Some may find this not to their liking due to the 'abstract' nature. But
this is how it came to me and how I share it.
~~~~
A Dream of the Evenly Matched
~~~~
Details will not work here, at least I don’t believe they will. It happens
in a way that defies my ability to put any of it into words, at least in
the traditional sense. I can only relate the events much in the way a dream
unfolds. Strange patterns. Some the pictures are still frames, some are
moving like short movie cuts. Piece them all together and hopefully
something coherent will evolve.
I will start out by saying, the only thing that Tiffany and I share
'evenly', or, 'equally', is a hatred for one another. It is Unhealthy,
Impure, and Unnatural.
This can be no mortal desire.
But we are not Gods.
So this must be rooted in something earthly.
Are we just that primitive?
Both of us have been patient;
The years, and then down to the months.
Then the Weeks passed, and now we are down to hours.
All for this moment to arrive.
Through all of that time, we never grew weary of hating one another.
We tried to maintain the illusion of peace. Only to have it recently
shattered by only the briefest of conversations.
Had the attempt at peace been the final straw?
Suppressing this kind of emotion is not healthy.
So violence is the only healthy way forward now.
“It feels like there is something, still unfinished between us.” She said,
looking me in the eyes on a late summer afternoon, while sitting outdoors
next to the ocean. A moment and a view that should have generated calm. But
not us. Not ever. And so she said it, and we both felt it pass between us.
I acknowledged the meaning behind her statement, and its implications.
This rivalry has to be consummated. As much as any two lovers would.
But we are not lovers, not by any means. Such an odd comparison.
How do I fight with this woman? Truly rhetorical.
That is not a question, because I know there is no answer.
Once we engage, she will not let go of me. That was the thing she wants to
do, and I to her. I can feel it, and I want it. She would like to pin me
under her hands, feet, and body. To subdue me. And I her.
What would it be like? I wonder. We will know soon enough.
"If you want me that bad – and you must. Even if it means getting hurt?" I
challenged while sitting at the table that afternoon.
"It will be worth it.” She replied. Her hunger only increased.
She has a strength – from a courage that builds over time.
We began to stalk one another as the hunger built, knowing a decisive
battle in our long war was finally going to happen. The hours spin down to
the final moment between us.
Standing before the sea, I wrap my arms around me and feel how the salt air
makes love to my naked body. It is as if nature knows every curve, every
line, every cleft and dimple. And I stand waiting, my muscles flex and
relax, I seem to do this with the rhythm of the incoming waves. My hands
run along my shoulders, biceps and forearms, mimicking the caressing motion
of the air.
And then...
We are finally here...down to the minutes.
The sand on the beach is shockingly white under the harsh moon light.
Tonight. It would have to be tonight. It must be, everything in my body and
soul wants it to happen and she must feel it too. Men will never understand
the pull of the moon the way women do.
Now only my eyes move as I look, and wait.
You don’t need eagle eyes to see like an eagle here, everything is so
sharpened and magnified. My senses are heightened by what is about to
happen, and I will need all of them if I am to prevail. Finally.
As I wait, I remember watching her earlier today, on the beach. I could do
this with ease, wearing my sunglasses. Tiffany lay there, stretched out on
the beach towel. Sunning her self. She seemed to know I was watching her.
My overactive imagination perhaps?
Lying on her back, left arm stretching up, face turned towards the sun. I
admired her long sleek muscles, like a powerful feline stretching outward.
Her right knee slightly bent now.
Her boyfriend Eric nearby, admiring her, as I was.
But for very different reasons.
What would it take, to take her? I wonder again.
Bad thoughts come; 'To Take Her', as in a bad way.
Her head rolls towards me and I look away. Just in time.
But did she catch me looking?
Now she is watching me. I in-turn, stretch out my body, reclining in the
beach chair. Showing off years of training, feeling I have the superior
body and strength. We do this often, stretching and arching out our long
bodies for one another to admire, and to hate. And the hate grows almost as
evenly as the temperature of the rising sun over us.
Only the two of us know what was going to happen tonight.
Minutes now...maybe only seconds.
