Prom and Thereafter

A sex which was not just as wet as before, but more so. It leaving a hot, smear of excitement-born juices across Nisha's rear.

Unwanted as such a thrust was, Nisha began to break. Offering nothing more than a soft, quivering. "Pleeeaaasssee. Let me go..."

"Give." Is all the blonde gave in reply. She beginning her second thrust and then her third, quickly thereafter.

"Noo-aaRRRrRrgggHHh" Rejection and then groan came from Nisha, as again Allison tore at her breast on refusal.

Instead of focusing on her tormentor, the dark-hued hindu's eyes still lingered on her mother and the battle that she waged. One which seemed to be growing more and more tense by the moment - soft and compliant though it had previously been.

For the delicate push and pull of desire and anger - sexual need and pride-generated hate, had begun to fray Erica and Anjali's willingness to comply in their mutual headscissor. The gentle balance tipping one way too far and then the other even further. As each of the two inner-thigh-encircled mothers found themselves forced to resort to sending messages to one another. Not through words that could not be heard, but the most minute of movements.

A slight squeezing of thighs. A gentle pressing of the tongue. A tiny nibble. A quick reaching and light pulling of the other's hair to keep their rival committed to their unspoken truce.

But moment-by-moment, as their stores of energy began to replenish, they each chafed at the other's proddings. Flared at the other's demands of service, even though they expected nothing less than complete obedience to their own such messages for more.

And though Nisha could not see which of those squeezes or pulls - bites or pushes set the flame, suddenly, with every ounce of strength either mother could muster, it happened.

A TIGHT squeeze of thighs from each. Not one that came and then left, but one that stayed and continued, as each middle-aged beauty retracted their tongues and groaned loud into the other's cunt.

Muffled though those sounds were, they echoed through the room as Allison continued to pry at Nisha's breast and whisper into her ear. But the daughter of the darker moaning matron did not hear her rival's words. No, for she was lost in it. The site of her own mother and her enemy digging their nails hard into each other's thighs and dragging. Each trying whatever they could to stop the other's sudden rebellion - even though it mirrored with perfection their own.

Deaf though Nisha was, she had not lost all of her senses. And one of those she still possessed came calling, as suddenly, or perhaps not, she noticed Allison continuing to grind her molten hot and river-wet sex against her own ass.

"What are you...?" Nisha asked before stopping. Questioned before the answer she already knew came to her. A lesson their mothers were teaching them, as they rolled in quarter-turns in front of them. This... This fight... This struggle... It was about more.

More than hate.

More than pride.

It was sexual, in some way. Some way Nisha did not understand, and yet still, she felt it.

The truth of it.

How at some primal level, and despite all she felt for Allison, she had never wanted anything more than to ... own her. Devour her. And fuck her, just as was being done to her.

But as such realizations flooded Nisha's mind, her ability to comprehend the words being spoken to her returned. "You know what this is about..." Allison hissed.

She did, yes. Just like her mother. Just like Erica. And as was made clear by every thrust the black-haired prom-goer felt from behind, just like Allison.

As that admission and hiss - revelation and realization came to pass, the same was being seared into both Erica and Anjali's heart like a brand. For though their patience had waned and compliance was denied, the pain of it. Of squeezing, straighted, and steel-hard thighs. Of nails being driven in and ripped down, only to lift and re-engage, each of the two mothers began to wilt. To soften.

They two once again communicating, but in the opposite of before. Not through minor attacks and lesser retaliations, but in fingers flattening and resting. In tongues, once again extending, even as they found themselves encompassed by groans. Until, when each was confident the other would, and without question comply, they each let their legs loosen and tightening end.

Such an unspoken and unwritten accord reached, they each dove back into one another's sex. Their tongues used at that moment as both spear and sabre. Stabbing in, and then like it were wielded by a master, fencing the other's clit. Striking softly. And stroking with precision.

Each swordswoman devoted to their task - to the goal they had each been seeking from the very first words of derision and insult spoken.

Climax.

One that came for both of them as a dam bursting or like a black hole forming.

With power and perfection - pomp and circumstance, each of the two breaking into convulsions, as their lips parted to release loud, primal moans of pleasure. Their thighs shivering and opening, not to release the other, but because they had lost control of them.

