Can Do Ep. 05

There is something about a good massage that relaxes and arouses. Good doesn't always mean a professional masseuse. If one partner is attentive to the needs of the other, the lack of training, of strength in the hands, matters less than how it's done.

It was how Trinity felt as she kneaded her partner's back with amateur but focused fingers. She and Zenova were back to being partners instead of opponents. Her cock was buried to the root in the brunette's pussy, feeling the interior muscles pulse as the woman beneath her approached and receded from orgasm. It didn't matter who came or when they came. Earlier, Zenova had done the same to the blonde, working on kinks in muscles, wrapping strong hands around sweaty breasts, putting a tongue and a cock in whatever opening presented itself. Both women were relaxed, willing to let the pre-dawn hours play out in a slow climb to mutual climax.

"Mmmm," Zenova purred. "You feel good. Don't stop the massage or the sex. One or the other has to calm me."

Trinity leaned forward, pressing her nipples into the sweat-dappled back, continuing the slow thrust of her cock. She licked Zenova's ear. "You feel tense. Just relax while I work."

The brunette's faced turned toward Trinity. "I like waking up to you," she murmured. The blonde didn't know how to respond. She straightened, shifting her cock for better position, and began the massage again.

Minutes later she sat back, pulling her erection from the warm embrace of Zenova's pussy, sliding off the bed to rummage through her duffel. She pulled two thigh-length t-shirts from the bag, ones meant for sleeping, but which she'd never found the need. Waking up nekkid is so much better, she thought before diving back into the bag.

"Why did you stop?" the brunette nearly whined.

"You're still tense, babe. I want to try something else." Trinity opened a small cloth satchel that held a long necklace of woven hair strewn with seven pieces of amber. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she sighed.

"Doing what? What is that?" Zenova sat up, her cock waving in the air. Trinity resisted the urge to suck it down her throat.

"Something my sister made me bring."

"Sister? Ah. The one with the long hair and eyes that look at nothing? The one who is pregnant by your manager?"

"Yeah. Don't remind me. This is embarrassing enough. Come here. Put on the t-shirt, I don't want you getting cold. Sit facing me. Don't ask why, just do it. The worst that can happen is we spend an hour looking at our noses." Trinity held out the necklace. At least I think that's the worst that can happen.

They sat in each other's lap, right leg over left leg, erect cocks free of the t-shirts, rubbing in a to make Trinity's eyes cross. She arranged the necklace in a figure eight, with the largest piece of amber hanging between them. Three smaller nodules of crystal pressed against each neck. Zenova settled herself, a sly grin spread across her olive-skinned face. She leaned forward.

"This won't help you to beat me. I am still better than you." The brunette licked Trinity's ear.

"Bitch," the blonde said, earlobe in her teeth.

"Cunt," came the reply between wet lips. "Fuck me."

"Not now, wanton slut," Trinity answered with a sultry purr. "First we're going to adjust your aura. Then I'll fuck you 'til you beg me to stop. Sit still, close your eyes, and let your mind empty. That shouldn't be hard, seeing as how you have only one thing on it."

"Will the necklace help?"

"Can't hurt." The blonde put a finger to the brunette's lips. "Relax. Trust me. If it doesn't work, I'll lie back, spread my legs, and let you have your way with me. I might do it even if it does work."

They rested their heads on their shoulders, hands on their cocks. A tranquil quiet filled the room, breathing slowed. Time stopped. The world shifted to the left.

"What is this place?" Zenova asked, turning slowly to take in the long hall with uncounted doors on either side. Some of the doors were cracked open. The pair walked along the hall, cocks flaccid under their t-shirts.

"Where are we?" the brunette asked again.

Trinity tapped the side of her head. "Here, I think. Though, as we can see and talk to each other, we may be inside both our heads. I don't know. I always did this by myself before. I didn't actually think it would work."

"What did you expect?"

"That you'd get a nice rest, wake up without the crick in your shoulders. So we could fuck some more without me worrying about you." Trinity shrugged, looking around. "This is better."

Zenova stopped to look beyond one of the doors. Her eyes widened. "I can be married to a man who worships me, gives me whatever I ask. But I have to give up this life." The brunette faced Trinity. "Once I do that, I can't return to this life, to you. Ever."

