeze teasing nipples to faint peaks beneath fabric, hearts quickening not just from hate, but from the electric pull of bodies so alike, so primed.

Riley's *tsk* finally pierced the silence—sharp, disgusted, dripping with years of pent-up venom. Jen's stare intensified over her mug's rim, the sip pausing mid-swallow as she growled low, throaty: "Excuse *me*?" Her body straightened millimeter by millimeter—spine aligning, shoulders rolling back, dress fabric whispering as it pulled across her chest, eyes flashing lightning bolts straight through Riley's soul.

Riley shuffled on her lounger, feet planting firmer, squaring her posture like a warrior queen. She played dumb, rolling her eyes with a slow, mocking arc—lashes fluttering just enough to taunt. "Excuse *you* what?" The edge sliced deep, years of cattiness boiling: Riley's too-tight dresses at block parties, Jen's smug yoga posts online, sons' troubles always *her* boy's fault.

Jen rose fluidly, confidence radiating as she stalked to her porch's edge—hips swaying with defiant grace, dress hem swishing against thighs. "You got something to say, Riley? Just *let me know*." Her tone left no room for bullshit—pure, unfiltered malice laced with challenge.

Riley surged to her feet, hands snapping to hips, fingers digging into her own flesh as if to steady the tremor of craving. "Ok, Jen," she purred, voice thick as honeyed poison, "I *do* have something to say. But it would be best if we go *downstairs*... to have this conversation *alone*." She spun on one bare heel—foot arching gracefully, dress flaring briefly to flash toned calf—then vanished into her house, front door left gaping wide like an open invitation to war.

Jen's world ignited. Heat bloomed from her core, spreading slow and relentless: scalp tingling, cheeks flushing, blood pumping thick and hot through veins, flooding her chest until her nipples stiffened into aching diamonds—rigid peaks tenting the thin floral fabric, throbbing with each heartbeat. Between her thighs, an inexplicable fire sparked—slick warmth gathering, clit pulsing faintly as visions crashed: *fighting this bitch for real*, nails raking, bodies slamming, dominance claimed. She'd ridden her husband countless nights moaning about this exact moment—*I'll wreck her, make her beg*—hips grinding down on his cock as she painted the fantasy in filthy detail. But now? Reality clawed in: the rollercoaster of *what ifs*—lose and submit? Win and gloat? Hundreds of dreams replayed in flashes: her on top, Riley's gasps; Riley pinning her, that mirrored body crushing down. Not fear paralyzed her—no, it was an overwhelming deluge of sensations raining down: skin hypersensitive, every breeze a caress on flushed arms; pussy lips swelling, moisture seeping to dampen panties; heart thumping heavy in her chest like a war drum, breaths deepening into hurried pants that lifted her breasts rhythmically. She'd never tasted this wave of the unknown—thrilling, terrifying, *arousing*. She stood frozen at her porch edge, mind spinning scenarios: first grab at hair? Leg hook for takedown? The feel of Riley's sweat-slick skin yielding? Ten minutes felt like eternity in her head—contemplating grapples, grinds, the scent of her rival's arousal mingling with her own. In truth, two seconds ticked by.

A deep, shuddering breath—chest rising high, nipples scraping fabric deliciously—and Jen turned. Each step to Riley's door was deliberate: porch wood creaking underfoot, grass whispering against ankles as she crossed the yard, pulse syncing with the sway of her hips. Hand on the doorframe, she paused one last beat, inhaling the threshold air heavy with promise, then stepped inside and eased the door shut with a soft *click*. Riley's scent slammed into her—musky vanilla, warm skin, faint arousal-tang invading nostrils, nostrils flaring as it coiled straight to her core, making thighs clench involuntarily.

Forward: living room dim, curtains half-drawn, Riley's silhouette at the corner hallway, motioning with a crooked finger—*come here*—before vanishing like smoke. "Right down here, honey," echoed off walls, voice sultry, mocking, dripping invitation. Jen's bare feet padded forward—cool tile sending shivers up calves—turning the corner to spy Riley at the basement stairs' base: one foot lifted behind her, flat sandal slipping off with agonizing slowness, arch flexing, toes pointing before it *thupped* to the floor. Riley disappeared again, deeper into shadow.

