Prom and Thereafter

And though lust had driven their mothers to both grind and glare, the same caused Allison and Nisha to freeze.

Their mouths not opening to insult.

Their hands not clawing as was the intention on placement.

No, instead the nubial half of the two warring families, Dane vs. Patel, just stared at each other. Studied each other. Their minds and malice stolen away by their own personal shame.

Oh god, she knows... They each thought. She can feel it. I'm so wet!? WHY? Why does fighting her excite me? Why do I feel this for someone I hate so much? And though queries came at speed, answers came not. Each petrified to their very core of what the other would say, despite the fact that their state of humiliation was shared.

That terror grew by the second, until finally, from Nisha finally came sound.

"Stupid white bitch..."If was mean and racist, but it wasn't what it could have been. It wasn't a calling out or comment on the warmth or dampness Allison had between her thighs. And in that way, the insult was a lifeline.

One the young blonde lept for and grabbed as she responded. "Ugly brown slut!"

And though a moment before they had each been on the verge of pulling apart in absolute and utter embarrassment. As they together chose to ignore what they had felt, their coiled legs flexed. Each with their hooked calves pulling their enemy closer.

All as slowly - timidly, at least at first, their nails began to dig into each other's cunt. Their eyes still locked. Eyes which at that moment instructed, guided, and without words, accepted their rival's torment. Their rival's sharp-edged nails pushing into them.

For that pain, at least to their 18-year-old minds, was better than admitting to themselves or each other what each felt happening in their bodies.

The nails of their enemy inserting into their most sensitive of flesh somehow a less painful alternative, when compared to what could have been.

They together choosing not just to ignore their wetness and dawning desires, but also to resist them, unlike their mothers.

Mothers who found themselves fused at the kitten, and thrusting. Rocking. Driving themselves together with hard, echoing slaps of inner thighs meeting and hair-muffled cunts slapping.

Moan though they did - melt though they did, there on the carpet. Each sitting, with legs crossed left over right and right over left, they still cursed and insulted.

"Fuck your weak Indian cunt!" Erica hissed, even with eyes closed.

"Your cunt's the weak one, you white prude!" Anjali replied, though hers were shut just the same.

And though each of the tribbing mothers felt like they could stay like that forever, quickly did everything change. For in a blink Erica's eyes opened and her hand reached. Her palm pressed, and arm shoved. She wanting Anjali on her back. Wanting to fuck her like the weak little slut she thought her to be.

And yet, as she pushed, Anjali snarled. The black-haired widow allowing herself to fall backward and to the carpeted floor. Then, as the blonde atop her shifted her legs inward, confident that Anjali would let her take control, the same showed what a mistake that was.

The coffee-colored mother firing her legs up in surprise and wrapping them around her rival's abdomen - thereafter locking them tight at the calf.

"OoOOooooOOOOhhhhHHh SSHITT!!" Erica cried as she felt her moment of sensual bliss taken, but also a brutally harsh squeeze at her center.

"You think I would just let you fuck me, bitch...? I'm the one who will do the fucking... NOT YOU!" As Anjali taunted, the blonde above her seemed to wilt. She collapsing forward, and onto she who squeezed. Her head falling just past her enemy's and her ear perfectly place to hear. "After all, you white bitch ... if you were any good at fucking your husband, he wouldn't have left you..."

They came in a whisper. A hushed, delicate whisper laced with venom. A venom injected not a moment before Erica whimpered in pain.

A pain that though severe paled in comparison to that which her daughter felt. The latter brought on by Nisha's hooking middle finger, which entered and drug inside of Allison's wetness.

The dark-hued prom-goer having let loose of her inhibitions almost immediately after she and her rival's unspoken agreement to continue their war was reached. Despite the way it made them feel. Despite the sexual consequences it may thereafter entail.

Such taboos forgotten and abandoned, she pushed through and in. Catching the sharp nail of her longest finger in Allison's pink wall. Only to then drag that finger down, out, and over the clit of the same. That nail then stopping and stabbing there, at the center of all things - at least for her blonde rival.

A rival who screamed out loud and in horror as she felt the sting of Nisha's cruelty.

A scream that still echoed as she who drew it gloated. "This is the last time you'll ever get wet, you lesbian slut!" Just as her mother's did, Nisha's voice had coiled and then sprang from her lips like a viper. Soft and almost sensual - hissing and unforgettably hateful.

