Who Is This

Despite her freezing as Lauren's claws dug into her sex, it took only a second or two for Claire to recover once the attack was released. And in those moments, and as the blonde landed atop her and grabbed at the brunette's tits, Claire grabbed back. She too latching her hands on Lauren's tits. There, with their blood pumping so hard they could hear almost nothing else than their own heartbeats, the two women twisted and tortured -- tore and tormented. Their eyes locked in the most hateful of glares as between their bodies they squeezed and clawed at each others chests.

Seconds passed, then minutes, as each set the entirety of their focus on tearing the others tits from their chest. And though they worked furiously, on their faces the others work could well be seen -- with each contorting, bending, and almost melting in the heat of the searing flames of their war. Both wanted to scream -- to yelp out in pain, but each held those sounds in, biting their own bottom lips and clenching their own jaws to keep from wailing, not wanting to give the other the satisfaction. And yet, despite that mutual desire to be strong -- to not give in to the others tit-attack, Claire suddenly broke. In such breaking, she abandoned her attack of Lauren's tits, and instead brought her own hands down to the blonde's wrists to try desperately to tear them off of her own wounded breasts.

She pulled so hard, and tried so fiercely to pry the blonde's hands away, but Lauren held firm. Still squeezing. Still twisting. Still digging her nails in deep, and dragging them hard. To the sight of Claire's failed gambit of escape, and the obvious pain on her face, Lauren demanded: "Give, bitch..."

For a moment the brunette said nothing -- did nothing, other than lay there and writhe beneath her rival, her tugs at the latter's wrists having grown almost pathetic in their weakness. At the feeling Lauren poured all she had into her attack sensing that her victory was imminent, but just as a flood of endorphins from such a thought flooded her body, Claire stirred. Claire fought back. Claire attacked, sending a hard, thudding fist into Lauren's exposed ribs.

With a slapping echo, the blow landed hard, and when it did, it knocked all the air from Lauren's body, causing her hands to stop their tortuous work, and instead act as only a brace so she did not collapse forward. As such a transition of offense to stabilization occurred, Claire struck again, aiming a second punch to the same exact spot. The second was followed by a third, and then what would have been a fourth, had Lauren not wilted and fell forward, collapsing on Claire, her hands falling to the brunette's sides. Finally free from the blonde's attack, Claire half-rolled beneath her rival to the left, and then rolled with all the momentum earned fully to the right, taking Lauren with her in a switching of positions.

Suddenly Claire found herself once again in control of the fight, and atop her foe. There the brunette laid for a brief moment, with her own two silk-covered thighs together between the opened legs of her rival, their pubic mounds met, matched, and pressing together at the tip of their still panty-covered valleys. Not wanting Lauren to recover, Claire leaned up, back, and then drove a another hard punch into the blonde's stomach, and then another. With each of those strikes, the brunette found her own bra drooping, dangling, and sliding down her arms restraining her movement, the clasp on the back having broken. Quickly she arched her back, lifted her arms, and let the bra fall to the floor. As she did that however, she was forced to keep herself balanced only by the pressure of her own clit against Lauren's. Such an unexpected side effect of their positioning that caused both women to let loose from their lips small gasps of pleasure, even as Lauren writhed beneath her rival in pain.

To Lauren, in her state of momentary tummy-struck oblivion, the sound meant nothing, as it was one she barely heard, and the feeling one that only barely registered in her conscious mind. But to Claire, the sound from both she and her rival was confusing, exciting, shameful, and most of all, hate-inducing. Why was this turning on her on...? This fight... This struggle...? This bitch who was trying to pry her away from David...? Why had she already let those sensations push her into giving up her perfect chokehold. To those questions, the brunette had no answers, but that would not stop her. In fact it drove her.

Don't just hurt the cunt, but beat her, break her, Claire thought to herself, her own tits aching, and face bruised from her rival's earlier blows. And so the brunette moved to do just that, reaching her hands down, and placing them about Lauren's throat as she laid their recovering from the punches to her ribs and stomach. Then and there the brunette encircled, wrapping her fingers around the soft pink flesh of her blonde foe's neck, fully intending on strangling her rival until she either gave up or passed out.

