A Christmas Wreck-oning

Freezing! Cold! Sludge! It was awful, that path. That shoeless walk through a wet hell, and yet they took it, together, hand-in-hand. Neither talking, save for Victoria's words of guidance as to where the tree was, and how much farther they had to go to find it. Long though the journey seemed, eventually they did find the base of the tree and the ladder secured to it.

For a moment, though they each wanted nothing more than to be out of the cold, and off the quickly freezing ground, the two women just stared at each other. Neither sure they could truly trust the other, or that they could make the transition from the bottom of the ladder to the top without the other using it to their advantage. Worries they contemplated as each ran their fingers across the scratch marks on their chest. Scratches the other made cruelly and without mercy. But as Sapphire and chocolate-brown eyes met and metered - eyes which had already conveyed so much, they decided.

"You go first." Victoria offered softly, as she used her hand to keep the bottom of the ladder steady with her left hand.

Armanda did not respond with words, but instead stepped forward, stopping just short of pressing her body into her sister-in-law's. There, in that closeness, the softness that seemed to have been growing between them both flowered and bloomed. Their lips, which had so often snarled, bent into nearly imperceivable smiles, and their eyes, which had held such hatred, glistened with something entirely different. And though the warmth of that moment they each cherished, when voices again began to rise, Armanda finally spoke.

"Don't leave me. Please." The Latina said quickly before stepping onto to the ladder and setting herself to climb, fearing all that she felt and showing it most of all. As she went up and into the family treehouse, one that had been empty for years, Victoria watched her. The smiling sister letting her eyes wander across her rival's perfectly shaped legs, round, toned ass, and still gorgeous breasts, which bounced with every rung taken.

For a moment, when Armanda disappeared above, Victoria worried. Would the woman she just allowed to go first attack her when she attempted the same climb? Would the high ground suddenly squelch whatever it was that seemed to have happened between them? Fears which were quelled as the wife which with she had warred looked down from up above and beckoned. "Come on!"

With that invitation, Victoria did climb, quickly. The once resentful sister chasing after her rival, with a heart beating so fast it was all she could hear, even with the sound of her family home burning in the distance.

That excitement ran headlong into a sudden and unexpected realization. That being that though the treehouse itself had been spacious and grand when she was nine, for two adult women, it was decidedly less so. So small was it, in fact, that the pair was forced to sit as they entered, with no room to stand or wander.

Despite the size of their surroundings, however, they were out of the cold winds, and off of the sludgy ground below. Not only that, but they were also safe, both from the fire and being found, as no one would search the treehouse - not any time soon, at least.

And yet, despite that distance and time, eventually they would each have to deal with what had happened. Would they lie? Tell the truth? How would they...? Their minds swirled as they sat in silence.

Sirens, shouts, and loud cracks audible even at their distance from it all. Those sounds began to take them both - prying them back from their focus on each other. And whereas before, whenever their focused had waned, the other pulled them back - drug them back into their bubble of combat and competition. Now, neither were able to pull the other back from the proverbial ledge - for this time they were both there together. Both of the two scratched, nude, and bloody women focusing on their separate futures and not their together present.

As they so succumbed as their eyes closed, and their wounded bodies began to quiver and shake. Each regretting all that had happened. From their first curse to their final claw. A regret that pried their eyes open, and pushed them to look to each other in question. What had they done? What do we do? They queried without words.

But when they found no answers in the other. No strength to lean on. No yank back into their battle for domination, their eyes began to drift. Not away from each other, but down. Down to the other's breasts and stomach. Their glistening sex and powerful legs. Sights which began to warm their own bodies. Sights which filled them once again with that unique need which had always driven them to hate and obsess over each other. A feeling and a passion which lead them to look back up and into each other's eyes - eyes in which they saw the same fire. The same desire. And as all of that began to course through them, they spoke.

"Come here..." "You're mine..." They each challenged, not in a shout, or a whisper, but in a voice just for each other. Each reaching out for the other's hair. Not in a hard, yanking pull, but instead in a grasp, each used to pull themselves together. Their breasts meeting, and foreheads sealing again as they pulled one another into a tight embrace. Each of the two giving the other's hair the slightest of tugs as they studied each other.

