Lisa and I had so much in common. We were both overachievers. We were both star athletes, and on the same teams no less: swimming and fencing. We both also made the honor roll every term, even though neither one of us studied very much. We just picked up things quickly. A classmate once asked me whether I had to study for hours every night to make the honor roll. I said, "What do they test you on here that you would need to actually study?" But Lisa and I also saw nothing inconsistent in being both an overachiever and very feminine. Both of us know how to dress to make a boy’s mouth water, and we can flirt our way into or out of anything we choose to. Yes, Lisa and I were almost exactly alike in every way. I guess that’s why we hated each other so intensely.
Surprised? It really makes sense when you think about it. Think of the really good friendships you’ve had or known about. Haven’t you noticed how people "specialize"? If you have two girlfriends, there’s either the really popular one and the wallflower, or the really smart one and the airhead, or the leader and the follower, or some such thing. Nobody wants to be in a group with someone else who’s "doing their routine." So Lisa and I hated each other from the first time we met in high school. (Oh, and by the way, my name’s "Susan," although if I decide I like you I’ll let you call me "Suzie.")
This story takes place in my senior year of high school, shortly after my eighteenth birthday. (Make that "our" eighteenth birthday. Lisa was born only a week earlier than I was, it turns out.) We had been trying to outdo each other, competing with each other, and verbally abusing each other for the previous three years. It finally came to a head at a party one Friday evening. I saw her in the corner flirting a little bit with this cute but vacuous-looking guy. She was only flirting on "medium," and this guy did seem stupid, which is a total turn-off, but the fact that Lisa was showing some interest in him immediately made me decide to make a play for him. I was delighted by the thought of how angry it would make her if I stole him! So when he left her for a moment to get some more drinks, I intercepted him and started flirting on "high." Boy, appearances really can be accurate. This guy was d-u-m. (Yeah, I know there’s a "b" on the end, but this guy wasn’t smart enough to merit the fourth letter.) But that just made my job easier. He seemed to have forgotten Lisa in a few seconds. Unfortunately, she had looked across the room and seen me with him, and immediately cruised in for a counterattack.
If you saw the scene from a distance and didn’t know the background, you would think that the guy in between Lisa and me was the luckiest dumbass in the world! Two hot girls fawning over him! Now, Lisa has sexy red hair, a narrow waist, and breasts that must somehow break the law of gravity. I had seen her naked in the locker-room shower, and I knew that this boy was in for quite a treat if Lisa won the battle for him. She had nipples with dark, cookie-sized areolas. They were so big that I had taunted her by greeting her "Hey nips!" in the locker-room. She’s not to be toyed with, though, because she immediately shot back, "Hey hairy!" Let me quickly explain that I am NOT hairy. All she meant was that I, unlike her, had not shaved my pussy. That never bothered me before, but after the laugh her comment got in the locker room, you can bet I went home and shaved it that evening.
Of course, I’m a pretty nice prize myself. An old boyfriend had once described me as looking like a "gypsy princess." I have long, curly hair that is almost black, but with a hint of auburn. This sets off my skin nicely, which is creamy in complexion. And I may not have a rack quite as impressive as Lisa’s, but it was certainly drawing this guy’s eyes down to it.
So Lisa and I tried to out-flirt for this guy, who must have thought that he had transformed into Tom Cruise overnight. Eventually, though, Lisa directed him to get us all some more drinks. When he was out of earshot, she kept on smiling, so no one at the party would guess what she was saying, but leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Get the fuck out of here, you bitch." I smiled back brightly as I whispered, "Fuck you, cunt."
"You get your little whore ass out of here," she threatened, "or I will kick your skinny butt from one side of this town to the other. I mean it." I laughed in her face, and said, "You are so full of shit." The smile had gone from her face. She hissed in my ear, "You’ve been asking for this for a long time. Meet me up in front of the gym in fifteen minutes. They have it set for the wrestling match tomorrow. I’m gonna bitch-slap that smile right off your face." I forced myself to keep smiling to hide the fear I was starting to feel. Was she serious? "Really cute," I said. "I go up to the gym, and with me out of the way, you‘re in the back seat of this guy‘s car, sucking his slong. How much do girls like you usually charge, by the way?"
