Spontaneous Combustion, by Anubisx

[Anubisx]

Receive a compliment from Emery is a great honor. Thanks!

Emery? Who's Emery?

Yeah, I miss Emery's stories too :P

[Anubisx]

Today: a very short chapter that serves as epilogue of the previous one and as prologue of the next one. As always, boring mental descriptions that I love. I'm still working on chapter 7

PS: Any help to improve my English will be welcome...

CHAPTER 6:
DISTURBED HANGOVER
Sunday, January 1

Natasha Reilly’s Apartment
Dove Street, 7:22

The storm that thundered inside Natasha’s head wouldn’t let her to sleep. Too much had happened that night; too much that she thought she would never get to sleep again: the erotic and competitive dance with Melissa still disconcerted her, while the dirty fight distressed her extremely. The taste of defeat seethed between her full lips, with a bitter aftertaste impossible to ignore. Below, her tits pulsing, swollen and hot, marked with full of bitterness traces of nails. She could barely touch them because when she did it, they exploded into a myriad of painful and pleasurable sensations.... Just rubbing her hard nipples with her fingertips caused various and disturbingly delicious discharges through her body. It was pleasure, not pain, which prevented her to massage her afflicted breasts.

‘All this shit is because of that prostitute,’ she thought, over and over, as she squirmed on bed. Since she had met Melissa, nothing in her mind, in her body, seemed fine. Her thinking was becoming murkier and darker, illogical and changing; against an external threat, her character was molded after being destroyed, rebuilt as if evolution had decided that this way she would be prepared for survival. As for her body, it reacted to the presence of her nemesis like if the brunette was some kind of allergen agent, capable of affecting every inch of it in a physical revolution: her skin bristled, her bust widened, hers stomach trembling... and her pussy trembled.

“That slut!” she growled, pushing aside the sheets. A sudden wave of heat flooded her as she remembered how the fight had ended. “That dirty slut!” Her hand slowly down through her belly until graze her panties. “Fuck…” she muttered, noticing it was wet; under the fabric, a fire wanted to be off. “Fuck...”

This time, Peter wasn’t there for her: the man would still be working in the final hours of the Darkness’ eternal night. She didn’t want to return to the disco, with the memory of humiliation too recent. Certainly, her boss shouldn’t have been taken too well that her best go-go dancer disappear that way in the time when he most needed her. Perhaps she had lost her job: another notch in the gun of that bitch named Melissa.

However, none of that mattered right now. The animal took control of her body and, after hours of torment, Natasha finally ceded to the dark desire. Her fingers sank under her soaked and hot panties. The blonde moaned with pleasure, remembering how her opponent had their fingers in that same spot hours earlier. Then and now, she had been wet... and Melissa had discovered it... She had discovered her secret… the secret that Natasha could not answer yet…

“I hate you, Melissa,” she gasped, exhaling her most sincere words while she sank her fingers into the inferno of doubt and pleasure. She howled, femininely flailing on the bed. “I hate you with all my heart, Melissa...”

***

Madame Lingerie
New Hall Lane, 8:18

The store was completely closed, with blinds drawn and door locked. However, there was someone: female gasps echoed through the air, coming damped from inside Madame’s small bathroom. Every groan was sharper, more irregularly; the sounds finished in a cacophony of grunts, filled with orgasmic pleasure but also with hate whistling.

At last, a curvy figure emerged from the bathroom, sweaty and exhausted. Unable to sleep more than an hour at home, Melissa had returned to Madame for the first time since her first physical confrontation with Natasha. The shattered store seemed a perfect metaphor for what she felt inside her head: chaos, a place torn by violence and rivalry, by the struggle between two antagonistic entities unable to do anything other than oppose. In reality, it was about her and Natasha; in her mind, it was about the new Melissa and the former Melissa. The battle of the real world was in these moments in a difficult point to define because brunette’s revenge had just opened a new path that she wasn’t sure how to follow. But the war between her two psyches had finally concluded; although the former Melissa still managed to return a blow, she could never return... at least until the whole thing was resolved with Natasha, something that it wouldn’t happen in a long time.

