Thanks to Rocko23 for suggesting a story based on the Wildebeest art in my profile, including the women's names and a concept.
There was a particular hotel bar not far from Trafalgar Square that Liz preferred, the way any predator prefers certain watering holes. She liked to hunt here among the upper crust, the wealthy businessmen who travelled to London first-class, with unscrutinized expense accounts. When she was on the prowl, she was no longer a labourer’s daughter from the north, no longer a mid-level bank employee. Oh no - she was a sensuous big cat, stalking the best of the herd, the alpha males, not the weak outliers.
Tonight, Liz sat alone at a table, with a flute of champagne. Her blonde hair was loose on her tan shoulders. She was dressed on the boundary of sophisticate and slut, and she had the body for it. The skirt of her red satin sheath was mid-thigh but the slit on its side exposed her long slender leg entirely. Its neckline plunged to a vee with a point a few inches below her breasts, which were high and firm without a bra, and there was no doubt she had no bra. Her nipples tented the satin, beckoning to any man in the room who dared to look at her.
The one other woman in the room certainly dared to look at her. She sipped a cocktail at her table across the room and met Liz’s eyes with a cool gaze of her own. A sister predator. Liz liked that - competition added spice to the hunt.
Nazanin had been born in Tehran but had lived in London most of her life, a member of the wealthy elite. Rather than prowling to prove she belonged, her hunt was out of boredom. Her mideast beauty was a mix of haughty and exotic. She had dark hair and dusky skin. Physically, she was Liz’s twin, and dressed in black tonight, a wrapover dress that fit her like second skin. Her jewelry was elaborate; she wore a gold bracelet, a gold stud in her nose, hoop earrings and two gold rings in the upper curve of her ear. The last touch to her look - a hint of harem girl - was the thin strand of beads she wore as a headband. She shifted a little in her chair, not from discomfort or unease, but to give Liz a good look at her deep neckline as well.
Then he walked in. The two women smiled at each other. Like two cats might show their claws, they both arched their backs to press their breasts forward. The hunt was on.
He ordered his drink and surveyed the room. He took in both women but lingered on neither. He was the bull cape buffalo, unafraid of predators. He chose a table in between them, and settled in to wait.
Liz measured his shoulders and hands with her eyes, already calculating how big his cock was, how deep it would sink into her when she rode it. Oh, he would do very well indeed. And she judged him to be the no-nonsense type, a man who liked directness. She timed her trip to the bar so that he would watch her walk there and then to him, arriving at his table with a fresh drink for him just as he finished his first.
“Gin and tonic,” she said. She sat, without asking, making sure her foot brushed his leg.
“Thank you,” he said. “May I get you another champagne?”
“Not now,” Liz said. “Maybe by room service, after we fuck.”
Nazanin arrived at the table in time to hear only the last. The table was small, for three people. She had to put a hand on his thigh as she sat. She had made the same judgment as Liz regarding both the direct approach and allure of competition.
He smiled. Introductions were made. The two women smiled when they looked at him; not when they looked at each other.
“So, Nazanin,” he said. “As I think you heard - Liz has proposed she and I fuck.” He was indeed a man who got to the point. He sipped his drink. “What do you think?”
“That you not settle for her,” Naz purred. “Why would you accept second class, when you could have me?” She moved her lips close to his ear but made sure Liz could still hear every word. “I know ways to drain your cock that she couldn’t imagine.”
Liz laughed, and put her hand on the brunette’s arm. “I love your sense of humour!” she said. To him she said, “Darling. Yes, she looks exotic. But it’s fake. Her type just lie there.”
“My type?” Naz said.
Liz’s eyes shifted to her. “Persian - Iranian, Iraqi, whatever you are. Foreign cxnt.”
“I’m as British as you, bitch,” Naz’s voice was still low, but now it was angry. “You should leave now, I think.” she said. “While you can still walk.” To those who couldn’t hear their words, their conversation appeared pleasant.
Liz tightened her hand on Naz’s wrist. “Don’t threaten me, girl,” she said, and dug her pale pink nails lightly into Naz’s skin.
“Perhaps,” he said softly. “We three could . . . cooperate.”
“No,” said Naz and Liz in unison. They each found his cock with a hand under the table. Two hands that then twisted together, nails deployed not so lightly now.
