Primal Urge Ch. 01

byaviendha33©

"So, really, the show's the thing?"

"Well, the show's an important thing," Camilla laughed, "but, for me, the excitement's the thing. This may be more than you want to know, but sometimes? I fantasize I'm a French whore in a fight with another whore over a man. This way, nobody gets a bottle broken over her head or her face all scratched up."

"That's not more than I want to know," I said. "That's exactly the sort of thing I want to know."

"Oh, a lot of us have fantasies about what we do. Wife vs. Mistress. Mistress vs. Wife. Inmate vs. Inmate. Upstairs maid vs. Downstairs maid. Schoolgirl vs. Schoolgirl. I remember a girl from prep school I dearly wanted to pay back for a mean trick she played on me. Well, thanks to the other wives in our group, I've paid her back in my fantasies a bunch of times. And truthfully? When she pays me back? It's every bit as exciting."

"So losing is almost as good as winning?"

"Almost," Camilla smiled seductively.

"And there's no wife-swapping or trading partners or anything like that?"

"Oh, no at all! The wives make up the rules, Kerry, and we'd never stand for that. The bonds of fidelity in marriage are unbroken in this club. The men understand this, and, believe me, they're not complaining. They get to see all the other wives naked and humiliated, and they can hardly wait to get their own wives alone, afterward. Sometimes, the rules include or allow sex between the wives, but that just seems to get them even hotter."

"Sex between the wives?"

"We have a lot of different rules for our games. Sometimes, the fights are explicitly sexual. Sometimes, the focus is more on humiliation and degradation. As long as it's safe and both women agree, well...we're always looking for new and interesting variations."

"Yes, we are," Penny stage-whispered, coming to sit between us. "And, if I'm not mistaken, there's a particularly interesting variation brewing in the center of the room."

I looked at my watch and realized that the party had been going for more than an hour. When I followed Penny's gaze to the middle of the room, I saw two women facing each other, talking quietly, hands on hips. We couldn't hear everything, but a pretty blonde was pointing her finger at Rachel Steingold's chest and saying, "If you're not careful, sweetheart, I'm going to pull those beauties out of your dress, so everyone can take a good look at them."

Penny whispered, "That's Cecily Kemper in the green silk cocktail dress, closest to us, with Rachel Steingold in the dark red. This should be good. One of tonight's theme rules is that you can't dress again or fix your hair or makeup after a fight. Whatever you look like at the end, that's how you go to our midnight buffet and finish the evening."

Rachel was now pointing at Cecily's bosom and saying, "Cece, I'm going to separate your bosom from your bodice...and I'm going to show everyone your pale, pretty bottom, too. But the one who's going to get the best view of my gorgeous bottom is you, sweetheart."

Penny was whispering again. "Unless there are specific rules to the contrary, we don't insult each other's bodies. We can call each other names, but we can't insult each other's bodies. It keeps things more cordial."

I nodded, as if I thought this was a good idea; and, when I turned back, Cecily Kemper was reaching beneath her dress to tug down her green silk bikini panties. When they were down to her knees, she let them drop to the floor and stepped out of them. Then she kneeled to pick them up and stood with them dangling from the end of one finger. Just as I was about to ask what would happen next, she gently tossed them into Rachel's face.

"There's the challenge," Camilla whispered. "If Rachel wants to fight, she'll do the same."

Cecily's panties slid down Rachel's bosom and then onto the floor, and Rachel reached underneath her own dress and pulled a bright red thong down to her knees. As she stepped out of it, she straightened up and tossed it lightly into Cecily's face. Both women smiled. Then they turned to the nearest chairs and removed their high heels and jewelry, handing them to their obviously aroused husbands.

Both women were wearing nude, incredibly sheer stockings, and I sighed at the thought of what would be happening to them in just a few moments time. It looked like an even match to me. Both were about 5'4" tall and just bordering on the chubby side, maybe 10 or 15 pounds overweight each. Rachel was darkly complexioned, with black hair, while Cecily was pale and blonde, with softer features.

Gazing around the room, it was clear that all of the men had picked up the scent, so to speak, and were straining at their trousers. None of them was making the slightest attempt to conceal it either, and I caught Paul looking at me and smiling. I smiled back and realized that it wasn't just the men who'd become aroused. I was definitely experiencing a tingle of anticipation.

