Part 3
The two women stood facing each other in their underwear, both clearly nervous. Their eyes scanned one another, taking in the details of their fit, muscular physiques. Sweat glistened on their skin, the result of the hike and the intensity of the moment. Goosebumps dotted their pale arms as a chilly breeze swept through. Morgan couldn’t tell who was in better shape—they seemed like an even match. What had she gotten herself into? Could she really go through with this? The nervous energy was palpable.
“Nervous?” Sarah taunted, her voice a little shaky despite her bravado.
The comment just pissed Morgan off. The nerve of this woman, thinking she could intimidate her. She didn’t know what possessed her, some animal instinct, the Call of the Wild or whatever, but she tore her bra off, letting her breasts hang free on her chest. Her nipples instantly rose, swelling to jut out aggressively at her rival.
Sarah’s eyes were suddenly round as saucers as she gaped at her tits. Morgan saw the redhead’s nipples through her sports bra, swelling in reply to the challenge her’s gave.
“What?” It was Morgan’s turn to taunt now. “I thought you said woman to woman? Not woman enough to fight with your tits out?”
Sarah forced her mouth closed. She swallowed hard. Her fingers shook as she gripped the base of her bra. “Oh please, you look like that and you think I’m afraid the get my tits out? You are brave though, I’ll give you that. Just don’t cry when my girls crush your saggy old boobies into your chest.”
She peeled her bra off and hung it on the branch of the tree alongside her shirt.
“Oh, I don’t think I have to worry about that,” Morgan scoffed, “If mine hung down to my belly like your’s, then maybe your girls could get a shot at mine.”
Despite their bravado it was pretty clear to both women that their tits were just as evenly matched as the rest of them. Each sporting a respectable C cup with just the barest hint of sag. Charlotte’s were covered with a smattering of light freckles.
Their breath fogged faintly in the cool mountain air, mingling as they moved in slow, wary circles. Neither woman spoke, but Morgan swore the other woman could probably hear her heart thudding in her chest.
Her arms were half-lifted, fingers flexing, unsure whether to reach or brace. Sarah mirrored her, looking just as uncomfortable. Morgan breathed a sigh of relief. Despite her earlier bravado, the woman circling with her in the grass clearly was not some secret jiu jitsu black belt or street fighter. It didn’t look like she had any better idea of what she was doing than Morgan did.
They edged closer. A hesitant brush of their hands, clasping then puling away. Neither committed to it. Morgan’s hand rose to grab hold of Sarah’s elbow, but Sarah swatted it aside easily. Then Sarah reached and Morgan backed away just as quickly. A second pass. Then a third. Arms batted, wrists snatched and slipped free.
The were clumsy and uncertain. Each stiff as a board as they snatched warily at each other’s hands and arms. The contact was light, easily broken, almost symbolic. Neither wanted to be the first to truly lock up. Morgan could still step back. They both could. Up to this point, it was still reversible—still deniable. But once their arms tangled for real, once they grabbed on and started trying, there’d be no pulling out without admitting defeat.
Her hands were damp with sweat, she could feel that the other woman’s were as well. Morgan’s mind shot back to watching her kids in the karate classes she had signed them up for years ago. She realized she and Sarah were dancing around each other like teenagers at their first sparring class.
She decided she needed to get aggressive.
She lunged—not dramatically, just enough to cross the invisible line between feinting and grappling. Her hands locked around Sarah’s wrists, and she yanked her forward.
To her surprise, Sarah came stumbling without much resistance. Whether she was caught off guard or just letting Morgan take the lead, Morgan didn’t know. But the lack of pushback threw her off almost as much as a counterattack would’ve. Not since she and her younger brother had wrestled in the backyard as teenagers, and they hadn’t really been trying to win, just messing around.
Now what?
She hadn’t thought that far ahead.
She stood there for half a second, arms still holding Sarah’s wrists, suddenly face to face and body to body. Her mind flickered with disbelief—I’ve never done this before. Not really.
And now, in her forties, here she was with another nearly naked grown woman tangled in her arms in the middle of the woods. A short, rueful thought crossed her mind—Maybe I should’ve paid more attention when my ex used to watch all those damn UFC fights.
But instinct didn’t wait. She braced her feet in the soft grass and shoved.
Not a slam. Not a clean throw. Just a full-body push, trying to force Sarah off balance and down toward the patchy, wet grass beneath them.
Sarah resisted—too late to avoid stumbling, but quick enough to stay upright. Their bodies bumped and twisted, sliding into a mess of limbs and effort. It wasn’t coordinated. It wasn’t pretty. But it was happening.
