Pretender

Such unbearable tension and denied desire they languished in, until finally, they reached the parking lot of their hotel. One that was large, beautiful, but also empty. Theirs being the only car within sight when they parked.

A solitude that continued, as they, still without speaking, exited their rental, gathered their things, and walked to the lobby's check-in desk. Each of the two wholly obsessed women trying to remain a few paces apart from one another. And though they meant to keep that distance, they instead found themselves left to wait.

Left to stand, one next to the other, in front of an empty desk for one minute and then five. Five minutes and then ten. Each taking every opportunity to watch the other, when they could without being caught. Undressing each other with their eyes, as they pictured not just all that had happened over the past few days, but what it would be like to clash. Right there. Right then. Their every assumption about the other and themselves put to the test.

Until finally, after each had suffered in the unrelenting grip of their own runaway fantasies, a young, freckle-faced employee appeared.

One who greeted and apologized. Printed and then presented one paper after another until, finally she came to it. A question of no import to her, but fateful in Beatrix and Emily's story.

"So, two rooms, yes?" It was the answer. It was the expectation.

And yet, from both Beatrix and Emily, the same answer came. "One." Neither able to resist each other or their need to engage another second. Their stay in the car and the lobby having been too long. Their inhibitions finally having been overwhelmed by their desires.

At the utterance, neither looked to the other or even acknowledged their sensual voices overlapping and becoming one. No, for they each knew. Each understood what had happened. What was going to happen...

"Ok, one it is. Just give me a second." The redheaded girl said. And though it took more than a second to make the changes that were required, before long Emily and Beatrix walked. Pulling their rolling suitcases down a long, and empty hall.

Until finally, as they rounded the corner to their distant and seemingly isolated room, they stopped. Emily using her keycard to the room as Beatrix waited. Their blood pumping. Their hearts racing. Each feeling as if they might faint from the anticipation that flooded their body with endorphins.

Endorphins which made Emily's hand shake, and efforts fail as she tried to unlock the door. Endorphins which made Beatrix lick her lips, and step forward almost unable to wait for the damn door before them to open.

Until it did.

Until they entered, in a rush.

Emily barely having time to drop the long, extended handle of her luggage and turn, before her raven-haired rival was upon her. Face-to-face. Eye-to-eye. And body-to-body.

Their breathing heavy. Their eyes filled not with hate or anger, but with an endlessly deep obsession with one another that tore at their very souls.

And though it did, and though they had abandoned nearly every pretense about the moment being anything else, they froze there. Staring into each other's eyes. Leaning their bodies against one another, as if they were waiting for some sign or signal.

A flare that did not come. A shot that did not fire. Leaving them there, together in agony, each wanting so desperately to tear into each other, but without the ability to begin such a long overdue task.

That is until Emily's lips opened, and it seemed as if finally she would speak. Words of challenge or dare? Loathing or lust? We will never know, for as soon as she tried to set sound to her feelings -- their feelings, Beatrix' eyes grew wide and then, she kissed.

But kissed hardly does the act justice. For within a blink, Beatrix and her blonde rival were set free. Were set alight. As if their entire lives, up until that moment, were a cage -- a leash. And finally, by the lips of the other, they were freed.

Freed to grab at each other's silky blouses and rip.

Freed to kiss so hard they fought for the same air just to breathe through their noses.

Freed to stumble together, as their matching black heels became heavy and binding, only a moment later finding themselves kicked off to wherever they might land.

The moment was intoxicating beyond description and incredible beyond measure, and yet still, they each pulled back from it, as their foreheads pressed together. Each of the two passion-drunk co-workers closing their eyes as they grabbed tight holds of each other's tops. Both holding firm and tugging still, even as they tried to keep themselves from collapsing.

The other's lips. Their tongue. Their taste. Dizzying in their perfection. Not against some arbitrary measure, but for they and their own long-denied desires.

Desires which pushed them each to yank once and then again, to snap off every black button on their blouses, until they tore open. But even when such fabric did rip, it was hated and harmed, the tops being pulled from their bodies as if it was they who had caused their fury.

