“Stunning” Stephanie
No longer sure how long we’ve been going at it. Initially it took me some time to get over the shock of what you had proposed, quite possibly the biggest decision of my life being sprung on me unexpectedly. After some time when I was able to start thinking straight I accepted but of course it wasn’t a straight decision, your proposal came, quite rightly, with a caveat.
If I wanted to be the one to carry our new child I would have to earn the right by defeating you in a fuck fight. That stipulation coming as natural to me, of course, I want to be the one to carry our future child but I absolutely understand that with our unique family structure I should have to earn that. Me still a little woozy as you told Jordyn and insisted he come and watch us compete to decide who he impregnates.
Then the two of us threw ourselves at one another both forcing orgasms from one another taking turns dominating and being dominated but neither quitting no matter how in trouble we were, this means too much to us. Both of us laying on our backs side by side, exhausted but neither willing to surrender, you pushing me to earn this and me giving everything I can back to show I deserve it.
The two of us laying together, panting, covered in sweat and other liquids. No hatred or animosity at all in this fight, yes we’re giving everything but not because we hate one another or feel the need to show we are better but out of love for one another and our yet to be conceived child, we both want what is best for our family.
Laying on your left, breathing heavily, pushing my face against the side of yours and kissing you “…more…” I pant, both a question and a demand, my right leg over your left as we lay there legs spread wide. We’ve competing in almost every position possible so far and under normal circumstances one of us would probably have conceded defeat by now… but not today… not with the stakes this high… not for personal gain or for pride… for our family.
Amber “Little Miss Alpha”
It has always been first to cum. Victory coming with a sudden seize, a curling of toes, and an exasperated cry of defeat and regret.
But as we knelt on the bed, preparing ourselves mentally, emotionally, and physically for the contest that was to come, Jordyn let slip a comment that wormed its way into our minds.
“What does a single orgasm even prove, you two?” He asked flippantly, but we could each tell it had been a thought in his mind for months. Maybe since the first time we sexfought. And though we tangle because of our needs and desires, he is an audience we cherish and a reward we enjoy. And so especially now, in a fight of so much importance, we turned, shared a gaze, and nodded. Leaned into one another with our tits, and then whispered dares and threats into each others ears. Each of us making clear, this wasn’t about one orgasm or twenty. It was about who gives in first. Who can’t take another second of sexual stimulae without ruin.
And so, these handful of hours later, we are still locked in this struggle. Laying side by side, with our giant chests heaving. Desperately searching for air in the sweat and sex scented room. Our inner thighs coated with juices spilt from each of us.
It is a moment of rest and respite that ends when you turn to me and ask for more. Just your hearing your sexy British voice makes me moan as we dive into another kiss. Spreading out legs and locking together at our soaking, hot clits. Our shaven mounds, this late at night, already growing back a sprinkle of pubic hair that scratches gently with every slow, beginning thrust.
“Give in, Stephanie. Give into me….” I mutter into our kiss, as we fuck. Our thicc thighs covering so much, though we position them just right to let Jordyn enjoy the sight of our glistening pussies at war for a child.
Stephanie
Part of me hopes that you won’t be able to answer me, that just the very idea of me being able to continue will be enough for you to throw in the towel and admit I’ve earned the right to carry our collective child but even in your clearly exhausted state you refuse, labouring to turn to face me as we start to kiss again, our bodies struggling both for air and for hydration, my tongue feeling rough and dry as it enters your mouth once more in an attempt to subdue you orally as we manoeuvre our thighs to allow us to once more meet pussy to pussy.
Bumping, rubbing, grinding, smacking our wet, hot and raw cunts together every contact no matter how small forcing us to moan, groan, wince and shudder, both of us so incredibly sensitive that Jordyn could easily subdue the pair of us if he so wanted. No words I’m capable of thinking that can explain the torturous pleasure we trade, much like the laughter that comes as someone tickles you despite you desperate for them to stop our pussies somehow continue to produce new lubricant even in our dehydrated state a reaction linked to pleasure coming from a sensation so overwhelming that neither of us can still associate with gratification.