Without words Claire began, her hands tightening and arms locking at the elbows. Like a sudden flash of lightning, Lauren's glazed over eyes focused, and her mouth, which had been letting loose low, painful, and near-airless groans, bent into a visage of terror. Without pause her hands moved to Claire's wrists, and just as had happened before in the opposite, the blonde in desperation pulled. As she did, Lauren bucked, wildly, panicked, and with each such act, jammed the tip of her sex into Claire's.

"Fuck..." Came the brunette's reaction in a hitching, lust-drenched mutter, one that escaped her lips just as her eyes closed in an effort to withstand the pleasure, without letting it distract her from strangling Lauren. But as each wild, unintentionally sexually debilitating buck came, Claire found herself collapsing forward -- only able to cling to her choke, but nothing else. In an effort to escape the effects of such a lucky and likely unintended counter-attack, the brunette used her legs to drag herself down, and her sex away from her rival's. For a moment it worked. For a moment the bucks, though still ongoing, no longer landed on her most sacred and sensitive bundle of nerves. But just as that relief took effect, and Claire once again began to focus on the task at and in her hands, her eyes shot open in both shock, panic, and pain. As though she had lowered herself away from the clit-to-clit stimulation which had been threatening to end her moment of dominance, by doing so she had put her abdomen right between Lauren's thighs. Thighs which clamped closed like a vice, locking at the ankles behind the brunette's back.

After having secured her leg scissor, Lauren then flexed her entire body, and straightened herself, in the process dragging the brunette's choking hands away from her throat. Then, even as, just like before, Lauren coughed and sputtered, desperately searching for air, she squeezed her thighs together with all her might. Such pressure caused Claire not to whimper but to SCREAM out in pain, her air being expelled from her, and her insides being crushed by the blonde's tight muscular legs. As she suffered, the brunette brought her two hands down to Lauren's thighs and pushed with all the strength she could, but found that her rival's taut legs moved not an inch, and instead tightened in long, agonizing pulses.

Not content with only her devastating leg scissor, Lauren reached out for her pain-wrecked rival and cruelly took two handfuls of the brunette's hair. Then, with such grips, yanked back HARD, bending Claire's body awkwardly to the side once, and then again -- with each such torturous tug causing the brunette to whimper in pain. Through all of it, Claire pushed down against Lauren's thigh, hoping that suddenly her rival's legs would weaken and she could somehow escape. But the blonde held strong, squeezing hard and yanking viciously at her foe's hair. The sum total of that punishment drained Claire, leading her once pushing hands to relent, and then, almost rest against Lauren -- all of the brunette's focus spent merely on surviving -- on enduring the hold.

"Give up, Claire! Or I swear I'll keep you between my legs until David comes home and fucking finds us like this!" The blonde shouted, with anger-built frothy spittle flying from her mouth with every word.

"Ffffuck y-yo-UGGGHHHH" Claire tried to reply, but found her words broken, as Lauren punished her with another, horrific squeeze. It was then that Claire's eyes closed, and tears began to roll down her face. Then when her back arched, and she collapsed to the side, dropping back to the carpeted floor, Lauren's thighs never ceasing their crushing.

The true hopelessness of her situation began to dawn on Claire. It was over... David was lost... She had challenged her rival and lost. And now, all that was left was to run, crying from that rival's home, humiliated, broken, and defeated... As those terrible questions began to echo in her mind, she found herself squeezed again, and then yanked hard to the side so ferociously that her silent tears turned into wild sobbing. As she cried there, held firmly between her rival's thighs, the world began to shrink. Her heart began to ache. And her every thought became consumed by one last, final thought of escape.

Her pushes had done nothing to dislodge Lauren's legs. Her squirming had taken her nowhere and quickly. Due to her nearly identical build when compared to the blonde's, she could not power her way to her feet. She could not reach Lauren's hair or face. In fact all she could reach was...

