[Anubisx]

Thanks Tigressel

A little more:

***

Ribbleton Park
New Hall Lane, 13:58

The January cold breeze could hardly calm Natasha but at least she had managed to escape from the oppressive and claustrophobic feeling that had invaded her in the cafe after receiving Melissa’s response. Needing air, she practically had run away, with her beautiful face now red and sweaty.

Her steps were led to the avenue park, but she hadn’t stopped there: the blonde disappeared into the trees, away from any path, away from view. Then, alone, she looked and read the message again.

<Mel: As I can see, you’re the one missing mine.>

The counterattack was accompanied by a snapshot of brunette’s panties. Her green irises were lost in the manifest outlines of her vulva, voluminous as hers, before noticing a detail that burned her own sex. Expanding the image, she couldn’t help but gasp.

“Oh, you bitch...” she complained, seeing a small wet spot on the bottom of Melissa’s panties. Noticing how her own crotch was wet, Natasha swallowed and turned back into the WhatsApp conversation. When she looked her previous picture, she fully understood what Melissa’s words meant.

“It can also see I’m soaked!” she cursed. Her body trembled, halfway between frustration and anger. “That’s the reason why this fucking slut says I miss her fucking wet pussy!”

Without realizing that she was talking too loudly, the blonde couldn’t resist her instincts any more. She wanted to have her nemesis under her claws, right there, right now. Before Natasha knew it, she had already pressed the call button.

The first call tone was accompanied by a thunder in the distance, announcing an unexpected storm. However, there was no second tone.

Melissa was there for her... at the other side of the telephone line…

***

Madame Lingerie
New Hall Lane, 14:05

When the phone rang, Melissa’s heart stopped. She certainly didn’t expect such a reaction from Natasha, but she also knew that dueling messages couldn’t last forever. One of her fingers acted; before she could draw a plan, she accepted the call.

Then she heard rival’s ragged breathing across the line, and her own gasps responded similarly. A second passed, and then five; ten seconds became twenty, and twenty became thirty, but none said anything. Both girls fed back the nervousness through the call, unable to react until the animal part of Melissa’s brain released a single order, a single word:

“Where?”

“Ribbleton Park,” the voice of the blonde responded immediately; dry, throaty, odious, it was barely a murmur. “I’m in Ribbleton Park. And you?”

“I arrive in 5 minutes,” she said, ending the call. Her heart started beating again, from inaction to decontrol. Dressing hurriedly, she felt her whole body stiffening; her breasts tightened, anticipating the fight, while their female legs trembled. Among them, sex throbbed to the rhythm of her heartbeat, forcing the brunette to gasp.

‘I’ll finish this, whatever it takes,’ she promised, finally going through the door of Madame.

Outside, she was received by a world that made no sense, at least not anymore: cars crossed the avenue, stopping at traffic lights to make way for a mass of people moving from here to there, walking, talking, shopping, working; everything formed a docile flock of sheep under the tutelage of the city lights. For Melissa, the world to which she belonged weeks ago was now the acme of the trivial. Walking along the sidewalk, the words of the crowd reached their ears: relationship problems, higher taxes, soccer matches, celebrity scandals... Everything was anodyne; the brunette beauty felt sorry for their sad existences. ‘I was that way,’ she knew. ‘I was, but now is when I’m really alive.’

The umbrellas were opened when Melissa was near the park. The first drops fell on her, while a flash of lightning crossed the horizon. Just a few seconds later, the thunder accompanied its storm’s brother.

“Close…” she whispered, not sure if she was referring to the storm or Natasha, since she already saw Ribbleton Park’s tress across the street. Accelerating the pace, she reached the park entrance just as the rain intensified. A dozen people ran into the street, fleeing from the sudden storm, but Melissa stood firm in the downpour, looking in all directions.

And then she saw her: just a golden reflection, a quick flash of a mane waving in the humid air ... and a look of hatred. Natasha disappeared into the trees on the right, and Melissa went to meet her. Under the increasingly heavy rain, she moved her tense leg muscles with increasing urgency. Her pulse began to race, and her throat dried; the grove seemed so far away that she thought she would never arrive. The fingers of her hands trembled, hungry for flesh, as her tongue licked her own thick lips repeatedly.

Finally, she walked through the trees and, almost immediately, the rain gave a sudden truce. Under a still threatening dark sky, Melissa crossed the grove, surrounded a hedge and then reached a small clearing...

There she was: soaked from top to bottom, Natasha was panting, watching her with a murderous grin. Her long and usually perfect blond hair clung to her head because of the downpour, while red blouse and jeans she wore clung heavily to her body. The brunette felt the burden which had become her own clothes: the blue blouse pulled down her torso, swollen with water, while her jeans, darker than Natasha’s, seemed to weigh twice.

Several drops slid down the beautiful brunette’s face when she moved her hips: she placed the hands on them, slightly lifting her chin in a challenging and feminine pose. Across the clear —barely 10 feet— Natasha imitated her posture, with many streams of water running over her curvaceous body as small waterfalls.

At that moment, a spectacular lightning lit the cold evening air, announcing that it wasn’t done: it was only a small calm before the storm...

And the storm started among young beauties. Without provocation, without insults... without words; just a double battle cry. Dirty intensity of telephone exchange was enough to turn the girls in animals: their claws gripped the other hair, the other curves immediately. Less than five seconds after crashing body to body, the two girls fell; the intense and brief rain had muddied the park, and the accelerated fight couldn’t stand upright on the slippery clearing.

Then the screams came. The tits were crushed with rage, deformed under strong and insatiable fingers through the thick, soaked blouses in a clear exhibition of what the amazons envied more than anything. Each squeeze pulled out a howl of pain from the other, but also a trail of water from the squeezed clothes, matching the already watery eyes.

Rolling across the clearing, the bodies of the girls were filled with mud and grass, anguish and bitterness. The legs locked each other, uncomfortable by jeans, and the hands deepened into the mutual destruction of breasts. Natasha felt how the discharges of that suffering crossed her entire body, exploding here and there as jabs that threatened to paralyze her muscles. One hand finished looking for the other hair, while her own hair was pulled; both were seeking control in the decontrol. A punch hit her side, and she found herself replying with a claw on nemesis’ belly. Sports shoes of both were lost in combat. In the chaos of hair, water, sky, mud and pain, the blonde could barely distinguish anything: was she on top? Was she on the bottom? Did they still hidden in the clearing? Her back hit the trunk of a tree; shortly after —a second, a minute?— she heard Melissa growl when she struck against another one. Nothing was clear, but the important thing: the brunette was suffering; maybe more, maybe less than her, but she was suffering.

Suddenly, this savagery ended. Somehow that the disordered Natasha’s brain couldn’t comprehend, Melissa and she ended up separating, rolling each one sideways. Panting, with her boobs throbbing in distress, the blonde knelt right in the center of the clearing. Just a couple of steps, the brunette also rose to her knees, between two trees. Water returned in the form of light rain, merging itself with the transpiration of the women.

In that short truce between injured tigers, Natasha felt a sort of uncontrollable desire growing inside: unlimited hatred towards the brunette began to take shape, being molded into an ambition whose only goal was to humiliate through the challenge. With her vulva about to explode, the blonde understood that, between them, there was no greater challenge than the physical challenge, so she let that new energy possessed her and, without a word —it wasn’t necessary— she stood up, grabbing the button that closed her jeans. Under the still light rain, Natasha bared her legs; her panties glinted, wet with femininity, in freedom.

For Melissa, the vision of the blonde’s pants being thrown aside was felt as if a glove had crossed her face in a challenge taken from some old movie. However, the vision of the nakedness of those wonderful, toned legs and especially the vision of the soaked white panties were received as if a hundred slaps had struck her seductive cheeks. It wasn’t the first time she faced her nemesis with so little clothes down there, but the preliminaries of the struggle and the context of mutual excitement created an aura of terrible antagonism, as if there was much more at stake than ever before.

Not wanting to be left behind, Melissa rose to her feet, staring defiantly at Natasha. A huge lightning zigzagged over her, followed immediately by thunder. The brunette took off her own muddy pants and intentionally threw them above other woman’s jeans. Girls’ breasts swelled under their blouses, but this time none attempt to compete in this area against her enemy because the attention of the two young beauties was obsessively focused on another crotch. Therefore, without hesitation, both placed the hands on her ample hips, arching themselves slightly to present her panties to the green eyes of the hated opponent.

Under the storm, lasciviously watching the reliefs marked under the fabric and the moisture that emanated from it, both understood that their rivalry went far beyond a physical competition. It wasn’t only a matter of jealousy and resentment, even a matter of who was prettier, or was hotter: the unresolved issue went beyond such limits. But just as the umpteenth lightning crossed the sky, the revelation of the Truth crossed their chaotic minds for a split second... and then disappeared. As a word on the tip of the tongue, the Truth was still there, frustratingly close but at the same time unattainable. The fury buried everything and, before anyone could dig for answers, both jumped into the opponent.

The rain intensified, and the wind came into play with a hurricane blowing than expected to measure up to the events of the grove. The girls bumped chest to chest in that quagmire, snarling face to face while their left hands sank into another wet hair. Their most skilled hands, however, were reserved for the main purpose: one looking for dirty vengeance, the other for a second humiliation, both hands sank between their bodies, grabbing vehemently other pussy through her panties. Gritting their teeth to keep from crying, the couple stumbled from here to there, squeezing the opposite sex anatomy with a passion that was born of envy: under the fingers, under the palms, they could distinguish a generous, warm vulva, big in all aspects. Pain exploded in their cxnts, making their legs tremble, but the feeling of having their most intimate parts rubbed under the thin fabric of their panties brought something more than damage to their bodies.

“You’re fucking wet, you bitch!” Melissa yelled the first words of the fight, feeling the blonde’s sex watered her hand even through the white cloth.

“Look who’s talking, you cxnt!” Natasha cried, disgusted and excited at the same time to feel the soaked reaction growing on the other crotch.

Fighting between trees, the young girls were about to slip once, twice, three times in just a minute, but somehow this time the two managed to avoid falling into this quagmire, as if clinging to the center of the other femininity were sufficient to keep standing. Each one insisted to hurt the other pussy, squeezing harder each time the enemy did, deepening further into other anatomy each time the other female did; the fingers pressed, the palms crushed. And all the while they were grunting in the face, forehead to forehead, nose to nose, almost mouth to mouth, through tears full of hate.

“You whore! I’ll destroy your pussy like I destroyed it last time!” Melissa spat, pulling blonde hair to bring even closer to her nemesis.

“I wasn’t prepared, you slut!” Natasha replied. Accepting the greater proximity of bodies, she pushed herself tit to tit, belly to belly, against the brunette. “But now I am! Your pussy will be so devastated when I finished with it that even Nathan’s small cock cannot satisfy you!”

“His dick isn’t small!” For some reason, Melissa received this as an insult to her, not to the man, as if the real intention of the blonde was belittle her feminine capacity to conquer the best men. “Unlike your cxnt, by the way!”

“Liar!” While they further argued, Natasha felt wetter, and wetter she felt her rival. Suddenly, that surface assault began to be insufficient, frustratingly insufficient for her. “You’re grabbing a cxnt much bigger than yours! That’s for sure!”

“That’s not what I’m feeling, cheap slut!” The same sense of insufficiency flooded already the brunette, with her fingers longing for that which they had at the disco, just days before: a direct invasion of the intimacy of the blonde, without barriers.

“Aside from your belly, nothing in your body is bigger! Neither your tits or your nipples or your lips! And of course neither your dirty cxnt!” Natasha’s bravado filled Melissa’s mind with even darker storm clouds than those from the sky that was throwing a furious rain over the girls. Blonde’s chest reacted to the challenge hardening, as her lips throbbed in an unfamiliar sensation in extreme closeness of the equally juicy lips of another beauty.

“Oh, you cocky bitch!” Melissa finished snarling, unable to bear all those fronts when some cruel fingers lacerated her crotch so hard. “We’ll solve all this in due time, but now we’ll see who really has the biggest pussy!”

“Fucking whore!” The tormented blonde’s head didn’t know how to take Melissa’s decision to keep the fight exclusively between their pussies, because on the brink of absolute alienation, she even knew if she truly wanted, or she truly could to extend that. So, Natasha decided to unleash their desires, leaving the surface struggle to take the bull by the horns. However, she wasn’t the only one, because while she pulled brunette’s panties aside to fight her way inside, her archenemy did the same with her own panties.

The pull of hair came in unison; both girls somehow understood that this was the logical step: like all fights between women began with hair pulling to mark territory, the battles between cxnts had to start the same way. Tears sprang from one face to the other, exchanging salty pain while pubic hair was surely rooted out. The fingers of the amazons were filled with curly dark and light filaments in the razor slaughter.

“Learn how to shave, you bitch!” Wrapping her fingers around all the hair that she could grab, Natasha deforested the black forest angrily.

“You too, prostitute!” Golden jungle of the other female sanded her fingertips like rose thorns, but that didn’t stop the harvester momentum of Melissa. “I had heard that blonde hair was weak, but I didn’t expect it would be so easy to tear apart!”

“Better worry about your pathetic dark hair! At this rate, your cxnt will be bald in less than a minute!”

However none could carry out her threat. At last they slipped, and ground came to receive with a burst of mud and water. Falling on their sides both lost their grip on the other hair, so the anxious fingers clung to the first thing they could. The girls groaned as they felt the touch of the other fingertips on her labia; before they can be controlled, they penetrated the hated antagonist. Two fingers crossed the threshold of Natasha’s wet pussy, and two fingers transgressed Melissa’s hot labia; instigated by that elusive Truth that they couldn’t remember, by that illogical hunger with the sexual orientations of the beauties, fingers sank into the most intimate depths of the females, there in the quagmire, under the torrential rain, in that wet world.

The effect was instantaneous and mutual; pure dynamite: both beauties exploded in the most physically pleasurable, more mentally painful, more completely unexpected orgasm of all their lives. Howling like she-wolves, roaring like lionesses, they shouted their passion face to face, closing watery eyes with the force of delirium. The storm hid the delicious martyrdom under a thunder, illuminating with a sudden lightning the quivering bodies in agonizing convulsions; rain drowned the tears born of broken souls, trying in vain to purify those bodies that both considered so corrupt in those final moments of orgasm.

With the latest tremors running their sexes, Natasha and Melissa managed to move away their vicious fingers. Without looking at each other, they separated, rising between light tremors and soft sobs. With their heads always down, they picked up their jeans and shoes; as they dressed, the cruel storm began to subside, as if it no longer had any show to see.