"You want him?" she said. "Take him. I’m leaving. But if you’re not up at the gym in an hour, I swear to god I will drive to your house, and I will beat the shit out of you in your own room if I have to." She stalked off, and I could tell by the look on her face that she was not bluffing. "Oh man," I thought. "What have I gotten myself into this time?"
I lost the dumb guy at the party (not very hard), and drove up to the school. She was waiting in front of the gym. She had the key and knew the security code because she was captain of the fencing team, and sometimes needed access to the gym to check or prepare equipment before a match. We just glared at each other, and without saying a word, we went in. She flipped the lights on, and we both walked over to the wrestling mat. She looked me up and down and said, "That looks like an expensive blouse."
"It’s silk," I said. "Yeah, mine’s pricey too. We’d better strip down so we don’t ruin our clothes." And with that she started to undress. I paused for just a second, and then followed suit. (I wonder why it didn’t occur to me to ask why we couldn’t just strip down to our underwear?) Soon we were both naked, except for our running shoes, which we kept on for traction. Since we had been out partying, we had each worn some smart-looking shoes. Mine were burgundy, and I had on loose white socks, that hung around my ankles. Hers were white, and I could see that she didn’t have any socks on.
I walked toward the center of the mat, trying to look like I knew what I was doing, and like I didn’t have a knot of fear on my stomach. I’d wrestled and rough-housed with my brothers and my younger sister any number of times growing up, but this would be a lot more serious. What if she easily dominated me? How much would she hurt me if I was at her mercy? I knew from having competed against her and worked out in the same room with her that she had more brute strength than I did. And, although there wasn’t a gram of fat on her, she was heavier than I was because of her muscle mass. But I also knew that my reflexes were much faster than hers, and that I was somewhat more limber. I hoped that would be enough to compensate for her strength and momentum.
She walked up to me and said, "Okay, here are the ground rules: no biting, no scratching, and no punching with a closed fist." Inside I felt a little bit of relief, but I wanted to sound tough, so I sneered, "I suppose you don’t want any slapping or hair-pulling either, you scared pussy." She stared daggers at me and then suddenly slapped me right across the cheek. I didn’t even see it coming. She smiled evilly as she said, "Does that answer your question, bitch?" I grunted, "Yes" as I suddenly lunged forward and grabbed her hair, each hand on one side of her head. I got her as much by surprise as she had caught me. She stumbled backwards but managed to regain her balance and quickly grabbed my hair back. For a few seconds we stumbled back and forth, using all our strength to twist each other’s heads or try to drag the other down underneath us. The sounds of our quick heavy breathing, grunts, and moans echoed through the gym. We were both too proud to yelp or scream out in pain, despite how much we were hurting each other. Soon her strength started to become apparent. I was managing to stay standing, but just barely. Unless I did something to change the situation fast, she’d be on top of me and in control. So I suddenly stopped pushing back against her and instead pulled her toward me. As I hoped, she was pulled off balance. As her breasts pressed into mine, I pulled one foot back and swiveled my torso, so that she flipped over onto her back. (I learned later that I had instinctively performed a judo move.) I followed her to the mat, quickly straddling her chest. She was stunned for a moment by the impact, and I quickly took advantage of the situation to slap her smug face as fast and as hard as I could. I tried alternating left and right hand slaps, but I found that it was quicker to hold myself up over her with my left hand and slap her face with my right. "Bitch!" I yelled as I hit her, "Whore! Take it! You like that?! Want more?!" I couldn’t help noticing that her tits bounced with every slap.