At the very second the thought crossed her mind, she acted, reaching with both hands, and with every nailed-finger, looking to gouge them into Lauren's sex, just as Lauren had done to her before. But the blonde having been expecting it, and waiting for it, in fact, took her hair from the brunette's hair, reached out, and grabbed Claire's wrists. No, no, no, thought the brunette as her hands' advance was suddenly halted, and her last glimmer of hope was seemingly snuffed out.

So proud of herself, and so confident in her victory was Lauren, that she then loosened her leg scissor, and maneuvered herself over and then atop the brunette in a straddle of her stomach. But there the blonde did not stay long, as she immediately began to scamper up the brunette's body, the former still holding tight to the latter's wrists. Her intent was to finish off rival by sitting on her face, and sealing her nose and mouth shut with the lips of her pussy. All it would take was gently shifting her silk black panties to the side. If you asked Lauren why she would risk her victory, why she would try to finish off her rival in such a personal way, she could not answer with anything other than with: it just felt right.

Claire was so weak at that moment -- so broken by the still lingering pain of the blonde's leg scissor that she could barely resist Lauren's advance. And instead, beneath her rival, so just laid there, appearing to give in to her fate of being smothered out by and in her rival's pussy. But just as Lauren was a second away from reaching the face that was to be her throne, Claire whipped her arms back over her head hard and kicked her legs up and forward, doing both with all the strength she could find within herself.

Lauren, still holding tightly to Claire's quickly thrown wrists, and with the added force of two hard knees driving into her back, the blonde went flying forward. Doing so with such momentum that she was not only tossed off of the brunette, but then head-first into the base of a large grandfather clock that stood against the wall. A clock which began to chime with a deep, bass-filled bell at the impact, despite it not being the hour to do so.

The fortuitous blow was devastating and left Lauren not concussed or unconscious, but as close to both as one could be without being either. In that state, and at the bottom of the clock she laid. Not moving, only groaning, unable to do more. Finally free from the legs, hands, and attacks of her rival, Claire too remained and rested on her back, gasping for breath.

As each laid there on the carpeted floor, only feet apart, broken by the other. They each began to wonder if they would survive this. This brutality. Neither had ever had a physical altercation with another person in their entire lives, and now...? Now they two were locked it what almost seemed to be a battle to the death with each other for a man they both loved. Neither obeying any unspoken rules or holding back attacks that might be too violent or deadly. And though that thought terrified them both, neither let it stop them. Neither let it deturre them, from slowly, painfully dragging themselves back into the fray.

"Get up..." Demanded Claire defiantly as she began to push herself off the carpet, even though her languished, toneless voice betrayed her own exhaustion.

"Fuck you..." Lauren responded with no more vibrant a tone, as she too pressed herself up, her legs quaking from fatigued muscles, and her head still aching.

To their knees each made it before crawling towards and then reaching out for each other. Instead of quickly grasping and grabbing, the two women's hands and arms passed in transit, and then softly draped over each others shoulders. There, using each other almost as a crutch, they brought themselves to their feet, their foreheads meeting and pressing together as a brace.

"Why don't you just give up...?" Claire asked as her glassy eyes locked with her rival's. Such a connection occurred just before she found her question punctuated by her own grunt, brought about by a fist, driven deep into her stomach by Lauren. "UGH!"

The blonde responded as each leaned into the other, the tips of their noses again touching, and their lips only centimeters apart. "Because I love David... Why don't you give-UGHHH" But even in that closeness, Claire found a way to deliver her own punch into Lauren's gut, just before she finished speaking.

"If ... you ... loved him, why did it take meeting me ... to fight for him..." Claire's words were slow, broken by exertion, but biting -- cutting. Hearing them and their truth, caused Lauren to strike again, using all the strength she could muster to throw a hard, hooking punch, again into Claire's stomach.

With a loud "oomph" and no more, Claire began to slump forward, only help up by her press against the blonde's body. And though at that moment it was Claire suffering from the blow, Lauren began to stagger backwards, not even strong enough to maintain her balance under the weight of her rival's collapsing body. Had Lauren been allowed to continue her off-balance stumble, it is likely Claire would have fallen face-first to the carpet. Instead however, the brunette too mustered the energy to strike, and in a like manner, sent a hard, thudding punch into Lauren's stomach. The blow sent both women down to their knees in a clump, each leaning against each other, absolutely ruined by their battle, their heads coming to a gentle rest on the their rival's shoulder.