Then both walked away from the other, ready to get out of this unfortunate grove. However, at the last moment, something forced them to look back: their wet and trembling eyes met for a few seconds. Both gulped, feeling the flame that connected one to another had still not extinguished.

“You have my number,” Natasha said with a husky voice about to break.

“And you have mine,” Melissa responded with barely a whisper.

That kind of challenge was all they could handle. Without further ado, they walked away, aware that once alone they would weep like never before.

To be continued...

[PalomaJara]

Fantástica historia.

[Tigressel]

Awesome stuff

[Anubisx]

Thanks everyone!!! There, a little more:

CHAPTER 8:
FIRE INSIDE
Thursday, January 18

Blumen Women Gym
Caroline Street, 10:02

The leg muscles were tensed to the maximum, nearing exhaustion by intense exercise, but the girl galloped over the treadmill, waving arms in perfect sync with the rhythm of the race. Sweat jumped around from her forehead, her cheeks, her torso and her legs.

Closing her eyes momentarily, the attractive blonde focused on her breathing, seeking to control it in the final stretch of the exercise. She inhaled, puffing her chest, and then she expired in dominated routine… over and over again.

‘You’re fucking wet, you bitch!’

The voice appeared abruptly in her head, as so often in the past two weeks. Immediately, she noticed how a ghostly hand grabbed her sex; a pain that wasn’t real erupted between her legs, forcing her to gasp.

‘I’ll destroy your pussy like I destroyed it last time!’

The threat echoed inside her, with such force that she thought someone was yelling at her at that moment. Opening her eyes to get out of trance, she looked to either side of the half empty gym, looking for something that didn’t exist.

Suddenly, her right foot stepped wrong and the accelerating treadmill almost threw her into the air. Luckily, she managed to hold herself to the machine. Awkwardly turning the program, she could get out of it with her heart pounding, but without a scratch.

“Are you okay?” A worried and short red hair woman approached her. “You almost get hurt there...”

“I just stumbled. But thanks for worrying.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, sweetheart.”

As she saw the redhead walk away to return to her exercise routine, Natasha grabbed her towel to dry her sweaty face. ‘Sweetheart,’ she repeated in her head. ‘Yes, everyone has always considered me a sweetheart. Friendly, charismatic and kindhearted… But what am I now?’

‘You’re a cheap hooker who thinks that being a fucking go-go dancer entitle you to wear a queen’s crown.’

Trembling to hear the answer of the voice of her head —the voice of Melissa—, the blonde looked at her own reflection in the numerous mirrors that covered every inch of wall of the gym. As had happened in the last days, she was dragged into a discussion where her memories spoke on behalf of her conceited nemesis.

‘Yes, I’m go-go dancer again, so fuck you,’ she said to the ghost. Days earlier, she had solved everything with Darkness’ owner; that night, she would return to the stage that she should never leave. ‘And yes, I’m the queen. If you have any problems with it, come back to the disco. I’m ready for another dance, you slut.’

Seeing the hatred gesture that dominated her face with these thoughts, Natasha knew exactly what she had become… or rather, what Melissa had force her to become. Looking back to the redhead, who was working the legs alone on a machine, the blonde understood that, because of the brunette, she had lost the ability to connect with others. Her relations were reduced only to one: Melissa, and nobody else. Every morning, every evening, every night she thought of her; she had no time for friends, or to find a boyfriend. Her life revolved around the brunette, awake or asleep, especially after what happened in the park, two weeks ago.

‘I’m hotter than you.’

Melissa’s voice again attracted her gaze at her reflection. Or was her own voice? Both had provoked each other with the same words in their first meeting at the Lindermann’s mansion, almost a month before. ‘In such a short time, everything has changed radically,’ she mused, looking at her figure. ‘Everything, absolutely everything comes from there,’ she knew, watching her own curves. Her chest swelled, shock up and down to the rhythm of the breathing, blinking erotically under a heavy layer of sweat. Slowly bringing a finger to her tits, Natasha touched them.

“The heat doesn’t disappear...” she whispered to herself, in a soft gasp. “Two weeks and still burning...”

Her feline and green eyes traveled around the rest of her complexion; the combustion wasn’t exclusive to her breasts because her full lips, her stony ass and her juicy thighs boiled with an inextinguishable fire, causing an almost perennial sweat. In the center of this volcanic body, as propagator axis, was her unstable vagina; hungry, throbbing, burning, the sex was unable to be covered by a panty.

Then she again felt Melissa’s fingers inside her. She gasped, while the Truth that she had felt in the park, the Truth about the depths that reached her relationship with the brunette, prowled her head, still elusive. Without delay, she ran to the bathroom, where solitude and her own fingers would calm her... for just ten minutes.

An endless cycle…

***

Madame Lingerie
New Hall Lane, 10:44

Melissa felt uncomfortable under all those stares, but she certainly understood the situation. A cold wave had just arrived in the city; so intense that even store’s heating was insufficient: customers kept their heavy coats, their scarves and even in some cases their caps inside Madame. However, behind the counter, she wore top and skirt… and nothing more.

But the brunette didn’t attract attention only because the short outfit: she was sweating. Her cleavage was surrounded by numerous small beads of sweat, as well as her thighs and butt. That first morning —the reopening of the store— had been a series of questions about it; all had been answered evasively, because she didn’t understand what was happening to her body.

‘But I know when this started...’

The chaotic mudfight in the park, two weeks ago, had marked a turning point. Since then, her body had become a walking eruption: her sex throbbed with its own pulse, dilating under an igneous and endless rain that forced her to avoid wearing panties. The fire spread from her crotch to her thighs, her ass, her tits; thick lips requiring constant hydration, burning in eternal flame.

A client woke Melissa from her reverie, approaching her with a striking black lace bra. ‘She has good taste,’ she thought, in an attempt to focus at work, but when the woman opened her mouth, when the brunette heard her words, she flushed.

“You’re grabbing a cxnt much bigger than yours.”

“Excuse me!?”

“I was looking for a bigger bra that this one,” the customer repeated, this time with her own voice. Melissa took a hand to her forehead, noticing it hot.

“Are you fine?”

“Yes, yes. Sorry, bad night.” That was true. “What size do you need?”

“36C,” the woman answered. Then, in front of Melissa’s eyes, her face seemed distorted. “Mine are much bigger than yours. That’s for sure.”

“What!?”

“I said that my prettiest bras were bought in your store. That’s for sure.”

“Oh, thanks…”

She didn’t remember that client, something that had never happened to her before. ‘Who is this blonde?’ her mind stopped, realizing that the woman wasn’t blonde, but chestnut. ‘She’s not blonde? And her eyes were green, not dark...’

“Are you sure you’re fine? You’re sweating...” The customer seemed uncomfortable under the sudden and intense gaze from Melissa.

“Don’t worry. Changes in metabolism…” she replied without thinking. “I think I have that size for that model, but in purple and pink, not black.”

“Purple is okay.” The brunette turned, searching on the shelf behind her, when she heard: “At this rate, your cxnt will be bald in less than a minute.”

Melissa froze. Now she was sure: it was Natasha’s voice which she hearing, it was Natasha’s image which she was seeing. But it couldn’t be real.

“What do you said…?” she whispered weakly, not daring to look back.

“At this rate, your store stocks will run out in less than a minute.” Surprised, Melissa looked back: a dozen people entered Madame. “We missed the store these days that has been closed.”

“Yeah, well, I was... really busy.” Leaving the violet bra on the counter, the brunette didn’t dare to look up. But the voices of recently arrived women came to her ears in the form of vicious whispers.

“You’re jealous.”

“You’re an arrogant slut, a boastful tramp who doesn’t know what her place.”

“Let’s fight like women, whore.”

“If you want a war, bitch, you’ll have a war.”

‘What hell is wrong with me?’ she finished asking herself in the brink of insanity. Her body burst into even higher flames; her sex called attention with ardor, and the girl couldn’t help but give in to her command.

“Sorry! I have an urgent matter to attend to. I’m really sorry, but I have to close. Come out, please. Now!” She couldn’t wait to pacify her interior, as she had done so often in recent days.

An endless cycle…

To be continued...

[Tigressel]

Great writing style and imagination

[Anubisx]

Thanks Tigressel

CHAPTER 9:
NOCTURNAL WRECK
Tuesday, January 23

Black & Blue Pub
Swan Street, 21:59

The atmosphere in the pub was genuinely enthusiastic. Surprisingly the local female soccer team had won a prestigious national tournament: a trophy that nobody expected… and that night was time for celebration. Of course, if Melissa seeking tranquility, she was wrong: young athletes drank, danced and yelled along with their partners and friends, and some excited fans, turning the usually restful Black & Blue in a kind of college party.

Sitting at the bar, the brunette finished her drink with a long swallow, before making a gesture to the waitress.

“Another double whisky.”

“Wow, someone tries to forget someone, right?”

‘She had to be the speaker type. Fucking slut,’ she thought, ashamed at the moment for the insult. ‘Another shit more from Natasha’.

“Something like that,” she forced herself to smile.

“Well, baby, don’t worry.” The waitress, an attractive redhead on their thirties, winked at her. “There are many fish in the sea. Especially for a brunette like you. You have the best possible bait,” she concluded, with a quick glance at her shiny cleavage.

Melissa couldn’t redden because her cheeks already glowed scarlet because of alcohol. For a couple of seconds, she also observed carefully the redhead’s chest: large and firm, challenged gravity just like her own boobs. In her drunken mind appeared images of the waitress and her, alone in one of the pub’s private rooms, bringing breasts together in erotic contact. Melissa saw herself bringing her hands on waitress’ tits, caressing the freckled skin, massaging the soft flesh... squeezing the boobs to make her scream. Suddenly, the redhead faded from her drunken fantasies, giving way to a blonde that she knew well. Natasha was the woman who was under her, in the solitude of the private room, howling as her tits were torn apart by nails, crying a mercy that she would never receive.

Then she noticed that the waitress was looking at her, aware of her attention. Clearing her throat nervously, Melissa grabbed her glass and, at once, she swallowed the half of the burning liquid.

‘Lesbian thoughts! That’s all I needed!’

Around her, the soccer players were having fun. A couple of feet away, one of the girls were kissing passionately —and shamelessly— a boy, while beyond them, as two uncontrolled octopuses, another couple pawed each other between hungry kisses. Melissa took a moment to notice that there were two girls from the soccer team; unavoidably, she turned her head to watch the scene with unhealthy interest: between their eager lips, she could sometimes glimpse the clash of tongues, with a humidity that was reproduced in her own and eternally heated crotch. The hands of a girl eagerly clung to the back of the other, while her lover massaged her tits with equal enthusiasm.

Melissa rubbed her thighs together, suddenly altered by what she saw. But then her sex burst into flames when she noticed certain detail she had overlooked: one was blonde; the other brunette.

“Fuck...” was all she could growl before sinking into another long swig of whisky. Her sweaty breasts pounded on her cleavage, with the everlasting drops of sweat jumping when she rose from the chair abruptly. Not knowing how to escape from that chaos of sensuality, she grabbed her almost empty glass and fled towards one of the private rooms of the pub.

But something stopped her. The air vibrated at that heated atmosphere when the front door was open; a slight cool breeze embraced the neck and back of Melissa, but it wasn’t what caught her attention. A sort of aura was shaken around her, a hot manifestation above the cold kiss of the night. Before turning the head, the brunette knew it: there, at Black & Blue’s front door, against all odds, appeared the woman who haunted her dreams, awake or asleep: Natasha.

The two beauties perceived the rival instantly, on a connection that seemed to be headed by a cruel divine hand. In a big city, with dozens of bars, pubs and nightclubs... How many chances were there that they had met each other in the same place, the same night, at the same time? Perhaps now they could also smell each other, even at the level of pheromones?

Time stopped. After days avoiding one to another, denying the possibility of calling, the two opponents were face to face; worse, face to face with two devastating outfits. Already experts, they studied the opponent’s clothing in less than a blink, analyzing the level of threat they were facing. Natasha found challenging the pink blouse and the black short skirt of the brunette, while Melissa saw provocation in the white blouse and the red short skirt of the blonde; a major challenge was, however, that they wore very similar for the umpteenth time, although the go-go dancer could take comfort in the fact that her skirt was visibly shorter, and although the lingerie saleswoman found breath knowing that her cleavage was more pronounced.

‘We’ll see what draws more eyes: my legs or her tits,’ Natasha thought, entering immediately into the game. Then she realized something. ‘Is she sweating... like me?’

Even to several steps away, the blonde could see the gleam of sweat on nemesis’ chest, illuminated by the lights of the pub. Further down the girl’s thighs exhibited the same peculiarity, bothering Natasha. ‘For real? That bitch copy me even on that!’

The game began with a naturalness that shook Natasha. After days filled with insecurity, fear and frustration, with insatiable sexuality and voices on her head, the blonde got carried away. In view of the unexpected presence of her archenemy, her body and her mind left behind all doubts to fully embrace a new confrontation. Somehow, that was the effect that Melissa provoked on her: when the brunette was absent, she appeared in her thoughts like a ghost of uncertainty; but when she appeared before her eyes, a wind dispelled the dilemmas, dissolving them in spectral shreds. Nothing mattered... just face to that cocky girl to make her swallow every look of superiority.

The game began with the same move of the two beauties: they ignored each other. As if the other woman didn’t exist, each walked to one side of the room; the brunette approached one of the three pub’s pool tables, while the blonde was sitting on a bar stool.

“Double whisky,” said Natasha when the waitress came. Although she usually took softer drinks, she had seen what was drinking Melissa. As if that could be another duel, the blonde decided to prove she could also tolerate a strong drink. Therefore, once served, she didn’t hesitate to start with a long drink.

The burn of alcohol hit her throat, spreading like wildfire through her already heated interior. On the other hand, her mind thanked the searing blow: her neurons seemed stimulated, triggering an electrical explosion of cruel and competitive ideas. Her senses sharpened, with the words of Melissa clearly reaching her ears despite the noise around.

“Sure, gorgeous.” Sideways, Natasha saw her taking a pool cue next to a striking blue eyes’ man. “I’ll give you advantage, Kevin: you begin.”

Obviously seduced by the brunette, the boy was smiling like a fool, or at least that Natasha thought. Grabbing his own cue, the young man leaned over the table and started the game with a too hard hit. ‘Try to impress her,’ knew the blonde, seeing how the balls were scattered here and there, quickly and confusedly in a chaos that seemed to refer to the many evil thoughts that crossed her head at that moment. She hadn’t yet decided what the best idea to confront Melissa was… to provoke and humiliate her that night. As a perfect analogy of her doubts, no ball went into the pool table’s holes.