And yet, even as those blouses tore, first apart and then away, Beatrix and Emily could barely breathe. Barely stand. The two women snarling at each other between small, teasing kisses. Pressing and peckings of lips which began and continued as their hands moved from tops to bottoms, as each yanked the other's skirt off.

And as skirts moved over hips, and then dropped past thighs and panties, they once again paused as their hands moved to cling to each other. With palms pressing to the excitement-warmed skin of their rival's arms, as they together pulled closer.

Their bras and panties being all that remained between them and a cataclysmic meeting flesh meeting.

But it was then, when what they had each secretly wanted for months was almost upon them, that suddenly Emily slid her hands from Beatrix' arms to her shoulders and pushed. The blonde shoving her onyx-haired rival back and away from her and their kiss.

An act that made Beatrix' eyes grow wide with both shock and half-restrained rage. She wanting to know why their closeness had suddenly been ended. Why her cubicle-mate had suddenly pushed her away. But as she went to speak, she suddenly stopped remembering neither had spoken more than they had to for so very, very long.

But just as soon as the black-haired beauty's eyes sought Emily's face for answers, the blonde provided the same by reaching behind her back and unclasping her white, lace bra. Doing so without gesture or word. She wearing only a playful smile as her her bra came off, and her glorious breasts were exposed.

In that exposure Beatrix basked, as her eyes lingered in study. Taking in the bare breasts of her rival for the first time. Each centered with strawberry-colored aureole, and hard, seemingly knife-tipped nipples.

Nipples which dared.

Nipples which called.

Nipples which distracted Beatrix, until Emily's bra softly landed in her face. The blonde having thrown it, teasingly, to wake her rival from her awe-struck stupor.

And wake she did, the alabaster-skinned tempress reaching behind her back and unclasping her own silky, black bra in only a flash thereafter. She who removed giving Emily the same show that had just been given to her. An offering of sight and staring -- examination and indulgence that came as the last remaining bra between them fell to the hotel room's beige-carpeted floor.

Indulgence in soft, half-hued, burgundy centers to breasts which at their middlemost point presented nipples which looked identical to Emily's own.

But it was not just their crown that made their breasts seem made for each other. No, for their size and shape -- station and softness made the same claim. The same cry for comparison and contest.

A contest each wanted -- a contest each sought as they stepped once more towards one another. Their eyes fused in equally confident and daring gazes. Their lips each bent in smirks. Their perfectly kept hair resting softly on their upper back and shoulders as they moved.

They two coming closer and closer in silence, but a silence each could read like a book written for a child.

I'm better than you. Hotter than you. And by the time we're finished here, you'll know it, each shouted -- though without words.

Each screamed, though without sound.

Until finally, when they were separated by only a foot or two, the words came. The cute, preciously small mouth of Beatrix opening to release them, breaking their feud's long existence in silence.

"You've been dreaming about this haven't you...?" The black-haired vixen asked as she and her rival slowed their approach to a crawl.

"You're the one who's dreaming... Thinking you and I are equals." Came a confident, hiss of a reply from Emily.

Slow though they moved, when each had broken it. The silence. The utter and haunting absence of dialogue between the two, they then reached. They then grabbed and with a quick exertion of force pulled themselves together. Their mirrored breasts coming together in a quick clap of flesh meeting flesh.

Each, thereafter, taking a firm grip of the other's arms once more, to pull close and then adjust. To line up, and then compare. Not with their eyes, for such had been done countless times before, though through dresses and tops. But instead in feel and friction -- in pressing and push.

They two warring co-workers welling to the very brim with confidence. A confidence that it would be their body, their skill, their will that carried the day.

A certainty of purpose and power that each could see written on the other's face and fired off like bolts of lightning from the other's eyes.

A sight that would only make it sweeter, when it was they who conquered. A mutual and yet adverse surety that would only make it hotter, when they broke the other's will and left her quivering before them in a puddle of their own sexual satisfaction and frustration.

And though such was their future, as they saw it. At that moment, their battle laid before them. A battle Emily began anew as she suddenly shifted her chest to the left, dragging her breasts across Beatrix'.