"They're all like that, more or less," the blonde said with a sad twist of her mouth. "Behind each door is a thing you can do if you decide you don't want what you have anymore." She waved an arm at the openings. "They all used to be my possibilities. I guess now one side is you and the other side is me."

"What about us? What about the championship? Is it not behind a door?"

"Yeah, it is. We haven't got to it yet. Come on, this way." Trinity offered her hand, which Zenova took without hesitation. They strolled toward a faint glow that grew rapidly into a single door at the end of the hall, shut and locked. An enormous dial hung on it, like a pressure gauge. Two pointers vibrated near the top of the dial, the word 'Yes' to the right, the word 'No' to the left. The dial face swirled green and yellow, with occasional streaks of brown, flashes of red. One needle had a circle near its point; the other a triangle.

"That's us," Trinity told Zenova. "The pointers. They show how good we feel about things. The dial colors are the how well our auras are adjusted. By the look of the dial, it shows our auras mixed together."

"Which needle is me?" the brunette asked. She caught her bare toe on something, hopping around on the other foot, swearing loudly in French. The pointer with the triangle ticked toward the No side.

"You're the triangle," Trinity laughed softly. "That makes me the circle. The colors aren't as bad as I expected. But, we need to work on them."

"What do we do? What colors are good?"

"Blues and greens are good. Purple is really good. Might see some red, because we do piss each other off a lot. We're supposed to move the dials as far to the right as possible."

"I can do that." Zenova stood on tiptoe to put both hands on her pointer, straining to move it. It ticked once to the right, then stopped. The brunette struggled, muscles flexing. Trinity watched the taut back, ass, and calves, feeling her cock stiffen.

Zenova eventually let go of the pointer to rub the pain from her hands. "Stupid dial," she muttered. The pointer moved two ticks to the left, which made the brunette swear even louder. The pointer began steady movement deep into No until Zenova stopped, looking around her in surprise.

"What do you mean, what do I want? I want the fucking pointer to go to the right ... I will swear if I want to ... Who are you? Show yourself ... What did you say?" She whirled on Trinity. "Did you hear what she just called me?"

"No," the blonde answered. "I wondered how that worked. Looks like we can only hear the voice that speaks in our own head. When I meditate at home, the voice I hear isn't a man or a woman. Kind of neutral. I thought it spoke aloud. Guess not. What did your voice call you?"

"I am not going to repeat it. This is stupid, Trinity. There aren't any auras here, only a broken clock. Take me back."

"Can't do that, babe. I didn't bring you here. I only followed."

-- What do you want?

Both women looked around. Trinity heard the voice now. It was female, slyly amused.

"I want to go back," Zenova said, voice rising. "Did you hear it this time?"

Trinity nodded slowly. It wasn't what she expected.

-- Back where? Why not forward? Why not through one of the other doors?

"I don't want those lives. I want what is beyond this door. Open it."

-- Only you can open the door. Actually, only you and one other can open it. What do you think is behind the closed door?

"I ..." Zenova stopped, confusion on her face.

-- What do you want, Zenova de Crie? What do you really want?

"I want her." The brunette pointed at Trinity. "I want her to be my opponent in the sexfight championship. I want to win a glorious battle of strength and sex."

-- What will that give you?

"Fame. Respect. What else is there?"

-- Well, that is the question, isn't it? Will it make you happy?

Zenova blinked rapidly, as if she didn't understand the question.

-- What do you want, Trinity Stone? The same?

"I want ..." Conflicting desires vied for the blonde's attention. Fame: yes. Respect: yes. Winning: fuck, yes. Zenova ... that was a problem. If she got the first three, she didn't get the brunette. What did she want? She'd said once before winning wasn't as important as knowing she wasn't a can, a jobber. Was that what she wanted now, after a week of rollercoaster emotions? The words tumbled out of her before she could stop herself.

"I want Zenova and me wrapped around each other so tightly we can't get loose. I want us so excited we can't stop coming. I want the fight to go on forever, never strong enough to win, never weak enough to lose." She pointed at her partner. "I want her beneath me, sweaty, covered in cum, with a big smile on her face and my cock in her pussy. I want her on top of me with her cock in my mouth and three fingers in my cunt, while I poke her taint. I want us both so tired we think we can't go on; so excited, we can't stop."