It was Melissa’s turn. She moved around the pool in a way that Natasha found annoying: walking like a model. Angry because the advantage of the game was in the hands of her rival, the blonde felt that her body could barely fit under her outfit, as if the gestures of the other girl provoke that even her light clothes were a prison for her curves.

Then came the worst: Melissa leaned over the pool for her first shot... guiding her formidable ass directly to her. Even despite being to 18 or 20 feet, the challenge was felt like a punch in the stomach; the brunette even swung her buttocks slightly, adding fuel to the fire of anger. Natasha growled softly, wondering what to do about it when suddenly Melissa glanced at back over her shoulder. Beyond the incredible round butt, the go-go dancer saw the loaded with arrogance flash of her green iris… and she couldn’t control her body more.

‘Fucking whore!’ she screamed into her head before jumping off the stool, which plummeted to the ground. Everything happened very fast: quickly crossing the distance between her and her archenemy, her pelvis ended hitting the provocative ass; amid shouts of surprise of everyone present, the two beauties fell on the pool table, with Natasha riding wildly Melissa in an uncontrolled, full of rage and despair attack. She screamed, and her nemesis joined her shriek...

“Is everything alright, baby?”

The voice of the waitress woke her. Surprised, Natasha was seated quietly in front of the bar... not above her rival who was standing after her shot, on the other side of the room.

“Yeah, everything alright,” she muttered, putting her hand to her sweaty forehead. Her mind, again, had played tricks on her… Excessively real and dirty tricks, because her crotch still throbbed with the imaginary feeling of rubbing against the firm ass of Melissa. “I’m fine...”

Taking another long drink of whisky, Natasha got up, expecting to be this time in reality. Determined to control the situation, she approached the sexiest man she looked around with a smile that didn’t hide her intentions.

Of course, Melissa saw the movement of her rival. Despite apparently centered on the pool table, she hadn’t stopped to watch to the other beauty at any moment; always sideways, except in the malevolent move when her butt was the protagonist. ‘Take that, bitch,’ she had thought, arrogant after the hateful look she had taken from Natasha. However, now that the dancer was in motion, she must be alert to her retaliation... because there would be retaliation.

“In this table, Paul.” The enemy’s voice surrounded her like a poisonous breeze. Tilting her head to one side, Melissa saw Natasha coming with a captivating tanned Latin; both stopped in the pool table beside hers. “Let’s play here…”

Melissa held her breath for a few seconds, disturbed by blonde’s proximity. A few paces away, Natasha seemed to exude around a kind of female aura. The brunette felt the danger, with her body reacted getting goosebumps; the sweat of breasts and thighs grew and her heart matching the accelerated pounding that was beating into the depths of her sex.

‘You won’t absorb me, slut,’ she thought with a snarl. The presence of Natasha began to overwhelm her, distracting her from the game: her hand trembled slightly, making her fail a clear shot; a minute later, a slight tic bother her eye.

‘She’s also nervous,’ she said herself, pushing her hair out of her face as she tried to believe her own words. She saw —or she thought she saw— small gestures of concern in the blonde, but her relief broke into pieces when Natasha, seeking revenge, bent over the pool table in a shameless posture. Suddenly, the brunette was a short distance from dancer’s ass; squeezing her cue, she felt a burning blush flooded her face.

“Your turn, Melissa.”

The girl didn’t hear to her companion because her ears were plugged with the portentous vision. Natasha soon look back, facing her eyes wide open with her own disdainful glance; leaning a little more, the dancer let her red skirt reaching up just enough to display the bottom of her round butt.

Hating that the nemesis’ skirt was shorter than hers, Melissa lost track of time in that sumptuous ass, sweaty under the light of the pub. The eternally wet saleswoman’s sex throbbed even more by the show while her tits hardened under a deep breath in search of control.

Then her cue fell... and the sound of wood against the floor was the signal. Her warm crotch slammed loudly against Natasha’s ass; before any of the men could stop her, she mowed down the other woman against the pool table, climbing over her to strike her cocky butt...

“Melissa, can you hear me?”

The reality called for the brunette through Kevin’s words. Shaking her head, the fantasy disappeared from her disturbed mind; she was still standing behind Natasha, with the cue in her hands.

“Yeah, sorry, I was distracted,” she whispered. Grabbing her glass with some despair, and feeling how her sex was burning increasingly, the brunette finished with her alcohol in one gulp. Then she forced herself to smile. “Would you invite me to a drink, Kevin?”

“Paul... what if you invite me another drink?” She heard Natasha behind her.

The two boys, feeling the luckiest in the world, smiled before walking away, almost running toward the bar: every second away from these beauties was too painful for both.

However, the proximity was more painful for women. Next to each other, between pool tables, without the company of men… they felt alone, even in the middle of the noisy and crowded pub. Not knowing quite what to do, they threw sideways glances to each other, eager to a confrontation that couldn’t be there...

But another kind of duel began to emerge between both, a natural battle which, no doubt, was beginning to be innate to two women of such caliber. Gradually, they perceived every glance —blatant or secret— falling on them from anywhere in Black & Blue. Natasha felt the urge to treasure every glance like precious gems that her female ego needed to keep from starving; Melissa wanted to collect the glances, every one, to forge them into a weapon of power that could finally defeat her enemy. Turned into the center of attention, they stood up, puffing out the chests proudly to the fans.

“You’re gonna lose.” The whisper surprised the dancer, for her temerity and her arrogance. Melissa’s voice pierced the heated air between both, hitting her ears with insolence.

“You will do,” she mumbled haughtily in this clandestine discussion. Without looking at each other, the girls took a deep breath after the first words between them in weeks, actually finding hard not to jump on the rival.

The boys returned with the drinks, and pool games resumed. However, the girls no longer cared about that secondary game: the competition was on another level. The two beauties began to fail her shots, as none was centered in the pool table; instead of looking for the best plays, they sought the best positions for exposing their bodies to the increasingly lascivious audience. The cleavages were presented with pride, with the sweat of the four tits dripping on the pool tables, while the prominent gym butts were partly exhibited under the short skirts every time they leaned over the pool tables. The pub’s atmosphere warmed... among rivals, among their companions, among other men, even among some females. Most animal instincts emerged among several spectators, with libidinous glances or vicious whispering that their owners not trying to control. The lustful force swelled the sweaty beauties’ tits, sensitizing the boobs under the heavy and stale air of the place. Their sexes dilated, looking for absorb all that wave of energy that was fluctuating between the curvaceous bodies; the other young girl was felt as a burning focus of attraction, a kleptomaniac of attentions that, in her presence, she didn’t deserve.

Then, after a little over ten minutes in this desperate struggle, the girls felt it: the Truth floated over them, whispering how to really solve everything, whispering which was the way of clarifying each and every one of their doubts, whispering what fate awaited them if they dared to accept it... but none was able to distinguish the words, none managed to understand the signals of their bodies. Alcohol was over… and with it, the patience. Both walked along the edge of a sharp knife, ready to explode because of the rival’s curves, because of the rival’s feminine aura…

Natasha and Melissa gave up at the same time. With grunts filled with rage and frustration, they left their cues on the pool tables and left the pub with hurried steps, without a word. Colliding shoulder to shoulder at the exit door, the women were received by an icy wind blow; however, none noticed it...

To be continued...

[Tigressel]

Keep going

[Anubisx]

Underpass
Portman Street, 23:03

The underpass of Portman Street had a bad reputation. A dirty light hanging in the middle of the tunnel was unable to properly enlighten it; on the contrary, its intermittent flashing created a gloomy atmosphere, almost from a horror movie. Its mild electric buzz seemed to join the whistle of the wind; coming from the south of the tunnel, the wind ran the nearly fifty feet of the underpass before to go free by the north exit.

The place was cold and dark... and lonely. Everyone in the city avoided it, preferring to make a detour through Deepdale Street —a lively and bright wide street— before crossing the tunnel at night, looking for problems.

However, the problems had been brought by the girls this time. Standing in the center of the underpass, Melissa and Natasha looked at each other intently, with fists clenched tightly at her sides. After running away from Black & Blue, both had moved through the streets of the deserted winter night, wandered around the other beauty from opposite sidewalks. Without a word, they finished entering the tunnel. Somehow the two were attracted to it like moths captivated by the light. Their feelings of hate had pushed them to that place of solitude and darkness... and the two young women seemed satisfied with that.

Now, with the mutual provocations of the pub fresh in memory, the stage seemed to take a different nature: there wasn’t fear in darkness, but privacy; there wasn’t cold in the wind, but calming; loneliness wasn’t a curse, but a blessing. The risk was brought by them, but none rejected it: they embraced it.

It had been nearly three weeks since the fight in the park; a fight that had devastated them physically but especially mentally. The struggle hadn’t disappeared of their heads for a single second since then, but in the presence of the opponent seemed far more present than ever. The sweat that had perennially installed on their bodies —on breasts, on thighs, on butt—proliferated even more on the burning flesh, while their breaths were slowly but inexorably getting out of control.

Then came the words, spat to accelerate the clash, not to avoid it.

“Did you think you were going to impress someone in the pub with your stupid game?”

The Natasha’s voice echoed through the tunnel, amplified against the unplastered concrete. The usually sweet tone of the blonde was void of any affection, as always happened in front of Melissa. However, this time the brunette noticed something different: between the animosity and the contempt, it floated some femininity, full of sensuality. Feeling threatened by her, Melissa couldn’t help but let out a growl.

“And you?” she replied, inflating her bust with rage. “Did you think that your cheap porn star positions would work with me?”

The last words didn’t go unnoticed for the go-go dancer. Her nemesis wasn’t talking about the men on the pub, those who both women had supposedly been seducing... she was talking about herself. As a revelation, Natasha remembered what had happened earlier and she understood how much truth there was in Melissa’s words. The blonde reminded herself displaying her cleavage, her butt, on the pool table... to realize that, at all times, she had been guiding her virtues to her rival, not to others. The brunette was the only goal of her poses… and —now she saw it clearly— she had been the only goal of Melissa’s poses.

“Looks like my poses did work with you, darling,” she growled, taking a menacing step forward. “On the other hand, your attempts to affect me failed miserably. You don’t have that power over me.”

The message of the dancer penetrated the brunette’s mind, waking her up to the reality that was becoming evident between the two beauties. Suddenly, the two were talking about how they could impress, influence, disturb the other girl, not to men; suddenly, they were arguing about who among them had real power over her enemy... A power not manifested through physical strength, as Melissa beginning to envision.

“I’ve always had that power over you, baby. You felt it the first time you came into my store.” Advancing a bit, the saleswoman licked her lips. “You fell into my web, and since then you couldn’t escape from it.”

As always, the arrogance of Melissa was perceived by Natasha as a hard punch in the stomach. ‘As the punches that we gave each other in Madame in that first night,’ she evoked, remembering the firmness of the rival’s belly under her fist, the consistency of her own abs under the blow of the other girl. The invocation of the past filled Natasha’s head with frustration and pride at the same time, but the contradictory feeling soon disappeared, dragged down by the current moment: what was about to happen would have very little in common with the first duel; she felt it in the cold winter air, in the flickering light of the tunnel, in the flash of the green eyes of Melissa.

“Do you still have nightmares about the first time I walked into your store?” she muttered, femininely tilting her head as she moved forward another step. “I can still see your face. Intimidated by my presence, you can’t take your eyes off me. But don’t worry, I understand it,” she smiled wickedly. “You weren’t the first one nor will be the last one to fall under my spell.”

An invisible slap crossed the face of the brunette when she heard the insolence of her antagonist. ‘I can never get used to her fucking voice,’ she knew. As the discussion progressed, the feminine aura of Natasha seemed to grow in intensity, competing with hers in the underpass that increasingly seemed to dwarf with the presence of the two rival beauties. Melissa’s fingers trembled, eager to grab the long silky hair of the go-go dancer, but something that was awakening inside her let her know that what it was about to explode wouldn’t be a fight as previous fights.

“Your spell? Ha! Don’t make me laugh,” Melissa forced a smile, giving another step forward. “You’re obsessed with me, just admit it. I’ve always known, from the beginning, that my body intimidates you.” Taking air, she threw the last words without thinking. “My body is too much for yours.”

“You slut!” Natasha walked forward, really pissed.

“You hooker!” Melissa went to meet her, closing the short distance between them.

“Your body is a fucking shit!” The blonde threw all her hatred through her green eyes, stopping her steps just a few inches from the brunette. “Your body is out of my league, you know that very well!”

“Shut up, you whore!” The brunette controlled at the last moment her desire to spit the beautiful and haughty Natasha’s face. “My body is a thousand times better than yours, as you know!”

“This body of mine was the one that made you cum as an ordinary bitch in heat!”

That paralyzed Melissa. Her face flushed, and her mouth opened wide. The accusation was much more painful than any blow: it did more harm than the punches that her nemesis had delivered on her; it did more harm that the damage suffered on her tits under the fingernails of Natasha. The thought that had haunted her mind since the muddy fight in the park, the thought she had avoided to accept using the full force of her will, was now thrown into her face by the woman she hated most in the world. Without restraint, without delicacy, the message had been delivered… Now it was her turn to clarify the terms.

“MY body was the ONE that made YOU cum, ugly slut!”

“YOU came FIRST, you asshole!”

“Liar! YOU came FIRST, you moron!”

The lovely features of the girls were disfigured with an aversion that will be undoubtedly eternal. There was no turning back in their rivalry... but surely there had never been such a possibility. The Truth that for weeks had wandered around them with indecipherable messages, the Truth that their bodies had understood long before their minds, suddenly became obvious through the exhaled hostility, through the unmet challenge.

Then tits touched each other. Just was a slight push, but it was enough: the heat that burned in them jumped from one to another. As if a branding iron was marking their boobs, the girls groaned, feeling burned. However, none stepped back, gasping alcoholic breath each other almost mouth of mouth. Going with the flow, blonde and brunette accommodated their bodies chest to chest, staring at the nemesis intensely at close range.

“Keep your tits away from mine if you don’t want me to burn them,” Melissa bragged, feeling how their tits were gradually bringing more heated flesh to the confrontation.

“Will be yours which will be burned here if you don’t stay away from my tits,” Natasha said, noting the increasing pressure between the burning busts.

Ignoring their own threats, the young girls slowly circled each other in the center of the tunnel. Although initially both were alert to any sudden movement of the opponent, the two soon realized that this time there would be no violence between them... at least, not the violence they already knew; at least not soon.

