Can Do Ep. 02

In the full morning sun, the heat beginning to bear down through the screen that covered the workout area behind the house, Trinity felt someone watching her; the hairs on her neck stood away from her sweaty skin. She wasn't going to let it ruin the rest of her workout. There wasn't any point in putting herself into a frenzy. She'd find out what was going on and then, if needed, she'd become angry with Melanie again--because she wanted to, not because she was pushed into it. The blonde turned slowly away from the muk yan jong feeling the calm center settle in her chest.

The woman was breathtaking, there was no other word for it. Melanie was stunning, but in a much more traditionally feminine way. This woman was dressed in a calf-length skirt and a tailored blouse that showed she wore no bra--and didn't need one. The nipples of her medium-sized breasts pushed prominently through the silky material. In low-heeled shoes, she was the same height as Trinity's five feet ten inches, something that was unaccountably arousing. Maybe the blonde had become too used to Melanie attempting to tower over her in stiletto heels. Maybe she was just horny.

What really struck Trinity was the face. High cheekbones in an olive complexion, with a long straight nose and dark, piercing eyes. Her lips, barely open as if she was about to speak, showed large white teeth. The face, framed in a tangle of dark curls wafting about her shoulders, gave the woman a wild, intense appearance. The blonde's cock stirred unexpectedly. The woman noticed and smiled. A discreet bulge in the skirt let Trinity realize with a guilty thrill that this was another hermaphrodite. Her calm center began jumping up and down like a puppy who's noticed a new toy. She had a hard time willing herself to act casual.

When she moved, even slightly, the woman showed taut, corded muscles. There was almost no fat on her slender frame, except for her breasts, which made Trinity wonder if they were enhanced to prevent them from disappearing due to strenuous exercise.

"You are Trinity?" the woman said in a soft contralto that made the blonde's crotch tingle.

"Yes. And you are?" Trinity tried to keep her voice normal. The woman seemed amused by her obvious fluster.

"Zenova de Crie. I am associated with the Hexagon Consortium. I think you know them, yes?"

The Hexagon Consortium was the shadowy organization which sponsored most of Trinity's fights--the ones that paid the best. In the past six months, she'd had six fights for them, including the memorable first fight where she discovered she was a much better sexfighter than she was a boxer.

"You work for them? That why you're here?"

"I don't work for them as such. I am the current Belgian sexfight champion and I have been asked to meet you. Some people have taken notice."

This, then, was Melanie's second betrayal. Rather than ask if she wanted the Consortium poking into her life, her manager and lover--former lover, now--had acted like some trained monkey imitating human behavior. Without asking, without even telling her until this morning when she'd let it slip while they'd argued about Wendy. Bringing her wayward sister to visit because she'd had a vision was bad enough. Allowing a stranger, a potential opponent, it seemed, to dance in and grade her was even worse. It didn't help that the woman was drop dead gorgeous and radiated sex like heat from a sun lamp. The edge of her sight turned from the pale blue glow that showed up after her session with Wendy to ragged streaks of gray and brown. She closed her eyes and imagined the needle moving toward 'Yes.' The blue aura returned as she relaxed.

"Are you feeling well?" The brunette brushed Trinity with her fingers and a confused look crossed the olive face. She let her hand trail along the blonde's forearm for longer than was necessary. "You seem distracted."

"Just a random thought. Nothing wrong." Trinity felt an incredible tingle that lingered even after Zenova took her hand away. "You said someone noticed. Noticed what?"

"I should perhaps explain," Zenova said carefully, rubbing her fingers together, staring at them as if they itched. Her voice held a lilting, vaguely French accent; Trinity had the sudden, totally random idea she might be Egyptian, or at least North African, despite saying she was from Belgium. It was a nice voice.

"I am not here to grade you or rate you on a scale or decide if you meet some minimum criteria of 'acceptable.' You have been offered six fights by the Consortium and had several others, with which they are not concerned. If they did not feel you were up to their standards, you would never have gotten the second offer. Please put your mind at rest. I am here for something better. Much, much better." Zenova smiled, and, while Trinity had the lingering suspicion she was being played, just being close to the woman was worth finding out what she had in mind. Melanie was still on her blacklist, but this might not be so bad.