So stinging was the taunt, both in delivery and aim, that Allison once again began to cry. Her eyes closing as her hands fell from Nisha's breasts and center. Unable to match her rival in such a contest of wills and wanton destruction.

It was then that she who still held, as a smirk formed on her face, decided to press her advantage. The high school senior doing so by leaning in and with a shoulder pushing Allison to her back.

And though the sobbing blonde rolled to as much with ease, as Nisha moved to mount her, Allison struck! She doing so by leaning up, in, and the latching her teeth onto Nisha's right breast. Not just the flesh of it, or the dark ring that encompassed its center, but instead that center itself. The nipple. One that, erect as it was, found itself a perfect target to catch and then bite - bite and then chew.

"NNOOOoOooOOo!! FFFUUUUCCCCKKKK!! Get off me! STTOOOOPPP!!" Nisha cried out, not even able to think of who she was speaking to, or what words she might use. She just needed it to end, and end it suddenly did.

As only a few seconds thereafter Allison reached up and shoved Nisha not only off of her but back to the ground. The blonde then using the distance to scramble back into the living room from the kitchen and A/C-chilled floor.

A trip which once again brought her mother into view. A mother who stood nude, and with a handful of Anjali's hair, drug the same up from the floor and to her feet. The sight was enough to stop the blonde daughter dead in her tracks. She having lost all track of how she had arrived to this house or found herself wrapped around Nisha in a hateful embrace. Where her mother had gone, or why she had not attempted to break up their struggle.

Until that moment.

Until suddenly reality came back like a scythe-like pendulum. One which returned not only with a view of her mother's naked struggle with another woman, but as Nisha suddenly attacked from behind.

An attack which unfolded with a grab and a turn - a spin and a fist, Erica mocked Anjali, even as she demanded her to return to their battle.

"Get... up ... you cocky little bitch!" With every word Erica's exhaustion was obvious, and yet somehow, she looked more sorted than Anjali. Who after a blow to the face, had found her bell rung and leg scissor broken.

A state that made her wobble as she reached her feet, and nearly collapse as Erica released her.

"No wonder ... your men always go ... for ... white women..." Almost drunk did the white mother sound, her muscles aching and lungs burning, and yet still she found the strength to throw a punch. One not to face or stomach, but directly into Anjali's chest. A chest on which knuckles landed with a swift, clap of impacted wet flesh.

Anjali wanted to give up as she groaned in pain. To collapse back down to the ground and let the battle in which she found herself end. But instead, by some discovery of an unseen hateful reserve, she fired back. She too throwing her fist into her rival's chest.

A punch which made the same sounds and caused the same desires to course through Erica. But she too struck back, with her fist landing in a blow so hard that Anjali's left breast seemed to deflate before her very eyes.

"Unnnggghhh"Anjali moaned like a wounded animal, and yet she too, somehow, someway, sent a volley back. Her pecan-hued knuckles crashing into Erica's left breast, and flattening her still-hard nipple.

"Nnnnuuuuuuggghhhh." Came Erica's resulting utterance of pain, one that she let loose, as she began to stumble towards Anjali.

"Bitch..." The Indian mother insulted, as she too began to stumble. And though it seemed at that moment, that both women were on the very verge of collapse, instead they let loose what they had left of their resolve.

Each throwing not one or two, but instead a flurry of slow, sloppy punches. None of which were blocked, leaving each to instead land fully and hard on cheeks and noses - eyes and abdomens.

Until finally, each of the two women collapsed into each other. Their arms wrapping around the body of their rival as they fought not each other but just to stand. Their newly bloodied cheeks flattening together, as their swollen eyes closed and fattened lips weakly chased what air they could find.

Like their mothers, Nisha and Allison held their fists before their faces, but instead of stumbling, they hopped. Instead of gasping for air, they took it in cleanly. For though they had struggled just as long and just as hard, they were still buoyed by their youth.

Each of them circling each other, trying to find the right opening to drive whatever limb they could into the body of the other.

Until finally Allison tossed a jab, and then Nisha in response a kick. Each dodging, and moving. Vigilant and focused, despite the sounds they heard coming from their mothers on the other side of the room.