Escorted by their shadows, that appeared and disappeared under the flickering underpass’ light, and surrounded by the howling winter wind, the two antagonists pushed themselves a little closer together, pressing the other firmness until a slight hiss reached their ears. With great difficulty, they broke the locked gaze, forcing themselves to look down. To the surprise of both, the source of the sound was between their yet slightly flattened tits: an almost imperceptible steam emanated from the burning breasts, wherever the bare flesh was touching above necklines. The green eyes of the two beauties were opened wide; impressed because their bluster about burn the rival’s roundnesses were coming true, the girls observed with some lascivious pleasure —not free of concern— how layers of sweat boiled in touch, like oil on a frying pan.

“I promise you that my girls will carbonize yours,” the blonde insisted, staring obsessively how her pair lightly twisted against Melissa’s breasts. “I’m gonna burn yours, crush yours, all at once.”

“My girls will be the only ones that scorch and crush your tits,” the brunette affirmed, as hot as her own boobs. “You shouldn’t have brought your little things here, you bitch.”

“We have discussed this before, whore,” Natasha groaned, slowly moving her shoulders to try to control the sensual and unexpected duel. “My tits are bigger than yours. The sooner you accept that, the better.”

“Prove it to me.”

Without missing a second, the hands of the two amazons fell on the other tits’ sides, grabbing them angrily for the umpteenth time to ruining them with their own fingers. This time, however, both were looking for something more than damage them: they wanted to measure, compare and finally declare which pair was larger.

But that wasn’t the only doubt they wanted to clarify, nor were their fingers the only path to the solution. The young tits of the twentyish women were dense but firm, challenging to the force of gravity. However both were wondering which chest overtaken rival’s boobs in integrity, in solidity. Their hands would deepen on the other flesh far more than in previous fights looking for answers, but wouldn’t be alone in this critical mission: this time, the tits of both female would discover the true virtues of adversary’s flesh by themselves.

Thus, in the center of the dark tunnel, the women ended pressing their breasts together, with controlled fury, while they laterally lacerated them with their cruel long fingers. Both brought their foreheads in tight contact, always looking down at the crucial battle between their proudest features.

A tsunami of sensations hit Natasha, who was shipwrecked quickly in that chaotic sea that was Melissa’s presence. Her senses screamed, each in their own way: her sight was blurred facing the tight flesh struggle, while her nose was flooded by the slightly burnt smell of the steam; her ears caught the soft, warm moans that both exhaled against their wills, and a slight alcohol aftertaste danced in her mouth as a reminder of the initial stimulus.

But nothing could compare to the contact between chests: to feel how the four spheres were moving in that vicious dance of sensitive skin, flexible flesh and fiery sweat was almost more than she could bear. Not even squeezing Melissa’s boobs with her own hands could match the powerful electric shock that ran through her spine with each direct touch between tits, each delivered and received scald. Of course, the blonde reminded every time they had pressed bust against bust in the previous weeks, but those moments seemed mere girl games next to the current time. The context was completely different, with the violent struggle being replaced by something more personal, more lustful and more sexual. Natasha knew that there, in that lonely underpass, they weren’t solving who could win a catfight, but who could surpass her hated nemesis... in another way…

“You’re gonna cum like last time,” she crackled, glancing up. Her nose crashed into the nose of the other woman while the trembling eyes of both beauties returned to face each other at close range. “You’re gonna cum, and this time I won’t need my fingers.”

At the words of the dancer, Melissa gasped. For answer, her nails dug with outrage in the incredibly hot Natasha’s flesh, and her antagonist answered sinking her claws into her tits: a burst of sweat sprang between the breasts, while they were compressed together a bit more with a passionate jolt.

“Your last cum will be nothing compared to the one that you’ll have tonight,” she said, pushing her face forward to inevitably encounter the pressure in the opposite direction of the blonde’s face. “Seeing how you’re already trembling, I just have to smash your tits a little more before you explode.”

“In your dreams, you bitch!” exclaimed Natasha. “Your tits are small, weak and sensitive. Give me a minute and my girls will give you the best orgasm of your fucking life.”

“No fucking way!” Melissa gasped. “My girls will be the ones to teach you how a real orgasm feels, you slut. Just feel how they’re frying yours.”

“My tits are frying yours, not the other way around.”

The angry girls threw back their shoulders slightly, bending their torsos further. Thus, theirs breasts stuck out a little more above the neckline of the blouses, bringing some valuable and additional inches of incandescent skin to the fight. The contact between the virgin areas was felt like a volcanic eruption; Melissa spat out a moan of pain, as she heard the afflicted lament from Natasha. The brunette knew her prized flesh was being burnt so, following her survival instincts, she pushed the blonde away from her.

Stumbling back, the beauties kept the distance with the rival, keeping a close eye on what was to come. The first assault, short but intense, had ended without a clear winner, but Melissa felt she was one notch below her nemesis; after all, she was the one who had provoked the end of hostilities.

“What’s up, darling?” Natasha’s taunt was predictable, but no less painful. “Are my tits too hot for yours?”

“Not at all, you tramp.” Her eyes sailed through the beautiful body of the other female, jealous at what they saw. The refined blonde who had entered into Black & Blue just an hour and a half before had disappeared after the brief, close fight, giving way to a wild and sweaty lioness, as spectacular as dangerous. Natasha’s white blouse clung to her burning skin, dislodged by the struggle, translucent by the moisture, exhibiting a beautiful bra as red as girl’s short skirt.

‘Will I have the same threatening look?’ she asked herself, suddenly worried about a fact that was very important given the nature and destiny of the confrontation. But the trembling greenish iris of the blonde admitted that there —behind that smug smirk— was also doubt and jealousy.

“So... do you want me to continue burning them?” the dancer smiled with lips, not with eyes.

“You can try it.” something caught the attention of Melissa: the turnaround she needed. “But we’ll make things right. My neckline is deeper than yours, so... why don’t you take off that blouse that protects you so much and we see who truly the hottest one is here?”

The Melissa’s challenge sounded like an excuse in the ears of Natasha, but her opponent wasn’t lying. In the friction between breasts, the brunette was the one who had brought more skin, more flesh to the meeting. ‘If I want to prove who better woman is between us I’ll have to get into her game.’

“I accept that... if you also take off yours and we do this on equal terms.” Her pupils moved by the ferocious figure of Melissa —curvy and soaked, provocative and envious— to stop at her chest. With fabric fully embracing her tits, it was impossible not to notice the blue bra sticking out under the pink blouse. “Let me see what cheap bra you picked up of your store.”

“It will be a pleasure.”

Grabbing her blouse underneath, the brunette paused for a few seconds. Natasha felt her defiant gaze pierced her, just a moment before the saleswoman began to undress her torso. Melissa movements were calculatedly slow, feminine; for the blonde, they were small stabs in her stomach… and further down: her sex throbbed wetly to the seductive half-striptease of the enemy. Only ten seconds had elapsed until the moment that the blouse came out from Melissa’s head, but the whole event was eternally painful for Natasha.

“Well…” the other female muttered her, arrogantly waving her long dark hair in the heated air of the tunnel. Tying the wet blouse over her wide hips, she pushed her tits towards her. “What do you think?”

The blonde didn’t find an immediate answer. It certainly wasn’t the first time she saw Melissa’s round glands in her bra, but it was the first time she saw them in that vicious and hot context. In the altercation of Madame, the other woman’s breasts —under a meager black bra— had awakened in her an uncontrollable hate; in Darkness, during the second fight, she had been eaten away by jealousy at the sight of Melissa’s red bra and the firm curves that it held. She still remembered the photographs exchanged by WhatsApp; there was no day or night in which she wasn’t looking obsessively the images that her opponent had sent her that fateful day of the duel in the rainy park: the formidable brunette’s tits and her thick nipples covered by sexy bras —black in a snapshot, white in the other— were already part of her long, sleepless nights.

But none of that had prepared her for what she faced at that moment: Melissa’s boobs looked bigger, rounder and more solid than ever before. Full of sweat, they exuded steam, perceptible only through the flashing of the solitary focus of the underpass. The nipples became terribly obvious under the blue, thin cloth, pushed ahead with a thickness and length than the go-go dancer couldn’t help but find lustful and jealously defiant.

“I think they’re a fucking crap,” she lied through clenched teeth. Melissa’s eyes hardened, with a shade of resentment crossing her beautiful face, while the blonde continued: “I’ll show you how real woman’s tits are.”

Natasha took off her blouse with the same calm that her rival, adding a few dance tricks: shaking her bust and hips, she broke free from cloth prison to exhibit her swollen tits to Melissa. The brunette, licking her lips nervously, carefully observed the weapons that her archenemy brought to the encounter, while Natasha tied the blouse on her hips; two weapons she knew well after weeks of conflicts. But there was something different about them, because in the darkness of the tunnel she could swear that blonde’s boobs were more dangerous than before: her hot flesh seemed to overflow the red bra and her nipples seemed about to pierce it. The dim light of the tunnel showed the burning air fluctuations around Natasha’s tits, as haunting reminder of the last and hot clash of chests.

“If those are the tits of a real woman, then I’m one of those stupid blonde that live in this city,” Melissa growled, just unable to control the jealousy. However the insult seemed to affect the other female as her eyes narrowed with hatred. “They have no chance against mine, girl, so you’d better run away from here while you can.”

Natasha’s response came in the form of steps. Walking forward, she headed straight for Melissa, and the brunette didn’t hesitate to go against her. Looking for a decisive psychological advantage, both shook their curves, but this didn’t stop the pace of the sexy rivals.

“I’m gonna destroy yours, hooker,” the blonde spat, with her face twisting into a hostile grimace.

“Not before mine crush yours, you bitch,” the brunette gasped, suddenly hungry for contact. “And once I flatten yours, your pussy will cum while you scream my name.”

“Get ready to have your tits crushed and burnt and your pussy spitting cum in large amounts.”

Accelerating at the last moment, young women collided in tunnel’s center with breasts in front without caution. The slap of flesh echoed through the concrete while the wet and hot tits crashing together in a burst of pain that forced their owners to moan. The tits were so extremely hard at that tense moment that barely deformed by the blow, while the sweat jumped around like a rain of fire that burned torsos and faces. The arms encircled the other body instinctively; one by the waist, one by the neck, they closed a perfect embrace between the raging amazon that didn’t hesitate to collide forehead to forehead and nose to nose to throw all the hatred at close range.

Then they felt it: the feminine and bare skin that their bras didn’t protect —and it was a lot, considering the small size of lingerie— made direct contact. A fire broke out between the boobs, with such a strong force that first assault’s burns seemed only a faint and distant torch in comparison. The beautiful faces twisted in agony, exhaling anguished whistles while the skins were scalded each other.

This time it was Natasha who gave first. Just five seconds after get entangled bust to bust with Melissa, she threw back her proud virtues, unable to bear the hot connection between the firm fleshes. In front of her, the brunette sighed with relief, but she was mistaken if she thought the dancer had already surrendered: immediately, rival’s tits returned with a resounding thud, vigorous despite the short thrust that allowed the close hug. Melissa growled, throwing back her head and clenched teeth, but she forced herself not to back anchoring her long and toned right leg behind her.

“Bitch!” she cried, opening some space between the two fighting torsos. Then, with a quick movement, she lunged forward, shaking the opposite chest with a cavalry charge led by her thick nipples. On the other side, Natasha moaned and closed her eyes, already on the verge of tears.

“Slut!” the blonde replied, seeking revenge with another attack. However, this time her nemesis also attacked, and the four insolent tits broke together in a painful train wreck.

“Fuck!” it was the shared curse, while even more drops of burning sweat splashed their faces. The breasts were kept together two or three seconds, seeking to fulfill the promise to crush the opposing pair, but the waves of burning agony forced the females to desist —for now— from such an endeavor.

Looking for a sufficient gap to return to lash out, but at the same time not wanting to let the enemy get far enough away to hit hard, the girls struggled in the tunnel, pounding her tits together over and over again. Melissa never stop moaning, feeling how the discharges of pain were born in her trembling boobs before spreading through her entire body, but Natasha’s gasps and convulsions made that all the suffering worthwhile.

For now, it didn’t seem to solve anything. Despite all the anguish and torment, Melissa felt that none of the four tits yielded more than the others. Dense, firm and stubborn, they failed to be crushed beyond the flexible outer layer of flesh. ‘I need more space,’ the brunette understood, if really wanted to drill these cocky boobs.

“Come on, you sow,” she spat against Natasha’s mouth. “This is getting us nowhere. Let us break the hug to see what you do when I can hit you hard.”

“It will be your funeral,” the dancer said. However, none freed the enemy: they kept fighting breast to breast for half a minute, unable to tame their warlike wishes until —after an exalted exchange of blows— both escaped from the other clinch.

Trying to control their gasps, the two beauties went backwards slowly, without looking away from the other girl. Her tits were throbbing, sore and burnt but at the same time eager to return to the transcendental battle with rival’s breasts. Natasha observed with delight the marks that her hot boobs had left in the brunette’s bust; reddish and small, they were scattered throughout the flesh that Melissa’s blue bra couldn’t hide. But the blonde could feel that her own tits had been rubricated in the same way as minor burns throbbed with some stinging under the night breeze. ‘And we’ve barely rubbed them together,’ she was surprised, but she used the slight discomfort to increase her bloodlust.

With deliberate parsimony, Natasha put her arms behind her back, looking to challenge her nemesis to a fight without hands... only to find Melissa doing the same, at the same time. ‘Fucking copycat,’ she cursed inside her head, still surprised by the parallels between their lines of thought: what crossed the mind of one also crossed the mind of the other. ‘Maybe that’s why our fights are always so matched,’ she mused, just before shaking the head. ‘No, this bitch can’t match me in anything.’

“More distance, you whore,” she spat, trying to overwhelm the ideas of the brunette. “Six more feet, and then we charge against each other.”

“As you wish, loser,” Melissa nodded, stepping back a few steps further. “But you also go back. I want to crush those reddened tits of yours once and for all.”

“Keep your hands off my body and I’ll keep mine off yours,” the dancer reminded, stepping back. “This is between my big tits and your burned tits… until the end.”

“Until the end,” the brunette accepted, before starting to run. On the other side, Natasha also ran toward her.

The distance was quickly closed between them, but for the confused minds of the young women, the time dilated while the few seconds that preceded the crash seemed to turn into eternal minutes. Melissa watched her nemesis’ breasts jumped on her bust, about to be thrown out of the bra; the red color of the lingerie quickened her pulse, like a bull against a red cape, while her tits were hardened, dancing under her chin.