As she stood up with some effort the shelf that she had shot down after being hit by the blonde, Melissa blushed remembering what just happened in the bathroom... what had happened the three times she had entered it since she returned to Madame. For some reason, her body had become into an eternal fire, into an uncontrolled conflagration, into a 5’7’’ erogenous zone. This sensation had already martyred after the first fight with Natasha, but the intensity of the moment was infinitely greater. Three times he had surrendered to pleasure in the store’s bathroom, with an eagerness that she had never felt before.

Collecting lingerie, Melissa noticed every throb through her body, in an escalation that she knew that it would end with another trip to the bathroom. Her breasts felt heavy, plump; her nipples, tightly long and hard. Between her legs, her panties were so wet that she knew that she would have to change it once or twice before leaving Madame.

‘This time, Nathan can’t calm this,’ she knew, even without finding logic. For some reason, her body only asked her two contradictory things: on the one hand, search for Natasha to laugh at her defeat and, if the blonde wished, to break the tie between them… or, on the other hand, forget her, ignore her forever. However, she didn’t believe that any election could solve her overstimulation problem. Rather, the opposite: if she faced the blonde again, she believed that her whole being melt in fiery warrior gluttony; but if she didn’t, the perpetual ecstasy could never disappear.

‘Are you afraid?’ she asked herself, recalling the end of the fight, only hours before. ‘She had at your mercy, and you just ran away,’ she reproached herself with last night’s vertigo returning to her head. Her dirty sex attack was definitive for the dancer but also for her. Feel the most private region of her nemesis had devastated her mind, with the moisture that flooded the other crotch reminding her own moisture. Knowing that both were excited in the middle of all that cruel violence had frightened her because the rivalry turned into something much deeper, more intimate, than she had been suspected. ‘Actually, our business was never a common enmity,’ she understood, remembering every glance, every word and every gesture between them. ‘From the beginning, there was something different, something that perhaps none of us fully understand’.

She would have to deal with this, so she made a decision: inaction wasn’t an option. If she did nothing, she would go crazy because of the current burning situation. The animal desire wouldn’t be mitigated until be fed with dancer flesh. It was a headlong rush that the brunette had to go, like it or not. But now that she had tasted victory, she wanted more… much more.

To be continued...

[JB57]

Really enjoying this story. The interplay between the women and their obsession with each other are portrayed wonderfully.

Emery, great to have you on the board, even if just as a commenter.

I have a question for you: I have a story called "Apartment Wars II", a sequel to "Apartment Wars," one of your great stories. However, AWII is incomplete. Have you ever finished it? If so, could you post the complete story. If not, do you plan to do so?

Thanks,

JB57

[emery]

No, I never finished AW2 or "The Staircase," which is occasionally asked about. I'm afraid I don't have any plans to do any writing in the near future.

[dwcole]

Anubisx

Thanks for a cool short part to your really good story.

Love how you write what's going on in the womens minds

after both win or loose a battle in their on going war.

Love it too that win or loose these battles both want more.

Can't wait to see where their next meeting takes place.

It should be where neither woman has home field advantage.

But again thanks Anubisx.

[Anubisx]

Thanks again!

I was very busy this week, so I just writed 4-5 pages. But I will write today a little more I hope you enjoy the next part too.

[Catfightfactory]

Claro que si campe?n
Despacio y con mucha pasi?n
disfruta de tu propio trabajo que seta muy muy bien

[Anubisx]

Here I leave the first part of Chapter 7, I hope you enjoy it and forgive my English. Thank you!

Y gracias Freeman por el apoyo

CHAPTER 7:
WANTED: ALIVE
Thursday, January 4

Darkness Disco
Deepdale Street, 12:01

“She no longer works here.” the guy’s words darkened the beautiful young face. “They told me that she disappeared during New Year’s celebration. Apparently, the owner was so angry that he hasn’t even tried to locate her.”

“Oh,” Melissa winced, savoring frustration. “The truth is that she’s a good friend of mine, but I lost her phone number... Can anyone give it to me?”

“I only bring the drinks every morning,” he replied, noting the boxes piled at the entrance. “But you can try your luck tonight, when the boss comes. Although he may take offense that you mention Natasha...”

“Well, recently my friend often has that effect on people,” she released, a reference to her own feelings.

“Perhaps it would be best to ask her companions. They sure can help you. It’s even possible that such a famous brunette is already working here. She was a friend of Natasha.”

