When Life Starts Ch. 02

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An elevator we ran towards laughing before Sarah turned, and I crashed into her. Our lips and bodies sealing together once again, as her back pressed flat against the sealed elevator doors.

Thinking back on the scene now, I can't help but hear bouncy ballroom music playing in my head. As the doors opened, and we fell into the elevator. Only able to keep our feet because strangers trying to exit the same helped us. They using their hands to keep us from falling and then bring us back up to a stable stand.

I would tell you how many of them there were, or what they looked like, but Sarah and I never stopped kissing. Never even looked to them or thanked them. We just continued on. Our tongues fighting for space, meeting, and pushing, trying to dominate the other completely. Even as our hands pulled at each other's tops and hair. Not willing to wait. Not willing to break for anything or anyone.

In that state, we stumbled and staggered, devouring each other as Sarah led us awkwardly in a backward, heel-clicking walk to her apartment door. A door we reached, just as my guide planted a foot and turned us, slamming me against the sealed metal entrance to her apartment. I tried to push against her, to free myself and retake control, but she kept me pinned. My rival using her keys and a reach to my side to unlock and open the door.

It was that abrupt opening that finally broke us apart, as without the door as brace I fell away from Sarah and our kiss, only to then slam into the floor of her place in a clump.

"Oh. My. Goooood." The stranger turned opponent almost screamed in shock as she tried to deal with how intense our competition had been so far.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." I chanted almost as a mantra as I laid on the floor with my eyes closed. My arms raised, elbows bent, and palms pressed to my temples in disbelief, as I too tried to just to breathe. To just exist, after so much sexual tension and desire had flowed through me - flowed through us.

"Get up. Let's go!" Sarah demanded, even as she panted, trying to regain her air.

"Ugh!" I grunted more than spoke, as I rolled to my knees and then stood. Finding Sarah already stripping her clothes off as I did.

"I'm going to fucking wreck you, Brooke." She promised, as she peeled off her pink blouse, and tossed it to the side.

"We'll see about that! I had you down in the bar." Came my reply as I slid my black skirt and wet white panties down my powerful, sexy thighs.

"You so did not! I had you! Don't even lie to me right now!" As Sarah argued, she took down her own skirt with a thumb-guided push.

I wanted to respond. To retort. To turn Sarah's words into some clever pun about who would be lying where and under who. But as I peeled off my top, and after we each kicked off our heels, I could not resist her. Could not stop myself from charging at Sarah and pressing my nude body against hers.

God, I wanted her. God, she wanted me. The moment was incredible, and electric, and wonderful, and ... and ... as our bodies met and in the warmth therebetween melted, we each moaned into the kiss we sealed ourselves into once again. But this kiss was far more fleeting than all those before, for, within only a few clashes of tongue and taste, Sarah dropped. Not collapsing from some kind of exhaustion-brought-fainting, but to her knees, and before me.

"Oh no, get back up here, bitch," I ordered, but even as I did she wrapped her arms around me, pressed her hands to my rear cheeks, and pulled me forward.

"No, I am not letting you just tongue me." Protest though I did, she continued to lean in - securing her grip upon my lower-half.

But still, she responded, speaking to me, even as her upper lips pressed into my lower ones. "Let me..." The words reverberating into my drenched sex so intensely that instead of resisting her, I just moaned, placing my hands on her shoulders for stability.

"Bitch..." I cursed her, as she buried herself between my thighs. Something I did just before Sarah began to hum, sending vibrations through my already simulated kitty. The masterful tactic causing me to quiver in pleasure, even though I should have been trying to avoid precisely that.

Then, as I shook on the end of her extending tongue, I felt it. Something. She was ... doing ... something, though I couldn't tell what. Her tongue moving in one direction and then another, not at random but with purpose and intent. It felt amazing. Even now, as I'm explaining it, I can almost feel it.

"What ... what are you doing...?" I asked as I began to wither on my feet, barely able to stand beneath the effect of her shockingly assault.

She didn't have to respond or share her secret, but she did. Again speaking right into my sex, driving me mad in the process. She speaking only a single word. One that at first, filled me with confusion. "Alphabet."