Nine feet, and time kept dilating in that lonely tunnel. Seeing the closer and closer Melissa’s curves, Natasha noticed that her nipples reacted growing in the middle of her tits. Inch by inch, the blonde perceived how her nipples lengthened, how her nipples widened, inexorably toward the ultimate shape that they had never before reached.

Six feet, and Melissa already felt the hot and dangerous aura of her enemy surrounding her, hugging her into rivalry. Her eyes looked up, and Natasha’s feline gaze met hers. The chemistry brought them together again, but there was something else that pheromones: a kind of ancient magic, from primitive eras, when the matriarchs decided —alone, in caves as dark as that underpass— who would rule the tribe.

Three feet, just three feet, and Natasha felt herself falling within the deep green iris, within menacingly black pupils of Melissa. Their presences —full of youth and sensuality— crashed together before their bodies. The heat that emanated from brunette’s tits got into battle with the ardor of blonde’s breasts a moment later.

And then, at last...

Collision. The sensations were started on the front of each boob; the outer, flexible and adipose layers of the tits vibrated as gelatin, into the epicenter of an atrocious earthquake that instantly spread through the inner firmness. Both perceived how the tight and resistant mass that formed the foundation of their feminine virtues vibrated in serious threat of crack and yield to the rival force. The quake was internalized, expanding in all directions; buttocks and thighs trembled while crash waves clung to girl’s spines, rising to their throats. They exhaled twin sharply cries, full of frustration and suffering, before the beauties stumbled backward, pushed by the collision.

Melissa back three, four steps before she could stop. Her body still was shaking because the mighty clash, but certainly her tits had taken the brunt: they throbbed as if they possessed their own hearts, burning under the cold of the night, rising and falling with the beat of the heavy breaths that the brunette exhaled. The twinges of pain roamed every inch of skin, every ounce of meat, like relentless incitement to return to combat, but Melissa wanted to check something before: her eyes looked for the feline eyes of Natasha, and there she found bitterness and pain… but also competition. The go-go dancer wanted revenge for the injury as much as she.

Taking air, the lingerie saleswoman walked forward, determined and arrogant. The blonde did the same, puffing out her chest. However, this time none ran: Melissa wasn’t ready for another impact like the previous one and Natasha seemed to accept the change in strategy.

Then the busts clashed again with a direct hit. The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed through the tunnel, accompanied by a double groan. The brunette felt how the tits pounded together for an instant, without any of them taking advantage before backing. Shaking shoulders, her rival and she returned to crush them together. The breasts trembled against each other in a painful explosion.

“Fuck!” came into the air, but Melissa didn’t know who of them had growled it. She just knew that she had to strike again, and again, and again... until her nemesis surrender and accept who had the best chest.

But Natasha was as determined as the brunette to emerge victorious from that female struggle, so soon the fight was accelerated by both, becoming violent amid tormented groans. The blonde constantly looked for rival tits, beating them with hers with the hardest impacts that she was able to throw. In her head that seemed a kind of vicious combat of corrupted boxing, where fists were replaced by tenacious boobs. Natasha realized that her tits had never before suffered so much... not even when Melissa had put her cruel fingers over them. In those moments, every time she struck her breasts against round weapons of her antagonist, every time she felt the firmness and the heat of her rival, the dancer understood that nothing could harm their tits more than just what they were doing; perhaps a well-directed punch against the center of a breast could leave any of them incapacitated for a moment, but Natasha perfectly knew that would be nothing compared to the pain — physical and mental— they would suffer if rival’s boobs managed to crush and humiliate the other tits by themselves.

“Fucking slut!” the blonde croaked, pissed after putting such thoughts together.

“Cheap bitch!” the brunette replied, with the same tears shining in her eyes that the drops that flashed in the eyes of the dancer.

Desperate, hungry, the tits kept mashing together, meeting against each other in painfully and rough explosions; explosions that always threatened to free the flexible curves trapped under the bras.

Then Natasha noticed it: a slight vibration, an internal shudder, like distant thunder, like an echo inside a cave wet, throbbed in the most hidden depths of her sex. A second and slightly stronger tremor followed the first one, forcing Natasha to gasp in a completely different way of how she was gasping after each clash of tits. Her pupils momentarily stopped paying attention to the whining Melissa’s face to focus obsessively on the other breasts; her gaze was soon lost in the rough struggle between her curves and brunette’s curves. Each time they clashed together, the four breasts jumped under bras, swelling between quakes that threatened to strip the flesh. Natasha couldn’t help wishing that Melissa’s tits jump out of her bra; the mere thought about it increased the intensity of the palpitations from the depths of her pussy.

“Oh, you sow!” she exclaimed, watching in frustration as saleswoman’s blue bra kept her well confined bust. Her hands escaped from her back, momentarily out of control, to undress once and for all the thick tits of her nemesis but, at the last moment, Natasha managed to redirect them towards the dark hair of the other girl.

“Whore!” Melissa protested, immediately digging her fingers into the silky, blonde hair. “You said no hands, you coward!”

“Shut up, stupid! This is a fight!”

Even in the middle of the discussion and the change of rules, the beauties didn’t give up their attempts to crush the other tits with their own breasts. The blows grew in intensity and the grunts of the couple joined the growing passion. The seismic sensation in Natasha’s pussy began to inundate her, becoming dangerously present; the girl knew it was an orgasm, but not an ordinary orgasm: her feminine intuition told her that if it kept growing at this frenzied pace, it would be the best —and worse— orgasm of her entire life.

“That’s right. Cum for me, slut!”

Melissa’s scream froze Natasha for a split second… enough to force her back a few steps, for the first time before the rival: two powerful breast strokes from her enemy pushed back Natasha, bringing her closer to the dangerously rough wall of the tunnel. Consolidating her feet on the floor, the dancer managed to stop the advance of the brunette at the expense of a double pain cry, but that was the least of her problems.

‘Can she read my mind?’ she asked herself, before hearing her own breath and understand the obvious: her gasps had stopped sounding painful to become overtly sexual. ‘And certainly, my face must also be betraying me,’ she knew from vicious gaze that Melissa on her face.

But the telltale connection between their bodies, between their eyes, was a two-way street. Still stamping her tits against the antagonist’s boobs, Natasha saw encouraging details in the reddened features of the other young woman: her full lips exhaled breaths loaded with pleasure and burning, while her pupils dilated in a glance saturated with enthusiasm. Against her breasts, Melissa’s tits seemed to shake more and more, in a way that a sexually active woman as Natasha knew well: the brunette was obviously as excited as she was. Not all was lost.

“You cum for me, you bitch!” she demanded, with furious and fast boob blows.

For a full minute, the fight went out of control: using their hands to tug and subdue, the two beauties advanced and retreated through the underpass between fury thrusts and roars of sexual distress. Each collision brought tears to the four beautiful green eyes, and contractions to their cxnts.

Suddenly, Melissa’s back hit a tunnel wall; the sullen hardness lacerated her ass and the rear of her shoulders and head, forcing her to close the teeth to stifle a scream, while her opponent cornered her. Immediately, a rain of blows fell on her chest like a raging summer storm.

“Gotcha!” Natasha roared, beating her tits over and over again. Trapped between the wall and the hot rival’s body, Melissa could only groan under the violent assault: the blonde’s bust, overflowed with determination, felt harder, more ruthless than ever before. Like a sledgehammer, her tits pounded, retreated and pounded again, hurting the flexible flesh breast of the brunette.

“Bitch!” Melissa spat, twisting Natasha’s hair between her fingers as she felt her curves —for the first time— were yielding under the attacks. The dancer’s tits began to weaken her boobs, eroding her inner firmness with increasingly violent blows.

“Your tits... ugh... are weaker... ugh... than I thought!” Natasha boasted, letting her know that she was also feeling the decay of her breasts.

“Yours... oh... are fucking... ugh... flabby!” Melissa lied, arrogant even in defeat. Her irreducible tits, massive and proud since adolescence, were softened for the first time in her life. Each onslaught from Natasha aggravated the situation, filling the brunette’s head with fears that she don’t wanted to accept, so she just let out her frustration through more insults. “And of course ... ugh... yours aren’t so hot... oh... as mine!”

“Mine are far... ugh... hotter than... ugh... yours!”

The provocation worked, even though Melissa was just looking for insult Natasha’s boobs. Before she knew it, she had rival’s breasts crushed against hers: immediately, she felt the crushing pressure between the fleshes, forcing her to moan. However, the blonde also sobbed, letting her know that despite all, both were similarly injured after just a few intense minutes of titfight. Natasha’s bust kept hard against hers, but what she felt, it was undeniable that the other tits were beginning to soften.

But in this desperate nocturnal fight there was little room for complacency by these small achievements; perhaps the firmness of the curves of both beauties was beginning to decline, but the fire crackling in them would not stop growing in intensity. Instantly, Melissa could feel the heat jumped from one chest to another, burning the sensitive skin in an insatiable fire. Natasha moaned against Melissa’s face, visibly burned by the contact between tits, but this time she didn’t separate her curves from the saleswoman’s breasts. The brunette joined her regret, exhaling her anguish through a long moan as her boobs throbbed under the hot contact; the sweat of two beauties looked more boiling oil than just transpiration, as shown by the tears that ran both faces, contorted under the torment.

“I’m gonna burn yours”, Melissa cried, suddenly going beyond Natasha’s hair to encircle her neck in a close embrace and forcing her to back a few valuable steps. Instinctively, the go-go dancer’s arms wrapped the brunette’s body around the waist, and the four tits were trapped between the warring torsos, under a pressure that they had never had. The combination of crushing and combustion forced to the couple to howl with pain; their panting, increasingly erratic, were spat directly above the other left shoulder, where none of them found consolation.

In those moments, Natasha felt that fire pierced her skin, penetrating through the solid breast flesh to reach her arteries, her veins. The blood vessels spread the fire through her body: from her head to the last of her toes, her whole being burst into flames. Her inflamed lungs quickly burned all the oxygen they were getting, and the breath of the blonde began to ring choked. Noticing her muscles fainted, falling one after another like domino pieces, she concentrated her decrease forces into her arms, desperately looking for flatten the formidable tits of Melissa before the end.

Begging for fresh air, Natasha opened her mouth like a fish out of water; she looked up, breathed hungry... and the feminine odor of her rival flooded her senses. The mixture of perfume and sweat accelerated her already racing heart, at the same time forcing her crotch to moisten further. Uncontrollably, the blonde buried the nose in the wet dark hair, inhaling the aroma like a horny lover. Her senses were drugged, and her thoughts were lost into a black hole that absorbed all the answers, leaving on his head only doubt and animal passion.

“I hate you,” she managed to whisper, without spirit, without will. Her lips, plump and pink, brushed Melissa’s ear, and her first instinct —aborted at the last moment— was biting it.

“I hate you,” said the lingerie saleswoman, also against her ear.

Stumbling through the tunnel, the young girls kept spitting all the hot resentment they felt for each other, whispering —despite being alone— through the perfumed falls of silky filaments that formed their long manes. That kind of vicious privacy sickened Natasha but, at the same time, excited her in a way she never ever have imagined.

“I warned you that my girls would burn yours,” the dancer reminded with just a whisper.

“And I warned you that my girls would scorch yours,” her nemesis reproached her, in a whisper so softly as hers.

“Well, they aren’t doing it, you whore.”

“Oh, of course they’re doing it, sow.”

“Yours are already soft,” Natasha growled. “One more minute and I’ll have them cooked.”

“Before that happens, you tramp, I’ll turn yours on burgers: flat and fried.”

“It’s impossible that two small pears like yours flatten my melons, bitch.”

“Your little tits are already flattened,” Melissa muttered. “And my tits aren’t small; your weak tits were never a match for my big ones, either in size or firmness.”

The arrogance of the other girl, able to believe that her breasts were better than hers, began to take a toll on Natasha. Challenging whispers altered her body, her mind, her own ego, adding fuel to the fire of passion that had exploded when she matched her best virtues against the best virtues of Melissa. The blonde felt that the control over her body —once determined— began to disappear: her incinerated chest lost firmness; her green eyes were crying openly; her panting, broken and uneven, were already impossible to subdue; her arms and legs were spending the last ounces of vigor in the close battle...

And her pussy... Her pussy demanded to explode. The convulsions couldn’t be tamed for much longer. Despite all her efforts, the threat of Melissa was going to be painfully true: only with her tits —and her fucking voice, her fucking sexy voice— she would force her to cum like never before in her life.

“No, slut, no!”

The cry that echoed through the tunnel walls could have been hers, as the blonde’s mind screamed those words incessantly… But it had been her nemesis that had exhaled it against her ear. Lost in defeating thoughts, lost in the sensations of her own body, Natasha hadn’t realized Melissa’s condition: the brunette was shaking, shuddering against her as much as she shuddered against the brunette; the gasps from her rival matched hers in exhaustion, pain and heaviness; the saleswoman’s tits decayed at the same rate as her tits, burning and being burned. Natasha knew she was about to lose, but Melissa was so close to be defeat as herself.

“Yes, slut, yes!” she spat, going all out for it. Her belly slammed into Melissa’s abdomen, and the couple moaned at the clash between sweaty, toned flesh. Her skirts came together a second later and, with them, the warmed crotches. A powerful shock took hold of Natasha as she felt —even through the skirts— the flames that Melissa’s pussy was throwing. “No, slut, no!”

“No, slut! No, no!” the brunette cried, closing the eyes, burying her face into the hair of her rival. Despite herself, her sex was hooked to Natasha’s pussy, with their mounds welded together through the fabric. The convulsions were instantaneous and —as Melissa quickly understood— unstoppable. Her nails dug into the shoulder blades of the other woman, and the blonde replied scratching the lower part of her back while the heated night air was filled with female pleas.

Melissa knew it was a matter of seconds. The connection between her sensitive breasts and her pre-orgasmic pussy was a high voltage cable that, full of holes, was throwing electricity through the rest of her body: every brunette’s erogenous zone —including some that she was unaware— blew into pleasant pieces, going beyond what is humanly bearable.

And then she noticed it: hard and thick, the Natasha’s nipples were digging into her tits, lacerating them in a final humiliation. Surprised, Melissa didn’t understand how she had not felt them before; perhaps, in her obsession to crush, she had forgotten them, or perhaps the tremendous struggle of heat had hidden them until then. However, they were there, at that decisive moment.

‘Now, Melissa, now!’