Suddenly Melissa’s cheeks glowed, radiating at the sudden evolution of the conversation.

“Ah, really? A famous brunette?”

“Apparently, during New Year’s party came a friend of hers, a stunning brunette. She and Natasha did an awesome dance show. The boss has been searching her desperately, wanting to hire her for the disco. Especially now that her best go-go dancer is gone…”

“Aha... interesting,” she smiled. Under her chest, a proudly burning pounded intensely, especially seeing the boy throwing a quick glance over her body from top to bottom. ‘That’s it, bitch. Nobody misses you.’

“If you want, I could...”

“Thank you.”

Cutting off the guy, Melissa left him with a quick wave of her hand. Of course, she felt the lascivious gaze locked on her ass, but that only increased the arrogance that flooded her at that time.

‘Where are you hiding, bitch?’ she asked herself, walking down the street. After days at home, leaving her battered tits to heal, today she had finally decided to go hunting. Each step made her breasts bounce slightly; minor shock of pain did her know that she wasn’t hundred percent recovered, but she couldn’t stand any longer confinement. ‘If I haven’t scared her forever, she’ll seek revenge. Will she have the courage to appear in Madame?’

Without further delay, she directed her steps to her store, hoping that fate would smile to her.

***

Madame Lingerie
New Hall Lane, 12:13

Closed. In front of her beautiful eyes, the little sign showing the more painful word. Her only possible connection with Melissa was her store; if the brunette didn’t open Madame, the real possibilities of locating her were reduced to almost zero.

“Shit,” Natasha whispered, biting her juicy lower lip. Looking to one side, she saw an office; looking at the other, a small medical office. ‘Maybe someone knows her. Maybe they don’t have her phone number, but at least I can find out her last name…’

“Well, again…” The sudden complaint woke the blonde; beside her, a tall guy watched with some despair Madame’s door. “She has me worried... Oh, hello!” Suddenly aware of her, the young man turned to Natasha. “I suppose you also expect that it was open.”

“That’s right.”

“Do you also know Melissa?”

“Yes, she’s a good friend of mine.”

“And mine.”

“Oh, so maybe you can help me. I called her on the phone for days, but she doesn’t answer me. Do you have the same problem?”

The female instinct of Natasha exploded in that instant, crying from the rooftops that here was her chance. The unnamed guy looked fallen from heaven…

“The truth is that you not gonna believe this, but I lost all my phone numbers. So I came here to look for Melissa.” Being aware of the man’s attention, the blonde didn’t hesitate to add with a certain coquetry: “Would it be too much to ask you to help a clueless idiot like me giving me the number of my dear friend?”

“I don’t think you’re idiot. You seem a charming woman.” Smiling stupidly, the young man took his phone. “By the way, my name is Nathan.”

“I’m Natasha. How do you know Melissa?”

“We go to the same gym, but she no longer appears there…”

While the blonde took note of the Melissa’s number, she was aware of a glaringly obvious fact given the desperate physical language of the man: there had been something between him and Melissa. Her new personality immediately devised a plan, a small mischievous idea that would serve as bait for the brunette. ‘If she is arrogant enough to deny me my chance for revenge, this will make her change her mind.’

“Very friendly, Nathan,” smiling, she pushed her chest out, getting all the attention of the guy. At that time, she cursed nail traces that still mark her tits. ‘If instead of this blouse I had used cleavage, he didn’t even remember the name of this cheap whore’. “Hey, why don’t we take a picture of us with my phone? I could send it to Melissa. Surely she’ll be so surprised that she’ll call us soon.”

“Sure,” said Nathan, totally haunted.

A minute later, the two moved away from Madame with separate paths: the man, watching the swinging of her over his shoulder; the woman, obsessively checking the number of Melissa in the screen of her phone.

‘At last…’

***

Madame Lingerie
New Hall Lane, 12:27

Her store, her beloved store, stood silent, surrounded by the noise of the city. As a metaphor for all that had changed in her, Madame looked different: darker, more like a full of dangerous creatures den that the modest lingerie store that it was. Despite having lost an entire morning to fix it, she hadn’t yet been able to open it to the public.

Then, her phone vibrated, pulling her out of the reverie. Shaking her head, Melissa returned to reality, but immediately her stomach trembled when she observed the WhatsApp message she had just received: a photo of Nathan smiling in front of his shop... with Natasha. The number was unknown, but the avatar of the blonde clarified everything.