And though for a moment they may have looked like kickboxers, deftly dodging and parrying, quickly thereafter did they descend into madness. As Nisha took one step too far, and when she did, Allison buried her left shin into the stomach of her rival.

At the impact, Allison moved in, but as she did, Nisha, even as she groaned, lashed out, throwing a hard punch up and into her enemy's face. It was then that they in mirrored malice let loose. They two hate-filled 18-year-olds firing off whatever salvos they could.

Each sharing with the other, in the hardest way possible, kicks delivered high and driven low - punches landing at a glance and smashing home in a deep, sweaty thud.

And though they began such barbarism and battery still strong and still filled with energy, with every strike they both gave and took, they began to tire - to wane. Their quick, side-to-side steps turning into mutual stumbles. And their swift retreats and dodges slowing and then fading from their reality entirely.

The pair instead standing and slumping wearily.

Their faces continuing to swell and bleed.

Their bodies, even under a sheen of sweat, beginning to darken with bruises, both quarter size and a great deal larger.

And their lungs beginning to burn, not just from exertion, but from one blow after another finding their way to the other's body.

Impacts they suffered, again and again, at the other's hands as they fought their way deeper into Nisha's living room.

But finally, when our two warring seniors could no longer stand and deliver, they collapsed forward and into each other. They two using both hands to wrap around and behind each other's necks, and lacing at their fingers. Grips they then used to remain upright, though weakly, by hanging their weight on each other.

But even in that desperate, wandering semi-clinch, they continued to try and destroy one another. Driving, as their b-cup breasts dangled and pressed, their knees up and into the other's stomach and chest. Not quickly, but slowly. Almost in turns, though only due to exhaustion. Each such collision landing with a visceral echo of pounding flesh, and a pitiful groan from she who absorbed it.

Such a state of mutual fatigue and failing continued, until in a sudden surge of energy, Allison fixed fingers to Nisha's dark black hair and then spun. The blonde in so doing, twisting and dragging her rival around. The revolution so quick and forceful that it pulled the Indian student off of her feet, into the air, and then hard into the table shrine devoted to her father.

The body of she who flew smashing not only into the significance-adorned display, but then through it with a loud and unmistakable crashing sound. One born of shattering glass and cracking wood.

A sound which rung out only feet away from Allison and Nisha's mothers, and yet still, they did not rouse to examine its cause.

No, for they were each and together broken. Laying side-by-side on the carpeted floor, though not truly mirrored. For as Anjali's head rested just next to Erica's legs, the blonde's did the same next to her rival's.

They two only breathing in deep, ragged gasps. Their lips slit and covered with dried blood. Their faces swollen and bodies bruised. And though they could hear their daughters fighting not feet away.

Hear them moaning.

Hear them hurting one another without mercy, they were too deep.

All of them. Too far engulfed in their little war.

It being a War of prides and desires - families and fervor.

And though they couldn't fight through the madness that had taken them and their daughters, some semblance of their sanity still called to them. Still begged them.

Stop this, their hearts must have told them. What are you doing? Protect your daughter!? Their minds surely pled.

And yet finally, when they had found the breath and the will - the fire and the focus to move, Erica and Anjali just rolled. Not in part or in half, but in one contiguous motion. From their backs on which they laid, over onto their sides, and then after the lazy raising of their top-side thighs, smoothly into a mutual headscissor.

It was madness! Letting the other take them into such a hold.

Folly! Placing their heads willingly between the waiting and welcoming inner thighs of their enemy.

But just as Erica had said before, they each knew what their struggle was about. Not hatred or a desired humility, but satisfaction - but lust.

Each having baited the other into their battle because they wanted to touch - to feel the other's naked body pressed against theirs.

Yes, in combat - yes, in struggle, but beneath it all, in such a way that their soul-wrenching thirst for sexual gratification would be quenched.

And so they entered their rival's trap, and rested their swollen cheeks on the inner thigh of their rival. Willingly. Knowingly. Placing their faces, noses, and mouths only a tear's width from their enemy's sex.

Only to find themselves drug clitorous deep into the same, when each, in a simultaneous application of force, flexed their legs and clamped down hard.

"Mmmnnnnnppphh" Each mumbled into the other's kitten, but without struggle. Their hands moving not to pull hair or dig claws, but instead to a soft and gentle rest on each other's flexed thighs.