Jen's descent began: hand trailing banister wood—smooth, warm from prior touch—each step down creaking faintly, skirt hem brushing thighs, heart slamming harder. One step. Two. Breath hitching. The air cooled, basement scent rising: concrete dust, faint laundry, overlaid with Riley's intensifying perfume. Halfway down, Jen kicked off her own flat—*slip, thud*—bare soles meeting cold steps, toes curling at the chill that shot straight to her dripping core.

At the bottom, Riley waited—no, *thrummed*. Her body was a live wire: nipples protruding like tiny thimbles, stabbing the dress fabric obscenely, every inch tingling with foreign fire. Like Jen, she'd never fought—never thrown a punch—but oh, the fantasies: breaking Jen in sweaty tangles, mirroring bodies locked in hate-fueled ecstasy. Nine years of private venom—complaints to her husband about Jen's prissy walks, her kid's bad influence—now pulsed as arousal. Seeing Jen emerge from the stairwell shadow sent a rush: skin prickling from scalp to soles, heart battering ribs like it might shatter bone, breaths shallow and quick. Thoughts whirled—*attack her throat? Grab tits? Wait for her move?*—second-guessing the challenge she'd hurled at her life's most despised bitch. Their sons' endless tussles mirrored this: boys play-fighting, moms seething blame. But now, barefoot and primed, Riley's pussy throbbed wetly, clit aching for contact.

Jen approached with predatory slowness—five feet, four, three—eyes locked on Riley's, no words, no sound. Fate sealed in silence. Two feet: breaths syncing, chests rising-falling in unison. One foot: heat radiating palpably. Then—*contact*. Jen settled chest-to-chest, the collision feather-light at first: fabric brushing fabric, then... *nipples*. Stiff peaks met through silk-thin barriers—dagger-sharp pain-pleasure stabbing deep, a mutual *hiss* escaping lips as jolts fired to clits. They held there, unmoving for heartbeats—eyes boring soul-deep, unblinking—torsos twisting millimeter by millimeter side to side, nipples dragging, circling, sparking fireworks of agony-ecstasy. *Ahh... nngh...* Tiny sounds, barely audible. Hands rose defiant to hips—fingers splaying wide—then instinct surged: palms sliding inward, gripping rival hips firm, yanking pelvises flush.

*Grind.* Wet heat bloomed—cores colliding through sodden fabric, lips parting on gasps as throbbing mounds nudged, pressed, pulsed in sync. Not rage—no fists, no slaps—but bodies hijacked by primal need, rubbing deliberate and slow. Breaths mingled hot: Jen's exhales fanning Riley's parted lips, Riley's mint-coffee tang teasing back. Eyes never wavered, staring into mirrored souls—light brown depths reflecting hate-lust. The similarities *drove them insane*: identical swells mashing, waists equal in grip, thighs equal in flex—untapped sexual angst exploding into slow fire. Feet shifted minutely—left, right—angles tested for leverage, hips circling wider, deeper, fabric dampening further as pussies wept arousal.

Faces drew nearer: cheeks brushing soft at first—velvet skin on velvet—then rubbing with building pressure, noses nudging, lips hovering a whisper apart. Ears filled with symphony: tiny grunts of exertion *unh... hnn*, moans of acceptance *mmph... ahh*, breaths ragged. Fingers twirled upward—slowly threading into hair, tugging scalps back to arch necks, exposing throats that bobbed with swallows. Chests mashed fuller now—breasts compressing, nipples trapped in vise of flesh, each inhale-expire grinding them anew. Pelvises rocked: forward, back, circles—clits sparking through layers, thighs quivering from strain.