As Rachel and Cecily took their places back in the center, there were a few restrained and refined cheers. "Go to it girls!" "Rip that dress off!" "Go for it, gals!"

Penny whispered, "Only the wives are allowed to cheer, and we don't usually cheer for one woman over another. We do offer encouragement, though, when one gal gains the upper hand."

I turned back, startled, as Mrs. Kemper and Mrs. Steingold had come together with surprising ferocity, and each was trying to fend off the other's hands as they struggled for a hold on each other's hair and dresses.

"Slapping is sometimes allowed," Camilla whispered, "but they're apparently not going to do that in this match. It depends on what the fighters agree to and want."

The two frenzied women pushed each other in a circle, vying for control, as the crowd opened to give them room. Their language, so genteel a few moments ago, had become vulgar and provocative, as their grunts and squeals were punctuated with taunts. "You're gonna kiss my ass, you whore!" "Suck my pussy, you cunt!"

The sound of fabric ripping became more pronounced, as Cecily suddenly pulled Rachel's dark red dress straps off her shoulders, revealing Rachel's flesh-tone strapless d-cup brassiere. But before she could extricate herself to admire her work, Rachel managed to rip Cecily's straps completely off, and we watched as the top of her green silk dress cascaded to her waist, revealing a sheer lime green c-cup brassiere.

The two separated and circled, just a few feet apart.

"Get her bra!" one of the wives yelled. "Show us her titties!" another laughed. The onlookers were clearly enjoying the spectacle, and the men, who weren't allowed to cheer, showed their enthusiasm with their broad grins and raised champagne flutes.

Rachel faked to her left but then went low for Cecily's mid-section, probably trying to wrestle her down. Instead, Cecily folded herself over Rachel's back and worked furiously on her adversary's bra clasp. Rachel's arms encircled Cecily's waist, as she raised Cecily off her feet; but, when the blonde felt her feet leave the floor, she shifted her weight defensively, causing both women to topple to the well-padded Persian carpet. Cecily landed on her back, clutching Rachel's brassiere in her hand, while Rachel continued to hug Cecily's mid-section.

As Cecily struggled to scoot free with her prize, Rachel held on to her adversary's dress, until it slipped past Cecily's hips. Suddenly it was down around her knees, and, with a quick jerk, Rachel slid it off altogether. The two women stood up quickly, glaring at one another. Rachel was covering her breasts with Cecily's dress, while Cecily tried to cover her exposed pussy and ass with her hands.

"Looks like you're a little short of clothing, Mrs. Kemper," Rachel teased, waving Cecily's dress in front of her. Then she raced several paces over to the large hooded firplace and, parting the grate, tossed it into the flames. Returning to the center of the room, she said, "And that's the way it's going to stay for the rest of the evening!"

The blonde looked incredulous. "I can't believe you did that, Mrs. Steingold! That red dress hanging off your hips is history, you whore!" The blonde launched herself at Rachel's mid-section, clutching at the torn dress, but she'd left her back exposed, and Rachel managed to tug Cecily's bra up in one quick move, shoving the blonde back onto her ass. Rather than press her advantage, though, Rachel paraded around the room, swinging her opponent's lovely brassiere above her head, her arm covering her own nipples. This time, she chose the lovely fountain in one corner of the room to dispose of the blonde's lingerie, and, wiggling her bottom to an appreciative audience, sauntered back to within a few paces of where Cecily was picking herself up.

Naked now, except for her tattered stockings, we could all see how pale the blonde was, with lovely translucent skin and not even the hint of any tanning lines. Her nipples were pink and fully erect, while her face was flushed and several shades pinker, but it was impossible to tell whether this was the result of exertion or embarrassment or anger. Tears had begun too glisten in the corners of her eyes, though, and I was guessing that shame and anger were the dominant emotions.

"C'mon, bitch, I'm not done with you!" she hissed, and she shook her breasts provocatively in Rachel's direction. Rachel walked to within a few inches of her opponent, her dress still clinging to her hips. Her own breasts showed the tan lines of someone accustomed to afternoons by the pool, but even the lighter skin that would be covered by her swimsuit was darker than Cecily's pale whiteness. Her nipples were larger than Cecily's and brown, and they stood out half an inch from her mounds. Both women's bosoms sagged slightly with age and gravity, but they were obviously proud of their endowments, as they took turns shaking them at each other, their nipples brushing and slapping against each other's breasts.