"The clientele of the Consortium are wealthy and easily bored. Also, the events they sponsor have been, to date, restricted by country. You, for example, have only fought other Americans, except for the one Canadian, for which they apologize. Anyone who uses words like that, even in French, isn't welcome. I found retourne à la salope qui t'a mis au monde particularly offensive. Vous êtes une pomme de terre avec le visage d'un cochon d'inde is inventive but still in poor taste."

The woman tried unsuccessfully to hide her amusement. She seemed to appreciate that Trinity found it funny as well. The blonde hadn't exactly known what the insults meant, until now. Her entire understanding of French consisted of oui, merci, où est la gare du nord, and voulez vous couché avec moi se soir, the last of which she'd learned from a song.

"Now," Zenova continued with a more serious expression, "the Consortium have decided on a global contest with the champion decided in eight months, on New Year's Eve. You are expected to become the American champion. I am to determine if you are as good as several people have said. The biggest concern is stamina. With the exception of your first fight with Astrid Nørgaard, you have not been seriously challenged in your three victories. It is how you, uh, deflated in your two defeats that raises concerns. With your permission, I will put all reservations to rest. Is that agreeable?"

Trinity was confused. It sounded like she was being challenged to prove her worth, but she was also being approached as a potential American champion. Mel would tell her to swallow her pride and agree; her pride told her she didn't need anyone to tell her how good she was anymore. Her curiosity told her that this was worth finding out more. She ignored Mel and her pride--fuck her, fuck self-pity--and took a deep breath.

"What about my stamina? What are you planning to do to 'put all reservations to rest?'"

Zenova took a large smartphone from her bag and began swiping and tapping. She turned the phone on its side and held it for Trinity to look at. "Your record for the Consortium is three wins, two losses, and a draw. This is your first loss."

A video of Trinity's third fight, the one with Brenda Freeman, played on the phone. A clock in the lower right corner showed 16:23. Trinity cringed; she knew what was coming. She and her opponent were locked up tight, Trinity wrapped around the other woman's back, her cock poking at the damp pussy. Both women were sweating heavily but it looked like Trinity was in total control. Brenda twisted an arm free and Trinity shifted to compensate. She seemed to slip and the position was reversed, Brenda behind, arm around her neck, fucking Trinity while she stroked the blonde's cock. Within 30 seconds the fight was over, Trinity lying gasping on the ground, cock deflated while Brenda danced around the mat. Melanie lost a lot of money on that match.

"I slipped in a puddle of cum," the blonde protested weakly.

"You were tired. You let your concentration lapse, and an inferior opponent beat you." Zenova's voice was flat, without emotion but the words stung all the same. She swiped and tapped at the phone again. "This is your second loss."

The video began playing at 28:12, with Trinity on her back being fucked furiously by a small redhead who compensated for her size with unbelievable speed and intensity. Zenova stopped the video and pointed. "See this? The woman is leaking a huge quantity of cum from her pussy. Yours. You had control of this woman for twenty-seven minutes; the only reason she stayed with you is she's manic. I hear she doesn't sleep at all; she builds furniture at night. But she can't keep her cock stiff for more than thirty minutes. All you had to do was outlast her. Yet you lost control. Do you want to see the end?"

Trinity shook her head. She wanted to say that it was only two losses but that seemed a lame excuse for her behavior. Melanie won money on that fight; it was the start of their ongoing argument.

"Wait, you said I had two losses and a draw? I lost the first fight, the one with Astrid. Which one was a draw?"

"The Consortium declared the first fight a draw, only because it wasn't explicitly clear that you won. Your opponent was so desperate for a victory she took an endurance enhancing drug before the fight. Out of respect for her excellent past record, she was given a draw. And is barred from this contest. Personally," Zenova's eyes flashed, "I find the woman insufferably arrogant and not your equal. She stayed with you because she was chemically supported. So, two losses and a draw.

"Some say you cannot control your orgasms well enough to be a good fighter. I have said you are the one I expect to meet in the world championship match. I intend to prove myself correct and force all those who doubt me to shut the fuck up. That is what I mean."

Zenova unbuttoned her blouse and unzipped her skirt, stepping out of the clothes as if they had been made expressly to fall off. She wore a kind of supporter that was a stylish mix of jock strap and thong, which was why there was only a small bulge under her dress. She kicked her shoes away and stood close to Trinity, who got a good look at a long, dusky cock nestled in a fine patch of dark curls before the shaft began rising to pulse rhythmically between them. Like the blonde, her balls were nestled up around the base of her dick.