The dance evolved languidly: Riley nudged first—heel dig, pivot—pushing Jen millimeter by millimeter toward the cool finished-painted wall. Jen resisted, hips bucking counter, but yielded inch by inch—backsweat beading, dresses clinging translucent. *Thud*—Jen hit wall hollowly, air whooshing from lungs in a moan, Riley's body pinning full: pelvis wedged, chests squashed, faces cheek-mushed. Sweat matted disheveled hair to foreheads, brows furrowed in effort-ecstasy. Jen reversed slow: legs hooking Riley's, twisting—*grunt*—now Riley against wall, Jen grinding down triumphant. Back and forth they traded—five minutes of pins, each reversal a Herculean grind, dresses stretching obscene over heaving breasts, hems riding to expose panty lines soaked dark. Breaths panted into mouths, lips grazing teeth; hair-pulls escalated to yanks that bowed heads back; cores humped relentlessly, slick sounds faint *schlick... schlick*.

Fabric strained—taut over swollen tits, nipples outlined like beacons. Jen's fingers clawed first: hooking Riley's neckline, *rrrr...* slow tear building—*Rrrrrriiiip!* Front gaping wide, baring sweat-glistened melons: firm, heaving, areolas puckered, nipples diamond-hard begging war. "Oh, you *bitch*," Riley rasped—first words in ten throbbing minutes—voice husky, lust-drenched.

*Rrrr... rrrriiiiiiip!* Riley retaliated, exposing Jen's identical swells—glistening orbs quivering free. Blood scented the water: tits freed, they paused—staring at mirror-flesh—then crashed slow. First slam deliberate: Riley thrusting forward, breasts *clap*-ing heavy into Jen's—flesh rippling, nipples fencing. "Ughhhh..." Jen gasped, fire lancing tender globes, but hands latched Riley's shoulders—nails digging—lunging back: *SLAP*—her own attack mashing deep. "You goddamn *whore*," she grunted through gritted teeth.

The frenzy built *torturously* slow: shoulders twisting left—*clap-clap*—breasts swinging pendulous, slamming side-on; right—*thwack*—grinding up in scissoring mash, nipples dragging trails of fire; down—*smack*—heavy underboob collisions. Grunts escalated: "Fucking *whore*," Riley snarled mid-thrust, hips bucking to add pelvic jolt. Jen countered: "Slut... *unh*... bitch!" Room reeked—sweat-salt, pussy-musk, turmoil-thick air clinging skin. Tenderized flesh reddened, bruises blooming, tears tracing cheeks—pain exquisite, fueling determination. Reversals continued: wall-pins with tit-locks, grinding circles that smeared sweat, pauses for stares—eyes promising *break me if you can*. Slaps echoed louder—*CLAP! THUD! SLAP!*—bodies slick-sliding, cores clenching untouched but nearing edge from friction alone. Neither yielded; the duel stretched eternal, hate's slow burn forging shattering release in endless, throbbing symmetry.  MTC?

Riley
{alt}


Jen
{alt}
« Last Edit: January 15, 2026, 02:40:22 AM by The Dance »

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Offline colt 45

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Re: Out of necessity Mom's collide
« Reply #1 on: January 15, 2026, 12:06:00 AM »
good start, Very well written

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Offline TheFieryHousewife

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Re: Out of necessity Mom's collide
« Reply #2 on: January 15, 2026, 01:26:58 AM »
Absolutely loving this so far. Please keep writing...  ;D

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Offline Sahara

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Re: Out of necessity Mom's collide
« Reply #3 on: January 15, 2026, 01:49:47 AM »
more…
It was a voluptuous scene, that masquerade….

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Offline CuriousCombat

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Re: Out of necessity Mom's collide
« Reply #4 on: January 15, 2026, 02:35:18 PM »
I liked it. Please continue.

The AI generated images of them looking so similar adds another layer of hotness to it.

The only thing rubbing me wrongly were all the astericks. But I guess it's due to the site's different requirements to make words italic, if I'm guessing correctly that you were trying to use italics there.
Be curious, not judgemental.

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Offline Proper_Fight

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Re: Out of necessity Mom's collide
« Reply #5 on: January 15, 2026, 04:49:30 PM »
Too much discord and other sites that make things bold.  I appreciate that tip.  Can see where it would be annoying.  Will refrain in the continuation of this battle. 