But even with such an opening presented neither took it. No, for they were lost. Committed. They chasing the other's carnal detonation with a ferocity they expected from the other. Wanting to take - to taste - and to drain from the other every last drop of pleasure-born beneficence.

Until finally, when they had it, they each collapsed back and away from each other to their backs. Their faces soaked and makeup in complete and total ruin. Their mascara more akin to Bucky Barnes than beauties such as they. Their foundation a fluid and running puddle. And their blush not just washed out, but absent entirely.

In such states of devastation and satisfaction they laid. Their wounded and yet still incredible breasts heaving as they fought to regain their long-absent, but much needed breath.

Such a site played out like a movie in front of Nisha and Allison. The latter behind the former, her choking forearm still placed, but her breast-attached hand moving. Down, the tips of its fingers gliding down Nisha's stomach, and then between the Indian girl's legs.

"I still hate you, bitch..." Allison again whispered with a tone laced with venom.

A venom Nisha tried to return, even in her state of bind. "I ... hate ... you ... mo-OooOOooooohhh gooddd..." As Nisha tried to reply. Tried to return her rival's taunt, she felt it. Allison's index finger sliding down and then in. Softly. Teasingly. And yet still, that finger found it.

Nisha's wetness. Her excitement. Almost overflowing at all that was happening. The hate she felt for the blonde. The passionate, wild fight they had engaged in. The sight before her eyes of their mothers trapped between each others thighs and with their mouths bringing each other to orgasm.

But cause aside, as Allison felt its moist consequence, she taunted again, "dirty brown whore...".

As those racially-tinged words found their way from the blonde's whispering lips to her rival's ear, Anjali and Erica still laid. Still rested. Neither having spoken or even moved, save for a single hand down to their own sexs to massage and calm.

But just as Anjali began to formulate what she might do next in her mind - how she and her rival might move past their mutual orgasms, and perhaps bring an end to this desperate battle of two families, the choice was taken from her.

For Erica, without warning or word, sat up, turned, and then dove atop Anjali. The blonde mother's hands moving to the Hindu's wrists and pinning them.

"Bitch!" Anjali cursed, as she felt her rival pin her down and mount her. Not in a straddle but in the missionary position. Erica's sex pressing to her own, as her husband's once did in bed.

"Mmmm, too slow..." Erica cood, as she looked down into Anjali's eyes with a confident and yet mischievous smirk.

"Get off m-" As the words formed in her throat and came rushing out of Anjali's mouth, she found those same words knocked askew and astray. As Erica's right hand suddenly lifted from wrist and splashed hard across the black-haired mother's left cheek.

Freedom! At least in part, Anjali thought, as she fired her right hand up to Erica's face. But as it traveled, the blonde, having delivered her slap, caught it, and slammed it back down to the carpeted floor of the living room.

"Cunt! I said get of-" Again Anjali protested, and again Erica released and then attacked. The blonde's left hand moving with speed from arm to niiple, and twisting hard.

"Ooowwweeee!! BITCH!" Rage! Anger like she had never felt before filled Nisha's mother, as she once more tried to reach and strike with her right hand.

And like the rewinding of a tape and then played, Erica looked to once more catch and pin, but Anjali fought her. Moving and pulling her arm and hand away, the dark-skinned mother trying desperately to keep her herself from being pinned again.

But finally, infuriatingly, the free wrist was caught and shoved back down to the carpet.

That's when it began, the thrusting. The fucking. Erica driving and dragging her hair-covered mound mound over Anjali's, until their already wet and sensitive clits met, somewhere in the moistness of their fur-covered valleys.

"Unnggghhh, no! We came! Get off-Unnnggghhh!" The Indian mother complained, she feeling utterly betrayed by her previously useful rival.

"Nnnnmmm, take it, you dirty brown whore... This is what you wanted. To be fucked..." As Erica taunted and drove, not only herself forward but a dagger into Anjali's heart, Nisha found herself hopeless. She was trapped. Had been trapped. And now, even her mother - her strong, confident mother, suffered the same fate.

No time did she have to consider what options were left for her, if any other than surrender. For just not a moment after the coming of her despair, and the laying back of her head on Allison's shoulder. Did the same lean in and bite. Her teeth viciously clamping down on the middle Nisha's forehead.