"I am going to prove you have the stamina to not only become the American champion but to meet me in the finals." This was the second time Zenova had said she would be champion. It sounded arrogant, but her face was completely sincere. Either she believed everything she said or she was an excellent liar. Regardless, Trinity was going to find out. The olive-skinned woman appeared flushed, small beads of perspiration forming on her breasts and upper lip.

Trinity pulled her sports bra over her head and shrugged out of her shorts and supporter to stand naked, except for the tape on her hands and feet, with her nose and erect cock tip touching Zenova.

"Do your worst," she said with her best sultry smile and husky voice. The calm center she'd found earlier thrummed with anticipation and in some sense she felt her sister watching her with approval.

The dusky woman looked down at the two cocks rubbing their heads together. Her face lit with a seductive grin of her own. "We are evenly matched, as I thought. Step into your ring, please, I have one or two things to try I am sure you will like."

The women stepped through the ropes of the practice ring Melanie had built with the first money they'd earned. It was a square ten feet on a side, set two feet off the ground, with ropes, padded corner posts, and turnbuckles, matching several of the rings where Trinity had fought, all intimate, with the crowd sitting directly around the small square to ensure a good look at the action, there being little worry about blood spatter. Though it seemed many of the spectators did like the occasional splash of fresh cum.

Zenova led Trinity by the hand to one of the corner posts and positioned the blonde so she hung against the turnbuckles, arms over the top rope, legs splayed over the middle rope. To her surprise, Trinity let it all happen without resisting. She was seriously curious and more than a little aroused. A small bead of pre-cum formed at the slit in her cock; the shaft tingled as Zenova brushed against it, probably more than she needed to. Her own cock danced in front of her, a similar drop of pre-cum coating the wide glans. The olive-skinned woman stood back to admire her work, arms crossed under her breasts. She looked good enough to eat.

"Stamina, the ability to remain erect and able to ejaculate only when needed is all important to our sport, Trinity Stone," Zenova said, the serious look on her face ruined by the random upticks of her mouth. "Shall we see how well you do?"

Trinity steeled herself for a finger in her pussy or a hand wrapped around her cock. Instead she felt the flutter of fingertips stroking the underside of her erect shaft, ticking the nestled balls, along the shaft, across the frenulum, and over the glans. It felt like the fur glove Melanie sometimes used, but much lighter, much more insistent, making the sensation intense. Her balls felt full, the shaft twitched and she felt cum ooze from the tip like she was going to come hard. Zenova knew exactly what she was doing. All her words, her posturing, and now her touch were designed to bring the blonde to an immediate and explosive climax. No stamina. That's what the olive-skinned woman had said. It seemed to be true.

The only sanctuary was the calm center. Trinity sank into it like a warm bath. The sense of impending orgasm receded but lurked around the edges, ready to engulf her if she lost focus. To her great surprise, she found that she didn't need to concentrate on not coming, that actually made things worse. What she needed to do was lie back, let the calm center wash over her, and enjoy things. The sense of urgency disappeared, replaced by a sensation of floating in a peaceful sea, with the limitless blue sky above and the endless blue deep below. Fingers twisted at one nipple then the other, layering pleasure on pleasure, like waves lapping at her. The fingers moved to her pussy lips, not entering her but stroking and caressing the edges, pushing on the skin on her inner thighs and the wonderful spot between her cunt and her anus, the one Mel never seemed to bother with. Thankfully, Zenova didn't find the magic spot in her pussy, the one right behind the root of her cock She sank into the imaginary water as small sparkling dots popped behind her eyes. She could do this all day.

It took some time to realize that the caressing touch had stopped, the tingling all through her body fading slowly. She opened her eyes to see Zeonva standing a few feet away, licking cum from her fingers; she seemed confused. Despite clouds beginning to form over them, the woman was glowing from a thin sheen of sweat spread across her body. Her eyes were lit from within and there was a distinct predatory look on her face. Her own cock twitched erratically, cum bubbling randomly from the tip to run down the veined shaft in silky rivulets. Trinity looked down to see her own cock, still enticingly hard, point up at her. Cum flowed from the tip and down the shaft; a small puddle had formed on the mat below her. She smiled beatifically.