“Slut,” she muttered, incredibly annoying... without knowing why. She wasn’t sure exactly what annoyed her: To see Nathan happy with her nemesis? Or to rediscover the beauty that Natasha exhibited both in photography and in her little avatar? Of course, the guy meant nothing to her; she hadn’t been more than a pleasant and momentary response to a problem without solution. But there was something about the combination of the stupid grin from him and the exuded sensuality about her that made Melissa nervous.

With her heart beating uncontrollably, Melissa expanded the photography, watching the body of the other woman part by part. Returning to the start of their rivalry, she again felt the intriguing sensation that she had felt every time the blonde had visited Madame: the striking resemblance between the two was still painfully obvious, with Natasha’s eyes also green, with her equally fleshy mouth, with her equally silky skin. Moving the image with quick movements of her fingers, the brunette observed the antagonistic curves, unable to separate it from her own figure.

Then she noticed one thing: like her, Natasha hid her cleavage. A slight shock of pride ran through her body, knowing that her claws had left their marks on the blonde’s heavy tits. But her own boobs throbbed at the memory of her own wounds.

‘I've got her number, that’s all that matters’, she finally managed to focus, smiling with a certain perversity. Now, she just had to play her cards, to rile Natasha and, finally, to wait until the dancer fell into their hands like a ripe fruit.

“Let’s begin...”

***

Bird Bookstore Cafe
New Hall Lane, 13:04

The coffee began to cool, but Natasha hadn’t drunk anything. Seated at the most hidden table in the cafe —like she wanted to hide her dark thoughts—, the blonde looked at the screen of her mobile obsessively. She saw her archenemy connected, but there was no response to her photo. Every second was felt like a beating of wings in her stomach; every minute, like a squeeze on her exalted heart.

“Why the fuck she doesn’t write anything?” she muttered to herself, shaking the phone as if she feared not having coverage. At that moment, she regretted not sending her a direct challenge; however, do it now, after so many minutes, wasn’t a possibility: she didn’t want to seem anxious... just what she was being. ‘C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!’

In the solitude of the table, Natasha noticed how her body began to burn. The familiar feeling spread up and down, burning skin, flesh and blood vessels. Hunger that dominated her every time she thought about Melissa took control, and the uncertainty over the inaction of the brunette forced her to gasp. Several drops of sweat appeared on her forehead, while the mobile screen still didn’t show any movement.

“I’m gonna call her,” she yielded, trembling with the desire to sink her hands into the flesh of her antagonist. She visualized herself tugging hair, squeezing tits... and seeking revenge against the other sex.

But then something appeared in WhatsApp. Her body stiffened and her eyes had to blink a few times to believe what she saw. ‘What the...?’

Finally, Melissa answered her... and she did it with another image. However, the photograph of her opponent was far, far beyond hers. In front of Natasha’s greenish gaze, the two Melissa’s tits, covered by a black bra, were exhibited with pride, even though the marks of nails that the blonde had imprinted on them. Her irises moved quickly across the image, trembling at the courage of the brunette, mechanically programmed to analyze and record; although she was tired of meeting Melissa’s bust, she knew she would never stop comparing it with hers.

“Is this your game, bitch?” she said to the mobile, visibly angry. “Do you first ignore me, and now... this?” Her chest swelled, shivering over a pounding heart. “Two can play this game...”

In a flash, Natasha stood. Leaving the cold coffee, she walked with hurried steps to the bathroom...

***

Madame Lingerie
New Hall Lane, 13:13

An eternity later —barely a few minutes in reality—, the blonde’s answer came to Melissa’s phone. Locked in her store, the brunette had waited sitting in the dark the next move in the indecent chess game that she had begun —after a malicious delay— with her torrid outburst. The reply, of course, was what she had expected.

“Nice marks, you whore,” she growled, opening her green eyes to the photograph received: Natasha’s tits, partly covered by a silky white bra, looked so round, so juicy that Melissa couldn’t help feeling a jealous aftertaste on her palate. Even the pleasure of seeing the traces that her nails had been left on the boobs could compensate that feeling. Suddenly, the game no longer seemed so funny.