I am growing anxious. Nervous. Now shivering with some unfamiliar fear.
Getting to know the shape of one another at a distance is one thing. But no
matter how much one observes, you can only stare at something, or someone,
for so long. My shiver now turns into a tremble, that I force myself to
suppress.
The waves disguised her approach, but I was not startled when I look over
my shoulder to see her just a few feet from me, also nude. Somehow, I knew
she was there, waiting for me.
And then...
...Everything just happens, and there is so little violence required to
start this process. We reach for one another, just enough to clasp her
waist with my two hands, tip her back into an arch, holding her steady.
Tiffany arches away, and she arches more and bucks.
Now the violence starts.
Her body becomes one sentient muscle. I am not prepared for how my body is
reacting to the heat of her body against my own. She must be feeling it as
well.
I feel the charge of her bucking like a thunderbolt. She is a lot stronger
than I ever gave her credit for, and for that miscalculation, she flings us
around and we both tumble to the ground. On my back now. And Tiffany holds
on to me! We start to roll, I reach out, pulling on whatever substance my
fingers find. Our bodies are hot wherever we connect, and our fingers stick
to one another, salt spray, and sweat cause our skin to cling. Every second
is a reminder that we are naked, the outpouring of the physical and the
emotional mating as our naked bodies adjust to one another.
Every new grip, and it feels like we are naked all over again.
The touch, the smell. There is a long exhalation of searing groans as we
hold one another and try to subdue one another. There is no biting or
scratching. No. This must be pure attrition. One of endurance. Until one of
us is surrenders to the other.
And then our faces; the sounds, our breathes, the whimpers and moans of a
struggle. The corner of my mouth touches her mouth. Lips and tongues touch,
but not to kiss in the traditional sense, or to be intimate with one
another. But to fight one another. It is what must be done to consume and
dominate. Our bodies wildly spiral around one another as we intertwine with
one another to consummate our hate until one of us is spent, unable to
continue.
Howling with pain at times as I squeeze her, she presses her face against
mine and opens her throat and drinks air, but I know how badly she wants to
sink her teeth inside of me. Again, no love to be found here.
Tiffany moves tighter against me, squeezing me back. Her arms wrap around
my strong body, trying to crush me. Panting mouth to ear, cheek-to-cheek.
From head to toe we are connected and we still seek more contact, even when
it is not physically possible.
What ever I do, she holds on. What ever she does, I hold on. And it scares
me like nothing before. The water now laps at our bodies as we roll towards
the surf. The ocean cools us. And restores us.
Sand is rinsed away, replaced by more sand and then rinsed away again.
Will we drown one another?
Seeking control, I straddle my rival, oh how I could maul her now.
But Tiffany does not let go. She seeks no escape.
Pulling herself tighter around me, her legs push, and arms clasp. We roll
again and her chest is against mine. Our breasts, beyond sensitive, mash
once more against one another. Wrapping around one another and we tighten
again. Yes, we are enemies desperate to find some path in this wilderness
to victory.
Water, of course the water. Tiffany is a swimmer. It gives her strength.
Renews and revitalizes her. She seems to try and roll us closer into the
waves.
Challenging each other, we start to leave ourselves open to attack, 'I dare
you.' our bodies say to one anther, a challenge issued, over and over.
Tiffany accepts every one, and wraps her long swimmer legs around my waist.
Invitation accepted.
I feel her strength as she squeezes almost beyond bearing.
Held fast now, my rival makes it clear, no intentions of escape.
Being squeezed I writhe on top to escape the crushing pythons around my
waist.
Slipping away like an eel, she then brazenly gives her own invitation, and
I coil my own pythons around Tiffany's waist, making her whine with pain
and the tears wash her cheeks, she cries, but still no screams for mercy
although her head is thrown back, her mouth open.
For a moment I sense my rival maybe beginning to panic.
She is near to losing it all.
I have her so fast in my grip.
Tiffany's face turns into me, and we can once again appraise our hatred of
one another. There is no lust for one another. And she won't submit, her
mouth blows hot air and I squeeze harder. Tears flow from her eyes. She
squirms for freedom; ocean and sweat she slips an arm free. Ocean, sweat
and sand, she slips a leg free. And then we embrace again, riding one
another for minutes. Covering one another with our arms and legs, coiling
tight against one another.