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Offline Proper_Fight

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Re: Out of necessity Mom's collide
« Reply #6 on: January 17, 2026, 05:12:25 AM »
Riley had Jen pinned against the wall by her wrists, their chests rising and falling in harsh, synchronized breaths that barely kissed, yet somehow still sent electricity shivering through every inch of skin. Sweat slicked their bodies, beading at their hairlines and sliding in hot, slow trails down their throats, over their sternums, and into the valley between their breasts. Their muscles trembled with effort. Neither had gained an inch. Neither had yielded a single step. The stalemate made their bodies hum with a pressure that bordered on agony.

Riley released Jen’s wrists. The moment her grip let go, her hands took their place, gliding down Jen’s arms with a slow, deliberate drag that left gooseflesh in their wake. Her palms tracked over the heat of Jen’s shoulders, down the curve of her ribs, and onto her hips, thumbs pressing into the tension there as if testing how much give she could force. Jen’s breath blasted hot against Riley’s mouth, and, as if on a silent cue, their foreheads met. Their faces were framed by matted, disheveled, sweat-dark hair. Their mouths hung open, their lips grazing with the smallest, most taunting brush as round two began to smolder.

“You dirty bitch,” Jen hissed, the words a breathy burn against Riley’s lips.

“Fuck you, skank,” Riley shot back, sliding her hips forward until the pressure pinned Jen more firmly against the wall. “You will regret following me down here.”

Jen’s left hand shot up and latched into the right side of Riley’s hair, yanking violently. Riley snarled and retaliated, her right hand fisting Jen’s hair and dragging her down, their foreheads grinding together as teeth bared and eyes locked. There was no softness in their grip, no patience in their breaths. Pure, molten hate churned through them, pulsing with the need to dominate. Their bodies pressed harder, sweat slipping between them in slick, heated layers.

Riley found the remains of Jen’s summer dress, grasped what she could, and ripped it clean away, the fabric tearing with a sharp sound before fluttering to the floor. Jen mirrored her, tearing Riley’s dress off with the same ruthless efficiency, until both were left in their black thongs, their skin glistening and flushed. Free hands slid over hot flesh, cupping breasts, squeezing firm asses, nails raking, leaving red trails. Jen twisted sideways and wedged her leg between Riley’s, using the leverage to push them off the wall. Their slick thighs slid past each other, the contact making wet, hungry sounds that filled the room.

They broke from each other just long enough to stare, to memorize the wet shine of skin, the tight lines of muscle, the way their chests heaved and trembled. Riley took two steps back, hips rolling in a slow, taunting sway. “Woman enough, bitch?” she asked, eyes raking down Jen’s body.

Jen didn’t answer. She yanked down her already-soaked panties, flung them at Riley’s face, and watched them stick for a heartbeat before dropping to the floor. They both knew it was nowhere near over.

They moved toward each other again, slow and deliberate, mouths meeting in a soft kiss that turned hungry in an instant. Tongues dueled like blades, slick and insistent, breath mixing hot and ragged. Hands buried in hair, refusing to let the other pull away. Their kisses grew sloppier, wetter, until they pulled back and a rope of saliva stretched between their mouths. Their foreheads met again, and their hands found each other’s asses, gripping tight, nails biting in as their hips began to grind. The gyrations were slow, methodical, and deliberate. Their eyes looked up from beneath lowered brows, a war of words and moans filling the room.

“Bitch.”

“Whore.”

“Slut.”

“cxnt.”

“Skank.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, fuck you.”

Their nails dug deeper, the pressure bruising and sharp. Their faces twisted with need and strain. With each roll of their hips, their swollen mounds bumped and pressed, the friction sending sparks along nerve endings and up their spines. Jen turned her head right as Riley turned left, their cheeks pressing together, bodies slammed so tight that even breathing felt like a fight. Their hands clutched hard enough to draw tiny trickles of blood where nails broke the skin. Their cheeks rubbed, their hot breath undeniable, the presence of each other electric and overwhelming. Their thighs were soaked, their scent thick in the air, and not a shred of dignity remained. Every inhibition had been left at the top of the stairs. This was pure, raw battle. Neither would stop until one was empty and begging the other for mercy.