At the attack, Nisha screamed, and yet as she did, and as blood began to trickle from driven teeth and clenching jaw, did two more attacks come. The first being the blonde daughter's legs clamping down in a harshening of her of her laxed bodyscissor. And the second, being her soft and exploring finger curling into a claw and stabbing in Nisha's tight, brown, pussy.

"NOoOOOoO!! PLEASE!! PLLEEEAASSSSEEE I GIVE!! I GIVE!! OH GOD!! SSSTTTOOOOPPPP!!" The sound of the submission, of the pained and awful cry echoed through the home of the Indian pair of mother and daughter. But it didn't reach its worst and most pathetic until in a tearful whisper Nisha added. "I am sorry, Allison... Please..."

Mercy she begged for.

For a release from bite, scissor, and claw did Nisha plead. And though she received it. A quick and sudden end to the bite, a loosening of legs, and a removal of a sharply digging nail, it came with a comment so cruel Nisha would never forget it.

"You should be glad your father didn't live to see what a weak and worthless pussy you arrrrreeeee." As if spoken by with the forked tongue of a snake, Allison's last word trailed. And though before the blonde had whispered and hissed, the last sentence she spoke aloud. She wanting not just Nisha to hear it, but their mothers too.

And heard it was, by Anjali and Erica. Who, even in their cunt-to-cunt struggle of applied dominance, stopped. The cry of one and curses of the other breaking through their madness and causing them each to pause.

What had she done...? Erica began to think.

What had she allowed to happen...? The blonde mother asked herself in the blinding light of a quickly returned clarity.

A clarity that made the hands of the same loosen, and her mound-centered pin to lessen in its perfection.

Allison! She was going to say it. Shout it. The name of her daughter. A daughter who had wrapped her light-skinned nude frame around that of her dark-hued rival.

But just as lips came together and curled - just as tongue flattened and lungs began to propel, Anjali drove. Up and over, hard. The formerly pinned and frustrated mother turning and then mounting Erica in a single, distraction-aided maneuver.

But that was not the only turn of body and bout, for only a moment or two before the pair of matrons turned, Allison released and relented. The blonde senior wanting what her mother had, when last she looked to her. Dominance, complete and utter - she wanting to mount her enemy, mound-to-mound.

And so, seeking to take that control, Allison shoved the wounded and wailing Nisha forward and to the carpeted floor of the living room. The fragments of the Patel's once pristine living room toppled and torn apart about them.

Such destruction played backdrop to whatever horror was in store for Nisha, as she rolled onto her back and watched her rival leap upon her. And though she expected claws driven in or strikes hammered down, she instead found her enemy land and then stop. Adjust, and then drop. She of golden hair aligning and pressing her own wet sex into Nisha's. The former's eyes flaring with unchecked confidence and unrepentant desire.

A desire. A confidence that at any other moment in her life would have driven Nisha to the very depths of petulant rage and seething hatred. And yet, at that moment, after all the pain and her own expectations of further torture, that desire and the lust Allison so clearly felt, was the best she could hope for.

Yes, fuck me. She thought to herself. Do it. Just don't hurt me anymore. Thoughts she wanted to put into words. Intended to put into words. To speak them as her truth. But just as Erica's words of caution and cancellation had been interrupted. So too were Nisha's of submission and invitation.

Not by a sudden flipping of fortunes and frames, but by a sudden thrust from Allison, who drug with an intentional roughness, her own, clean-shaven sex over the bested and broken classmate's. A forceful stroke that caused both she who gave it and she who took it to moan out. Not from pain, but from pleasure. Their own built-up lust finally being satisfied. Their own desires for more than combat coming to the surface, when finally they understood what had so swiftly taken their mothers.

And though their mothers had sought to quench that thirst early, with such needs satiated, they had moved onto something more sinister. Something more cruel. Not at once, for it was Erica who leaped first. Diving atop Anjali after their mutual orgasm had passed, looking to control her.

To dominate her.

To fuck her into absolute and complete submission.

Oh, but then it came. Like a cold wind blown through an open window or the sudden sting of guilt after a once easy decision.

