Can Do Ep. 13

The guests were initially disappointed until they saw the worry in Zenova's eyes. Even though most wanted a long, cum-soaked match, the possibility it could be over quickly, like an early Ronda Rousey match--with the change that the underdog won handily--made them perk up, lean forward for a better view.

The gong sounded. Trinity was sure there was no time limit set: when the fighters got into an interesting position and it appeared the top fighter was in complete control, the bottom fighter was set free. Trinity had mostly expected it. She was still surprised when Zenova bucked and twisted hard enough to send them to their sides, freeing the brunette's cock from the canvas masturbation. Now it was on.

The women became an ever-changing knot of arms and legs, neither maintaining control for more than a minute. They fucked deliberately, carefully, staying away from the dangerous Kegel muscles as much as possible.

Zenova held Trinity on her chest in a sort of spoon, pale cock waving in the warm air, legs spread wide, an olive cock in her pussy.

Trinity pinned Zenova's shoulders to the mat with her knees, filling the brunette's mouth with her erection while leaning back to stroke the exposed dusky cock and pussy.

They locked up in a mutual body scissors, sucking at sensitive cock heads, fingers in now gaping cunts.

The gong sounded. They women separated, walking on unsteady legs to their corners. It hadn't seemed like ten minutes to Trinity. She sat heavily, breathing deeply, rolling muscles to ease the chance of a cramp. Someone handed her an unopened bottle of San Pellegrino. The fizz tickled her nose as she cracked the cap and drank. Across from her, a woman in a white shirt and dark slacks bent over Zenova, then straightened and strode to Trinity. The woman began prodding and poking, examining with a critical eye.

"Who are you?" Trinity asked.

"The doctor, of course. I was in the right place at the right time, on vacation with my wife when the Consortium asked if I'd help out. Though, I'd have paid to get the chance to do this." The woman leered in a friendly way, her accent proclaiming her American heritage. "Making sure you two haven't permanently disabled each other." She checked the blonde's ribs and kidneys, letting a latex-gloved finger trace slowly along the pale erection. "Nothing wrong with either of you." She looked up, eyes smoky, "Nothing wrong at all."

Trinity blinked, working on a reply, but the doctor was gone. She drank more water, feeling mostly good. As usual for them, she and Zenova had trouble dominating the other for long. Trinity hoped for a long match. She'd convinced herself earlier in the day that the brunette didn't have the stamina, could be outlasted. It was a good plan as long as Zenova didn't use her marginally better skills to end the match early. The gong sounded. Round Two.

------

The women met in the middle of the mat with a wet smack, hands over their heads, fingers interlaced, cocks, nipples, mouths, and noses pressed together. They began a staggered dance across the mat, pushing and twisting, looking for an opening to take the other down.

Trinity slipped in a wet spot, tumbling face first onto the canvas, Zenova following to stretch her into a surfboard hold. There was no penetration, only the tension of arms pulled backwards and a foot on the back. The brunette released the hold after a few seconds, rolling Trinity onto her back for a scissors penetration.

What's she doing? Trinity's brain didn't understand the moves. They made no sense. Zenova should be on top of them, impaled on her cock, flexing her Kegel muscles for a debilitating orgasm. Hope dawned when she understood the reason. She's mad. I pissed her off by not submitting in the first round. She's trying to wear me out quickly, which means she's afraid she won't last this round. Gotcha, bitch.

The blonde flexed her own Kegel muscles, hooking her leg around the brunette's neck to keep her from getting away easily. Zenova didn't seem to care. She pistoned her cock in Trinity's pussy with increasing speed, stroking Trinity's cock like a maniac. The combination pushed the blonde to action rather than trying to wait until her opponent got tired.

A quick roll to the side, pressing her leg against Zenova's neck, reversed the positions. Trinity moved on top in the cowgirl position, facing her opponent, who blinked in confusion at the change. She rocked her hips and Kegel muscles again, this time in control, one hand firmly on Zenova's throat, pressing hard enough to make it difficult for the brunette to wriggle away.

Pre-cum drooled onto Zenova's abs from Trinity's cock. Both women felt the strain of their intense, intimate duel. The brunette moved her cock to counter the blonde's Kegel rhythm, who flexed her hips to keep the pressure on. A quick hand chop to the inside of the elbow broke Trinity's hold on Zenova's throat, giving the woman an opportunity to reverse--which she nearly did.