"Can I do that to you?" The blonde stood, surprised that she felt no lassitude, no fatigue. Even the effects of her workout had gone. When she was face to face with Zenova--the woman was amazingly at eye level in her bare feet--she felt eager, ready.

"Stamina," Zenova said softly, her lips moving against Trinity's as she spoke. "You've learned something. What is it?"

"You keep asking questions," Trinity answered, feeling their breaths mingle in the warm air. "I have a question. What do you think makes a good sexfight? You're awfully concerned about lasting. Does that mean you like it long and slow instead of hard and fast?" Their cocks and nipples rubbed together. Trinity licked Zenova's lips with a lingering sweep of her tongue.

"My perfect sexfight," Zenova answered with a liquid lick of her own, "is two women wrapped in a sweaty embrace so tight they can't get away, fucking each other with cocks, cunts, nipples, tongues, and teeth until one of them passes out from sheer ecstasy while the winner crawls away, mostly hard, leaking cum from every orifice. Two hours sounds right. What about you?" The olive-skinned woman pushed herself against the blonde, not defiantly but expectantly.

"Uh, yeah," Trinity felt their cocks trapped between them, saw the glow in Zenova's eyes, and tried to get her mouth to work properly; her brain seemed occupied with other things. "I'm partial to cock and pussy licking myself. As long as the wrapping up gets me between someone's legs for a while, and I get at least one cum facial, I can see two hours of getting fucked nearly senseless. Of course, I'd be the one crawling away instead of passed out. No offense."

"None taken. In fact, you are the first woman to agree with me. All the other fighters I've met want to stretch me like a pretzel, get me to explode, and then dance around the ring, ten minutes at the outside. It's why they all fail. None take the long view. Purely for, eh, professional reasons, are you interested in some, eh, practice?"

Oh yeah. Fuck yeah. Fuckfuckfuck yeah. Trinity worked hard to keep herself calm and her voice steady, though she noticed Zenova was having trouble getting her own words out without stumbling. "I think I have some free time," was all the blonde managed to say coherently.

------

As the cloud cover grew--rain seemed on the way--the two women in the practice ring were sweating heavily as they wrestled and fucked. The goal of getting wrapped up so they couldn't get away eluded them, but it didn't matter, neither woman was attempting any kind of escape. Each focused on making the other come. Despite all her sultry, come-fuck-me words, Trinity was consumed with outlasting the olive-skinned woman, watching her come and soften, proving that she was a superb sexfighter, not merely a good one.

Trinity and Zenova rocked on the mat in a scissors with the dark-haired woman's cock captured by the blonde's pussy, legs entangled to maintain the connection as they worked for dominance. Trinity held Zenova in a headlock with one hand and massaged the dark pussy and ass with the other. Zenova held a pale nipple in her teeth and a pale cock in her hand. Both women stroked slowly, looking for areas of maximum friction. A thin stream of cum leaked from the join of cock and cunt, dribbling over their thighs as they rolled across the mat, trading top position and cock in cunt often.

The blonde was initially engulfed by the separate sensations competing for her attention. But they soon settled into an overlapping melange of penetration, stroking, and biting that formed a continuous feeling of arousal bringing her to the dangerous edge of orgasm. Dangerous, because she wasn't ready to let the climax wash over her. The woman in her grasp chuffed and wheezed but showed no signs of giving in either. She'd lost track of how long they'd been wrestling or how many times they'd changed position, with each getting her cock deep in the other's pussy several times. All she knew was that they'd had two minor climaxes each without bothering to stop for a rest and both of them were still hard and aroused. Sweat trickled from the ends of her braids to roll down her back. She sensed her opponent was gaining the advantage.

Blinking more sweat out of her eyes, she found the woman's ear close to her mouth. Trinity blew on it, gently licking the lobe and the outer edge. She was on her second trip around when Zenova moaned and shuddered. Trinity felt the large cock within her pulse and spasm, while the olive-skinned woman's hips bucked gently as she came. That went well, she thought, pleased to feel the cum slipping past the softening cock to coat her thighs. Maybe she's done now. God I hope so, I can't hold out much longer.