Penny whispered again, "I wonder if they're going to titfight."

I must have looked puzzled, because Camilla added, "They'll grab each other in bear hugs and try to mash each other's breasts, until one of them can't stand it any longer. I'm surprised Cecily would do this. I happen to know how sensitive her breasts are."

Camilla was right, because, when I turned back, Cecily had faked a bearhug and then wrestled an off-balance Rachel to the floor. They struggled briefly for control of their hands, but Cecily managed to climb on top of Rachel and straddle her chest. Pinning Rachel's left arm under her right leg, she fended off Rachel's free hand, while starting to pinch and tug at her opponent's exposed nipples. Rachel squealed with pain and horror at this turn of events, but she couldn't get her other hand free, and Cecily pressed the attack.

"The rules are that you can't kick with your feet or knees, and you can't use a scissor, so Rachel's legs are basically useless, when she's on her back, unless she can use them to push herself out," Penny said.

The raven-haired beauty's legs were indeed thrashing, but she wasn't strong enough to throw Cecily off, and now her other arm was pinned, as well. Cecily wasted no time in a full assault on Rachel's nipples. I could see that she was being very careful not to injure Rachel, but I could only imagine the pain and irritation she was inflicting on her hapless foe, tweaking and pulling at her nipples like that.

I could see the tears forming in Rachel's eyes, and I whispered, "Will she give up?" Then I wondered, "How do you give up, and what happens when you do?"

Camilla responded, "All she has to do is say 'I give,' and then Cecily will let her up. Then, of course, she has to do whatever it was they agreed to, before the fight. I couldn't hear that part or the rules they discussed, because we were too far away, but it's usually some form of humiliation or domination by the winner."

Penny added, "The safe word is always 'Stop,' by the way. If you get hurt or need to stop to feel safe, just say the safe word. And if one woman inadvertently breaks the rules, the whole group will say, 'Stop!'"

Just when I thought I couldn't stand it any longer, Rachel shifted her weight under Cecily, freed one of her arms, and managed to push her tormenter off. She'd probably led Cecily to believe that she was more helpless than she was, but it had been a costly strategy, and her nipples looked redder and even more swollen.

The two women were rolling across the floor now, neither able gain the top position for long before the momentum of her opponent overturned her. Their stockings, once beautiful, were shredded and full of gaping holes, and both of Cecily's feet had popped through the sheer nylon. One of Rachel's feet was exposed, too, but the opposite stocking had slid down her leg, trailing off her foot like a comet. In the commotion, her dress had also slid down to mid-thigh, revealing her "classic derriere"; and, as the two combatants rolled past us, I noticed that Rachel had a neatly trimmed but full bush, while Cecily was completely clean-shaven. Rachel's asshole was brown and as big as a silver dollar, while Cecily's was pink and quarter-sized. As they struggled, their pussies came together with little wet smacking noises, and I was suddenly aware of how wet I'd become myself.

The two wives' complete lack of concern for covering themselves, at this stage, was making me incredibly hot, and I realized that both were so intent on humiliating each other that they were giving no thought at all to their own modesty and propriety. Their heavy breathing was punctuated with unfeminine grunts and yelps, and their sweat, mingling with the more pungent odors from between their legs, occasionally wafted over to us in tantalizing whiffs.

The two fighters were struggling to face each other, sitting on the floor, leg over leg, their crotches grinding together in the traditional posture of mutual tribadism. Both were gasping for air, and both had tears in their eyes, as they rubbed their breasts and pubic mounds into one another. Each grasped one of one of the other's hands by the wrist, and neither could gain control

"First one to beg is the loser," Cecily panted.

"I'll have you crying for sweet release, you bitch!" Rachel growled in Cecily's ear and then, out of frustration, their noses practically touching, she spat in the blonde's pretty face. This began a battle to see who could work up the most saliva and deposit it on her adversary's face and chest.

They continued to grind into each other and spit, until both were nearly breathless and covered with clear, stringy spittle. Looking at the other wives and husbands in the crowd, I noticed that almost everyone was holding or rubbing her or his crotch unconsciously. Beside me, Penny and Camilla both were breathing hard, and Camilla's hand had disappeared beneath her dress.