"What?!" I asked as I began to lean forward further and further - threatening to collapse entirely atop Sarah and her efforts. But like a goddess of sexfighting experience, she simply pulled me forward and rolled to her back. Causing me to stumble and then drop down to my knees, almost in a facesit.

Now if Sarah and I were fighting - locked in some kind of brutal catfight. One in which we had pulled hair, smothered each other with our breasts and wrapped straining thighs around each other's sweaty bodies, I'd be golden. But in a sexfight, facesitting your opponent is just dumb. Why? Because you're not only basically handing them access to the thing you should be trying to keep away from them, but also, giving them a head start. Especially, when it's a forward facesit, precisely like the one, I found myself in.

Despite that little pearl of wisdom, there I was, kneeling just above her beautiful face, my kitten wrapped with a bow and hand-delivered to her like some sort of dirty, sexy, Amazon package. And she didn't wait for a second to take that package and rip it open, as within less than a second her hands moved to the top of my thighs to pull me down and keep me trapped and unable to pull away as she pleasured me. The little tattooed-sex-vixen doing it by spelling out letters of the alphabet with her fucking tongue. A riddle I solved somewhere between crashing down above her and letting loose my first pleasure-drenched scream of our battle.

And though I had figured out her little trick, that really didn't help me withstand it. My only real solace being that from that position, my hands were free to counter-attack, even if it would take some work. Work I put in by leaning back, reaching behind me, and then moving my right hand between Sarah's bent-knee propped thighs.

As soon as she realized what I was doing, Sarah tried to close her legs and deny me the admittance I so desperately needed. But my hand was already too deep between her thighs, and so when she tried to slam closed her sexy ink-decorated legs, I pinched her pussy lips. Not hard enough to really hurt her, but instead just enough to push her into giving me access. Something I had learned from Rheena. Something that worked, as at the very application of fingertips to folds, Sarah gave me a cute little yelp into my sex, her thighs parted for me, like the Red Sea for Moses.

With that sudden and glorious allowance, I went at it. Using all I had learned about what my new co-worker wanted - what made her moan in the bar to catch up. At first, that struggle seemed to not only be uphill but hopeless. But as I continued to rub the tips of my index and middle fingers back and forth, just half an inch above her clit, she started to moan for me. Whimper for me. Her tongue falling lax, and her head dropping down to her carpeted floor.

At that moment, I sensed weakness in Sarah for the first time. Felt it, as she began to cling to me, holding and pulling my body against hers as I fingered her with abandon. Heard it, as she began to whimper between soft, blissful kisses she drug across the inside of my flexed legs. And though I had hoped that she was, she was not so rapt with pleasure that she could not strike back. As instead, between her moments of vulnerability, she returned to her licking. Her spelling. Driving me with every such return towards an orgasm atop her pretty, wetness-smeared lips. But when I finally slid my fingers down, not just over her clit, but into her sex, Sarah screamed out from beneath me.

That's when she gave me the howl of pleasure I wanted so deeply, one that echoed through her apartment as her hands fell from their trapping hold on my upper thighs. When they did, and finally I was free, I lifted myself and then turned. Not to get away, but to spin atop her, from a kneeling position to all fours just above her. In that position, I lowered my mouth to her sex, looking to drag her to orgasm beneath me.

Sarah assumed, as I would have, that with my spin I was daring her to engage me in a mutual 69, a duel she was certain that she would win. But when she tried to bend her neck and lean her head up to my kitty, she found my knees pressed down on her hair. Not on one side but both! A move that kept her from getting to me, as her moist and fleshy target remained a good foot above her lips and spelling-bee champion tongue.

"You bitch!" She shouted in half-amused protest, her hands moving to her hair to try and pull each caught strang free.

But by the time she had realized what was happening - that I had trapped her this time, I had already gotten back to clit. My head buried between her thighs, and my tongue once again returning to her soft spot - that small strip of pink flesh above her clit. One that made her squeal and scream, again and again. Each such exaltation telling me how quickly she was forgetting about her efforts and desperate need to escape my hair-pinning knees.

At that moment I was sure of it. I had her! I had her, and she knew it. She was already so close to cuming, and now she had basically given in to the pleasure I was inflicting on her - as odd as a sentence as that is. Not fighting me. Not resisting. Just enjoying LOUDLY.