Unfortunately for me, she was an even tougher athlete than I had anticipated. She managed to get her composure back enough to grab both my hands with hers. Her grip was amazing! And before I knew what was happening, she had rolled me over so that I was now on my back and she was straddling me. Unlike her, I hadn’t been thrown to the mat from a standing position, so I was alert enough to put my arms up to block some of the force of her slaps. I tried to grab her hands like she had grabbed mine, but she was just too strong for me to hold on. Besides, by now we were both lathered in sweat like two mares that had been whipped to run at full speed. She seemed to get frustrated with her inability to really whack me the way I had done to her, so she grabbed my hair again. This time, though, she leaned far over my head, so that she could pin my arms down. This also meant that her ample tits with their big nipples were right in my face. They actually made it a little hard to breathe. We were both moving constantly, as I writhed underneath her, trying to escape, and she counter-moved to keep me underneath her and her weight over me. I could feel the wrestling mat underneath me, and her firm, sweaty body sliding against mine. The constant shifting of positions meant that I had to keep moving my head around trying to find a place to breathe from under her breasts. I smelled and tasted the fresh sweat on them as she ground them against my face. I noticed that her full nipples were erect, and they sometimes brushed against my lips, teeth, and even tongue. I felt so strange: I couldn’t breathe, I was being defeated, I wanted her off me -- yet I also wanted the fight to go on.
I was gradually inching my right leg up, bending it so that my foot was near my right hip. I got it wrapped around her left calf. I knew that if I could just get my arms and head free a little bit, I’d be able to use that to pin her leg and roll her over. But I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep going until I got the chance. She must have sensed that I was nearing exhaustion. "You want me off you?" she taunted. "Tell me you’re a cunt! Say it and I’ll get off you! Say it! Say that you‘re a cunt!" I nodded, so she loosened up her grip so I could speak. I took a deep breath and spat out, "Your dad’s cock tastes good!!" The second that was out of my mouth, I took the opportunity she had given me to grab her left arm (I only needed it for a second!) and then push her over my leg and roll her onto her back. I knew from experience that I couldn’t keep her on her back, so I jumped to my feet.
She was up quickly too. We circled each other around the mat like tigresses. Our young bodies glistened with sweat, and showed bruises and red marks from where we had hurt each other. We both panted and stared at each other, sizing each other up, trying to decide how to attack next. Then I realized something. "My god," I thought. "Her pussy is wide open." And so it was. Her sweet little muff was wide open, her pink pussy lips engorged and slick with pussy-cum. Her nipples were as proudly erect as they had been when she was on top of me. I stopped moving and just stared. She realized where I was staring and quickly glanced down at herself, then up at me. For the first time, she looked a little unsure. We just stood, breathing heavily, looking at each other. Her face and her hair were still beautiful, even after the wrestling match we had just had. In fact, somehow they seemed more beautiful. I found my eyes going from that face, to those tits to that pussy, then back up again. Feelings were churning up inside me, churning up too quickly and in too much confusion for me to process them. The feelings were both pleasant and sickening at the same time. I had to say something. "Fucking dyke," I blurted out. Her face still had a bit of a snarl on it, but she didn’t seem all that angry when she pointed at my own crotch and asked, "Who’s the dyke?" I looked down. My cunny was all open and shiny. It wasn’t shiny with sweat either. I could even see my clit, which gets big and almost penis-like when I’m really horny. Any my nipples pointed out toward Lisa, almost like they were reminding me what the object of my lust was. My body had betrayed me.
I tried to cover up my breasts with my left hand and my pussy with my right. I must have looked like the pervert’s version of Botticelli’s Birth of Venus. Lisa walked over to me slowly and deliberately. I was starting to shiver. She began to gently pull me toward her. "No," I pleaded softly. "Don’t."
"It’s okay, Suzie," she whispered. "I just want to be gentle with you." (She’d never called me "Suzie" before, only "Susan" or "Hey, you.") She held me, and I soon was holding her back: my cheek against hers, my breasts against hers, my open pussy against hers. She pulled back slightly to create some space between us, and then reached her right hand in, expertly moving her middle finger up and down my well lubricated pussy lips. "Don’t," I whimpered again. She rubbed for a moment, incredibly gently. I could barely feel her soft hand dancing over my clit, then fingering just the opening of my pussy-hole, then sliding back up to my clit. The gentleness made me ache. She whispered in my ear, "If you want me to stop, just pull my hand away." I did nothing as she kept caressing my hot, wet slit. "You’re not pulling my hand away" she said, teasingly. "If you don’t pull your hand away, that means you want it, Suzie."