Suddenly, Morgan felt Sarah drop low.
It was quick—no warning, no sound—just a blur of motion as Sarah ducked beneath her arms and wrapped both hands tight behind Morgan’s right knee. Before Morgan could react, her leg was wrenched off the ground, and her balance pitched violently forward.
She gasped and clutched instinctively at Sarah’s bare back, her hands scrambling for something solid to hold onto. The world tilted. Morgan’s left leg struggled to stay under her, bouncing backward, trying to catch her weight. She shoved down on Sarah’s shoulders and twisted her torso to the right, anything to stay upright, to keep from being dumped face-first into the dirt.
But Sarah wasn’t letting go.
With both of her feet still planted and Morgan hopping on one, the redhead used this to her advantage and surged forward, her shoulder slamming into Morgan’s midsection with surprising force. The breath in Morgan’s lungs hitched as she was driven back—no time to react—until her spine slammed hard against the thick, rough trunk of a tree.
The bark scraped across her lower back and shoulders, sharp and unyielding. She hissed through her teeth, still clutching Sarah with one hand, the other braced against the tree behind her.
Sarah clung to her leg like a vice, shoulder burrowed deep into Morgan’s belly. She straightened as much as she could, Morgan’s leg still held with both arms, tucked up into her body. Her shoulder crushed against Morgan’s sternum as she straightened. The side of her head pressed into Morgan’s bare beast, lifting it up and in. She could feel the other woman’s ear rubbing against her erect nipple.
But her arm’s were free. Sarah’s weren’t. She grabbed the redhead’s head with both hands trying valiantly to shove it off her chest, off her centerline, but it was like trying to shove a boulder as the other woman clung to her desperately. She shifted her weight left and right, trying to find leverage. It was no use. She was pinned, upright only because the tree was holding her up. Sarah groaned as her neck was cranked.
Suddenly Morgan felt a lance of pain shoot through her foot as the other woman brought her toes down sharply on her’s.
“Arghh!” Morgan growled, “don’t stomp on my fucking toes, bitch!”
“What’s wrong?” Sarah snarled back, “your pathetic little feet can’t take it? I thought you said they were so much stronger than mine? Looks like that was bullshit, just like you saying you finished first.”
She stomped down on her toes again, grinding them down into the ground with her own.
Growling low in her throat, Morgan suddenly wrapped her arms tightly around Sarah’s shoulders. With a desperate surge of energy, she lifted her only grounded foot off the earth, committing fully. Her entire weight shifted into Sarah, forcing the redhead to bear it all.
Morgan’s lifted foot pressed against the rough bark of the tree. For one brief, breathless second, she braced—then shoved off hard, launching herself off the trunk and into Sarah like a battering ram.
Sarah grunted in surprise and stumbled backward. Off-balance and overloaded, she couldn’t stop the fall.
They hit the grass with a heavy thud, limbs still tangled, the earth soft but unrelenting beneath them. Immediately, they were grappling again—grasping, shifting, each trying to gain control through sheer instinct and momentum.
Sarah rolled to her stomach first, pressing her palms into the ground in a rough push-up, trying to scramble back to her feet. She made it halfway up before Morgan lunged, throwing herself onto her back and dragging her down again. They slammed into the grass, Sarah grunting from the impact as her chest hit the earth.
Snarling in frustration, Sarah flung herself backward, using her body like a wrecking ball. Both women went flying. Morgan landed hard on her back, the air rushing from her lungs in a sharp gasp—then Sarah dropped down on top of her with full force, pinning her with surprising precision. One of Morgan’s arms was trapped beneath her, the other flailing for leverage as Sarah quickly cinched a headlock around her.
Morgan’s vision blurred slightly as her cheek was mashed against Sarah’s side. Panic flared in her chest.
She couldn’t breathe right. Couldn’t move.
She pressed her free palm into the slick, sweaty surface of Sarah’s back and shoved hard, giving herself just enough space to shift her hips. With a sharp exhale, Morgan spread her legs wide for stability, planted both feet into the ground, and arched her hips violently upward.
It wasn’t enough to throw Sarah off—but it rocked her. The redhead’s grip loosened just enough for Morgan to wrench her head free with a gasp, her braid dragging through the grass as she twisted beneath her.
Still half-pinned, Morgan kept pushing against Sarah’s back, feeling the heat and pressure slowly give way. But the moment was fleeting. Sarah shifted again, flipped her body over with surprising speed, and crashed back down—this time belly-first into Morgan’s chest.