In that position, kneeling before and leaning against one another, the two began to bring their arms back, and then swing them forward with all the force they could. Taking turns throwing their fists into each others soft and now bruised abdomens. Again and again they struck, each blow taking from them a little more wind and a little more energy. In the silence that surrounded them three things could be heard, the sounds of knuckles slapping against flesh, groans and whimpers of pain, and then ... after not too many strikes, sobbing -- from each of the two rivals.

One might think that with such a sound, the fever would break -- the madness. That finally these two women would realize that whatever David was, he wasn't worth this. That they would forgive each other, abandon their feud, and embrace in peace. And though both Lauren and Claire did embrace, it was not for such a charitable reason. No, for instead the two wrapped their non-punching arm around their rival, but only to keep them there -- to keep them close, so that together they could finish this. Each believing that whichever one of them were to finally fall from this cruel hug of pain and anger would likely be done for.

In that certainty, as each cried on the others shoulder from pain, anger, and frustration, they delivered one deep punch after another to the others exposed tummy. Each cursing, threatening, and promising each other defeat and ejection from David's life in soft, windless whispers, spoken as each woman's lips pressed to their rival's ear.

Purgatory it could be called, a punishment for their sins with and against David, each taking the role of judge, jury, and executioner to dole out this long, painful embrace of jealousy and malice. An embrace into which both women sank, lower and lower, no longer even able to keep upright with the others help. And though each expected to fall apart, and in so doing to separate, each being forced to find the strength, somehow and someway, to stand or reengage, they instead fell together. The two landing not with one atop the other but on their sides, bodies pressed together.

Both in utter exhaustion and panic, they reached for their rival's hair, and buried their fingers deep. With that grasp they each pulled and yanked, trying with whatever reserves they had left to roll the other to her back so she could be mounted. And though roll they did, neither stayed in one place for long, both failing to remain on top long enough to take control.

The punching had ended, but their sobbing continued, as the intensity of the moment, and their own frustration at being unable to put the other away continued to mount. In that seemingly unreachable purpose, the two aligned and straining body to body, eyes locked in a hateful gaze, their tears began to drip onto each others faces, and even into each others eyes as they rolled. Closer and closer they pulled, as their thighs and calves coiled around each other and then released. It seemed at that moment they might be bound together by hate like that for eternity. But suddenly, as that fear crept into their minds, Claire softened entirely, and her dry lips lowered and pressed to Lauren's.

The blonde, on her back and in shock, desperate for a moment of respite herself, and honestly turned on by every moment of this struggle, gave herself to the kiss. Her muscles abandoning their tension, her fingers, which had been dug deep in Claire's hair releasing as her hands moved down to Claire's thighs. As all occured, the blonde's legs too relented and released from the brunette's, as the blonde began to settle into her passion.

Claire, in all ways seemed to be going through the same transformation, as their kiss intensified, with tongues parting lips in search of one another. Breaths even more broken and ragged than before, as excitement seemingly began to take them both. Their bodies both literally quaking from fatigue and excitement.

In that moment of finally released lust and desire, Claire began to crawl forward, her hands moving to Lauren's breasts to squeeze them, as her sex drug over her rival's. In response, Lauren offered only soft, passion-drenched moans, as the tears began to dry from both women's eyes.

Anyone watching would have thought that finally these two rivals had become something else. That they had abandoned their desire for David, agreed to share him, or at least had decided to find another way to solve their dispute. But just as Lauren was sure of those assumptions exactly, Claire's slow, methodical, crawl, became a quick, forceful clamber. The brunette breaking their kiss and mounting her rival, before the blonde had even opened her lust-shut eyes. Lauren, when finally she realized what was happening panicked and began to try and wriggle free, but she found no room to do so. For during Lauren's moment of carnal cravings, her arms had been placed in just the right spot to have Claire's thighs come down and pin them beneath her.