Regret. One that can only come after one has cum. The wash of reality that hits after the craze of sexual desire has passed. She was a mother! An adult! A businesswoman! And yet, somehow, she had been ensnared in a maddened dance of carnal cravings with a women she did not know!

How?!

Why?!

She would have asked. Could have asked. Had the moment not been taken from her. Stolen from her. As Anjali turned them. Rolled them. And within what seemed like an instant, seized firm and unquestioned control. She not only putting Erica on her back, but also climbing up and mounting her.

Not her abdomen in some arms-free straddle, but with her own, sexy dark thighs pinning those arms, and the hands there attached beneath her lower half. Leaving Erica with nothing to defend herself with, save for her mouth. One that opened in curse, only a moment after the blonde found herself pinned.

"Anjali, wait!" Came her words, as her eyes opened wide with shock.

"Our daught-" She spoke again, as reason flooded her mind and the fogs of desire dissipated. But before the blonde mother could finish her plea, she found Anjali's left hand clamp down, palm-first, over her mouth. Ceasing her speaking, or perhaps more accurately, reducing it to a unintelligible mumble.

Irritating as that inability to speak and be understood was for Erica, it paled in comparison to the pain she suddenly felt in her right nipple. One which Anjali grabbed and twisted hard. So hard, in fact, that the divorced blonde swore she felt her nippled tearing off of her breast. A sensation, cruel and horrific as it was, that caused her to scream out into her rival's pressing palm.

"You try to fuck me in my own home? Hmm...!?" It was fury that could be heard in Anjali's voice, yes. But there with it, lurked something else. An excitement. A fire set ablaze by challenge.

Erica had made it about more than lust. More than a mutual need for a long-denied desire for sensuality and satisfaction. For when such had been taken not by one, but by both, the blonde continued. She dared. Making it personal. Making it a war for domination.

A war Anjali then reveled in, as she let her twisting ebb for a few moments, before she began it again. One way and then the other. Start and then pause. The brown-skinned woman, in all her sexual and physical glory watching Erica's eyes well with tears as she squirmed.

"You weak white bitch. I'll own you now..." Came Anjali's words in more a hiss than anything else. She wanting her every syllable to slither into Erica's ear and then with a bite inject their venom.

A venom which made Erica's eyes close as tears began to fall from them. Her own head turning left and then right, as she tried, in the only way she could to resist. She saying no. Not only to Anjali's threats, but all that was happening. And all she was unable to stop with their daughters, now that her rival was atop her and in full possession of momentum.

And though when she last saw her daughter and Nisha, they were still fighting. Still hurting each other. As Erica cried and screamed into her enemy's palm, they were doing something else entirely.

Their eyes locked together in the most intense of gazes. Each communicating with the other, perhaps more than they ever had before, though not with words. No instead each conveying everything they felt with their eyes alone. Allison her own sexual desires and need control, and Nisha, her acceptance of the blonde's dominance. Wanting it, not only because of the frenzy their battle had created within her, but because it was preferable to pain.

They two high school rivals locked together, pussy-to-pussy, in their own little world. Oblivious to all else that transpired around them, as Allison thrusted and Nisha took. As the blonde drug and her raven-haired rival coiled. She wrapping her toned but thin legs around the legs of she who fucked her. A hooking of calves that came just as Nisha, softly, timidly, and carefully lifted her arms and placed her hands on Allison's shoulders.

The message of the placement and pressure being clear. Take me. Own me. Fuck me, Allison Dane...

And fuck her she did. Slowly. Forcefully. Each of the two learning from every stroke, even as they moaned for each other. Whimpered for each other. Their eyes softening with every passing moment. That is until, through their bubble of blistering sexual bliss the sound tore.

"AAAArrrrgggghhhhh!! PPPLLLEEEEAAASSSEEE!! NNOOO!!" It was so loud. So terrible. So ear-piercing and soul-shaking. But what was...?

Allison asked herself, as she, in shock, looked up and found her mother no longer on top of her rival but instead beneath her.

Beneath her and pinned.

Beneath her and screaming.

One brown hand affixed to her right nipple, and another behind the back of Anjali and buried between Erica's thighs. Each hand digging. Each hand clawing. One into the base of the light pink center of the blonde mother's breast. And the others digging deep into the sensitive pink walls of the same.