The force drove the air out of Morgan in a wheezing grunt. Her hips and legs, which had been elevated in her attempt to bridge out, slammed back down into the ground.
Pinned flat now, Morgan ditched finesse and grabbed for Sarah’s head with both hands, shoving at it blindly. Her feet scrambled at the grass—petaling, searching for traction—and finally, she found a sliver of space. She wedged her knee up between them, curling her shin across Sarah’s belly.
Gritting her teeth, Morgan pushed hard—both with her hands and her leg—forcing Sarah’s body upward and sideways. It wasn’t graceful, but it worked. The pressure eased enough for Morgan to roll into her, their bodies twisting together again in a chaotic tumble.
Sarah let out a sharp breath and shoved her off, and for the first time in what felt like minutes, they separated.
Both women rolled to their knees, dirt and blades of grass clinging to their skin. They faced each other from just a few feet apart, shoulders heaving, flushed and glistening with sweat, eyes locked with a mix of determination, frustration—and something else neither of them had quite named yet.
Morgan flung herself at Sarah, trying to wrap her arms around her and drive her backwards. Her blonde braids thrashed about as she came at her as hard as she could. Sarah met her attack gladly, not even attempting to counter or move out of the way. She welcomed her into her arms and wraps them around her in turn, as the two 40 something year old women crushed each other in a savage bear hug. Their sweaty tits mashed together, pale flesh mushrooming outwards. Morgan could feel Sarah’s knife like nipples gouging into her. Their taut bellies pressed against each other with each breath.
They were breathing hard and trying to wrench each other down to the ground. With a roar like a startled bear, Sarah twisted her hips against Morgan’s and rolled her to the side, pulling her hips past Morgan’s and straddling her waist.
"Oooffff" Morgan cried as the redhead’s weight landed on top of her. Sarah made to thrust her chest against Morgan’s again, pinning her to the ground, but before she could flatten herself on top of the blond, Morgan placed a hand on her chest. She had only been meaning to hold her off, and it wasn’t until Sarah grunted in surprise did Morgan realize her hand was planted firmly in the redhead’s left tit.
She squeezed it, hardly able to believe what she was doing. Sarah yanked away and Morgan used her momentary distraction to grab the back of her head and pull her down, forcing her face into her cleavage.
The other woman thrashed madly, but Morgan held on. She could feel Sarah’s lip against her throbbing hard nipple, with the redhead’s labored breathing caressing her own heaving tits.
“Give up you fucking bitch!” She growled, “say those boots are mine or I’ll fucking suffocate you here!”
Sarah clearly hadn’t given up yet though as Morgan felt her hand crawl blindly up until it found her face, squeezing her cheeks and forcing her head back into the ground.
“Argghh!” She moaned, her voice contorted, “wret grow of mry frucking frace!”
Her grip on Sarah’s head loosened just a bit, but a bit was enough for the other woman as she wrenched her head free and clambered up. As she let go of Morgan’s face she breathed a relieved breath, just as the redhead’s groin came down squarely on her chin.
She gasped in surprise and rolled to her side. Sarah rolled willingly with her, locking her ankles together and squeezing Morgan’s head between her thighs in a savage head scissors.
Morgan let out squeal of fear and desperation as she thrashed wildly, trying to escape the other woman’s crushing hold. Sarah’s thighs were sweaty on either side of her head, but she couldn’t slip free. She clawed out for anything she could get her hands on, and the first thing she found happened to be the redhead’s freckled left boob.
She found her nipple and tweaked it hesitantly, half embarrassed for some reason, despite the fact that the other woman pretty much had her pussy in her face. When she heard her moan, she twisted it as hard as she could and was rewarded with a shriek of pain.
Her hope that the other woman would relinquish her hold was short lived however as she simply leaned back, pulling her breasts out of Morgan’s reach.
Morgan felt herself let out a muffled cry of pain as the redhead reached down and twisted her nipple in a cruel act of revenge. Morgan grabbed her wrist from her awkward position, but couldn’t pull it loose.
“How’s it feel to have your nip twisted, huh cxnt?” Sarah snarled, “Now say those boots are fucking mine before I rip it off!”
Morgan released her wrist. She had to get this bitch’s legs off her head or she was done. With two hands she grabbed the redhead’s underwear and pulled it up as hard as she possibly could, digging the athletic panties viciously into her rival’s intimate areas.
Sarah screamed in pain, “Let goooo, you fucking bitch!” She squeezed her thighs tighter. Morgan felt like her head was about to explode, she drove her awkward wedgie up as hard as she could. The redhead screamed even louder.