"Fuck you..." Victoria whispered, as her quivering lips lingered only an eyelash's width from her rival's.

"Bitch..." Armanda replied as she pressed in even tighter, her focus at that moment spent entirely on trying to avoid giving in to the desire that coursed through her.

"Slut..." As Victoria's spoke the words, her lips brushed against those of her brother's wife. Not in a kiss, but instead because they had run out of space between them.

"I... I... Hate yo-" Armanda tried to say it - tried to speak it. But before she could finish the thought - the lie, she and the woman she considered an enemy only an hour ago, were kissing. Passionately. Wildly. Their tongues exploring each other's mouths with wanton desire.

And yet still, Victoria pulled back, if just for a moment to reply. "I hate you mor-" Words that were again cut off as they dove back into their deep, breathless kiss.

A kiss they lost themselves in, tuning out all else for a period of time neither could estimate or even guess. Their cold bodies warming with passion and desire, as their hands gripped oh so tightly to each other's hair. Each afraid, even after all their anger, confidence, and hatred that the other would leave them. That it was only they that felt as they did.

Only they that had been driven mad by the other since first they laid eyes on each other.

Only they who felt that despite all that had happened, and all they had felt for each other, it was what had occurred that night that they wanted. The fighting. The struggle. The red-hot passion that consumed them into forsaking all else. Their desire for control of and submission from the other all real, but not for the reasons they had assumed.

Fuck the business. Fuck the family. This was about they two alone, and their desire, shameful and taboo though it may be, to compete with one another - struggle with one another. Not just on that night, but forever. And though I tell you now that is how they felt, at that moment they cared not about that revelation but one far more important. One they found in the way the other clung to them. Held them. Tensing whenever the slightest gap might form between their pressing.

It wasn't just them.

It plagued them both.

A realization that led them both to pull back from their kiss, and as they leaned into each other from their knees, and speak.

"I can't..."

"I know..."

"Just... Please..."

"I promise..."

The words shard were so intensely personal and profoundly representative of what they both felt, that after they were said, neither knew who asked and who accepted. Who begged and who promised. But with their truths exchanged and accepted, they each took what they wanted - knowing they could have it.

A taking that came as Armanda with violence shoved Victoria back and away from her, and down to the treehouse floor.

And though one might have expected Victoria to be shocked or angry, the alabaster-skinned sister instead hissed back at her Latina rival. "Come get me, bitch."

The response brought a grin to Armanda's face, one that she kept on as she lunged forward and on top of Victoria.

And though she did so land, on top of her rival, in a flash that position was relinquished. Relinquished and then regained, as sister and wife coiled around each other. Their legs spreading and bare mounds meeting, as each began to bite at each other's lips and mouths. The pairing of powerful women finding their anger, their jealousy, their adverse positions in the family to be an intoxicating brew that drove them absolutely wild.

Wild though they may have been, as their calves wrapped around and pulled forward each other's asses, they settled. The sister-in-law lining up their shaved pubic mounds, preparing to press - to duel one another there on that treehouse floor. The pair teasing each other, by lifting that same mound, but not yet their sex - wanting to see their eyes close or roll back into their head. Their mouths open to suck in deep gasps, or hitch, and let out small breaths of excitement and longing. Play though they did, when Victoria could take no more foreplay, she thrust her hips upward and at an angle - aiming for Armanda's, not in part but in whole.

And though on that attempt, she missed, when she came again, Armanda responded, then it happened: contact.

"Fuck..." "Oh god..." They spoke in what sounded more like breaths than words, each freezing as they took the moment, and the sensation in.

Magic though it was, and gleeful though they may have been, Armanda still demanded. "Fight me, whore."

Victoria wanted to respond in words, in some comment fitting their fiery feud, but instead, as cold breaths turned to steam between them, she leaned her head up and bit her Latina rival's cheek. The bite was not brutal, or skin-piercing, but it was enough. Enough to start their hips into motion, and for Armanda to gasp loudly in excitement, just before she bit down on her sister-in-law's soft, white cheek.