Mouths open to rake in gulps of air, the women rolled across the mat again, a tangle of arms, legs, and cocks that slid against sweaty, cum-stained flesh, first one, then the other, getting a cock inside her opponent, trying to force an orgasm. Neither woman succeeded from the guests' view. Trinity knew better. She and Zenova had each come at least twice. Only the control learned in August allowed them to contain the climaxes to their pussies. Cocks twitched in reflex responses, but only the thinnest streams of cum escaped them. An orgasm, wherever felt, fogs the brain, punches all the pleasure buttons, and leaves a woman or man at least dizzy for a time, which meant both fighters were off balance. Trinity plowed through the desire to collapse and cuddle, knowing Zenova did the same, which is the only reason they were both mostly conscious when the gong sounded to end the second round.

Trinity stumbled to her chair, sitting heavily, grateful for the bottle of water placed in her hand. The doctor waited for her to slow her breathing before doing a more careful probe and poke.

"Swapping firsties every round, so nobody thinks I'm playing favorites. You look terrible. Does that hurt."

"No, feels fine. Tell me how I look after you've seen Zenova. She's gassed."

"And you're not?" The doctor arched a very nice, very attractive eyebrow. Trinity saved the thought for later.

"She's used to being the big, bad bitch in the fight. Even if it takes her into the third round, she's always got one move more than her opponent. Except for me. She and I have all the same moves. We made sure of that." Trinity felt suddenly weary--not tired, not exhausted, but weary of the journey, the effort, the cost. This was supposed to be fun. Why wasn't she having any?

"You both looked like you climaxed at least once. Why are you still hard?"

"Practice. Lots of practice." Trinity tried a smug grin. She knew it came out pained.

"Can you teach that?" the doctor asked.

"No idea," the blonde admitted, "never tried."

"There is always a first time." The doctor removed a card from her bag, sliding it into the pocket of the black robe. "My wife and I are always open to new ideas." She patted Trinity on the shoulder, nodded to all around that the blonde was fine, and went to tend to Zenova, who did look seriously gassed.

"Where is the old bottle?" Trinity asked, remembering that she'd had to twist the cap again get a drink.

"It's a new bottle every round, picked at random from the cooler. Committee rules," said the woman who held the bottle for her in German-accented English. "Do not want to repeat Bangkok."

God, I hope I've got enough left for the next round. The fucking is great, but I can't find any advantage. Did we really teach each other everything? Are we going to end up out cold, with our cocks tied in a knot? Nobody's going to like that. Guess I have to find a way to win, 'cause I didn't get this far to quit so Zenova can fulfill her destiny

The doctor slipped a card in Zenova's robe pocket. Covering all the bases, clever girl.

The gong sounded. Round Three.

------

Action was slow for the first minute, while Trinity and Zenova staggered or rolled about the mat, each looking for advantages that evaporated as soon as they appeared. The guests grew restless at the lack of serious fucking, not that either fighter noticed. Trinity was consumed with not losing; to her surprise she found Zenova seemed to be doing the same thing. They'd made it past twenty minutes, something they'd both done before, but never with an opponent as strong and as well trained. Victory seemed to belong to the woman who had more in the tank. It was hard to tell which one it was.

Orgasms came less quickly, but were more intense, as the women struggled to contain them within the pussy and avoid ejaculating. Every breath brought more of Zenova's scent; it was driving her crazy. With any luck the brunette was have the same problem. Trinity felt the onset of a serious case of blue balls. Each time Zenova cupped the tucked up nuggets she tingled and ached. To the guests the shudders and moans were part of the long buildup to an epic climax. So she hoped; there was no indication anyone from the Consortium knew they were unintentionally enhanced.

I need to get her off balance, Trinity thought as she wriggled from a combined abdominal stretch and hand job. The ache in her balls was almost enough to make her sick. The only satisfaction was Zenova was at least as bad off as she; the brunette's face showed the strain through a sheen of sweat.

Her chance came when Zenova slipped trying to stand. The brunette fell on her ass, throwing her hands back to keep from lying prone on the mat. Trinity slapped a hand away, putting her opponent awkwardly on one side. She got herself in a modified scissors trib, Zenova's throbbing cock inside her, right leg splayed away to put a foot on the brunette's left shoulder, pinning her to the mat. Kegel muscles rippled, drawing an agonized groan from the prone woman. The guests applauded, seeing more action and a potential submission.