Suddenly the crushing legs leapt free from around her skull and scrambled away. She felt the other woman’s panties tear off in her hand as the two of them separated.
They both got to their knees, breathing ragged. Morgan looked at her now totally nude rival in shock. Sarah was rubbing her pussy, trying to relive herself of some pain. She had a tangle of curly red hair, a bit lighter than the hair on her head.
Her green eyes rose to meet Morgan’s, a look of fury combined with embarrassment filled them. “Did you seriously just give me a wedgie bitch? What are you 12?”
“You’re… the one… who wanted… to wrestle…slut,” Morgan struggled to catch her breath. “You ready to give up know?”
“Fuck you,” Sarah growled in defiance. She paused for a moment. “Take your’s off.”
“Umm, what?”
“You heard me. You ripped my panties off, take your’s off. You were the one who insisted this had to be a fair fight.”
“Fuck you, ya dyke,” Morgan said, too shocked to be truly mad. “I’m not taking my panties off, no matter how much you want a look at my pussy.”
“Morgan, take ‘em off, or I’ll take ‘em off for you.”
Without another word the redheaded woman shuffled forward on her knees, hands extended. Morgan put her hands up in defense. Sarah’s right hand darted towards her crotch, but she batted it aside. She tried again, and again.
Morgan quickly realized that she needed to go on the offensive or she was going to have her panties ripped off. She could think of nothing else to do but try to return the attack on her rival’s pussy.
Soon the two of them were groping and grabbing, clutching at each other's hands, trying get to their enemies pussy. Morgan was struck with the sudden realization of how absurd they must look. To professional mothers in their 40s, pretty much naked in the forest trying to grab each other’s vagina’s
Her right hand tangled with Sarah’s left and they squeezed each other’s fingers, knuckles going white from the strain as their free hands continued to assault. Somehow Sarah’s fingers got through, and Morgan felt them wrap a hold of her panties, she threw herself back, desperate not be wedgied, and as she fell back she felt them get pulled down to her thighs. Her knees spread as she scrambled away and they tore, she felt the cool mountain air surround her pussy. Honestly it was something of a relief.
She didn’t have much time to contemplate her new state of nakedness however, as the second her panties tore, Sarah leapt onto her, tackling her to her back and sending them into a wild roll.
They rolled, each desperate to mount the other, each desperate not to be mounted. They were face to face. Their foreheads ground together, their noses compressed against each other. Their sweaty reddened tits ground together as well, nipples digging groves into the other’s pair. Morgan could feel the redhead’s pubic hair rub into hers, and the folds of her womanhood beneath press fiercely against her rival’s, as their leg’s writhed together like mating snakes. Their equally matched feet struggled against each other as they maneuvered their legs.
“When I kick your ass, you’re going to kiss my feet you cocky bitch.” Sarah snarled.
“Oh please, my feet are going to be on every inch of your face you arrogant whore.”
The clouds had gathered and a light rain had begun to fall on the clearing as the two pale, entwined, women rolled, neither able to gain the advantage. As the rain further wet their already sweat damp bodies, their holds on each other began to loosen. Morgan managed to yank her left leg out from it’s battle with Sarah’s right and force her knee and shin between their wet bodies as they wrestled. She extended her leg, using all the power of her glutes to drive the redhead woman up and off of her.
Sarah quickly accepted the inevitable and released her hold springing to her feet and quickly circling the still prone blond, holding her down with a grip on her leg. She spun so that she was facing Morgan’s legs and plopped herself down as hard as she could, forcing her pussy into Morgan’s face, before extending her legs and locking them again.
Morgan groaned in despair and pain as the redhead’s thighs squeezed her head yet again. She quickly realized however, that in her haste to get her in another head scissor hold, the other woman had left her own head open. She quickly threw her own legs up and around her rival’s head, squeezing just as viciously. The two of them rolled on to their sides as they suddenly each found them trapped with the other woman’s legs around their head.
Sarah instantly began digging her fingers into her thighs, she grabbed her ass cheeks in return. Sarah’s pussy was right in her face, she had pubes in her eyes, she could feel the redhead’s nose on her own nether lips. They both gasped and groaned in pain. This was a war of attrition, both refusing to give in as their heads were crushed. They hurled muffled curses into each other’s pussies.
“Slut!”
“Whore!”
“Fuck!”
“FUCK!”
Morgan’s head was on fire. Every molecule in her body screamed at her to quit.
“No! Fuck that!” She thought to herself. “I’m not giving into her. Oh fuck. Oh fuck, I can’t take this!”