A flexing that continued to inflict and enforce, until nearly at the same moment, each pair of mirrored mothers extended their tongues and began to please. To satisfy. To quench, as they had agreed, in action if not words.

It was only then that their straightened legs angled, and their brutal squeezing ebbed. They only using the application of such force if they felt the other's tongue recede, or efforts slacken.

The pair of mothers melting into their floor-bound sixty-nine. Each moaning weakly and blissfully into the other's kitty. Though such sounds were then lost into the soft inner-thighs and sealed lower lips of their rival's wounded body.

Squeeze and please each other, though their mothers did. Almost in a partnership of need and nature, Nisha and Allison were driving each other further and further away from any such possibility. For Nisha, even as she fought to a stand, after the collapse and clatter of her body being thrown into her father's shrine, she raged. She seethed. Glaring at Allison with a wild and wide-eyed hatred.

"YOU BITCH!!" She screamed!

"I'LL KILL YOU!" She promised, as she began to cry. Not from physical pain, though such still riddled her body.

And yet, to that clammer of anger and unleashed and abject despair, Allison only smirked. Cruelly. Evilly. She loving the sight of tears welling in her rival's eyes. Tears which began to rain, as she who shed them began to charge. Charge and then throw, a wild and careless punch.

A strike that Allison ducked, leaving Nisha's body to continue off-balance and off-access, without any blunting of her momentum. A momentum which carried her into a spin, and then as her blonde adversary grabbed her and pulled, down to the carpeted floor.

The dark-skinned student landing on her ass in a seated position, with Allison coming down into the same, just behind her. The legs of the blonde then stretching out, surrounding, and snapping tight around Nisha's abdomen in a harsh, rear-seated bodyscissor.

One that was met by rebellion and resistance by she who suffered its bite. The black-haired daughter of a mother moaning not but feet away leaning forward and with both hands trying to pry Allison's legs from about her.

"Let go of me! I SWEAR, ALLISON! I'll get you-you-you white slut! For that picture!" The words came as threatening as they read. Nisha's voice trembling with anger and hatred as she spoke, even as she found herself trapped between her enemy's legs.

And while Nisha's words were loud and blaring, Allison's were soft and came at a whisper. One delivered after the blonde sunk her hands deep in black hair and tugged the head there attached back, so that lips pressed to ear. "I'm going to make you swear, you weak brown bitch."

"No! Fuck yo-OOOWWEEE!!" Loudly again, Nisha shouted her rebuttal, but as she did Allison dropped a hand from hair and reached around her enemy. An enemy who's already wounded right breast was then grabbed and twisted by the malicious blonde.

"Owe! Stop! Biiiiirrrghghhh!" Nisha ordered, until a second hand left hair, and with the forearm attached, quickly wrapped around Nisha's throat in a choke. A choke that cinched quickly, as Allison began to whisper again.

"Do you see them?" The blonde asked, as her lips pressed to Nisha's ear.

And though she who was trapped and tortured could not answer, she did see them. Their mothers' faces locked deep between each other's thighs. Not fighting or cursing, but instead pleasing each other. Instead moaning for each other like the whores those same mothers had always taught them not to be.

"Mmmnnn, I'm gonna make you do that when you give up. Lick me... Eat me... So that everytime you see me at school you know I'm better than you, you shit-colored bitch." at every word, Nisha bucked and squirmed. Her hands placed and pulling in a panic on Allison's choking left forearm.

"But that's what you wanted, isn't it - you LESBIAN?" Still in a whisper, the blonde accused. "I felt how wet you were..."

Sputtered and spasmed though Nisha did, Allison wanted more. Wanted Nisha to beg her. To plead for her to stop. And so just as much to allow as much, the blonde let loose her choke, and when she did, even through coughs and hacks, Nisha replied defiantly.

"You were wet, bitc-NooOOOooO!!" Defiant though she was, Allison without pause punished her for it. The blonde digging her nails into her rival's still-hard right nipple, as soon as its owner dared speak in such a tone.

"Liar..." Allison replied in a still sensually soft tone. One that only Nisha could hear. But not just hear, for as the word was spoken, she could feel it. The blonde thrusting her hips forward, and pressing her young, youthful sex against the brown girl's ass.