Backseat Battle Ch. 02

"No, honey... No." Refused Brenda, as her husband Mark shouted his pleas from the kitchen.

"Babe, please. I know tonight's our date night. I know we had plans. But it's David... He needs a guy's night." The fit, half-handsome man's begging didn't come from a need to drink, or a desire to cheer at some playoff game, but instead, in his desire to support a friend.

And yet still, the words fell on deaf ears. "No, what David needs is a confession booth and an ass-kicking after what he put Lauren through.

"Look, I know you and Lauren are friends, and so you believe her. But David has been my best friend since high school, you know that. And I want to get his side of the story." The sincerity and empathy in Mark's voice was the only thing keeping Brenda from completely ignoring him.

"Mark, I love you, but no. Tonight, we're going to go out to dinner. We're going to hold hands. We're going to laugh at each other's jokes. And make out in the backseat of the Uber after having too much wine. So that we do NOT end up like those two." Not once since her backseat encounter with Samantha had she truly worried about Mark's fidelity. For the only possible rival she knew of had been faced, fought, and defeated in the backseat of her Escalade.

But after hearing Lauren's tale of woe, her co-worker and confidant, Brenda spiraled. Her every thought filled with painful and pillaring questions. Who was next? Who was coming to take him? And the lament of how much time she had wasted not securing their relationship, both from without and within.

"Babe ... I..." Mark began as he walked out from the kitchen and towards Brenda. But seeing the look on his wife's face, his words ceased, as he abandoned his hope of giving David the night out with the boys that he so clearly needed.

"Look. Just give me tonight. You and your cheating scumbag of a friend can go out tomorrow night, ok?" As harsh as the words read, they were playful. Brenda reaching up and wrapping her arms around Mark's neck before pulling him into a soft and loving kiss.

She leaning into him in her tight, satin, strapless red dress. One that showed off her moisturizer-shined and drool-drawing legs. Legs which traveled long and fit well into her tall black heels.

Perhaps because of that attire, Mark replied "Deal," with a smile. One he wore between soft, sweet meetings of he and his wife's lips.

But as their lips met and eyes closed, a familiar bell sound rang out throughout the home.

"Mmmnnn..." The blonde sounded out in enjoyment of their kiss. "That must be your babysitter." She then added, as her eyes opened to find his.

"Our babysitter, babe. You're going to like her. She's sweet." Mark said confidently, his eyes soft and glistening with a deep and affectionate love.

"Don't put her on me. You chose her. So, if she's bad, I'm putting the blame squarely. On. You. Mr. Evans." With the last word of the bouncing, still-toying sentence, Brenda pulled back her arms, and then with a single finger tapped the tip of Mark's nose.

"Well, if I don't, I'm just going to send Cadence over to Jamie's." Hopefully, she wouldn't need to. Hopefully, she wouldn't want to. But the option was there. There, in a house a few blocks down in their gated community. The home of a kind, cheerful young woman, who was more than willing to watch little Cadence.

But Brenda and Mark had already relied on her countless nights before. And, like the good neighbor she was, Jamie wouldn't accept payment. And so Mark demanded. A babysitter. Someone to watch their child, who wouldn't fill him with an overwhelming sense of guilt.

And though the blonde mother and wife didn't necessarily disagree with his decision or motive, she found it difficult to trust someone with her child.

Still though, Brenda hoped as she made her way to and then opened the door to her happy home, that whoever Mark had chosen, would be someone that she could trust.

"Oh... Hi, Mrs. Evans!" Came a quick and sickeningly sweet greeting. One that left Brenda speechless and gap-jawed, as she found herself unable to believe what she saw.

WHO she saw.

A girl Brenda knew all too well. One who wore a pair of white yoga pants and infuriatingly not else below. That lack of panties, under the brunette's intensely form-fitting bottoms, made the blonde swear that could see the faint bristles of once shaved and yet returning pubic hair. A sight, imaginary or not, that came topped with a midriff revealing, "Pink" labeled tube top from Victoria Secret's summer slut catalog, as Brenda called it.

"Sammy! Thanks for coming!" Shouted Mark, as he approached his open front door and shock-frozen wife from behind.

And though he came nearer, before he could truly see his wife's face or much in front of her, "Sammy" stepped in, and with a forceful bump, past Brenda. The 19-year-old brunette making sure her breasts met and then drug across those of her still-shaken rival. Just as they had, that fateful day in the backseat of Brenda's Escalade.