Their hands roamed up and down each other’s backs, hair tangling, faces mashed. Tears mixed with sweat as they clawed, kissed, and fought for leverage. Their legs hooked and tried to trip each other, grunts and growls filling the room as their struggle intensified. They tumbled to the floor in a heap, both scrambling for the advantage, hands slapping, hair yanked, breasts squeezed. Jen finally got leverage and drove her clit hard against Riley’s, grinding with brutal purpose.

The room’s sounds changed instantly: heavy breathing sharpened into deep, ragged moans. Wetness smeared between them, slick and hot, the smacks and squelches of their pussies colliding a wet, obscene rhythm. They leaned back on their hands, legs spread wide, scissoring and slamming. The claps of wet flesh were a violent symphony of pleasure and pain. If one felt the other taking control, she shifted her hips and slammed back to steal it away. They were possessed, intent on destroying each other in the most primal, instinctual way. A desperate war of wills, both hell-bent on dominance, on breaking the other’s mind as well as her body.

Jen drove her clit into Riley’s at a punishing angle, grinding in short, fast strokes that set Riley’s body twitching. The pressure locked right onto her most sensitive spot, and her thighs began to quiver. Riley’s fingers dug into Jen’s ass, pulling her in to lock the friction exactly where it hurt and thrilled the most. Jen’s breathing stuttered; the first orgasm ripped through her, her head snapping back as a guttural cry tore from her throat. “FUUUUUCK YOU!” she roared through clenched teeth, her entire body shaking as the wave crested and broke. Riley held her there, grinding through it, drawing every tremor out of her. Jen’s first climax was taken from her by Riley’s unyielding pressure, stolen by force and friction.

Jen didn’t give her a second to revel. She shifted her hips, hooked her leg over Riley’s thigh, and dragged Riley into the perfect alignment. The change was precise, surgical, and devastating. Riley’s breath hitched, then broke; her first orgasm exploded up her spine, her stomach tightening, hips bucking, a harsh moan spilling from her lips. Jen smirked and whispered into her ear, “That’s right, bitch. Those juices are mine,” as Riley shook with her own first climax, pulled out by Jen’s relentless grind.

They didn’t slow. They pressed harder, sweat pouring, their bodies slick and shining. Riley slid her hand between them, fingertips finding Jen’s swollen lips, spreading her just enough to make the friction sharper, then rubbing her clit in tight, merciless circles while their hips kept moving. Jen’s second orgasm came fast and hot, her pussy throbbing around Riley’s fingers as she cried out, her thighs trembling with the force of it. Riley’s mouth found Jen’s neck, teeth grazing, as she rode the convulsions, extracting every pulse until Jen’s muscles went soft.

Jen retaliated immediately, slipping her hand down and rubbing Riley’s clit with fast, brutal strokes that matched the slam of their hips. Riley gasped, her body tensing hard, then her second orgasm tore through her, her back arching, her eyes squeezed shut as she came with a hoarse, broken moan. Jen kept her fingers moving, pressing her through the peak until Riley’s legs shook.

Riley shifted her weight and rolled them, pinning Jen on her back. She dragged her thigh between Jen’s legs, pushing it up hard so Jen’s clit rode the firm, wet line of Riley’s inner thigh. Riley’s hand slid down to Jen’s entrance, sinking two fingers inside with a slow, deliberate thrust, curling up to hit the spot that made Jen’s eyes go wide and her mouth fall open. Riley pumped her fingers in time with the grind, and Jen’s third orgasm surged up, her hips jerking, her pussy clenching around Riley’s fingers as she screamed, fingers clawing Riley’s back.