She stared hungrily at Zenova. "I don't care if I win or lose. I am going to try to win, to beat you, to wipe the smug smile off your really cute face. But when it's over, I'm going to be ready for more, a rematch, whether it's me challenging you or the other way around. I want you. That's what I want." She felt like she'd run ten miles.

To Trinity's huge disappointment, Zenova wandered along the hall, looking through the open doors on both sides of the hall. She became more agitated, shoulders hunched forward like she was either terrified or about to tackle someone. The blonde turned to see the triangle needle moving steadily to the left, the dial streaked with browns and greys. This wasn't turning out like she'd hoped.

"I want ..." Zenova was suddenly before her, staring, eyes hard. "I ... want people to stop asking me about you."

Trinity remained silent, waiting. She didn't understand. Nothing she'd say now would help.

"For months, even before we met, I was always asked, 'What about the American? Will you fight her? Do you think you can beat her? She's supposed to be very good, a hurricane of sex. Is she better than you?' It was all I heard, all about you. After I won a fight, people wanted to know if you were going to be my next opponent. I hated you. I got the Consortium to let me meet you, so I could know I was better, that I could win if we fought."

The brunette's arms waved like she was trying to erase something from the air. "But you weren't the arrogant bitch I expected. You were as unsure of yourself as I was of me. As I watched you practice, I began to doubt I could beat you. I had to keep saying aloud I was better, or I would think I wasn't the best. Then we sparred in the heat and the rain, and we fucked in your bed. I wanted you. I was going to stay, but I was afraid I'd find out you are better than me. So I came back to Belgium to plot. I decided to invite you to my home. I hoped you'd be less intimidating here. This is the best decision I ever made." Zenova's smoldering eyes could have set fire to water.

Oh, fuck me sideways, Trinity thought. I wish I'd known all this sooner. It makes sense of the whole last week. She held back from taking the brunette in her arms. She's so damned sexy when she's like this.

Zenova continued, now well within arm's reach. "I thought of nothing else but you. I almost lost a fight because I was dreaming of you beneath me, instead of fucking the other woman unconscious. You bitch. You ... make me crazy."

Trinity felt Zenova push her dark nipples against the her pale, stiff nubs through the thin material of the t-shirts. She was acutely aware of the pressure as well as the rise in her cock. Their erect shafts rubbed with an electric tingle that flickered from the inside of her pussy to the primitive lobes of her brain and back. She noticed things that she'd ignored before. They were the same height--she could look Zenova directly in the eyes. The had the same athletic build: swimmer's shoulders, corded muscles subtly defined on arms, abs, and legs. Firm, handful-sized breasts with prominent nipples, though she admitted reluctantly that Zenova's were just bigger; they felt nice. Better than average cocks rising from rich patches of pubic hair. Trinity pushed back, relishing the strain of nipple on nipple, cock on cock, muscle on muscle.

An air of expectation hung around them, demanding they do something. Trinity inhaled. Zenova smelled of sex, of desire, of ... oh, what the fuck.

The blonde grabbed the back of the brunette's neck, pulling her forward, tongue shoved down a surprised, then eager throat. Lips and teeth captured the tongue, sucking it farther in. It was Trinity's turn to be surprised. She didn't know why she'd done it, and hadn't expected the fierce, reciprocal reaction from Zenova. It was unnerving and exciting at the same time. It seemed a boundary had been crossed, an act that couldn't be reversed.

Trinity felt her tongue released. She gasped in a breath, finding Zenova's tongue probing her back teeth. The sensation was incredible. She sucked on the fleshy appendage, savoring its warm length before releasing it to begin an incredibly sloppy kiss Zenova returned with the same fervor. Pressed tightly mouth to mouth, breast to breast, cock to cock, pussy to pussy, the women strained, each seeming to want to engulf the other.

The disembodied voice spoke.

-- What do you want?

A second later, they were on the floor, a tangle of arms and legs like twined snakes. Zenova forced her way on top, straddling Trinity's stomach while her cock waved between pale breasts. "I am stronger, faster," the brunette crowed.

"But not smarter," the blonde retorted, bucking her hips to shove her cock into the dusky pussy. Zenova responded with a startled gasp and an involuntary clench of her internal muscles. Trinity stifled a groan of pleasure, concentrating on not coming as she began slow, circular thrusts, to which Zenova responded with an undulating massage of the erection within her.