Such a swift, and bold stroke made the black-haired bombshell's lips curl into a flirty pursing, before she asked, "and who said you got to start...?"

"Mmmm, pretending I'm not the alpha again?" Emily's voice was low and smooth -- coy and dismissive, as she and her rival fought the urge to return to their kiss.

Though they wanted it.

Though they each dove, in tiny bends of neck that in an instant stopped short. With each moving closer, only to retract. Nearer, only to abandon. Dodging and parrying -- darting and daring one another to be the one.

The one who leaned forward for the kiss.

The one who admitted their need for it.

"Pretending...?" Beatrix asked in part, before she suddenly shifted her own breasts against Emily's, returning the stroke that the blonde had taken without permission. She making sure her tits drug atop and then past those of her rival. "I've ALWAYS been the alpha between us. You'll see..."

As the claiming passed from one to the other, Emily gave her own shift -- her own drag. She too, with a small lean, lifting her breasts so that they brimmed and then buried Beatrix', as they moved from left to right.

"I'll see, will I-nngghh...?" Came the blonde's distracted, and pleasure-punctuated response.

And though it sounded like a question, it was really more a sign. A sign that her focus was shifting from words to war, her head tilting forward and eyes drifting down from those of her rival to their battling breasts.

"Unnnggghhh, you will..." Came Beatrix' equally waylaid wandering of thought and response. She too leaning in, intending to, like her coworker, watch their pressing and displacing chests.

But as she bent forward, the foreheads of she and her beautiful challenger met. A delicate collision that caused each to look to the other. Their eyes angling upward and towards. Each finding on that journey that the same lips they each tried to resist, were so very close.

They could have them.

They could take them.

And as she dealt with that temptation, overwhelming as it was, Beatrix whispered -- trying to push her rival to give in first to a kiss they both wanted so deseprately. "You want it..." The black-haired battler stated, as if her rival was alone in that desire.

"Yo-you want it..." Emily replied shakily, as she and the woman she held continued to shift their matched pairs of breasts from side to side. Not harshly or cruelly, but softly. Sensually. Each trying to drive the other wild with the contact.

"Take i-ittt" Through desire and the drain Emily's brutally hot body and intensely sexual tone inflicted, did Beatrix respond. She too struggling with a stutter as she spoke.

"You-yooouuu take it." The blonde replied as best she could, as together the two at-odds women quivered and shook in each other's grasps.

Tiny shakes and squirms brought about not only by their pressing and competing breasts. But also their fiendish and fevered desire to kiss once more. To taste the lips and tongue that was once theirs to enjoy and engage.

And though those feelings wrecked and ate at them, they each felt as if they were on the very verge of breaking, suddenly did it all shift. Suddenly did it all change.

For as they together lingered there on the precipice of giving in to each other, Beatrix' hand pulled off arm and shoulder and traveled down. It sneaking between their pressing and leaning bodies, and in an instant, beneath the band of Emily's still-present white lace panties.

And when it did -- and as it dove even further, the blonde gasped, trying to pull back and away in a stumble. "Bitch..." She exclaimed in a gasp -- more an exhaled breath than a spoken curse.

"Fleeing already...?" Beatrix asked as she chased. Following after Emily and seizing her tight before driving her fingers deep within her already ember-hot and river-wet sex.

"Oh goooddd..." Came Emily's pleasure-soaked reply as she moved her hands from Beatrix' body to the wrist of her invading hand. On that wrist Emily pulled, setting her will against her rival's. She trying to remove, as the fingers of her cubicle-mate strove to drive.

"Don't fight it..." The invading Beatrix requested softly, as she and her co-worker slowly stepped together. Blonde back and onyx forward -- that is until Emily's back met and pressed against the hotel room's A/C-chilled wall in a sudden and unexpected thud.

"I... I hate you..." Emily offered as her eyes closed and her efforts at pulling wrist softened. Her head slowly turning from side to side as she began to give into her rival's finger-focused attack.

"I know..." Short. Confident. And anything but sweet, the words were. And yet still, as Beatrix spoke them, she was already leaning. Already seeking. She looking to place her soft, supple, and hungry lips just before Emily's.