"No," I said hoarsely, but my claim seemed less believable than before. I started to cry, but I remembered how I had also cried the first time a boy put his cock inside me, even though I had wanted it desperately. Lisa kissed my tears away as her hand kept working my pussy with that same slow, knowledgeable motion. My hips were starting to twitch, and my hands began to caress her back, then her hair, then her neck, before finally daring to touch her ass. Oh, it was exquisite! Taut and perfectly round in the way that only a teenager’s ass can be. No wonder every guy in school wanted her! I must have known what I was doing when I rubbed it, because it made her breathe faster when I did it.
Soon the feelings in my crotch became more demanding. I started to moan and writhe. "Ask for it," Lisa prompted me. "Tell me what you want."
"Oh, god, Lisa," I moaned. "I can’t say it."
"Say it," she purred. "Tell little Lisa what you want, Suzie." I paused for only a moment before I found the courage to say, "Fuck me. Mmmm. Fuck me, Lisa. Girl-fuck me."
"Oh, it turns me on when you talk like that," she groaned. Encourage, I went on, "Oh, yeah. Lisa is fucking me. I’m letting another girl fuck me. We’re doing lezzie stuff together." As I started talking dirty to her, Lisa started to hump my leg, rubbing that lovely open pussy up and down my thigh. She also started working my pussy more aggressively, rubbing my clit firmly, and shoving a finger way up my cunny-hole. There, in the middle of the gym, Lisa and I holding each other, naked except for our little girlie tennies, I finally crossed a line into a new phase of adulthood: and I’m so glad that I did. I said firmly, "Stop." Lisa froze and looked at me, an expression of surprise and disappointment on her face. But I continued, "Let’s get down on the mat. I want us to 69. I want us to lick each other off. I want to shove your face into my pussy, and I want to lick your pussy while I do it." Her expression changed to one of joy and submission. All of a sudden, I was in charge!
I don’t remember any hesitation before putting my face into her pussy. This had been so long in coming, and we were both so aroused, that we were quickly wrapped around each other on the map, a tangle of elbows and knees and hands and feet. With the big mat underneath us, and because we worked out so much, it was easy for us to roll around with our faces glued to each other’s crotches. I loved her taste. I loved the very idea of tonguing another woman "down there." And it felt so intimate to let another woman do it to me. I was giving it to her. I was revealing myself to her completely, all defenses down. She sucked my huge clit, and I licked her smaller but immensely sexy one, and we were both close to cumming. But something was missing. I pulled my face out of her crotch for a second. "Spank me," I pleaded. "Spank my ass!" Lisa started to enthusiatically spank, and pinch, and caress my ass, all at the same time, it seemed, and all while sucking my clit, and tonguing my hole, and running her tongue up and down my pussy lips. Oh god it was wonderful! I wasn’t sure whether she would want the rough stuff back, but she reached down and slapped me on the back of my head; I knew exactly what she was saying with that! So I started slapping, and pinching, and caressing her ass. We got even closer to orgasm. God, how long would it last! But suddenly, she stopped slapping and slurping, and stuck her head up. "Tell me you love me!" she ordered. I stopped, surprised, and not knowing what to say. She spanked my ass again, hard, and then gave my pussy a few quick licks, before saying again, "Tell me you love me, Suzie! Tell me!" I found myself saying it: "I love you! Oh, Lisa, baby, I love you. This is so good."
"I love you too, Suzie," she said in between licks. "Oh, I loved you even when I was hurting you. Oh, it’s so sick, but I loved you even more when we were hurting each other."
The time from then until our orgasms is a blur: mouths hungrily licking, slupring, nibbling, biting; hands exploring, caressing, pinching, spanking, slapping; hips grinding into faces. I remember snapshots with particular vividness: I bit her thigh and she screamed, but I knew it was a scream of thanks. She roughly grabbed me hair to push my face and tongue harder against her cunt, and I welcomed being used by her. I called her "cunt" while pinching her nipples and loving the look of ecstasy on her face. Our screams when we finally came were as loud as any that ever filled that gym.
We lay soaking in our sweat and cum for a few minutes. I eventually turned around and lay my head on her chest. I smiled and said, "So, are we friends now?" She chuckled and said, "Yeah. We’re friends."
"But friends shouldn’t have bad fights, should they?" I teased. She smiled and said, "Hmm. In that case, fuck you."
"Fuck you too," I said, smiling back.