"Maaarrrkkk.'" Brenda suddenly began in a panic, as Samantha walked over and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.

"Uh, yes, babe?" He asked, truly confused, as with a single arm he patted Samantha's back.

As that arm wrapped, however, Sammy clung and turned with a confident smirk. Knowing that Brenda must be boiling at seeing her body pressed against her husband's.

"Go get David," Brenda instructed, as her eyes closed and pulse raced.

"What!? I thought we were..." Mark began as he released Samantha and stepped towards his wife. He being confused after all that had been said and all that had been refused.

"Are you sure? This isn't a trap, right? One of those things where you tell me to do something, and then get mad at me when I do it?" He'd fallen for it before. Got in trouble for it before. And yet, even as he asked, he could feel something different going on - even though he couldn't exactly put his finger on what it was.

"No, honey, you go. Be the good man. The good friend. We'll go on a date some other night." As Brenda spoke and assured, Samantha retreated. Not far or fast, but into the living room and onto the couch next to Cadence. She beginning to speak to the 8-year-old boy, though she could hear every word spoken.

"Oh-I-ok. Thanks, babe. I swear I'll make it up to you." With every word, he studied his wife's face. Her expression. But when he found nothing to act on or any look that he recognized specifically, he did all that he could. The worried and surprised husband giving Brenda another quick peck on the cheek, before he turned to Samantha and spoke.

"Might have to put the babysit-" Mark began, before his wife pressed a finger to his lips.

"Let her stay. You go." With the words came a smile. The calmest, kindest, most loving smile she could feign.

One feigned enough, apparently, to set Mark's fears aside and give him the peace he needed to break from his wife and rush towards the door. "Again, babe. Thanks. I wouldn't have aske..."

The brown-haired husband began before Brenda interrupted. "I know. He's your friend..."

"He is. But I love you!" He responded as he pulled the front door open once again and took a step outside.

"I love you too," Brenda replied as the door shut on her car-focused husband. She immediately thereafter turning back to Samantha and her child.

"Cadence, dear. I need you to run over to Jamie's. Tell her I need a night. She'll know what you mean." Despite the fact that Samantha sat next to him. Speaking whatever poison she no doubt was, Cadence still stood and replied quickly.

"Ok, mom." He was dressed. He was mature enough. The neighborhood was safe. And given his response, he wasn't averse to making the short trip to the nice lady who let him eat cupcakes.

And so, go he did. Gathering his Nintendo Switch, power cord, and Fortnite-themed jacket before running to his mother and then after a kiss, the door.

His departure leaving Brenda and Samantha alone for the first time that night. For the first time since the former broke the latter, and left her naked on the front lawn of her own home.

"You stupid, little bitch." Not a moment did Brenda waste, before cursing at her defeated and yet suddenly returned rival. Words she dared not share until her child and husband were out of earshot.

"Shut up!" Responded Samantha as she bolted up from the couch, and marched around it and back towards Brenda.

"You're the bitch!" The brunette continued as nearer and nearer she came to the fuming blonde standing between she and the closed front door to the home.

"Really? Well if I'm a bitch, I'm the bitch that made you cum. The one who..." As Brenda began, intending to let off a litany of reminders of what happened last they met, she found herself interrupted. For Sammy continued stepping forward, and when there was no distance left, she grabbed. The young brunette thereafter pressing not only her body but her lips into Brenda's.

"Mmnnnmm..." The blonde mother mumbled into sealed lips and over suddenly wrestling tongues. A moment of contact she gave into for a flash, remembering how intense and unforgettable their competition had been. In the backseat of her sports luxury utility truck, not even three months before.

But Brenda had won, and beaten the upstart Samantha. And so with a fire, the former pushed the latter back and away from her, breaking their brunette-brought body-to-body kiss.

You would think they would then flow, Brenda's words. Her curses. Questions, and immediately thereafter answers to the same. But instead ... she just glared at her once-defeated rival.

A rival who did not lower her eyes in shame or show even the slightest sign of submission as she stood there trembling with excitement a handful of steps away.

No, for Samantha was ascendant once more. Certain of herself once again. Not the broken youth Brenda had left on the first blades of grasp of her front lawn, but a tigress and a threat.