With their teeth sunken into each other's flesh once again, their hands began to wander. Not softly in a lover's caress, but nails-first - nails deep, each leaving the slightest of scratch marks as they traveled across outer thighs and down sides - around compressed and bulging breasts. The pain of it all, from both teeth and claws, made their slow, methodical, dance of clits and wet sexs soul-rending. Life-changing.

With their need finally filled, and their obsession with each other finally understood and admitted, the two matriarchs Budreau bathed in the moment. Neither rushing. Neither hurrying to reach a conclusion. For that battle - that struggle - that war with each other, was what they wanted. And what they wanted, was glorious - each of the two women looking to make the other moan, whimper, and cry out in abject ecstasy. Not only with pleasure but a pain, they both wanted. A pain only they could give the other.

In that equality of body, drive, and purpose they began to roll together across the well-sealed and still-smooth wooden floor of the family's old treehouse. Their bites on cheeks failing as they moved, leaving their lips to slowly travel in a trail of kisses from their previous teeth-imprinted softness, to the other's mouth. Mouths which kissed softly for a moment, before tongues met and fought for space and control - always for control.

When that wasn't enough, and their desperate need for struggle drove them further, they each bit - locking their jaws together in a hard, pressing chomp. A meeting of molars and more that occurred just as they ended their rolling and almost in a ball, they sat up. Their legs crossed at the inner thigh, one leg below and one above on either side. Their matching and mashed breasts pressing and shoving back and forth, each of the two contrary women seeking to dominate and deform the other's tits in whatever way they could. But most important was the fact that their soaking sexs were locked together in battle, each using their wrapped, and flexing legs to pull their's forward and into their rival's.

In that state, as their fingers once again laced through each other's hair, the two warring women's mouths moaned, even into their mutual bites, which remained seized and secured to that of the other. The pair's thighs quivering, and calves burning as they fucked each other, hoping the other would release not just first, but upon their dominant sex. And though slow they did take it at first, and for as long as they could, their passion took them by the hand and drug them to both speed and mania - fervor and failure.

Failure in the form of orgasms building within them, not just in the depth of their loins but in the furthest reaches of their minds, as the excitement of all that had and was occurring, took them. Stole them. Ravaged them, until they could cling to their bites no more. Until they released, and fell back, only remaining in their makeshift ball of limbs and lust by the other's desperate cling. A cling they kept until finally, as certain defeat filled Armanda's thoughts and lungs - heart and soul, she heard it. Felt it. Victoria scream and quake - shake and shiver, as she, the raven-haired heiress fell from their embrace. The sight of it, feel of it, hell even the thought of it, shoved Amil's wife not only over the edge but across the ravine of ecstasy. The two women - two rivals cuming there on the floor to the tree house. The bare and broken sisters-in-law, in their sexual ruin, collapsing to their backs, as their soaked kittens fed one another their precious juices.

Moments passed with neither speaking - neither moving. Their only connection, save for the one between their drenched thighs, being Victoria's right hand and Armanda's left, which during their owner's orgasms reached for each other and caught hold.

True that it was that neither could see it, in the still convulsing pairs' eyes welled tears. For so many reasons, some joyous and some not, but somewhere in that maelstrom there was fear.

Had their fever been broken? With orgasm, had they reached their end? Both asked themselves in silence. Both wondered, though even the pondering felt like a dagger driving through their hearts. As with their free hands, they held their matted hair back and cried and sniffled. Not wanting to separate or speak, hoping that somehow, if they didn't, the moment they had lived together on that Christmas night would last forever.

But finally, as the yard below finally grew silent, and when Victoria felt she could not take another second without knowing, she asked, "Does this..." She said as she choked back tears." Does this mean you run the business...?" Asking only of the consequence of her defeat, and not what she really cared about - what it meant for THEM.

"Not me..." Armanda responded, in words neither would ever forget. "WE..."