Off The Court Part 9

...A Continuation of ‘On The Court’...

Off The Court Part 9

by moanalo

~~~~ Scissors ~~~~

At almost the same instant we move forward, colliding, and I wasn’t
prepared for how much force she attacks with. Has she been holding back as
well? One thing I have learned thus far, she knows how to leverage her
height advantage and pivot her body away at precisely the last second. My
hips spin trying to throw her to the ground in an awkward, poorly attempted
Judo throw, but instead my feet slip from where our sweat is spreading all
over the mats. Now we are both tumbling down, creating a frantic blur of
arms and legs as we roll around. I try to wrap my legs around Monique's
middle, but she slips out. When I spun around to try and jump on to top of
her she lashes her long legs around my torso and got me, and then squeezes.
On my knees I brace my hands against her inner legs to push them apart for
freedom. She squeezes harder.

“Oh my God!” I moan. Like an idiot I did not try and flex my powerful abs,
and now it is almost too late. ‘Too little, too late.’ She has me locked in
tight and my admissions of pain only spurns her on. I went to drive my
elbows into her thighs but with a look of pure rage on her face she leans
back and every cord of muscle pops out of her thighs. My guts feel like
they are being crushed! Screaming in agony, in a tone and from a place I
didn’t know existed, I thus begin to panic. I was in real pain! Squirming
around for relief but could find none. Toppling over on my left side, but
still I could find no leverage or relief there. She kept flexing her legs,
tormenting me. Now I focus all my efforts on flexing my abdominal muscles,
one-by-one my abs began popping all along my torso. Her scissor hold was in
so deep I have no idea how I was hanging on. But I was...hanging
on...barely. It was down to her leg muscles against my six pack, now an
eight pack of straining muscles flexing with all the power I could muster.
I am grunting and groaning, making all sorts horrible noises, but I did not
care. The sweat is really rolling off our bodies as we strain against one
another.

A war is a series of battles and I didn’t want to blow away too much energy
on this one battle. And so, as much as I hate doing this...

Panting...“Okay, Okay. I give.” She squeezes one more time making me
scream. The fucking bitch! “I said I give!”

She let go and gives me a firm shove with her left foot, “There, you
bitch.”

I roll away from her as I clutch at my stomach and try not to cry. As
concerning as the loss is, I was also feeling around my ribs and stomach
for any signs of injury. It took me a few seconds longer than I want for me
to recover. When I sit up and turn around I find Monique sitting on her
ass, right knee up, while leaning on her left arm. Her right arm draped
over her upright knee as if she is impatiently waiting on me, all the while
wearing this shit-eating smirk on her face.

Now I wish I had tried to fight off her hold.

My gaze diverts to the mat and find myself really wanting to hurt this
girl. Really hurt her. But let her think I was mentally cracking, so I kept
avoiding her gaze.

~~~~ Squeezing ~~~~

Monique fully stretches out her left leg and slaps her thigh muscles,
rubbing her hand up and down her sweaty skin. “You want some more of this
white girl, just come on over and I’ll crush you again with these black
legs.”

Her racial jab does not go unnoticed, and some primordial competitiveness
channels up from a place I am not at all comfortable with. I do not respond
‘in like’, but you know what? Fuck her and her legs. Bring them on. My
torso muscles against those legs anytime, any day! I will never back down
again.

“When I break those legs you won’t be running that big mouth so much.” I
seethe.

My comment causes an excited look of anticipation from Monique, as if that
was exactly what she wants me to say. More mind games? Back up to my knees
and then to my feet, she was right behind me as we moved toward one
another. A growl came from someplace inside of me, Monique looking eager to
get at me as well. We came together in a rush. My hands grab her biceps and
hers grab mine. We proceed to plant our strong legs as if to push each
other backwards. Her grip tightens painfully on my arms and I squeeze back,
feeling her muscles flex under my fingers as mine flex under hers. She has
put muscle on, but only now under stress does it really show itself.