"What. The. Fuck. Do. You. Want?" Asked Brenda, each word falling and then landing like a sack of bricks onto concrete.

"You know what I want. Your husband. Are you going to give him to me...?" Samantha explained and then asked, her arms still half-lifted and her fingers moving out and in, as if she were a Cat ready to attack.

"Literally never." Brenda hissed back, as closed hands moved to anchor themselves on her hips.

"Then let's go, grandma." As she spoke, rather than when the sentence ended, Samantha began to disrobe. The brunette reaching down and grabbing the bottom of her pink top before pulling it up and over her head. A removal which allowed her braless and perky young tits to pop out and then bounce. A sight which in an instant drove Brenda to speak.

"Ooohhh no. I already made that little pussy of yours cum. Remember...?" With every word of denial and rejection uttered, Brenda moved towards Samantha. The blonde reaching out and grabbing for the young brunette's arms to stop her from removing her last remaining garment - her skin-`tight white yoga pants.

"You cheated, you old bitch, and you know it!" With her argument, came attempts. The cruel, jealousy-fueled babysitter trying to pry down her pants, even as Brenda fought to resist her.

"STOP CALLING ME OLD!" In a flash of white-hot anger and sensitivity to the accusation, Brenda snapped. Not only figuratively, but literally. She lifting and then crashing her open-palmed right hand across Samantha's blush-applied cheek.

At the sound of it. The happening of it. The striking of hand against cheek, the two froze.

Wife and babysitter.

Mother and aspiring mistress.

Neither with a newly donned glare or yet-to-be spoken words dangling from their lips. No, instead they were lost in it. The questions. The fear. The uncertainty.

Not for a handful of seconds but for ten of them, and then twenty. They together and without speaking trying to decipher what had just happened - what their engagement had just become.

And though for what seemed like an eternity they did not know, in an instant and a flash the answers came.

"OLD ASS BITCH!" Sammy shouted as her hands lifted from her hip-high waistband to her blonde rival's hair and then gripped.

"STUPID LITTLE SLUT!" Brenda yelled without a moment's separation from those words the brunette upstart had just spoken. The angry and once-victorious wife grabbing two deeply woven handfuls of Sammy's silky brown hair.

The two women, with their matching grips, pulling themselves together body-to-body and breast-to-breast - the blonde's covered and the brunette's bare. They not then wrenching or yanking, but instead pulling not only close but cheek-to-cheek in the center of the living room.

There, in the tight press of bodies and held locks, they hissed, as lips neared waiting lobes.

"You don't deserve his cock inside you..." Came Sammy's hatefully whispered venom, as she and her rival's nipples woke and hardened in the intensity of the moment.

"I already beat you for his cock, cunt." Brenda replied with a confidence earned in she and the brunette's last battle.

Each have spoken, and their press yet to relent, they, in a sudden occurence of movement, spun together in a stagger. Neither letting go of their tightly held locks or allowing their bodies to separate even a hair's width.

"Beat me again..." In half, the hushed request was a dare, but in the other, it was a plea. One made in desperation, though the words that followed tried to cover that track. "You know you can't... You're too old... Too dried up..."

It was a trap. A ploy. A wild, reckless attempt to push Brenda into putting up-for-grabs a prize she had already won. Surely, she would refuse it and quickly thereafter evict Samantha, half-naked out of her family home.

Any sane person would have refused the challenge.

In fact, Brenda would have refused the challenge on any other day.

But with Lauren's tale of despair and devastation fresh in her mind, Brenda knew what she had to do.

For though a million lessons could have been taken from her best friend's tale of betrayal and defeat, Brenda took only one.

Lauren had let David drift away. She had failed to drag him away from whatever distraction gripped him when first his eyes began to glaze. She had allowed her marriage to weaken and degrade until finally David strayed. She only deciding to fight - to try, when Claire already had him.

When David was already in play.

Brenda would not make that same series of mistakes. She would beat this little girl ```again. Right there. Right then. And end whatever threat she might pose before she ever made a tangible play for David.

This wife would break her rival's body, mind, and spirit, before her husband could even have the chance to betray.

A decision the blonde mother made as she stood there, holding the jealous young neighbor-girl's body tightly against her own. Not only hearing but feeling that marital threat's hot, excitement-hitching breath wash across her cheek and ear.