Careful not to let her back in the game, I increased the pressure. The speed. The focus of my attack. Feeling her thighs begin to quiver around my head, they shaking my admittedly smile-bent cheeks with small, unintentional spasms.

I was so ready to taste it. Her defeat. Her body's sexual surrender. I know it sounds ... just ... UGH! But at that moment I wanted to bathe in it, as I lapped it from her pussy, swallowing every single drop that I could. I should have kept my mouth shut, but instead, I just had to tease her one last time. And so, as my upper lips to her lower ones, I demanded it in what almost sounded like a growl. "Give it to me..."

As soon as the words left my mouth, though, I felt it. 4 fingers (yes I said 4 FINGERS) push past my own labial folds and as deep as they would go into my kitty. It hurt so bad! But felt so good! A mix of sensations that caused me to collapse atop my nearly defeated rival.

As I fell, Sarah retracted those fingers and with two hands shoved me forward to the carpet between her legs, her palms landing on my full ass cheeks with a muted clap sound.

Suddenly dislodged, I tried to collect myself as fast as I could, and raise back up. Thinking I had to not only turn but ready myself to defend when my new obsession tried to tackle and mount me in an attempt to finish me right there on her floor. But as I prepared to defend against an attack, Sarah stood, fighting through her own pleasure-brought exhaustion. Then, once she was on her feet, she grabbed my golden blonde hair and drug me to my feet.

Feet on which I wobbled. Feet on which I searched for the focus and balance to stand. But just as I found each of those elusive little buggers, Sarah began to pull me and my naked self, yelping across her modern, gray-furnished house, and into her bedroom.

"Bitch, let me go!" I demanded, just as she did just that, releasing her pull as she tossed me atop her bed. A sweet-scented and soft surface I landed on in a clump of frustrated Brooke.

Yes, I had gotten what I wanted in that whole her letting go of my hair thing. But as soon as I landed, I could see it through my rival's sweat-wet hair and partially smeared makeup. She too had gotten what she wanted. Me atop her bed with thighs spread, and a glare on my face.

A glare she shot back at me. Each of us losing ourselves so deeply in the moment - in our struggle. Yes, we were co-workers, and complete strangers until that day, but as she leaped onto her bed after me, we were enemies.

Women at war, as she crawled towards me.

Gladiators of passion and lust, as I pressed my bare heels into her soft, white, goose down comforter, and raised myself off her bed in challenge.

My thighs parted, and wet sex bared for her as I dared her to meet me.

"Woman-to-woman, slut. Till the end." The words sound ridiculous now as I write them, but at that moment they felt so fucking right.

In that feeling, I was not alone, as within a blink she fired back at me. "Pussy-to-pussy. Till you cum for me..."She corrected as she dropped to her ass a foot or two in front of me.

Literally is used WAY too often, and I hate it. But our locked gazes literally felt like they were on fire, as Sarah also lifted herself off her bed, and adjusted her spread legs to match mine.

In the heat of that flame, we began to inch forward, each of us beyond ready for the moment that was to come. Though we wanted it, however, we weren't waiting for dares or invitations, as within only a few excitement-hitched breaths, our thighs crossed and bodies moved into an equal scissor.

Scissoring though we were, each of us waited for one second, and then two, before in unison we slammed ourselves forward. Our sticky, wet sexs coming together in a violent, pubic bone-rattling collision.

Why didn't we do it softly? Why not let the touch come slowly and teasingly? Well, because ... FUCK HER! She was mine, and she was going to admit it! She was going to give into me! Her body. Her mind. Her soul... Each of them! In one glorious, shameful orgasm that she would never fucking forget... That's how I felt. That's what I wanted. And she felt EXACTLY the same way. That's why we came together harsh. That's why we were angry. That's why we glared. That's why the desire and lust we had felt at the bar and as we burst through her door, had turned, temporarily, into something darker. Something carnal. Something irresistible and intoxicating.

Feelings that kept the ferocity from our first impact from ebbing at its ending. Sustaining it in the second, and making it sequence with the third.