“Wait till I come to get my hands on yours,” she spat, just before noticing a disturbing detail. “Oh, horny slut...”

Expanding the image, she observed with some obsession how Natasha’s nipples were pushing through the bra, barely hidden under the white fabric. Noticing how her own hardness increased, she looked down: before her beauty eyes, her nipples answered to the image by dilating.

“You asked for it...” she said, without even knowing why; the whole issue of the nemesis’ thick nipples seemed —for her twisted mind— a challenge that she must answer. Looking at the nearest shelf, she knew immediately what would be her next move...

***

Bird Bookstore Cafe
New Hall Lane, 13:25

Even before the waiter was away, Natasha had already devoured the lemon cake with quick bites. A terrible appetite had seized her, especially after Melissa respond to the fire with her own fire. She still couldn’t believe what she had done in the bathroom, but she knew she wasn’t the one that had started this issue.

‘Yes, I sent the first picture,’ she argued with herself. ‘But that bitch is the one who sent me a photo of her fucking tits.’

Uncomfortable on the chair, with her throat suddenly dry, Natasha drank some cold coffee, waiting impatiently for the move of her opponent. Looking obsessively the mobile, her fingers stalked the icon called over and over, hoping to leave behind the chat to move to a direct conversation. However, somehow she felt that this would be a kind of defeat, so she sighed and put the phone on the table like if it was poisonous.

Then it vibrated. Picking it up quickly, Natasha reopened WhatsApp. ‘You’re starting to make me sick, slut!’ she wanted to scream but instead she growled, biting her lower lip. Melissa had sent another snapshot of her tits, but this time covered by a white bra, similar to hers. The blonde took just half a second to realize the intentions of the brunette; although her breasts were as spectacular as in the previous picture, something had changed: highlighting against white, Melissa’s fleshy and long nipples seemed pushed out the bra, pushed out the mobile screen, into a direct provocation.

“Hard bitch... If you were here...” she muttered, suddenly sweaty. ‘If she were here…what?’ she asked herself. Looking at her own bust, she saw the swelling under her blouse. ‘What would you do, Natasha?’ she reiterated herself, but even the new blonde could answer that... yet.

“Let her suffer. Take your time to respond, as she did before,” she said, trying to overcome her doubts, trying to discern the next step. “No, better not: she might think you’re scared. Don’t let her think that her tits are better than yours. Don’t do it.”

Sweat ran down her forehead, while an aura of silence surrounded her; she thought she could hear a nearby clock with an impatient ticking, waiting for her decision.

“Oh, I hate you so much...” she spat. Natasha stood for a second time, back to the bathroom.

***

Madame Lingerie
New Hall Lane, 13:38

Melissa’s lips and eyes were as wide that it seemed a competition about which ones could be more open. The hand holding the phone shaking so badly that it was a miracle that the mobile wasn’t falling. Her whole being burned; physically and mentally, the brunette felt that she melted, merging into a puddle of sweat.

And all for the last message from Natasha: the image was devastating, but the words that accompanied it —the first written in the hot phone duel— were even more devastating.

“You’re a cheap whore,” the brunette growled to the mobile, standing up and walking nervous around the store. “You’re a fucking disgusting whore.”

Madame’s darkness emphasized even more the bright phone screen. Her eyes recorded hopelessly the photography of the blonde’s panties: white, small, silky, covering a plump, proud vulva which was pushed forcefully against the fabric. Below the photo, the words of Natasha finished off this unexpected attack:

<Nat: Did you miss it?>

Melissa wanted to scream. There was no doubt what her enemy meant, because she hadn’t stopped thinking about it.

“Yeah, you tramp, I grabbed your pussy. Get over it!” She growled to the message, even though obviously she hadn’t got over it. Having the crotch of her nemesis on screen shook her memories, making them even more vivid than before; her fingers again felt the tangle of hair, the warmth of lips, the moisture waiting inside... A shiver ran through her body, hardening and wetting here and there in a lusty discharge of adrenaline.

“Ok, whore, you asked for it.”

***

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…

To be continued...

[Anubisx]

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 cunts, 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 cunt!” 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 cunt, 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 cunt 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 cunt!” 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 cunts 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 cunt 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.

[Catfightfactory]

Great work fight in storm is like in great movies
Muchisimas Gracis el final es para navidad supongo