The voice in her head sounded distorted, near and far at the same time. It was her voice, but also sounded with the Natasha’s annoying tone; it was the voice that had tortured her for days at her store, on the street, at home. The voice from her dreams, but also from her nightmares. The voice of the new Melissa that after hibernate for more than two decades now awakened.

She knew what to do. Looking for the last connection between their bodies, Melissa pulled her nipples out of the flexible Natasha’s flesh and, among tremors, she stabbed the thick stilettos of her archenemy. The shock was painful, shocking... neuralgic. Through the eroded bras, the two beauties felt the impalement between nipples: none yielded, in all its splendor, but it was enough.

Natasha cried like she’d been mortally wounded, writhing uncontrollably against Melissa. Connected body to body with her, the brunette felt almost in her own flesh the dancer’s orgasm: destructive, it traveled like a tsunami through her interior, mentally and physically destroying Natasha. The blonde collapsed into the embrace and Melissa, exhausted after the intense hot struggle, could barely hold her. She staggered back, with her rival between the arms, to hit the tunnel wall again.

Then she sighed: the impending orgasm, after bordering the boundaries of her sex, backed in an anticlimax moment, leaving her an empty feeling, frustrating and balsamic at the same time. She sighed again, and let her antagonist to fall: the dancer collapsed on the floor, semiconscious, shaking softly with the latest orgasm jolts.

“Don’t ever put your tits in front of mine,” mumbled Melissa. Now that the combat adrenaline evaporated from her body, she felt incredibly tired. “Don’t ever say, or even think, you’re hotter than me. Now we both know the truth.”

With slow, unsteady steps, the lingerie saleswoman walked away, leaving Natasha in that lonely underpass. However, she couldn’t avoid stopping at the exit to send a warning, without looking back.

“If I see you again in my town, I’ll finish with your tits and your cxnt… definitely.” Melissa moved forward, into the darkness. Her last words echoed in the tunnel, wrapping the humiliated blonde. “You know I have the body to do it...”

To be continued...

[Tigressel]

What an intense battle! Will Natasha rise again after that??

[Anubisx]

What an intense battle! Will Natasha rise again after that??

Thanks!! And yes... Natasha will rise again, looking for revenge

[sinclairfan]

Nothing beats a rematch.

[Tigressel]

When we read through the lines, we get the impression that they subconsciously sexually attracted to each other. Mellissa may have won a decisive victory but in a way Natasha will remain in her mind and subconscious. Hate is a very strong feeling but sometimes the line between hate and attraction is very thin

[Anubisx]

CHAPTER 10:
WITHOUT TRUCE, WITHOUT REST
Wednesday, January 24

Natasha Reilly’s Apartment
Dove Street, 15:07

The hot steam fogged the bathroom, misting mirrors and tiles. The soft and slow music hung in the air, forging a relaxed atmosphere in which, however, Natasha couldn’t dive. Lying in the bathtub, with only her head out of hot water, the blonde tried to ease her pain... without success.

After all, her pain was barely physical. Certainly, she still felt the muscular exhaustion and some stabbing pain of discomfort in tits and scalp; nothing compared to the pain she had felt after the other fights with Melissa, much more violent and dangerous than the last meeting. Last night neither she nor the brunette had thrown a single punch, a single kick. The hairpulling weren’t wild, but controlling, while the struggle between their bodies had been reduced to a single area: their four firm boobs.

‘No, that’s not what hurts me,’ Natasha thought, closing the eyes to try to feel the music. The water that covered her naked figure couldn’t relax her: it was burning, but her body seemed to be able to absorb the heat to feed her own fire. Restless, the beauty girl moved slightly to better accommodate in the bathtub.

“I hate you with all my heart, you brunette slut,” she gasped, unable to contain that pain that tortured her. Her pain, her real pain, was emotional, and Natasha couldn’t find a way to subdue it, or at least reduce it. The defeat against her nemesis wouldn’t stop repeating in her head, as a cruel echo of the past coming back again and again to torture her.

Moving one hand, the dancer grabbed the beer bottle she had left on the edge of the bathtub. She took a long drink, but alcohol didn’t help her either. On the verge of tears, the girl left again the drink on her site... right next to her mobile.

‘What if...?’ she wondered, looking at the phone screen as if it was a lifeline in the middle of a shipwreck. There —right at her fingertips— was the link between her and her enemy, between her bitterness and the potential solution... ‘Or the gate to hell,’ she mused negatively, looking forward to her own body. Underwater, her vagina pounded softly, as if it knew that her mistress was thinking about her.

“Why did you fail me?” she inquired with bitterness in her female voice. Then the blonde grabbed her tits rather abruptly; some water fell out of the tub. “Why did you fail US?”

Natasha knew her chest was up to the task last night, battling on equal terms with Melissa’s hard bust. At the end of the duel, her tits had begun get soft, that’s true, but brunette’s breasts had also lost strength. None could claim victory in the passionate struggle of firmness and burning; though the draw was frustrating for the competitive blonde, at least it doesn’t put her at a disadvantage against Melissa.

But her pussy was a very different issue: when push came to shove, it had broken out in a devastating orgasm that had drained the blonde’s body of energy and will. All this after promising her rival she would win the hot duel…

“You... you...” she tried to complain, but her voice broke. Unable to follow in the bathtub, Natasha got up, and the tears that flowed from her eyes were mixed with water that ran down her skin.

Then she stopped in front of the larger mirror in bathroom. With her hand, the go-go dancer wiped the mist to see a full image of her body. Her boobs stood out red, partly because of the heat of the water, in part by the abuse of the previous night; at that moment, just seconds after coming out of the tub, the eternal combustion filled already her breasts with sweat. ‘How long?’ she mused, watching the transpiration spread through belly and thighs.

Natasha ran her hand over again through the mirror, looking to see beyond. Her curves were reflected more clearly, and she could see the perfect shapes of her hips and waist, the toning of her flat belly, the femininity of her legs; her tits, even punished, were still two solid and erect spheres, with significant, thick nipples.

Looking down, the blonde met again with her sex. Gently spreading the legs, she glimpsed her generous mound, her golden and neatly trimmed hair, her big and wet lips... and her clitoris, her stunning clitoris. Since the humiliating surrender to Melissa’s body —just a few hours before—, the sensitive female spear had remained erect, tense, hard; the young girl was unable to do anything to calm it. When her fingers touched the clitoris, explosive waves seriously threatened her body with an orgasm… After last night, Natasha didn’t want feel anything like it again. Now all climaxes that she enjoy —or, rather, suffer— would be associated with the antagonistic saleswoman; of course, the dancer didn’t intend to accept it.

“But I’m not leaving the city,” she cried at her reflection, remembering the final threat of Melissa, and her reflection replied hardening the features. Suddenly, every arrogant word, every cocky gesture, every defiant look from the brunette appeared in her head; instinctively, she clenched in anger the fists. The adrenaline began to fill her body with spirit and rage, anaesthetizing the emotional pain from the orgasmic defeat.

“It was a matter of seconds,” she said herself, shivering in a contained fit. “She was also on the edge, I know it,” Natasha evoked Melissa’s gasps, grunts, cries; how her rival trembled against her body, as her broken by passion. “I had her. She was mine... she was almost mine.”

Now, muscle fatigue, physical torment or mental humiliation didn’t matter: just imagine the smug smiling brunette after her victory was enough to make Natasha regained her lost courage.

She looked at her phone, and thought about the possibilities. But she soon discarded them all, choosing the only one that could satisfy her...

***

Madame Lingerie
New Hall Lane, 16:33

In her store, Melissa was living in a dream: the air was breathable; the light came more radiant from the street. The customers smiled more, buy more. The world certainly was a happier place.

“Today you look very happy,” one of her most faithful clients said. “The last few weeks you were acting strangely, honey, but today you are our smiley Melissa again.”

“Thanks, Joanna,” she replied, smiling. ‘But no, I’m not the same girl,’ she added inside her head. Her body was so full of self-fulfillment, of self-improvement, that she felt ascend to Heaven. ‘A different Heaven. Heaven that the religions sell us is false,’ she mused. ‘Heaven isn’t earned being a wimp who prays and forgives, but putting into place the snooty bitches who think they are above others.’

She cared little for that still throbbing pain on her tits. Melissa knew they would remain sensitive for days, feeling them uncomfortable under any clothes; they would remain soft for a week —or more—, lack of the firmness that she had always been so proud. However, the compensation was delicious: knowing that her girls had fought a duel with the nemesis’ presumptuous boobs until —after burn and soften them— push her owner to cum in humiliation... was priceless.

“Excuse me, can you help me?”

The voice of a client woke her. Shaking the head, she left her succulent dream to return to the present. ‘How long has it been?’ she wondered, seeing that Joanna was no longer at Madame.

“Sorry, I was distracted. How can I help y…?”

The doorbell rang at that moment, but it wasn’t what interrupted to the saleswoman. Air suddenly became denser, while the temperature rose. A disturbance ran through the store, from the entrance to her...

Natasha came intro Madame, staring at the brunette.

“Hello?” the client insisted, clearly annoyed. In front of her, Melissa couldn’t take hers eyes off the blonde; throwing glances, her rival moved between full of lingerie shelves.

“Yeah, sorry.” Swallowing, Melissa helped the woman to choose what bra to take, though she was more attentive to the newcomer than her. ‘What the fuck is she doing here?’

For several minutes —minutes stretched as if the passage of time had slowed in the store— the girl attended her customers between quick glances to the dancer. The blonde returned each of them, as haughty as ever. ‘Have this slut forgotten what happened last night?’ She became angry, growling under her breath more than once. The presence of Natasha was infuriating her on a low flame, upsetting her to lose track of placidity she had felt since the victory of hours earlier.

On the other end of the unhealthy connection between the women, the blonde began to feel impatient. Her idea of appearing in Madame without warning had worked, watching the rival’s reaction, but now she felt stuck in that place: she couldn’t attack Melissa publicly because she knew they would be separated instantly, causing an embarrassing scandal, and she also couldn’t get her out there.

Even worse: the store doesn’t close in three hours, three endless hours. ‘I cannot stand so long in this way,’ Natasha knew, being engaged yet again with Melissa’s eyes. The supreme hatred of the couple hit through the pupils, angering the rivalry even more... if that was possible.

‘You just wait until we get back to put together our tits, cheap whore,’ the blonde growled in her head, trying to send the silent message to the brunette. Under her chin, her breasts quivered, tense by the eternal delay. ‘Easy, girls, I’ll find a way...’

The time continued slowly crawling forward, sometimes almost stopping. Distractedly looking panties, stockings and bras, Natasha cursed every woman and every man that, coming into the store, delayed her greatest desire. The sound of the doorbell began to seem detestable, painfully agonizing. Soon she began to hyperventilate.

“Fuck,” the blonde whispered, running her hand over her full of sweat forehead. Trying to control herself, she glanced at Melissa, finding some comfort in the clearly irregular breathing of the lingerie saleswoman. ‘She’s as nervous and impatient as me... Perfect’.

Several paces away, Melissa swallowed hard. ‘Should I close the store?’ she thought, unable to bear the walks of her opponent through her store. The situation reminded her of their early antagonism, when Natasha came to Madame to buy her sexiest lingerie for her performances in Darkness. ‘How long has it been since the first day?’ she mused, feeling that time extremely distant and innocent. ‘We were like two stupid and clumsy girls, unable to understand what was happening. But look at us now…’

Several adrenaline rushes tightened her chest as she kept an eye over the blonde, analyzing her just as she had done months ago in this same place, but now seeing beyond: her tits, displayed by a blue and generous low cut blouse, weren’t only sexy curves, but also effective weapons; her toned and feminine legs, shown by her short black skirt, had hidden a physical power that Melissa now understood; her thin arms, with firm hands with long fingers, were more dangerous than she had ever imagined.

‘She’s a walking weapon,’ she thought. ‘But I’m a weapon too, although then I didn’t know it.’ Her eyes fell on Natasha’s body, making her to see how many things she didn’t know about the blonde yet. ‘And her ass? Can she also use it in a fight? Could we...?’

Her line of thought was cut at that moment. For the first time since the go-go dancer had arrived, she was facing her defiantly.

“You bitch, close the store before people keeps screwing us.”

Surprised by the direct contempt, Melissa looked around... to meet the empty store. Within her reveries, she hadn’t realized that just seconds before the last customer had left Madame.

“Close the fucking store... or are you afraid of what happens when we’re alone?” Natasha insisted, visibly upset.

“You’re the one who should be afraid, slut,” Melissa finally reacted, grabbing the keys to go toward the door with hurried steps. Without delay, she activated the metal shutters: while they insulated Madame from the outside world, the brunette locked the door, running her small curtain to hide them.

Even with lighted lamps, the place seemed to darken, as if what was there about to happen was destined to secrecy, to most absolute female privacy. Melissa and Natasha discovered that they wished some light bulb to flicker, evoking memories of the last night’s fiery duel: one to commemorate a hard triumph, the other to avenge a humiliating defeat.

“Well?” The voice of the brunette, smug and full of satisfaction, was enough whispery to make understand to both girls that despite all, they just were separated from reality by a thin layer of steel. A scream… and the street would know what was going on in the store.

“Take off that ugly white blouse so we can finish what we started yesterday,” Natasha exclaimed directly. The overwhelming waiting and the frustration over last night capitulation melted into an impatience by settling old scores that the blonde couldn’t hold.

“Finish?” A haughty smile appeared on the face of her opponent. “I could swear our last night discussion was more than finished. It wasn’t your pussy the one that cum just as I promised?”

“Maybe you got lucky, bitch, but I assure you that your pussy will be the loser today… And I’ll finish crushing your pathetic tits too.”

“Do you speak about this tits, you slut?” Grabbing her blouse, Melissa pulled her up, baring her torso without hesitation. Before Natasha’s green eyes, the rival tits emerged bouncing under a black bra: the flesh glowed red and sweaty, round and sensual. “Do you really think they’re pathetic?”

“Yes… and weak,” she insulted, watching how, despite its spectacular nature, the other boobs wore a slight flabbiness they had never before shown.

“Show me yours, if you think you can compete with mine,” the lingerie saleswoman proposed. “I want to see how I left them last night.”

“In much better shape than your little ones, that’s for sure.”

With a quick gesture, the dancer took off her blue blouse; tossing it aside, she stood proud to Melissa, pushing her chest —barely covered by a purple bra— out.

“I always thought your little pears are ugly and soft, but now they are worse than ever,” the brunette insulted, announcing to Natasha that her enemy had noticed the subtle weakness of her bust. “I’m sorry for abusing so much yours in that tunnel.”