And whereas before we might have let ourselves linger in each successive sexually electric caressing of clits, teasing and toying with each other in one moment after another of mutual 'mazement. After all the tension of the last few engagements, we instead fought. Harshly. Driving into each other - harder and harder, as we laid there in the center of Sarah's bed. Propped up on bent elbows, snarling at each other. Literally. Snarling. Damnit! I said literally again...

It sounds so weird to explain it and put it into words, but really at that moment, I hated her. And she hated me. And I wanted her too. Because that hate - that visceral, gut-churning feeling of challenge and anger - of outrage and requited reprisal, made my heart pound and my blood to pump so hot and so hard. And though we both knew - both felt that exact same thing, we each tried to tell the other. Not through words but force - the force we used as we rocked back and then forced our bodies forward. Each such rock and reckoning being a message to the other. Fuck you! Cum! The message was when translated directly.

Those messages were received and understood, yes. But as the two of us crashed our sexs together again and again. We derived only the slightest bit of pleasure from each such slam. The pleasure we felt almost drowned out by pain, anger, and an increased need to dominate and subdue the other's fire.

But as we continued to crash in unison and unrelenting parity, we each realized that it wasn't enough. We wanted more. Needed more. And so, even as our crossed lower halves collided with loud echoes of flesh meeting flesh, followed by mutual groans of pain and exertion, we reached for each other. Grasped for each other. At first at hands, then forearms, and then shoulders. Each of us pulling the other closer, and ourselves up, until we could wrap our opposing hands around the back of the other's neck.

Then, we used those grips to pull ourselves higher off the bed and then our bodies together. Each of us adjusting ourselves and dragging the other until our foreheads met, and we could glare into each other's eyes. Until our hanging breasts met and pressed together between us. Until we could slam no more, finding only the room to shift - to drag - to grind together. And as a battle of such movements began, we cursed at each other. Neither of us able to resist the gravitational pull towards that moment. That addiction-born explosion of sexual warfare and contrary compulsions to subjugate or give into the same.

"I'm going to feed you your own fucking..." As she spoke, I wanted to bite her - hurt her. But instead, I just ground harder against her and deeper into her. Making her - FORCING her to pause in pleasure and then gasp, before finishing. "...cum, bitch..."

"I'll keep you between my thighs all night, cunt... You'll wake up between them. I'll make you worship m...OH GAWD!" As I did to her, she did to me, robbing me of my words even as they mustered in the molten-hot confines of my mouth.

Thief though she may have been, I could see it in her eyes as we each strained to press ourselves harder and harder together. Not an entire tale, or even a chapter, only a page or perhaps a paragraph of desire. A hint of unmet need within her crystalline windows to the soul.

And when she gave it to me - when her eyes betrayed her welling weakness, I sought to worsen it. Seize it. Take it for myself and shove it down her throat. Doing so by taking my left hand from Sarah's shoulder and then crashing it down across her effort-and-passion-reddened right cheek.

I did so on a guess that it was our mutual aggression that had formed that glimmer of submission in her eyes. That without meaning, she had taken our battle from friendly to hostile. Soft to hard. Sensual to rough. And from what I wanted, to what she did.

In response, she did not cry out in pain or distress but instead moaned as her body gave in. Not in orgasm but collapse, as she released my neck and fell back from me and our upright mashing of tits, clits, cunts. Her back coming to a press on the A/C-cooled fabric of her comforter, just as I raised up to a knee.

For as she receded, I advanced. Taking control of our scissor and mounting her, as our bodies formed the shape of an L. A sexy, squirming L, in which she, my rival was the bottom, and I the goddess she needed to understand that I was, glared down at her confidently. A confidence that gleamed as I shifted my hips hard, back and then forward, dragging my sex across hers, as she tried to raise back up off the bed. But as she did, I leaned in and atop her. Keeping her down. Pinning her beneath me as I fucked her.

It was then, as Sarah realized she could not merely sit back up that she raised her hands to push me off of her. As they came for me, however, I used my own hands to grab them, and cruelly push them back down to her own breasts. Using her own fingers and palms to massage and caress her pretty little tits, as I ground my clit against hers.

That's when her eyes closed, and her breath quickened. That's when her lips parted not in threats or promises of dominance but in moans. One after another. Each deep. Each haunting.