Competition 5: The Weekend
It was so deliciously perverse. We were both college freshmen. She was my friend/rival/enemy and I was hers. We had just driven hours on a Friday evening to meet each other in a private, anonymous setting, for the sole purpose of fighting. We wanted to do it where no one could see or interfere. We wanted to do it with no time pressure whatsoever. And we wanted to do it naked.
My pussy was already dripping as we came together with our fingers searching, probing for a strong hold that would allow us to have control. Quickly we had our hands in each other’s hair. Throughout all of history, this was the hold that women of all ages, shapes and sizes have preferred when fighting. It’s uniquely feminine, while achieving instant control over an opponent. From a good handful of hair you can jerk her head and neck painfully, scratch her scalp, pull her into a wall or a knee, or throw her into the floor. At first we did none of those things. There was no hurry. We had the weekend.
We pulled each other close with our heads at an angle while staring into each other’s eyes. I could see the lust, which matched my own, looking back at me. I felt our breasts meet with rock hard nipples dragging across each other as we struggled for position. With my other hand I punched her ribs and she responded in kind. We continued to exchange body punches as we jerked hair, pushed, strained and stumbled slowly around and around in the center of the small motel room.
I wallowed in the warm body contact, our tits wrestling, our fists smacking while grunting softly with each punch. I don’t know which I loved more; punching her or feeling her fist hit my ribs and back and the side of my head. This rhythm went on for some time and slowly our pace began to increase. I whispered,
“Come on. . . I’ve missed you”.
“I’m here, you slut”, she whispered back. “Let’s go”.
The punching came faster and harder. Maybe it was muscle memory from our three previous fights. Maybe it was my imagination. But it seemed like a well choreographed dance. We knew just how to control each other - to hurt each other. There was no defense. We punched, scratched and jerked each other willingly, eagerly, and efficiently for, what seemed like, a long time.
Our legs tangled and we fell to the floor with a thump, instantly thrashing and rolling over each other for position. Our naked, sweaty bodies slipped and slid until we were finally able to get firm hold on each other. We lay on our sides, legs tangled and arms holding each other tightly. We jerked our heads back by the hair. The volume of our groaning increased. We took our first short rest as we held each other close on the worn carpet. After a while she let go with one hand and snaked it around to clamp into the side of my breast.
“Agghhhhh!”, I yelped. “Bitch”, I spat as I moved one hand to scratch her tit as well.
“Yeah, come on, you cxnt. Have you got what it takes”?
“Let’s see”, I moaned, half in pain and half in lust.
We clutched tightly and scratched and pulled our flesh with evil intent, all the while listening to each other moan in pain. Our legs strained for control and I felt the sensation of my wet pussy against her thigh. When we couldn’t take the pain on our breasts any longer we let go and started to thrash violently. Rolling over each other one way and then back the other resulted in a stalemate. Again we clutched each other on our sides. She brought one hand up to choke me while continuing to hold my hair. Quickly I put a hand to her throat as well. Neither had sufficient strength in one hand to completely cut off our breathing. But still it was plenty painful and made us both gasp for air as we fought on the floor.
I brought up my knee and smacked into her pussy which actually splattered her sweet juices on us both. We were hurting each other and I loved it. We lay with one hand clutching the other’s throat and scratching, punching and slapping with the other. Our legs were tangled and straining. For quite some time we lay on the floor, staring at each other with hatred and lust. The punching and scratching slowed somewhat as we grew very tired. The struggle had warmed our bodies and the little motel room. We sweated and panted. No words were exchanged. None were needed.
I lost all sensation of time and really of place too. There was only this girl I’d known all my life and our fight. A couple of times I awoke startled, realizing I’d dozed off as we clutched each other in sadistic lust. It had been a long drive down here and a long time we’ve been at each other. How many hours since we signed in? Was it yesterday or earlier today? I had no idea what time it was. I could only see it was night and we were locked together on the floor, clutching, strangling, punching, sweating and panting in pain and lust.
We went on and on, in and out of consciousness, never letting go. The worn carpet became damp from our sweating. I was so tired. But this was what we came here to do. There were no more distractions, no more worries. There was only fighting. Damn, that’s exactly what I wanted. My best friends and I weren’t friends any longer. Anyone who knew us 6 months ago probably wouldn’t recognize us at all. We’d turned into dirty, fighting sluts. I didn’t know how. And I didn’t care.
At some point, I realized the sun had come up, sort of. The light in the window was grey, depressing but pretty normal for early winter on the plains of Kansas. As I became fully awake I sensed my naked body entangled with hers. We were in the same catball we had held all night long. Even while tangled with evil intent, I stretched my muscles as an involuntary reflex from waking up. As I felt her do the same, we both moaned softly. I was suddenly keenly aware of our intimate position and our naked flesh pressing together. Our tight struggle to simultaneously wrestle but also wake up caused my pussy to moisten. Then suddenly, like a tsunami, my lust overtook me. I slapped her and grabbed her pussy with one hand. Then feeling her match my movements we quickly and roughly rubbed our wet clits. We moaned and let our tongues wrestle while drooling and humping our fingers. And then a wonderful, exhilarating orgasm washed over us with wave after wave. And I was afraid our moans would be heard all over the motel floor.
“Ahhhhhhhhh, eeeeehhhhhhhh, ummmmmmmmmmm!”
We bucked and squirted on each other until the ecstasy began to slowly subside. It was the most wonderful pleasure I’d ever felt in my life.
“Ummmmmmmm, fuuuuuccccckkkkkkkk, Unnnnhhhhhhhhh”
Eventually we pushed and kicked away from each other and sat up on the floor. As I looked at her, I could only imagine I looked the same. She was drenched in sweat and cum juices with her hair wet and matted and sticking out in weird directions. I rubbed my sore breasts and looked down at the scratches I could see there.
“You look like the prefect, dirty, disgusting slut of the year”, I said
“Takes one to know one”, she chuckled.
“Damn right”, I replied. “But I’m fucking starving”.
We looked with reluctance at our clothes strung out on the floor, knowing we had nothing else to wear. Then one at a time, we washed up a little in the bathroom and pulled on our clothes, still feeling dirty and disgusting. We followed each other down to the lobby and paused while looking out into the grey, depressing morning.
“Share breakfast together?”, I asked.
She turned to face me and gave me an uncertain look. “I’m not sure”, she replied.
We stared at each other for a time and I knew my answer. “I don’t think I can promise to keep my hands off you”. I actually did feel an inexplicable urge to ball up my fist and slug her chest.
“Yes, I agree. We’d better split up. I’d love to fight you on the street corner but let’s not get arrested”.
“If you insist, bitch. Too bad. It would be fun”.
We glared and smirked at each other a moment before finally pushing away and stepping through the door one at a time. I turned left and she turned right. We knew we would be spending the day with each other. But first, breakfast!