Despite being physically in control, Trinity was a mental wreck. It took more and more of her concentration to avoid the massive orgasm that would soon to be unstoppable. One of her early boyfriends--one who didn't mind her having a cock--said he kept from coming while they fucked by thinking about football. Trinity hated football, she thought it was a pointless game, it would be lot better without all the body slams masquerading as tackles and the seriously grotesque hip gyrations supposed to be touchdown dances. She thought about football; the climax stuttered to a halt, keeping her from ejaculating but also shifting her focus away from Zenova, who bucked up hard, putting both women on the mat.

Zenova crawled atop Trinity, head to crotch. Bent knees locked the pair together in a tight ball, crotches splayed, defenseless against mouths and hands. Trinity felt her cock engulfed, lips and teeth breaking down the football barrier and letting her orgasm creep steadily to an unavoidable climax. Panicked, the blonde swallowed her opponent's cock, running her tongue around the glans, licking at the oozing slit.

All was under control until Zenova switched from cock to cunt. Trinity wasn't prepared for the tongue deep in her vaginal folds, a thumb pressed firmly into her ass. In retaliation, she increased the speed of her blowjob while sliding her thumb into the dusky pussy and a middle finger as far into the brunette's ass as she could go, finding the little spot that had driven Zenova crazy the night before. Both women locked up tighter, working cock, pussy, and ass, trembling as they fought for dominance and to keep orgasms at bay.

It wasn't going to work, Trinity realized too late. She couldn't hold back. Zenova was whimpering around her erection, the finger up the ass making her shudder uncontrollably. But the blonde was too far gone to hold out. She was going to come. It would be epic. If you come hard enough, she can choke on it, she told herself. Maybe that will work. Seconds later, she knew it wouldn't. She felt the climax start deep in her pussy, spreading out to her cock, up her spine to the base of her skull. No, no, it can't end like this, I am so close to making her pop. Oh fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuckfu...

Hands pulled her away, her mouth straining to keep Zenova's cock within her lips; she desperately needed to suck more, harder. She hadn't heard the gong. Her orgasm ebbed, threatening to drown her twice before receding to an epic ache in her balls and cunt. The only pleasure was seeing Zenova trembling on her knees as a stream of cum leaked from her cock. The brunette took an offered arm to stand--a point for Trinity in a war of attrition she was sure she was losing.

She needed help getting to the chair. The world spun, her balls ached, the floor tilted dramatically until she sat and everything settled into a fuzzy reality. The doctor bent over Zenova, her posture concerned. The brunette looked like she was trying to talk, but the doctor put a finger to her lips as she probed gently.

A new bottle of water wandered into her vision. Someone opened it; she knew she couldn't do it. Not yet. The bubbles stung her nose, meaning she'd been breathing hard and fast. No news there. The doctor appeared between one blink and another--or maybe she'd zoned out for a few seconds.

"How do you feel?" the doctor asked.

"Like I've been fucking an octopus for half an hour. Is that better than her?" Trinity managed to raise a finger toward the other side of the mat.

"She's the same as you. I don't know how you do it. I'm told this is the longest regular sexfight. The previous record was twenty-eight minutes and ended with both women out cold."

"Gee," Trinity said, feeling a silly grin curl her lips, "what's another ten minutes after all that."

The doctor looked in her eyes with a pen light, prodded a couple of things that didn't hurt, then stroked the balls. Trinity winced.

"Thought so. Regardless of who wins, the two of you are going to be a mess afterward. Cuts and bruises I can deal with. Self-induced orgasm denial isn't something I know how to treat."

"It's OK, Doc," Trinity said, "once Zenova's soft, I'll find a way to break the dam." She was aware she was making no sense. "How much time is left before..."

The gong sounded. Trinity groaned. Round Four.

------

The crowd was rowdy, excited. Trinity assumed the bets were outrageous. She wondered if Mel was getting in on it from California. Zenova tried to feint, but only sidled left. Trinity didn't care. All she wanted to was put her former lover on the mat and make her come. Should be easy from the way she swayed.

Bear-hugging arms around creaking ribs roused her. She returned the squeeze. A low moan flowed past one ear. "Abandonner, salope."

"After you, cunt."

She hit the mat, Zenova on top, but slow and clumsy. The guests were now part of the fight, the noise making Trinity knew they expected it to end soon. Got that right.