“I’m sorry for wrecking and burning your sagging girls,” she replied, enjoying with red marks of the other girl’s chest. In order for Melissa didn’t discover her thoughts,  Natasha didn’t look down, but she tried to remember her own burns in a vain attempt to find out who was worse after the last night’s hot combustion duel.

“Cut the crap.” Suddenly, the brunette’s beautiful features hardened, as if she were sick of the dirty discussion. “If you think seriously that your tits can compete with mine, come here to prove it. I’ll be happy to crush them again.”

“Not so fast, prostitute,” the dancer cut off with a strange gleam in her eyes that disturbed Melissa. “This time, no more games.”

“There have never been games between us,” the saleswoman replied, although she didn’t understand what her rival was talking about.

“No more games,” her opponent insisted, moving with deliberate parsimony her fingers into her bra. That’s when the brunette noticed a little detail: Natasha’s bra had the clasp ahead. Before she could say anything, her nemesis unceremoniously unzipped it and exposed her breasts suddenly and unexpectedly.

Melissa gasped with eyes and mouth open wide. For the first time, the tits of her hated rival, her bitter rival, was exhibited naked before her, without fabric between her eager eyes and the proud curves. With the pulse out of control, the brunette observed how Natasha arched her back to better present her pair. ‘What a slut!’ she cried inside her head, feeling her last night win was overshadowed by the obvious psychological advantage of her enemy. ‘Fucking slut!’

Blonde’s boobs were bigger than she had imagined: spherical and firm, with pinkish and thick nipples, they looked milky partly by the absence of tan, so the sweat that filled the delicate skin stood out even more in the center of the breasts.

“Ugly and soft?” the dancer said ironically, undeniably proud of her move.

The saleswoman couldn’t give an immediate response. The opponent’s audacity had caught her completely by surprise but, above all, she just felt paralyzed by sensations that these two tits were transmitting. Her instincts rang like bells throughout her body, by sounding the alarm about the imminent danger.

“They don’t impress me,” she muttered with a false tone. Swallowing hard, Melissa saw Natasha’s nipples grew slowly but inevitably towards her still covered boobs.

“Of course they do,” the blonde smiled, looking straight into her eyes. The arrogance of the girl drove Melissa crazy.

“You bitch, don’t forget who lost last night!” she spat, and a shadow of anger covered Natasha’s face. Quickly grabbing her own bra, the brunette wanted to even the score. “Mine are tits for real!”

Almost breaking her clasp, Melissa took off her dark bra, throwing aside with some fury. Her big, nude breasts, hot for the challenge, bounced for just a couple of seconds before stabilized over her torso in a show of firmness.

Immediately, Natasha’s face moved from resentment to a feeling that her undaunted but futile gesture couldn’t hide: envy. Melissa felt in the pit of her stomach how jealousy bubbled like volcanic magma, ready to explode, but knowing that her opponent exhibited the same envy for her tits that she exhibited by blonde’s tits somehow eased her internal volcano.

“Something to say?” Melissa asked with all the arrogance that she could build up in her mouth. She didn’t need to look down to know how her own breasts were shown after the last physical changes: fat, round and sweaty, they showed the same paleness that Natasha’s chest there where the sun hadn’t kissed them. Through various palpitations, the brunette knew her brown nipples, already long and thick, were spreading even further at those moments, in the midst of the showdown.

“Yours are pitiful,” the go-go dancer lied.

Both beauties were getting lost in the other bust; the pupils moved quickly and tremblingly, analyzing and comparing before the inevitable crash, and the painful sensations that had always surrounded the young women about the striking similarities between their figures returned to their hearts, poisoning them with the anxiety of those who felt copied.

“The only pitiful are yours,” Melissa croaked, even despite the fact that Natasha’s tits seemed to match hers in size, shape and seduction. The other weapons were raised to the same height as her breasts, exultant under a waterfall of sweat; the other nipples, pink swords in front of her brown spears, were surprisingly generous in thickness and length, though Melissa was sure her pair —her powerful new pair— matched each of her virtues. The saleswoman realized that even blonde’s rough areolas were matched to her large, round areolas.

“Maybe you think yours look like mine, so I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Natasha grumbled, making her see that the dancer had come to the same conclusion that she. “One thing is the appearance, and QUITE another to discover the reality that lies beneath an illusion.”

“For once we’re in agreement, you slut,” Melissa replied, her eyes still fixed on enemy’s bust. “You may think we have similar tits, but just remember last night; remember how you tried for yourself which pair dominated the fight.”

“You have a shit memory if you think that, whore,” the go-go dancer refuted, delighting Melissa with a slightly angry tone. “My girls crushed yours. Get lucky at the end doesn’t change that.”

“You talk a lot of luck, stupid cxnt. We’ll see what excuse you use when I beat you again today...”

With slow steps, the two beauties approached the antagonist. Outside, the city was trying to draw attention of both with noises of reality, but beyond the steel shutters the only truth that existed were two women united by hatred impossible to contain. Somehow, an aura of silence surrounded the girls, isolating them from the outside but at the same time distorting their usually sweet voices to turn them in female daggers.

“I’m gonna enjoy burning your flesh, you slut,” Natasha savored her own words, viciously watching the red marks on her nemesis’ breasts. “If yesterday it was painful, just imagine how you’ll feel now...”

“My girls are hotter than last night,” Melissa exclaimed, studying the burns she had left in rival’s tits. “But my nipples are even far hotter. As soon as you feel mine against yours, you’re gonna scream… you’re gonna cum…”

Reaching the other beauty, the young women began to surround each other, extending a little more the time of the words before the real duel. Natasha always found energy in these preludes, even although every word that came from Melissa’s fleshy mouth was detestable.

“You aren’t ready for my nipples,” the blonde challenged, now so absorbed in the rival’s lengths as the own brunette. “Your nipples aren’t ready for mine.”

“Do you want to prove that?”

“Yeah, bitch, please...”

Stopping, the girls faced each other just a step away. Natasha just lost a second to look up the defiant Melissa’s face; immediately, she looked again at the brunette’s breasts, at her fearsome brown nipples. ‘They’re fucking fat,’ she thought, with a shadow of doubt crossing her thoughts. ‘And fucking long’.

Before the uncertainty poisoned her, her own nipples throbbed, in a sort of wakeup call. Looking down, Natasha found two weapons that appeared to harden even more… if that was possible ‘They have never been so big,’ she marveled. Looking forward and back, she tried to figure out if her pinkish daggers exceeded in some aspect to the knives that Melissa’s bust brandished. But nothing could solve hers eyes.

Like two objects irretrievably attracted by the gravity of the opposite, the bodies of the beauties began to close the space between them. The dancer seemed to fall on the saleswoman in slow motion, with rival’s nipples inexorably moving toward hers; a drop of sweat gleamed on one of them, just before falling into the void... and then...

It was total joint, and instantly devastating: the four nipples connected at their tips, joining in an electric discharge in closed circuit that traveled tits’ girls at full speed. A thousandth later, the sparks lost control and a conflagration broke out between the thick spears; the indomitable fire inflamed the sensitive nerves of the nipples.

“Fuck!” Natasha yelled, throwing her head back and closing her eyes. On the other hand, she heard the helpless, unintelligible curse from Melissa, whose face also sobbed toward the ceiling.

The contact between tits last night was terribly fiery, but it was nothing compared to the engagement between naked nipples at that moment: unbearably scorching, the union was breaking Natasha, physically and mentally, just a second after the start. However, through her nipples, she could also feel how much was suffering the other beauty... and it wasn’t a little. Gritting her teeth, the blonde took refuge in the suffering of her nemesis, refusing to give in, to withdraw: her hands flew over rival’s arms, clinging to them while Melissa’s fingers gripped hers. Opening her watery eyes, she looked ahead to the brunette’s agonized face, to her trembling but still arrogant look, while both adjusted their torsos nipple to nipple.

Before her, Melissa opened her mouth, but she failed to utter a word. Her gesture twisted, while a pitiful hissing arose crawling between her lips. Natasha also wanted to spit her hate, but nothing different than a moan came out of her.

For a few long seconds, her nipples continued burning each other in mutual and humanly impossible cooking before sliding further. The go-go dancer gasped to perceive how the rival’s spears laterally roamed the entire length of her nipples, finally sinking in her hot areolas. The penetration was felt as a humiliation —another more— but was accompanied by a reward: her weapons drilled simultaneously the brown areolas of the saleswoman, forcing the brunette to growl as her flesh was hotly lacerated.

“Bitch!” Melissa managed to grumble; for some stupid reason, Natasha hated that her enemy, and not her, was the first to exhale something intelligible, although it had been only an instinctive insult.

“Bitch!” she cried against the brunette, trying to spit the word harder, with more intonation, that her rival. It was amazing, but now they were competing even at that level.

“Bitch!” Melissa repeated, shaking her nipples inside the dancer’s areolas. Natasha felt the rough skin yielded to the burning swords, wavering to her hardness. Gritting her teeth, she focused on the counterattack: she brandished her own nipples against other areolas, making it softer with a strong combination of firmness and heat.

At that time, when a word was a luxury hard to achieve, the faces became the only possible language. Natasha knew —and hated— the pretty face of Melissa perfectly, so she could read and understand her gestures with a level of detail that no one else in the world could do: each contraction on her full lips, each delicate skin shiver, every spasm in her green eyes was a message, private and exclusive, that spoke of suffering, concentration, resentment. The blonde enjoyed making to talk to brunette’s face, savoring her silent screams in that discussion without words. However, the vicious sparks danced in the eyes of Melissa informed Natasha that she wasn’t the only one who enjoyed the anguish of the other one.

Hurting each other for three, four minutes, the girls didn’t give up their efforts to impale the opposite areolas, aware by the grimaces of the rival that they finally had found a weakness in the mighty bust of the other beauty. But just behind the thick, irreducible nipples and sensitive areolas, the heavy tits agitated, anxious to get into the lusty battle.

‘Hold on a little more,’ Natasha requested them, as impatient as her boobs for get completely into a titfight with the brunette. ‘Give me time to finish with her nipples, and then we crush her’.

‘Patience, my dears. Let me grind her nipples before humiliate her tits once and for all,’ Melissa claimed, as anxious as her breasts. Her gaze had left the twisted face of the blonde to focus on the obscenely precise fencing battle. Moving her shoulders gently, and without leaving the rival’s areolas, she began to push her nipples against the weapons of Natasha, side against side, in a desperate attempt to bend them. Instantly, she felt the resistance of the other thick nipples, but they seemed reluctant to give.

“I’m gonna break yours, you slut!” she cried out, concentrating all her vigor in her long spears. Suddenly she was aware that she could connect words again: the fire that burned between the two youths was internalized; still tormented her, terrible and hot, but it was becoming tamable. Like everything in the intense relationship between her and the dancer, what was unbearable and senseless at first, was tolerable and logical at the end… Even fight with nipples instead of fists could appear normal.

“I’m gonna break yours first!” Natasha growled, and Melissa felt the pressure against her couple.

Matched in length and thickness, nipples pushed with all the strength that the two beauties were able to collect in very specific points. For a few seconds, nothing moved; several drops of sweat fell for faces and breasts, for bellies and backs, under their skirts until reach their shoes, while girls clenched their teeth and squeezed the other arms to the effort. Melissa was surprised to feel how much energy was spent on this phase of the battle, with virtually all the tendons in her body dilated in support.

Gradually, the two sets of nipples began to tremble, letting the brunette know that the moment of truth was approaching. With satisfaction, she saw Natasha’s spears yielded slightly, curving just a little, but her joy was short: her own weapons were faltering simultaneously, became arched the same way as her rivals. Redoubling the efforts, Melissa mentally encouraged her nipples to stand firm, stony against assault of Natasha, but there’s no turning back: her daggers kept twisting, like the blonde’s nipples.

Then they reached the point of maximum tension. Nipples, mutually bowed, quivered next to each other, forcing the girls to moan before, with a burst, they surpass the opposing spears sharply. However, that didn’t stop the fight, because the beauties returned to nail their nipples into the areolas with rage and precision, now matched from the other side.

“I bent you first!” Melissa muttered, pushing back her weapons against the weapons of her nemesis.

“You liar hooker! You gave up before I did!” Natasha replied, accepting the challenge of the lingerie saleswoman.

Again, their nipples rivaled for warping each other. Melissa watched how for the second time the erections disputed the supremacy length against length, and she got lost in the hypnotic struggle. ‘Come on, come on!’ she encouraged inside her head, watching her spears proudly resist the pressure.

“Is this all your nipples can do?” she heard her antagonist whistling through clenched teeth.

“Just wait and you’ll see,” the brunette warned. “You wish not having crossed my path.”

Soon the nipples began to bend each other again, quivering with tension until finally returning to skip past the others.

“Again, bitch!”

“Come on, slut!”

For several minutes, Melissa and Natasha kept mentally blinded in that exasperated desire to overwhelm other nipples with lateral thrusts... without success. Equality between the erogenous spears was so obvious that the girls could only get frustration and hatred of all that; the nails dug deeper into the other arms, while the groans of effort were filled more and more with resentment towards the opposite nipples.

“Enough of this nonsense!”

Natasha’s growl broke the board, starting a new game: tired of stagnation, she boosted her weapons forward. As torpedoes, they hit just below nipple’s waterline of Melissa, drilling them from the bottom up. The anguished cry of the brunette made the blonde enjoying a wave of satisfaction: she quickly looked at her rival’s face, contorted in pain, before lowering the sight and enjoy Melissa’s nipples being twisted up because her blow. But the moment passed quickly, and the counterattack was fast: the spears of the other woman retreated slightly before turning to one side and, quick like a cobra bite, they rammed the sides of Natasha’s nipples. The push was felt as a blow to small scale, with erections of the sexy saleswoman bending and crossing her weapons with ruthless ease. It was her turn to sob, and the time of her nemesis — the blonde could feel it in the tense air— to rejoice for her suffering.

Then the most surgically precise fencing combat of the history erupted in the solitary lingerie store of the city center, hidden from passersby who, unaware of the tragic death duel that was happening just a few feet from them, walked through the crowded New Hall Lane. Grabbing the other arms with even more strength, the jealous couple of beauties moved her shoulders, her busts with accuracy, shaking them back and forth, left and right, to fight with their hungry thick nipples.

“Put them harder if you want to have a chance against mine!” Melissa challenged after several clashes and scrapes.