I was amazed that neither Rachel nor Cecily had been forced to orgasm yet, when Cecily suddenly cried, "Oh, you bitch!" and leaned back, trying to pull away with all her might. I guessed that she was close and had decided on a tactical retreat. They held tightly to each other's wrists, though, which meant that their crotches remained locked together. Leaning back, Cecily managed to bring one of her feet up and began to rub it in Rachel's saliva-slickened face. Realizing she could do the same, Rachel brought her bare foot up to Cecily's face and began to curl her toes around Cecily's nose.

This was apparently a variation not frequently seen, and the women hooted with enthusiasm. "Make her smell your feet!" "Stick your toes in her mouth!"

Since both women were fighting for breath through their open mouths, this last suggestion quickly led to two mouths full of toes, which both women were forced to suck, as they gasped for breath. In the process, they were also destroying each other's makeup, and Cecily had a burnished shade smeared all over her face, while Rachel's bright red lip gloss appeared to be giving her a clown mouth. The onlookers were gleeful. "Smear it all over her!"

Without warning, Rachel suddenly pulled her trapped hand free and succeeded in rolling Cecily onto her back. On top but now upside down, Rachel pushed her head into Cecily's stomach in an effort to keep her foe trapped. Reaching down between her legs, she pulled one of Cecily's arms up and pinned it beneath her, while frantically searching for the other. Cecily squealed but could barely move, with Rachel's dead weight on her and one of her arms rendered securely immobile.

With a grunt, Rachel finally located the second errant arm flailing at her side and pinned it fast under her thigh. Then she grabbed Cecily's wrists and pinned them to the carpet, rising to a sitting position on Cecily's stomach and straddling her in reverse. Breathing heavily, she paused to look back at Cecily's face and smiled, as Cecily began to sob quietly with frustration and visions of what was to come.

I was concerned and whispered, "She looks done, should we stop it?"

Penny whispered back, "No, she's fine, Kerry. There's often crying during our fights. It's a welcome release of tension, and the tears usually mean it's been a great match. Besides, the loser should cry, and Cecily knew what she was risking from the beginning."

I was about to ask what the stakes had been, when Rachel slid her ass further up Cecily's torso, past her breasts, until it hovered over her face. The two waited in that position for another minute, allowing their breath to slow down. Cecily continued to sob quietly; and, when Rachel was satisfied that her opponent's breathing had settled to a slower rate, she lowered her wet, glistening bottom onto the blonde's face.

While Cecily wept beneath her, Rachel gave her what I can only call a face massage—never cutting off her air for long but definitely burying her adversary's face between her ass cheeks. The subtle sucking and slurping noises were punctuated by Cecily's moans, and the pale blonde's face—what we could see of it—was screwed into a grimace of dismay and disgust.

"Why doesn't she just give up," I whispered.

"That wouldn't be sporting," Camilla replied. "She's lost, and she's honor-bound to let the winner have her fun. Besides, these are the high stakes that make it all so exciting. Those two knew when they were facing each other at the beginning that this was going to happen to one of them—that each wanted to be the one to do it to the other and not let the other do it to her."

"And, of course, the men love it," Penny whispered. "Just look at them. They encourage us to challenge each other with face-sitting submissions and humiliations. And, it's true, a big part of why we do this is for them."

"But we also do it for this," Camilla added, "touching my lips with a slick, wet finger, the scent of which left no doubt as to where it had just been. Impulsively, I snatched her hand and gently guided her finger into my mouth, where I sucked it and slowly twirled my tongue around it.

Watching the two of us, Penny said, "Hmmm, that gives me an idea for another party. But let's give Kerry a chance to get comfortable with us, Camilla."

Reluctantly, Camilla reclaimed her finger and said, "Don't worry, Kerry, Cecily and Rachel will be friends again tomorrow, and, tonight, they and their husband's will have terrific sex. Last time they fought, it was Rachel who got the facial, by the way. What goes around comes around." Both Penny and Camilla laughed.

After a few minutes, Rachel raised her ass off Cecily's face and asked, "Had enough, sweetheart? Ready to give?"

Cecily nodded yes, and Rachel dismounted. Cecily's face was a mess of smeared lipstick, Rachel's juices, and sweat. Her hair was matted and slimy in places, and she smelled a lot like Rachel's ass. The two husband's came over to congratulate and console, and the whole crowd erupted into cheers and applause for a terrific and highly arousing match. Both fighters smiled, accepting the applause, and Rachel raised Cecily's arm in a gesture of joint victory.

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