Something will happen soon. Tiffany, moves and gathers herself, the fight
moves;
Hip to hip.
Breast to Breast.
Our flesh below, between our legs, which is softer, wetter for reasons
beyond sweat and water. More enveloping. Pulsing muscles, arms and legs,
intertwine as we move into position with one another.
We have found one another again, but enjoin in a new battle this time. Do
we dare? Yes. I must wear her down anyway possible. Every way possible. To
dominate each other completely. We hit and meet, pelvis crushing against
pelvis. We flex our bodies against one another sending jolts through each
other. Soon my inner thighs are covered in passion as I cry out my release.
It is so powerful.
Tiffany, draws herself up for a moment and we roll, she has turned me over
on my back, to try and take me until she too is satisfied, resulting with
her own howling cry of passion. Her body arches and her head throws back as
if she has waited a lifetime for this moment.
My body is exhausted. Depleted. Not even the cooling waters washing over my
legs can help me. Tiffany, having expelled her last climax finally comes to
rest, over me, smothering me. Her body well spent.
Panting, her chest and my chest, still crushed against one another.
Resisting against one another, even in the most intimate contacts. Our
inner thighs stay pressed against each other. Her heartbeat slows in time
with my own.
Between our legs, our pubic mounds press tight against one another.
Nestled a little deeper, our battle weary clits.
My arms fall away, resting out to my side. My wrists feel the bindings of
her fingers, pressing my arms against the wet sand. Tiffany stirs, pushing
apart my legs with her own. Her legs resting inside of my spread legs,
keeping my mound covered with her own. Showing her dominance. Much the way
a lover would be resting after taking me. But again, we are not lovers.
Dragging her weary body upright until she now hovers. Her clit compressed
against mine. There is still the hate, but alongside, another look in her
eyes that I must acknowledge.
A look of Victory.
And the emotions betray me; A tear escapes each eye, the window to my soul,
telling my rival all she needs to know. My acknowledgement of defeat.
I cannot continue, and am humbled underneath her.
Slow and steady, taking her time, pulling her wet body off mine, making a
statement with every effort.
And the final act, is so damming that I freeze in fear and disbelief. Her
right hand reaches between her legs, pulls up on skin above her clit and
lets an arc of liquid go. Expelling her fluid over my chest, stomach and
cunt. Straddling my torso for a second longer before stepping over me.
The bitch has marked me with the scent of her sex, and her other scent.
She owns me.
We finally battled.
Walking from the beach, leaving me there to recover. No, I will never
recover from this. And I am sure she could hear my sobs even at a distance.
Wow. Another masterpiece from Moanalo! Literally painting pictures with words. Very well done. Loved it! So good to see you back and posting! Is this a one off or wil there be multiple parts like On and Off the court? Will the defeated woman increase her workouts to get stronger to have a rematch with Tiffany? Either way. Glad to see you back!
Not one of the usual stories we post here. You have your own style.
You wrote a story that you try to belong in the light (but qualitative) erotic literature.
You have some work to do till your stories to can be fully included in this category.
But this is your way, the path you follow.
You do not betray this category (and your taste) if you include a few dialogues. Describe even lightly the erotic scenes, how each woman feels DURING their sexfight. You did it, just a little, Also try to color the scenes you describe with a little more sensuality.
You can be better or much better in this category.
I liked it. That's why I wrote all these.
Last edited by Giannis-CB; February 15th, 2024 at 01:20 PM.
Thank you for the comments.
There is a sequel to this coming up soon. Where the two lovely ladies battle again, and it will go into more detail.
Phenomenal. Can't wai!! Great stuff!Originally Posted by moanalo
It's good to find a new story of yours, I've been a fan of yours since "Off The Court" and your texts always motivate me to illustrate each scene you describe.
Maybe it is not the right publication, but taking advantage of your appearance we can know if you plan any sequel to "Off The Court".
As I remember the battle there was never a sexfight.
Thank you for posting! Love your style!
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