They kissed, deep and hard. It felt good. Trinity's pussy tingled, the waiting orgasm rising again. I could give up now, she thought, just quit. No one would know.

You'd know, another part of her scolded. If she wants to win so badly, make her earn it, don't hand it to her.

Wrapped tightly, one hand twisting a dark nipple, Trinity tried to push away. Her hand slipped, she slid onto her back. Zenova pounced, sitting on the blonde's cock in a reverse cowgirl. There was no good way to reach the dusky cock. Why didn't I think of that?

It wasn't the end. Zenova spread Trinity's legs holding them wide at the ankles. The brunette stood as she rocked back, curling the blonde forward over her chest. Trinity watched, detached as she saw Zenova's ass sway above her as she moved her hips, Kegel muscles still strong enough to make Trinity moan. It was a reverse amazon, a position they'd practiced all one afternoon, until... Oh, fuck, no.

Zenova--in full control--leaned forward to slide her cock into Trinity's upturned pussy. The blonde's internal muscles clenched automatically. The women were held fast, fucking each other.

Except the brunette was on top, able to move as she wanted while the blonde was on her back, ass in the air. Even as she felt Zenova's cock pulse inside her, she knew it was over. She was going to come, she couldn't stop it. She was actually relieved. Trinity reached up to stroke the sweat-streaked back, massaging the flexing ass and taint as she felt the dam she'd erected crumble toward a massive climax. One last thing before she gave in.

Trinity pressed her middle finger against Zenova's taint. She planned to stroke it, knowing it was sensitive. The tip of the finger pressed gently. She felt Zenova's internal muscles clench at her touch.

It was a good fight. I wish it turned out differently, Trinity thought with mild regret. One more poke to let her know I'm not a limp dick. Yet.

She flexed her Kegel muscles one last time. To her surprise, Zenova shuddered, trying to pull out. She was close to orgasm as well. The brunette shifted forward, Trinity's finger slipped from the taint into the ass to the last knuckle; reflexively, she twisted it.

Zenova screamed, a wail of shock and anger and... fear? Her whole body began shaking as the scream became a mournful moan. Her cock trembled. Trinity was sure she was supposed to know what it meant, but the fog of the fight was heavy over her now. She just wanted it to be over.

The olive cock popped free, spewing cum in wild arcs as Zenova ejaculated again and again and again, spraying gouts of silky warm semen on the guests closest to her. The orgasm lasted for at least ten seconds until only a thin drool of cum seeped onto Trinity's pussy and ass. Zenova fell forward, curled in a ball, twitching. She came again, with only weak spurts of cum.

Trinity lowered her legs. She sat up on her hands. Eric was looking at her strangely. She stared at her cock. Cum flowed from the slit to pool in her pubic hair. But she was still hard. She hadn't come yet. Fuck, now I'm not going to cum. It's gonna hurt for the rest of the night. I need ice. She felt Eric's hand on her elbow, pulling her upright. She stood, aware everyone was staring at her.

Eric bent to raise Zenova's leg. Trinity saw the long, very nice olive-skinned cock laying flaccid across the other leg in a small puddle of cum. The man straightened and faced Trinity. He tapped her cock with a reluctant finger. It wobbled. Still hard. More cum oozed out. Her hand was raised. She didn't understand.

"The winner, in, eh, thirty-four minutes and eighteen seconds--a new record for a sanctioned sexfight--Trinity Stone."

Finally, it sank in past the exhaustion, the ache in her crotch, the fuzzy rings of light at the corners of her eyes. She'd won.

The guests cheered, standing and applauding. Bunny raised his flute, a sad look on his face.

I won. I won. Holy fuck, I WON. The dam burst, her long-delayed orgasm took hold and shook her like a rag doll. Cum erupted from her cock, arcing over other guests, who seemed to like it. She came for what seemed an hour before the shuddering and the fireworks in her head stopped. Her balls still ached.

She bent over, hands on her knees, cock deflating rapidly. "Does it still count?" she asked Eric.

"When the contest was judged, you were hard. What you do afterward to celebrate is your own business, Ms. Stone."

Eric raised his hands for quiet. "Mesdames et Messieurs, Dames en Heren, mein Damen und Herren, Ladies and Gentlemen, Damy i Gospoda, the Hexagon Consortium World Sexfight Tournament Champion." He raised Trinity's arm one more time. The crowd went wild.