The black-haired seductress presenting the blonde with a choice. Not only a choice, but a second, lust-fueled desire to resist. Leaving Emily to give in and kiss, or resist and restrain.

A war of want that she must fight, even as another battle -- a far more important battle was ongoing. Namely, Beatrix' attacking fingers which invaded her sex, pushing the blonde deeper into passions she already found herself unable to control.

In that closeness of lips and driving of fingertips, Emily suffered. Leaning the back of her head hard against the wall, as she tried to ignore the soul-seizing pull she felt to press her lips to her rival's.

But Beatrix would not let her forget, not even as her fingers began to slide in and out of her blonde co-worker with more and more lubricant-aided ease.

"Kiss me..." Reminded and instructed the onyx as she trapped her cubicle-mate against the wall. The former letting her own topless body and hard-centered breasts lean into and against that of the latter.

"N-Noooo..." Breathed Emily, as her lips drug against those of the woman before her with every word.

"Yeessss..." Came a soft, sensual hiss from Beatrix. A sound of seduction she released as her stroking fingers quickened in pace and deepened in place.

"I... Oh... Goooodddd..." Lost. Truly lost, the wall-pressed blonde found herself. Her every effort focused on resisting the desires that coursed through her. Focus though she did. Try though she did. With every passing second, Emily found her will to resist the woman she struggled with slipping away.

And as that lessening -- that collapsing of guard came, Beatrix struck once more. Not with speed or force, but by the ebbing of it. The conquering assailant slowing her strokes, and making shallow her dives. Giving less until she gave little. Taking, what she once gave freely.

Upon that semi-cessation, Emily's once pulling hand grabbed and tightened. It locking hard around Beatrix's wrist and pulling, driving the busty onyx's fingers back into her.

An act of forgotten resistance that came with words no less submissive. "N-nnnn-nnnnoOooo... Plllleeeeaaassseeee, ddoooonnnntttt stttooooppp..."

The words were deafening to the woman who leaned and lavished -- teased and tormented, and yet ... they were unnoticed by she who spoke them.

A plea of desperation.

A begging built from sexual desire.

A complete and utter surrender, and yet Beatrix wanted more.

"Then kiss me..." As the raven-haired worker demanded in trade, she fought. Resisting Emily's maintained pull, as she tried to free her own fingers from the soaked sacred valley of the same.

Not with all her might.

Not in an effort meant to accomplish.

But instead to make the blonde fight to keep them within her.

And when such marginal and feigned force came, Emily gasped and whimpered -- shivered and cried. She leaning forward the quarter-inch required. So that she might pay the cost required.

The cost of being the one who gave into their kiss.

The cost of admitting, without reservation, that it was she who wanted it.

And when she did, the black-haired beauty's efforts returned. She once more driving her fingers into Emily's essence-seeping sex. One that seized and convulsed, tightening around those same digits she once tried to remove, as a barely denied orgasm began to approach once again.

With its approach, Emily would have spoken in defiance. Would have cursed in frustration. Or screamed out in regret.

But her once iron-forged will had already dissolved. Her previously indomitable flame to compete already flickered and failed.

And so instead, the broken blonde just moaned into she and her rival's eternity-denied kiss. One the blonde clung to as if she could not breathe without it.

She continuing to press lips and glide with tongue, even as the waves came. Even as they crashed against and through her -- causing her to shake and seize. Her hands moving to Beatrix' hair and grabbing tight.

Not to hurt, but to handle all that was happening.

Not to pull, but to persist in a reality shaken to the very core by lust and pleasure.

A state of shameful, feud-betraying pleasure that curled Beatrix' lips into a wide and unapologetic smile. A smile worn even as she and her rival continued to kiss. Their bodies and breasts pressing together, as Beatrix' invading and victorious hand pulled free from the pantyband into which it had delved. It, with its other, sliding up and with fingers through Emily's golden hair before closing in a light grip.

A mutual holding of locks that allowed each to maintain a grip on one another, as not only Emily's orgasm but the momentary weakness that came with it passed.

Finally, however, when the shaking had stopped. The moaning had ceased. And the glorious frailty that came with release ended, Beatrix spoke.