The brunette smiled as the blonde twisted her face in combined frustration and ecstasy. They seemed to have reached a stalemate again. Neither woman was willing to let the other bring her to orgasm. Trinity wondered where her advantage had gone. She watched Zenova's cock thumping at her abs as the brunette worked her cunt with artistic skill. It waved in the air, dripping cum into her navel. She should grab it, stroke it, attack her partner on two fronts, but she was in the wrong position do more that slap the hard shaft with her open palm. That wasn't very rewarding; Zenova seemed to want more instead of trying to avoid the contact.

Trinity rolled sideways. Zenova shifted to keep her position. The blonde rolled back, putting her partner off balance. The move resulted in Zenova sitting sideways in Trinity's lap, the blonde's cock still in her cunt, pale legs tightly wrapping her lower body. Trinity cupped the olive-skinned chin with a firm, sweaty hand, using her free hand to begin masturbating the brunette's now upright cock.

Slow, fast, fast, slow, slow, fast. The blonde stretched the circumcised foreskin on each downward stroke. Cum oozed from the slit over her hand. She rubbed her thumb along the ridged frenulum under the cock head, keeping the rhythm steady, methodical. A tongue to Zenova's ear finally pushed the brunette over the edge.

Zenova stifled a scream into a choking sob as she came, gouts of cum erupting from her cock to coat both women in musky, herbal-scented globs. A spasming pussy rippled along Trinity's embedded cock. She held back as long as she could, until a tongue that moved wetly from lips to earlobe pulled her over the edge with her partner.

"That was too soon." Zenova stumbled over even the simple words. "I came before you did. But you came, and now we are both soft." Disappointment dripped from her tongue, as cum dripped her from hands and face.

"Yeah. It was brain-rattling, but I'd like us to ..." Trinity was staring at the brunette's cock that continued to twitch and drool cum. She flicked it with thumb and forefinger, gliding her middle finger along the slit. "It's still hard," she said wonderingly. "Like you never came."

"I did come. As hard as I ever have. But, yes, I want to come again." Zenova wriggled her hips. "You are still hard within me. Did you not come?"

"As much as you," the blonde replied. She clenched her groin muscles, feeling her cock respond, completely erect, sensitive, ready to explode. She wiped her slick hand across Zenova's lips. "You know what that means?" A slow grin crawled across her face, matching the one on her partner's face. Along the hall there was the sound of doors closing.

Entwined arms, legs, and cocks slithered along cum- and sweat-slick flesh as the women wrestled, not for position or dominance, but to make each other come. Headlocks, body scissors, grapevines, leg scissors, camel clutches, Boston crabs, scissors tribs, octopuses, missionary tribs, cocks in cunts, cocks in mouths, mouths on sodden pussies, fingers in cunts and asses, lips mashed together, teeth nibbling ears and pussy lips. Each hold, each grip, each thrust of cock or clench of pussy was well lubricated with sweat, spit, and cum. They didn't use the holds to bring pain. They applied just enough pressure to keep tension on the muscles, like a strenuous, pleasure-drenched workout.

They came--often unexpectedly--as they wrestled in a tight knot of straining muscles. Yet cocks didn't soften, pussies didn't stop trembling with anticipation, balls never emptied completely. They were always aroused, always able to come as if they hadn't fucked for days. More doors closed.

The longer Trinity wrestled, the better she felt. It didn't matter if Zenova put her in complex holds, fucking her mercilessly until she tapped out in a rush of orgasm and frustration. As often as it happened, she did the same to her partner, relishing the feeling of dominance, knowing it was temporary, and the two of them would be trading submissions and orgasms for as long as they could last.

Somewhere in the long climax-infused haze of their endless sexfight, the blonde realized that she was having separate orgasms from her cock and pussy. For as long as she could remember, a climax had rippled through her body as a single, exquisitely debilitating rush of endorphins and bright flashes in her head, both cock and pussy releasing in tandem.

Now, she could feel her cock erupt while her pussy demanded something fill it. Again, she'd sob with the chaotic spasms of her cunt as her erection stiffened even more, eager to be licked or stroked or slapped or encased in warm flesh. When she had a double orgasm, it was as if she'd been shaken like a rag doll and dumped on the floor. Long moments passed as the blonde struggled to remember her name, feeling helpless as Zenova tried to gain control. Satisfaction came when she realized that her partner had as much trouble controlling her own orgasms. No one gained an advantage for long, which suited them both perfectly.