A closeness and binding that Brenda pushed away from, shoving Sammy back and away from her. The brunette's tits bouncing with youth-retained buoyancy as she stumbled backwards without answer or certainty, but expectant nonetheless.

"Fight me..." Samantha growled, as she waited for some sign. Some signal from her beautiful blonde rival.

And though she who growled wanted it said. Wanted it given in words. Brenda's pouty-cute lips bent only into a smirk, as she reached down, and with a quick grip and practiced pull, drug her strapless red dress up and then over her perfectly formed body. The blonde free of its curve-hugging satin for only a moment before she moved to remove her bra.

As she then did, unsnapping its burgundy back and then allowing it to fall, Sammy pressed for more than an unspoken acceptance.

"If I win, I get him, right? I get Mark?" Every word Samantha spoke made clear how much she wanted it - how deeply she longed for another chance to claim the man of the house for her own.

Still though, even as the youthful mistress-in-wanting came close to begging, Brenda remained wordless and smirking. The blonde instead focusing her every effort on removing her panties, as she kept her eyes locked on her rival's. The middle-aged and yet smoking hot wife feeling her confidence swell as Sammy's exigency began to not only show but glaringly so.

But such swelling came not only from Samantha's nervous tone or pressing for Brenda to accept her terms, but also from the former's eyes. Eyes which drifted from one end of Brenda's newly nude body to the other. They pausing with a glaze at each asset along the way. The blonde's mirrored and still-well-held breasts. Her toned, and yet feminine stomach. As well as her shaven kitten and seductively thick thighs.

In their first battle, Brenda's body meant nothing to Samantha, save for it being one she must conquer. Yes, it was far more tight and toned than the young brunette had imagined, without wrinkles and rolls. But it was still just the body of a woman she sought to master and then discard thereafter.

Indifferent and dismissive though Sammy had been then, after their battle in the backseat of Brenda's Escalade, her feelings had changed. The young neighbor girl finding herself fantasizing about the blonde mother and wife, both as the sting of defeat still lingered, and even after it had passed.

Yes, Brenda was an obstacle.

Yes, she was old in Sammy's eyes.

Yes, she was a bitch and a cheater, but still... She was the woman who gave the would-be mistress a sexual encounter and an orgasm she would never forget, even though it came in defeat.

Those thoughts, those memories, those fantasies haunted Brenda too, though askew. The tabooness of confronting, competing, and fucking the barely-of-age girl that lived across the street calling to her darker side. The intensity of the engagement, not a soft, sensual, loving affair, but a battle - a war - a fuckfight for Mark being too naughty to put behind her.

And though those mutual feelings of desire and excitement were alive in both of them, it was Samantha who seemed taken by them. Sammy who felt herself distracted as Brenda, and her now nude glory advanced on her. The blonde wife using every sexual lesson she had ever learned as she stepped slowly and sensually towards her young rival.

A young rival who did not meet that advance with her own, but instead, in a bewilderment born from fantasy coming to life, stumbled backwards, one step and then two.

And though a third such step would have thereafter come, on the second, the back of Samantha's calves caught on the front of the couch seat. A gentle and yet unexpected collision which caused her to fall in a soft crash onto the fabric of the sofa. Her white yoga pants, which she had hung about her wide hips, tugging down to her mid thighs in the landing.

Only then, as Sammy tried to stand back up, did Brenda speak again. "Sit down."A command the blonde gave as she reached out with both hands, and with palms pressing to the brunette's shoulders, sent the same back to her bare ass on the couch.

"Wait, bit..." In protest and rebellion the neighbor girl complained as she tried once more to stand. But as she did, Brenda dropped down to her knees. She once more reaching out with her palms and pressing them to Sammy's hips as they raised. The forceful but glancing force of the push sending the brunette back to the couch.

Then, before Sammy could try to stand once more, the Blonde wife grabbed those white yoga pants that still lingered around the brunette's spread legs, and with a quick application of force, ripped them down to the would-be mistress' ankles and then off.

"Bitch, let me staAaAAaa..." As she spoke it. Her wanting request for allowance, Brenda made her move. The wife in defense wrapping her arms around the neighbor girl's thick thighs, and with them drug her forward. Then, as the ass of the unwanted babysitter drug across the felt of the couch, Brenda leaned forward and with all the ferocity of a hungry tigress attacked.