Jen tore her hand free of the floor and grabbed Riley’s ass, pulling her in so their clits struck and slid with brutal precision. Riley’s third orgasm followed, her entire body shuddering as the friction piled up into a sharp, searing release. She trembled over Jen, breath ragged, and Jen laughed a breathless, vicious laugh into her mouth.

They were not done. Jen pushed Riley aside, flipped her, and climbed over her, straddling her thighs so their wet heat met again. She leaned forward, teeth grazing Riley’s nipple while her hips made small, grinding circles. The sensation split Riley open, a line of fire from her breasts to her core. Her fourth orgasm hit her hard, a deep, pulsing wave that made her toes curl and her voice break. Jen rode it, keeping her on the edge, then slammed down to grind her own clit into Riley’s, and Riley’s hands slid up to pinch and roll Jen’s nipples, the pressure sharpening the pleasure until Jen’s fourth orgasm punched out of her, her body trembling as she gasped, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” against Riley’s throat.

They sat up, legs wrapped, chest to chest, foreheads pressed. Their eyes were wild, their faces flushed, sweat running down their temples and dripping from their chins. They moved in slower, heavier strokes now, grinding with a deliberate, methodical rhythm designed to torture. Riley’s hands slid down Jen’s back, cupping her ass, lifting her slightly to change the angle. That tiny shift hit Jen perfectly. Her fifth orgasm rolled in like a tide, slow and immense, her breath shuddering out as her whole body quaked. Riley kept her there, rocking her through it, drawing it out until Jen was shaking, until her thighs nearly gave out.

Jen returned the favor with the same cruel precision, shifting her hips, lifting Riley’s leg to create a tight, sliding line of friction straight across her clit. Riley’s fifth orgasm came in a long, grinding wave, her mouth open, a hoarse cry leaking out as she came hard enough to see stars. Jen kept her in the squeeze, unrelenting, until Riley’s body sagged against her.

They rose, slick and trembling, backs to the wall again, breath ragged, hands skidding over sweat-soaked skin. Riley pressed her thigh up between Jen’s legs, leaning in to kiss her, her lips devouring while her hips drove that hard, steady friction. Jen’s sixth orgasm slammed into her, her head thudding against the wall, her body shivering with each aftershock. Riley didn’t relent, grinding through every pulse, her hands splayed against the wall beside Jen’s head.

Jen seized Riley’s wrists and pinned them above her head, then dragged her hips down, using her own body as a lever to force the contact just right. Riley’s sixth orgasm ripped through her, her legs shaking, her abdomen tightening into a hard, aching knot. She moaned into Jen’s mouth, every sound a surrender she refused to make, even as Jen pulled the pleasure out of her.

They sank to their knees, still locked together, faces inches apart, breath hot and frantic. Riley gripped Jen’s hips and pulled her in, grinding in short, brutal strokes. Jen’s seventh orgasm burst through her, her eyes squeezing shut, her mouth falling open in a ragged cry. Riley kept her moving, kept the pressure steady and unforgiving until Jen was shaking, until her hands clawed at Riley’s shoulders for balance.

Jen answered by gripping Riley’s ass and driving upward, aligning their clits in a sharp, unyielding line. Riley’s seventh orgasm came hard and fast, her breath stuttering, her body convulsing as her thighs trembled. Jen’s teeth grazed her jaw, her voice low and ruthless. “Not done, bitch.”

They rose again, trembling, sweat pouring, bodies slick and sensitive. Their mouths met in a fierce, messy kiss as they eased into a slower, grinding rhythm. Every movement was deliberate now, every shift meant to prolong the agony and the pleasure. Their nails raked, drawing more red lines, their skin flushed and alive. Riley adjusted her angle, pushing her thigh in and up, locking Jen against the wall and driving a tight, steady grind that made Jen’s legs shake. Jen’s eighth orgasm arrived in a drawn-out, brutal wave. She gasped, her breath hitching, her body trembling from head to toe as she moaned and shuddered, her pussy pulsing hard against Riley’s thigh while Riley held her there and milked the climax out of her until it left Jen limp and shaking.