“All your muscles, not so powerful it seems.” This beautiful black woman
pants into my face and I find her breath to be hot, sweet and intoxicating.
But infuriating all the same.

“Your going to get a reality check on my muscles very soon.” Struggling as
I am, I still manage to notice our chests swell to magnificent proportions,
nipples straining. I couldn’t resist and intentionally lean a step closer
until my own erect nipples crush against hers. Monique moans and returns
the pressure. Our foreheads touch as we mutually fall to our knees and wrap
our arms around the other. My chin came to rest on her shoulder, with
Monique’s on mine, both of us gasping for air in an unusual way. Swaying
together, breasts pressing tightly together, sometimes it seems like
neither of us knows what direction to take this fight in.

It feels like a dream as our bodies fall to the side, again through mutual
effort, our legs intertwining as we began to scissor each other. Monique
began to flex hers, and I flex mine back. The seconds tick away slowly as
the struggle focuses on leg against leg, or is it the tightness of our legs
pressing against one another that is driving us? Both of us bathed in sweat
and the feeling of hugging and flexing, rubbing together is intensely
erotic. She arches her back and we roll over on the mat as we keep hugging
from head to toe, her legs and mine swelling with muscle as she strains
against mine. I could feel her flexing calf muscles rubbing and twitching
with mine, and I had to wonder if in that moment, ‘Are we even fighting one
another?’ I am baffled. Is this strange form of intimacy what we really
wanted all along?

But we are not lovers, and I know Monique would keep finding new ways to
torment me. And I become afraid of that thought, so I keep squeezing and
grinding, and flexing, trying to crush the very life out of her, and crush
her fucking legs with mine. I bridge up my hips, and force her to roll over
onto her back. She didn’t like this and squirms to change her predicament.
I then redouble my efforts and pour all of my strength into my aching and
quivering body. Slowly and certainly I purely outmuscle Monique, forcing
her body to bend to mine. When she tilts her head back, teeth gritting, she
looks at me with a new expression, is it hatred or humiliation, or
something else?

~~~~ Breaking Apart - First Blood ~~~~

She began fighting again, but this time for freedom, trying to push off
from me and I wasn’t sure why, but I want the same thing. Having this
strong urge to get away, so many confusing feelings. So intense the heat
coming off both our bodies, it was like a furnace between my legs, and I’d
rather not think or feel those things now. ‘What is wrong with me?’

A moments self-reflection is usually a mistake when competing, hesitating
and getting lost in my emotions like that. As I am pushing to sit up,
Monique lashes out with her foot, nailing me in the mouth, I am stunned. My
head snaps back, my brain wobbles, and my body wobbles. I am falling
backward. My opponent wastes no time, she is already moving to jump on me,
but my instincts for revenge kick in and appropriately enough I launch a
return up-kick, catching her in the mouth, sending her sprawling onto her
back!

Eat that bitch!

My tongue can taste blood from where she busted my lip. Now I am bleeding?!
For fucks sake! How insane is this going to get?

When we look across at one another there are no words, each of us sharing
something akin to shock. My expression is one of emotional hurt and disgust
at how nasty the fight is becoming. Monique tries to give me a split-second
stare of disdain, but I also caught a hint of regret.

There is no official break called, but I took one anyway, she follows my
lead or maybe it was mutual? Keeping a wary eye on her I simply scoot over
by my bag and sit, reaching for my water bottle. Gently pressing the back
of my hand to my throbbing lower lip and see a stain of blood when I pull
it away. Why did it have to come down to this? Instead of anger, I feel
sadness.

Is this match everything I thought it would be? Yes and No.

~~~~ Oiling up ~~~~

A casual glance, that is all it is, but I notice Monique is pulling out a
tube of lotion and applying it to her knees and elbows from where the mats
are rubbing hard against our skin. That is a good idea, only I had a much
smaller tube, which I always carry with me. When I glance over again, and I
am glad I did, I notice how she is starting to be very liberal with the
application of the cream, further out, all around her knees, thighs, arms.