Natasha was already mentally cheering her nipples to maintain the stony rigidity until her opponent’s nipples became soft. Under her skin, under her flesh, she could almost feel the blood flowing quickly and hotly to her boobs, concentrating on her stiffnesses, while her will called for resistance.

“Just worry about yours!” the blonde spat, locking briefly nipple to nipple with Melissa. The four peculiar foils were chained together for one, two, three agonizing seconds; they scorched mutually before separating with a blast of heat.

There was no ceasefire. The next attack came from above, with the brunette dropping her nipples on the set of Natasha. The go-go dancer moaned as she felt the blow, but luckily her weapons managed to stop the onslaught. For a moment, Melissa daggers put pressure down, slightly curving rival’s knives with a feeling of weight that surprised to the blonde. Natasha was quick to react, rolling her nipples through much of the thick circumference of others nipples, rubbing them harshly to force the other beauty to growl, overwhelmed.

“Slut,” Melissa gasped softly, accepting the challenge and returning each friction with angry intensity. Bordering each nipple, the amazons rotated their spears together, one rotating clockwise, other counterclockwise, in this erosive war. The teat skin began to break off, with microscopic cracks —invisible to the human eye— opening in the rough process. Natasha felt the hell that burned for days inside her escaped through imperceptible cracks, but also how Melissa’s nipples expelling her own fire dragon.

“Fucking whore!” the dancer exhaled, again feeling scorched by the other girl. The response of her opponent was just a long moan without words, as full of anguish as her own voice.

Then, both separated their swords, but again there was no armistice between fencers. The blonde watched Melissa rose slightly on her feet, and instinctively she bent her knees a bit, guiding her nipples upward while the stiffnesses of the other girl fell on her. The four sensitive but stubborn rapiers clashed tip to tip at an angle of almost 45 degrees and the two beauties could only grunt in pain. Although gravity was playing in favor of the weapons of the brunette, Natasha noted with pride how her nipples were able to support the full weight of Melissa’s massive boobs for a couple of seconds, even pushing them slightly upward before the four nipples inevitably slipping sharply beyond the others. The breasts of the brunette fell on the blonde’s tits heavily with a resounding thud that echoed throughout the store.

“Fuck, you bitch!” Melissa complained, pushing her curves forward eagerly. The dancer was momentarily outweighed by the overwhelming flesh, that ran over her own bust and over the satisfaction she had felt stopping the onslaught of the brunette just with her nipples.

“Damned whore!” she growled, gasping at the first full contact between her bare tits. The burning and firmness of the breasts battled for a vicious moment, but the lingerie saleswoman’s boobs had the initiative, having taken the best position after the collision. Therefore, Natasha used her hands to force her enemy to back down enough to return the assault; with a short step back, she opened space between torsos... and attacked.

Just as Melissa had done before, Natasha got up on her feet, hoping that the arrogance of the brunette forced her to accept the change of roles. So it was: her nemesis slightly lowered her torso, bending the legs, and prepared herself for the onslaught. The thick pinkish nipples came down upon the long brown erections and again both pairs impaled together, tip to tip. This time, however, the double pained growl turned into a little tormented cry. Natasha became exasperated to feel that Melissa’s weapons responded by holding her boobs in the air before losing the support point. For the second time, the four bare tits clashed together in a powerful train wreck.

“Oh, slut!” the blonde cried, still pressing forward. Her flesh overpowered the rival’s chest, avenging the humiliation of a minute before.

“You sow!” Melissa insulted, shaking with rage under the assault. The go-go dancer tried to go even further, definitely crushing those cocky tits, but the other woman pushed her enough to separate their warring busts.

“Are you afraid of my tits, loser?” Natasha attacked, ramming ahead at the same time as Melissa. The curves abruptly slammed, and sweat blew up like a salty rain that splashed over the twisted and beautiful faces.

“You were the first to move back, you coward,” the brunette replied, just before the second collision of tits. Her flesh quivered like jelly, and so did the blonde’s chest. To the trained eye of the saleswoman, there was no doubt that the last night duel at the underpass was taking a toll on both youth girls: her tits would never have shaken that way if they had her former firmness. Certainly, after four fights —five with the current one— against her archenemy, she knew how solids were go-go dancer’s breasts, especially after having felt them in her hands and finally against her own boobs. The question now was: what set of tits would lose all consistency first?

Seeking the answer, Melissa slammed her tits against Natasha once, twice, three times, always meeting the thick glands of the other girl halfway. Each shock filled the air with groans and echoes of flesh, the eyes with tears, and the hearts with frustrated anger. The throbbing pain seeped through the skin, spreading throughout the mass of tits and beyond with an impossible to ignore strength, but Melissa could feel the adrenaline and hatred suffocated part of the torture; her animal desire to dominate mixed with the feminine instinct to humiliate, creating a hunger for supremacy; although at that time it focused on her breasts, it wouldn’t be satisfied until she completely devour the body of her nemesis.

“Come on!” she growled, still hitting tit to tit with Natasha. Soon, violence exceeded the ritual nature which had the confrontation, and the girls left the other arms to hold onto the other long mane. The hairpulling put out several afflicted gasps from Melissa, but she wasn’t left behind ripping all the golden filaments that she could from the dancer’s head. However, none renounced to the real target, and the busts continued crashing together with lascivious impatience.

“I’ll destroy yours, bitch!” Natasha howled.

“You won’t make it, slut!” Melissa cried.

Staggering, the girls immersed in the hit and pull chaotic dance; the sweat of chests kept bursting after each impact, soaking even more the soaked faces of the amazons. For some reason, this attracted the attention of Melissa to Natasha’s face, only to find her opponent’s eyes fixed on her. For a moment the saleswoman felt certain magnetism toward the face of the other female, judging her features as she had never done before. After each bust aggression, the brunette watched how her eyes, with intensely green iris, trembled; how her nose, thin and delicate, exhaled; how her mouth, with pinkish fleshy lips, growled; how her skin, smooth and slightly tanned, tensed under a cascade of fragrant transpiration. The features were so similar to hers that Melissa remembered what the origin of the rivalry was; a wave of cold fury strengthened her belligerent spirit, but the feelings were furthest: her crotch throbbed under her skirt, resurrecting the real purpose of the whole meeting.

“Do you have something to tell me?”

The words of Natasha broke the reverie of brunette. Suddenly, she realized that the fight had stopped, with both motionless females in the center of the solitary store. Melissa’s breasts were firmly pressed against dancer’s tits, but it wasn’t all that both faced: below, the girl felt the flat stomach of Natasha crushed against hers, while the thighs of both beauties kissed each other through skirts. The enemies were panting on the other face at close range, with their noses and chins almost touching. Melissa knew her scrutiny couldn’t have been more obvious.

“I have many things to tell you.” Her answer came after a long and intense silence. Melissa didn’t even know what she meant exactly with this, but in her heart she could feel that, despite the countless and mutual insults and disdain, her hatred for the blonde hadn’t been verbalized completely.

“Me too, you fucking lesbian,” Natasha said. Melissa trembled slightly as she heard the last word: though she was aware that it had been spit as an offense, she was surprised that she considered it an insult; she always had an open mind about these issues, so being a lesbian wasn’t something insulting, but the fact that the blonde consider her a lesbian was dishonorable for her.

“You’re the only lesbian here.” Going against her message, the brunette pushed her pelvis forward in search of a tighter contact. “Just a dyke as vicious as you could cum when you’re fighting another woman.”

“Look who’s talking.” Accepting the challenge, the go-go dancer impaled her crotch between the thighs of her rival, and both women growled softly. “Do you have already forgotten how you cum in the park? And I just had to get a couple of fingers down there...”

“You’re the stupid without memory here. Two orgasms, you bitch, two fucking orgasms I got from your pathetic body. And in the last one, just last night, I didn’t even need to sink my fingers under your panties.”

“Whore, I wasn’t wearing panties!” Natasha was sharply sincere. Her nose was crushed against Melissa’s nose and both moaned as she felt their bodies closed together even more. “I wasn’t wearing panties, nor wearing panties now!”

“Me neither, you fucking prostitute!” the brunette gasped, pulling slightly from the other mane, as she felt the pressure of the blonde’s fingers on hers. “Not last night, not now!”

“Good!” Natasha’s hands quickly fell through Melissa’s back… to grab her powerful butt vehemently. Immediately, she pushed her crotch forward, rubbing it dirtily against the other pelvis. The brunette moaned, closing the eyes momentarily, before grabbing the hard buttocks of Natasha and return every friction with her own sex. Like last night, their mounds of Venus were linked electrically and ardently through the fabric, trapping the girls in a devastating and excited link without escape.

This was the moment that the blonde had actually been waiting, without even knowing it until now. She had come to Madame seeking revenge, seeking to avenge the humiliation of hours earlier. Aware of the rivalry that throbbed between her heavy, firm tits, she had focused her retaliation in the titfight, the nipplefight... the same kind of fight that had broken out among them, last night, in the dark tunnel. But now that her enemy and she brought their pussies together through their skirts, a lament of the past returned to her head: ‘Why did you fail me?’ She remembered the painful moment in the bathtub when she understood that hers chest hadn’t failed last night… but her sex. The threats that both girls had spat at the beginning of the fight had gone in that direction, but only now Natasha fully understood that, like last night, nothing would be solved if their crotches don’t fight face to face; that way had happened hours earlier when they had joined together their mounds of Venus, and that way should happen here and now.

“You’re going to cum, bitch, and then we’ll see if you continue being so stuck-up!” she yelled, throwing her torso back to increase pressure on the other pussy. As if she read her mind, Melissa did the same, separating for the first time the battler, naked breasts.

“You didn’t beat my tits, stupid, and you won’t beat my pussy!” the brunette objected, thrusting her crotch against hers over and over again.

That’s when Natasha noticed how the match turned out of control: like last night, the fight suddenly and quickly was approaching to its final as their most intimate anatomies came into play. ‘Since last night, and as usual,’ the go-go dancer knew, recalling how many times their quarrels had ended after burying their fingers on the other pussy, or after coupling them together. Closing her eyes and panting heavily, the girl kept rubbing against her opponent while she understood that the real question that both trying to solve was who was sexier… and this could only settle in this way: sex to sex. The vicious revelation blew her pussy, bringing it closer to an orgasm that Natasha didn’t want. ‘Don’t fail me again!’ she begged, trembling against hers opponent just as her opponent trembled against her.

A minute passed, then two, and the battle between the pelvises kept accelerating. The skirts were turning on hips with every sexual friction, tearing under the fingernails that desperately imprisoned the energetic buttocks. The bodies were exuding streams of fire in drops of sweat, which evaporated after just a moment of contact with female, burning skin, consuming the surrounding air to let a lack of oxygen atmosphere for the panting amazons. Natasha could feel her tits, erect and free, burned like never before in that strange spontaneous combustion  that quickly spread through the rest of her body: her thick lips quivered under the heat wave, while her belly, legs and ass throbbed by that unstoppable fire. She was fire, and the fire was woman.

“Fuck!” she heard in the store, but the beautiful blonde didn’t know which of them had complained. Under her claws, the enviously solid buttocks of Melissa burned her fingers, her palms, almost as if she were holding a metal exposed to the desert sun. However, that was nothing compared to the ignition thaw was jumping from the brunette’s pussy to hers. The pre-orgasmic waves were fed by that flame, growing in intensity, bringing them to the final climax of a war that just begun between sexes.

Then, with a superhuman effort, the blonde managed to open the eyes; the accumulated tears sprang for her contorted face, melting on contact with her cheeks while her tarnished sight showing her the lustful suffering of Melissa: her enemy was shaking, moaning, crying. Her fleshy heart-shaped mouth was open wide, throwing overexcited gasps as her feline eyes remained tightly closed. That image stimulated Natasha in two opposite directions: it excited her heated pussy, approaching the humiliating, explosive defeat to her, but on the other hand, it encouraged her will, letting her know that Melissa was about to be humiliated.

It was at that moment when erect nipples of the brunette caught her attention. At the center of these hated, thick tits, Melissa’s formidable weapons was shaking free, pointing directly at dancer’s face. Natasha couldn’t help licking her feverish lips, a second before remembering what had been the trigger for the last night defeat... It was hers turn.

Abruptly, the blonde threw out her chest and, with pinpoint accuracy, nailed her nipples tip to tip against the long spears of her rival. The link was created, and the circle completed: from their nipples to their pussies, and back to their nipples, a wave of sexual shock ran both bodies over and over again, jumping from one to another, rotating with an increasing speed. Natasha and Melissa shrieked, with a cry born in the deepest depths of their psyches, a cry that was heard on the avenue. But the fear of being defeated and being discovered took control of the blonde; she reacted following an instinct born somewhere in her subconscious... Her mouth closed over brunette’s mouth, silencing her with a rough kiss.

That was the last straw that broke the camel’s back, and it unbalanced the balance. An excessive, impetuous orgasm blew up Melissa’s vagina, crushing the rest of her body with an earthquake that broke the Richter scale before crossing the bridge between pussies and nipples and flood the athletic body of Natasha. The dancer screamed inside the mouth of the saleswoman, wanting an orgasm that at the same time she didn’t wanted. Her enemy, suddenly weak, fell to the ground; she managed to release her before collapsing with her. Panting and sweating, the dancer felt a powerful orgasm stroking the limits of her femininity, like waves on a shore, just before receding and fading into a painful but desired absence.

On the floor, the defeated body of the other beauty writhed slowly, fascinatingly. ‘Revenge!’ Natasha bragged, feeding on the image.

“Remember this moment, Melissa,” she managed to exhale after a few seconds. “Remember this moment every time you come into your store. You’ve humiliated here twice, in your home ground.” With exhausted steps, Natasha recovered her clothes, dressing parsimoniously. “Remember that orgasm. Remember that I’m the only one who gave you an orgasm like that in your life,” she boasted, rescuing her own feelings from last night. “Remember my body, and never forget that it’s better than yours.”

Finally fully clothed, the blonde picked up the keys of the store. During an evil moment, she thought to activate the metal shutters and let the entire city to see the beloved Melissa at that pathetic state. But something stopped her: their relationship was private, and only they had the right to know what happened in that formidable rivalry. So, she just opened the door, dropping the keys behind her.

“I won’t tell you to leave the city, you bitch, because we still have to break the tie,” she said at the threshold. “Find me when you feel ready.”

The door closed, along with that chapter of their long antagonism.

To be continued...

[Tigressel]

good account again

[Anubisx]

If anyone wants the first 10 chapters in e-book (for free): ENGLISH or SPANISH.

But the story is not end!

And thanks Tigressel!!!