Riley’s face twisted with determination, and Jen gathered what was left of her strength. She pulled Riley into a crushing embrace, their foreheads pressed, their mouths open, breath mingling. She tilted her hips just a fraction, angled the friction to a razor edge, and drove upward in slow, powerful strokes that kept Riley teetering at the brink. Riley’s eighth orgasm hit her like a punch, her body locking and then breaking, a ragged, guttural moan tearing from her as her thighs quivered and her hands clenched hard enough to leave marks.

They stayed pressed together, panting, sweat dripping from their chins, their bodies trembling with the last aftershocks. The floor beneath them was slick, the air heavy with heat and the sharp, sweet scent of their effort. Their faces were flushed, their hair tangled, their eyes wild and fierce. The frantic rhythm had subsided into a slow, grinding sway, each breath a declaration that neither would yield. They had both been dragged to the edge eight times, forced to give what they fought to keep, and still they stared at each other, desperate and unrelenting, each determined to be the last woman standing.

Then Riley took the end. She pushed Jen down to the floor, turned her, and sat over her face in a reverse face-sit, Riley’s back to Jen’s eyes. She planted her hands on the floor for balance, set her thighs wide, and lowered herself until her slick pussy covered Jen’s mouth and nose. The heat was immediate and smothering; Riley’s wet folds pressed over Jen’s lips, her clit dragging across the bridge of Jen’s nose as she began to grind. Slow at first, deliberate, she rolled her hips in heavy circles, smearing herself across Jen’s mouth, forcing Jen to breathe and lick through her. Jen’s tongue pushed up, desperate and obedient, and Riley used it, sliding her clit back and forth over the soft pressure while her juices soaked Jen’s face. Her wetness spread across Jen’s cheeks, her breath hot and muffled beneath Riley, and Riley kept the grind steady, punishing, the rhythm unbroken. Each pass dragged her clit across Jen’s mouth, each circle tightened the coil in her belly, and she took her time, dragging the pleasure to a sharp, aching peak.

Riley’s final orgasm came hard and victorious. Her hips slammed down, then rolled in slow, brutal circles as the wave hit her, her body shuddering with a long, relentless pulse. She ground through it, claiming the pressure, her clit pressed hard to Jen’s mouth and nose while her juices spilled and soaked Jen’s face. Riley held her there through every tremor, her thighs shaking, her breath ragged, her hands braced as she rode out the last surges. Jen went still beneath her, overwhelmed and broken, her resistance gone. Riley lifted just enough to look down, her face flushed, her eyes sharp, and her voice low. The victory was absolute. The will to win had been answered, and Jen had nothing left to deny her.

The pungent scent of defeat consumed Jen. as Riley slid off of her face.  Even fresh in the face of defeat, Jen turned and looked Riley in the eyes and defiantly said "This is not over bitch." as she rolled onto her side
To stand up. 


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Offline CuriousCombat

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Re: Out of necessity Mom's collide
« Reply #7 on: January 17, 2026, 06:24:08 AM »
"This is not over bitch" - It definitely seems it is not over. Good going.
Be curious, not judgemental.

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Offline Katherine-wins

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Re: Out of necessity Mom's collide
« Reply #8 on: January 17, 2026, 03:37:03 PM »
Love it

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Offline TheFieryHousewife

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Re: Out of necessity Mom's collide
« Reply #9 on: January 18, 2026, 12:48:48 PM »
Perfection  ;D

Loved every second of it.

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Offline Sahara

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Re: Out of necessity Mom's collide
« Reply #10 on: January 18, 2026, 02:10:40 PM »
So hot.
It was a voluptuous scene, that masquerade….

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Offline FLStud4U

  • Senior Member
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  • 58
Re: Out of necessity Mom's collide
« Reply #11 on: January 18, 2026, 03:07:12 PM »
Wow… amazingly hott. Great story

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Offline Proper_Fight

  • Junior Member
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  • 6
  • Alan
Re: Out of necessity Mom's collide
« Reply #12 on: January 21, 2026, 06:12:19 AM »
Thank you for the kind comments and constructive criticism, all of it appreciated & helpful.