Now, all I need to do is connect the dots...
Lotion...oil...slippery...harder for me to grab her? Is she really thinking
that far ahead? It would offer some advantage for her.

Conspiracy theory or not, I turn away and begin squeezing every bit of my
Nécessaire Body Lotion from my small tube. It is a little pricey but it is
the best lotion out there, at least I love it. ‘Shit’ I curse privately.
She has this big bottle and I am pinching this stupid little tube from the
very bottom, and working every fucking ounce out of it. The white cream
comes oozing out and I just go-for-broke...squirting it all over my legs.
My fingers are literarily shaking as I squeeze the ever-fucking-life out of
that tube. Very discreetly I try and rub it all over my thighs, shoulders,
and breasts. Oh yes, my aching breasts and hard nipples, the lotion feels
so exquisite and soothing. My tits are getting so sore and tender from the
constant pressure and rubbing.

~~~~ Struggling ~~~~

Turning around, Monique is already waiting and we come at one another. This
is not a battle involving finesse, but one of pure strength and
determination. Our hands grip forearms, biceps, and triceps as we
gradually lean into each other until our generous tits brush, then press
together. My chin was on her left shoulder, and her chin was on mine.
Still we push, legs quivering and feet adjusting. The affects of the lotion
are immediate, our fingers almost glide. The combined fragrance of our body
lotions is exquisite. Dreamy! The seconds, maybe minutes, pass as our
contest continues. Our fingers digging deep into each others muscles for
some type of grip. She uses every inch of her height advantage for leverage
and it does help her. Her body is rock solid, every muscle, tendon and
sinew tenses in resistance to mine. Her skin feels so smooth and slippery
now, it is extremely difficult to grab hold of her, and her me. This is
getting interesting, to say the least.

Crushing deep between our breasts, I can feel my nipples press firmly
against hers as if they are waging a battle of their own. My biceps aching
and I knew they will be black-and-blue from the force of Monique’s grip on
them. But back to the way our breasts are pressing, is this the real
central focus of the standoff now? We have been leaning against one another
for minutes, and could not have planned it better if we tried. Our nipples
are so hard from the constant pressure and the grinding. So sensitive, and
are touching one another! I actually want to stay this way for as long as
possible! My leg muscles, fully flexing, and I can already feel the
soreness from our earlier contest, promises of pain to come tomorrow. I
have to shift and adjust my stance, so does Monique and our nipples break
contact. It was as if someone snapped their fingers and brought both of us
out of a trance. Monique almost screams in determination to overpower me as
she lifts her chin off my shoulder. I raise mine as well and our eyes now
only a scant inch apart, glaring angrily and almost maniacally at each
other. Now I scream as I strive to over power her and begin to push her
back, but Monique dips down and slips her arms around my waste, pulling me
into a hug, it was only too late that I realize she was pulling me into a
bearhug. I moan as she arches her back and lifts me off my feet! My God,
the power of this woman as she bends my body in her crushing hold.

I have to act and power my hands downward, like I am swimming, down
in-between her arms and my body, breaking her hold and reach around to
squeeze her in return. Now I am lifting her up! Feeling her body bend to my
bearhug and she is moaning. More excitement! We do this to each other
several times; she dives her arms down, grips me in a powerful bearhug
again, leans back and my whole body arch’s in pain, releasing my own moans
of discomfort. Our slick bodies crush against one another. Panting
desperately in each others faces as we fought arms and chests, trying to
crush each another. This back-and-forth is expending so much energy, but my
God, the effects are so powerfully sensual. This might have been the final
moment of our entire war today. To keep exchanging holds until one of us
could no longer take it, could no long continue, and finally submit. That
is what I want!

But our feet slip. The sweat is all over the mat now and rather than fall
over we drop to our knees while keeping our arms around each other. Our
heads coming to rest cheek-to-cheek, our big breasts still crushing against
one another. I still can’t believe how equal our breasts are. They have
stayed relatively steady against one another, neither showing signs of
crushing the other. I definitely thought I had the firmer breasts.