I hear the brazen whore taunt me from the bed. I watch as she pulls the remnants of her lingerie from her scratched and sweaty body; her alabaster skin criss-crossed with angry, red scratches. Her fiery red hair looks tousled and wild, her eyes wilder still, and her expression is one of pure malice. Stepping off the bed, she bunches what's left of her outfit in her fist and throws it directly at my face.
A flash of black fabric floats across my field of vision and distracts me just long enough for her to close the distance. Before I know it, she's on me, reaching for me with an outstretched claw. Instinctively, I grab her wrist, keeping her sharp nails away from my face, I swipe towards her face with my own manicured nails, but Annette is just as fast as I am. She traps my wrist and we shuffle awkwardly in a circle.
She lashes my shin with a vicious kick, snarling as we struggle. I aim a knee toward her bare pussy, but she pivots at the last second and takes the blow on her inner thigh. Furious, she aims a knee towards my pussy in retaliation, but I shift sideways to take the blow on my hip. Our ample breasts bounce as we exchange a flurry of kicks to the shins. The pain is too much for either of us to bear, and we release our grip on each other and step back. But we continue to circle each other warily. Annette's expression is contemptuous; her chin tilted upwards at a haughty angle. She hisses at me, her voice dripping with disdain:
"Bitch... You say you're a whore for Jack's cock? Prove it. Fight me nude, if you dare? Pit your body against mine, if you're woman enough?"
In any other context, Annette's words would seem strange. But as I stood across from her, they made a queer kind of sense. I felt honour-bound to meet her challenge; to face her on even terms. To meet her skin-on skin. Never taking my eyes of her, I slipped the surviving strap of my outfit off my shoulder and peeled what was left of it past my hips and down my thighs. To her credit, Annette waited until I had kicked the fabric away to the corner of the room.
We then stepped toward each other, moving as one, and meeting chest-to-chest in the centre of the room. My nipples were achingly stiff. Annette too was obviously caught up in the moment, her pointed nipples felt like pencil erasers against my breasts.
"How's this, slut? Girly enough for you?"
Being slightly taller, her nipples pressed against the top of my areolae, while mine butted against the bottom of hers. Sweaty and horny, we stood face-to-face, daring the other to make a move. Each woman knowing the other had been thoroughly fucked by Jack. Felt his cum flood her pussy. Clawed his back as he pounded us to orgasm. And we now fought each other desperately to feel it again.
My heart pounded like a war drum as I looked into Annette's eyes. Violent sapphic urges made my bare pussy slick. I wondered where our sordid struggle would take us next. The line between violence and sexuality blurring. I could feel Annette's breath on my face, the warmth of her sweaty skin on mine. It was almost too much.
"Fight me, bitch. Woman-to-woman..."