“A shame,” he said. “But only a small one.” He finished his drink, and stood. “If you won’t share,” he said. “Let’s be about the business of deciding, then. I have some ideas.”
The alpha male, the bull; whatever imagery you prefer - they both followed him from the bar without hesitation.
In the lift, he kissed Naz, his hands hard on her waist. She pulled his necktie loose, then off, and opened his shirt a button. Then he turned to Liz. She tugged his lower lip into her mouth and undid more shirt buttons with one hand. Her other hand roamed the outline of his cock in his trousers. Oh, my.
They arrived at his floor, then his room. A sumptuous suite. Easily £2000 a night. He took off his jacket and hung it in the closet. He finished the last two buttons on his shirt himself. Both women moved into him, bare shoulder to bare shoulder, Liz’s right hand and Naz’s left hand on his chest.
“How will you choose?” Liz said. She flicked her tongue across his nipple. He had an outstanding body for an older man, broad chest with just the right amount of hair, his waist hard and not gone to fat. She felt Naz’s shoulder push into hers, trying to shove her aside. She pushed back. Naz dropped her mouth to his other nipple, sucking it gently, her dark eyes glittering at the blonde.
“We must find which of you is the better woman, don’t you agree?” he said.
“I am,” Naz said confidently. She stepped back, her body already swaying. She raised one strong, slender arm as she slowly turned. Her dress needed only two clasps undone to fall open, which she did with her other hand. She controlled its descent down her back, her triangle that tapered to her narrow waist. When it rested on her hips, she raised both arms. He could see even then that her breasts were big and firm, their outer curves visible on each side of her back.
Naz looked over her shoulder at him, her dark hair across her face. She twitched her hips; one, two, three, and her dress slid over them and down her legs. She wore only a tiny pair of black lace panties, cut high on her hips. Her ass was perfect, hard brown curves; her long legs ended in black stiletto heels. She slowly swayed to face him. Her belly was flat and hard, with a faint outline of muscle. Her breasts were magnificent. Her nipples were as dark as her hair, small in circumference but jutting out aggressively. She cupped her breasts, squeezing them together. “Imagine your cock between them,” she cooed. “Ohh, I want the first time you cum to be there, on my tits.”
Liz snorted. Her turn. She unzipped her dress with casual slowness, its thin straps already off her shoulders. She displayed her breasts first, not last. They were perfect, heavy globes, as big and firm as her rivals, tipped with light brown nipples. They bore light tan lines, not because Liz wouldn’t sunbathe topless, but because she liked how it looked. Her body was an hourglass of curves. She wore a slender red thong, so thin that the outline of her pussy and small closely-trimmed patch of pubic hair were clearly visible through it. She threw her head back and ran her hands over her breasts and belly, one diving into the thong, her finger emerging glistening wet. She touched it to his lips and pushed it into his mouth. “My body is better,” she said. “Mmmmmm - my pussy is so wet for you already, baby. Send her away.”
He shrugged off his shirt and undid his trousers. Once naked, his cock curved out and up, hard as rock. Both women reached for it hungrily. He caught them each by the wrist.
“Have you changed your minds about sharing?” he said.
“No,” they replied together.
He turned them to face each other. His hands moved to the backs of their necks, and gripped tight. Under his pressure, their nipples just brushed. Both moaned, softly. “Look at her,” he said to them both, and his voice was hypnotic. “She thinks you’re nothing. No match for her, not at all.”
“She’s wrong,” breathed Liz.
“Let me show her,” said Naz. Her nipples rose and fell, rubbing against the blonde’s.
He pushed them closer together, until they were cheek to cheek. Their breasts were compressed, their nipples buried together in the swollen mound. He wound his silk necktie around their necks, in a tight figure eight. Each heard the other’s breathing in her ear, rapid and hard. Each felt the other’s nipples, hard as pebbles, pushing into her own. Their bellies were pressed together, his cock between them. His hands slid to their lower backs.
“A contest,” he said. His voice alone by now triggered a fresh gush of wetness in both women. Their cheeks were hot, and now slick with sweat, where they were pressed together. “One finger. Only one finger. Inside her.”
They obeyed. They couldn’t not obey. Both moaned as the other’s hand slid into her panties, a moan that deepened as they were penetrated. His cock throbbed between them.
“The first of you to cum,” he said, “loses this round.” Their bodies shuddered as their fingers plunged deep. The hunters had become the hunted.