She opened her mouth to scream her surrender, but just as she did, she heard the redhead let out a strangled gasp. “Fine! Fine! You win,” her rivals legs loosened around her head. “Please, fuck! Just let go of me!”
Morgan let go of her head with her legs. She rolled away from her. She felt tears in her eyes as the pain began to subside. They lay there, two fit, naked women in their 40s, laying in the grass as the rain came down on them.
Morgan pulled herself to her knees then clambered to her feet. She stumbled towards the still prone redhead. She forced her foot into the other woman’s pale face.
“So bitch,” she growled, “who is kissing whose feet?”
Sarah glared balefully up at her and for a moment she thought their battle might resume, but the redhead sighed, and planted a reluctant kiss on the sole of her foot.
Morgan panted. The wild thrill of victory coursed through her veins. She took her foot off of Sarah’s face. As her adrenaline began to wear away, she began to think about what had just happened.
What the fuck? I just met this woman arguing about used boots in a fucking Facebook message, and now we’re both naked and she’s kissing my feet.
She stood back and the other woman climbed to her feet. They went silently to their respective trees, where their discarded clothes hung, and quickly dressed. Neither bothered to don their now ruined undergarments.
They looked at each other awkwardly and began their long awkward hike back down the trail in the rain, once more side by side. It took two hours and neither said a word. What was there to say really?
That night Morgan checked the auction again. She raised her bid by a dollar. No higher bid overtook it.
Five days later the boots arrived on her doorstep. A gorgeous pair of custom russet Russell Moccasins. They fit her like they were made for her. She had been somewhat hesitant to do so, but she did slip them on the next day and snap a picture looking down at them, before opening Facebook and sending the picture to Sarah.
> What do you think of my new boots?
It took a few hours for Sarah to reply.
> I’ll admit, they look pretty good on you. But I still think they’d look better on me. We should go hiking again some time!
Morgan’s jaw had nearly hit her phone, but she found herself just laughing and shaking her head at the absurdity of it all.
—————————————
Morgan stirred her coffee, suddenly aware she’d been talking for a long time—way longer than she meant to. She glanced up and caught Nate watching her with this stunned, slightly amused expression. She cleared her throat and reached for her coffee, trying to play it cool, but her cheeks were burning.
“Shit, sorry. That was a lot,” she said sheepishly,“I got a little carried away, didn’t I?”
Nate stared at her. Not blinking. Not moving.
“Oh god,” she muttered, half-laughing. She was mortified she had told him all that, what was she thinking? “That was... way more detail than I meant to go into.”
He blinked once. Then shook his head slowly. “Wow, wow. Holy shit. That really is something. You go girl.”
Morgan nearly choked on her coffee. “You’re joking.”
He didn’t answer right away. Just blinked at her like he’d been hit with something. “Morgan... that was incredible.”
She laughed awkwardly. “You mean ridiculous.”
“I mean hot,” he said, leaning in a little. “Seriously, that was the hottest story I’ve ever heard.”
Morgan snorted. “Wow, okay. I really need to reevaluate the kind of men I attract.”
“I mean it,” he said, still grinning, “I need to see you again. Like, as soon as possible.”
She dropped her hands and blinked at him. “Really?”
“Yes. Absolutely. I mean, someone that fucking crazy, that’s someone I want in my life.”
She smiled, a little surprised by how warm that made her feel. “Okay then. You’re on.”
He grinned. “So… what happened after that? Did you ever see the woman again? The one you, uh, wrestled?”
“Oh yeah,” she said. “Get this—we actually ended up becoming friends.”
“Seriously?” he laughed. “After that?”
“I know, right? But it turns out we had more in common than just a love of the outdoors and a size 9 foot. She’s into the same kind of books, same weird podcasts. She’s smart, weirdly funny, and just as competitive as I am. I think I found a kindred spirit.”
Nate grinned. “So no more physical altercations?”
“None,” Morgan said. “Not even a shove. We’ve gotten together a few times since, and nobody’s grabbed the other’s tits. Imagine that.”
He tilted his head, teasing. “So she wasn’t mad she had to give up the boots?”
Morgan gave him a crazy look. “Of course she was mad.”
He laughed.
“And I wear them every single time we hang out,” she added, her tone sweet and lethal. “Just to rub it in her face.”
“You’re evil.”
“Maybe I am, just a bit. But yeah, the way she keeps looking at them we may have to wrestle for them again one day. It was a close fight. It only feels fair.”
Nate leaned in, still smiling. “Promise you’ll call me if that rematch happens.”
THE END