Jordyn sitting there, largely silent watching his two lovers, his American wife and his British girlfriend, 2/3 of our far from traditional relationship battling one another not out of hatred but out of care for a child we don’t even have yet.
“…my turn… mine… I’ll bear her better… give in… give in Amber” exhausted to the point where I’m not fully ‘with it’ my mind clouded, like being drunk or waking up after just a few short hours sleep but at the point where I’m not even aware that’s the case… many of my movements coming almost automatically, momentarily forgetting where I am or being fully conscious of what I’m doing or why but then forgetting that to before the initial confusion reaches the point of alarm, just knowing what I’m doing is important but my every few words has a distance to them as if I’m simply rambling to myself.
Still though I continue to battle you, unwilling to accept 2nd place, my pride makes losing any fight difficult but this… this goes far beyond pride… beyond want… this, truly, is need. Not sure if my psyche can deal with losing to you in such an intimate battle with such important stakes, stakes that I will have to live with for the rest of my life, you bearing our next child, you being pregnant, every time I look at our newest child having the knowledge that you beat me to have them… can I ever accept that? Will it haunt me forever? I genuinely don’t know and it terrifies me that I might have to find out and so I continue. ()
Amber
I would let you, but I can’t. Give the honor of bearing our family’s next child to you, but I know you wouldn’t accept it. Not without a fight. And a REAL one. I could picture it, if I give you even a single inch you haven’t earned, it will break you. Maybe it would strike tonight after you claim Jordyn’s seed for your own. Maybe in a week when you look back on this struggle. Or a month, when something I say or do brings back a memory you had forgotten and at the time ignored.
And so I give this battle and you, everything I have. Not everything until we’re close. Not everything until the food before the finish line. But all of it, until I can give no more. Wanting your pregnancy to be as happy and fulfilling as mine was. Without a single reason to look back on this war with shame.
And though that fight and fire was my lodestar hours ago, and a guiding light in the past half many, now I need neither. For we now strain against each other on pure instinct. Our breathing heavy and quick. Our every movement coming with a bone-deep ache, and muscles that threaten to fail us.
In fact, we are in such a state of disrepair, that if somehow we were suddenly on opposite sides of the room, and had to crawl back to each other, we most assuredly would fail in the endeavor. But to our luck and perhaps ruin, we are near. Near and pressing together on our sides. Sore and bruised tits smashing together for what feels like the hundredth time, as we in our foolishness sought early, often, and late to use our tits to turn on and break one another.
Our muttered demands and mouths meeting in another kiss. One centered by weak, failing tongues that betray how far into oblivion we have driven each other. A sign that you act on, perhaps without knowing it, as you press your top-side shoulder into mine, as well as your forehead. Pushing me to my back and then slowly, painfully, crawling atop me as I pull my lips from yours groan out. “Noooooo, I can’t….”
Stephanie
I need to win. Need. Need is far too often used as a synonym of want but want and need are too different things. Everyone has things they want, more money, a bigger house, larger breasts, a faster car, a swimming pool, an exotic holiday, but need there are very few things any of us truly need, food, drink, air that’s about it if you’re being strictly literal in your usage and right now I can barely think at all, let alone can I think of a word more fitting that need. Yes it is something that I happen to want, although at this stage it is more a compulsion, a requirement, an urge rather than a simple wanting but I simply can’t comprehend what will happen if I don’t earn this and that requires winning and winning genuinely, any hint of charity, any sign of generosity and all of this is wasted and for nothing, everything about this becomes soiled and ruined, not just this fight but the future of our child will forever be tainted. So yes, this is a need, not a want.
For sometime now I’ve been using every coping trick I can think of to continue, setting myself milestones, lying to myself that I only have to give it my all for another 30 seconds, then forever extending that time, trying to switch off mentally and just go through the physical motions disconnected from sensation, distracting my mind, coming up with scenarios and ideas. It’s not that I don’t have motivation, I do but even as powerful as this need to win is for the place we’ve taken one another to I am using everhing I can, every trick I know to just stay in the fight. As badly as I have to have this you are giving me no quarter, showing no mercy, you’ve taken me past every limit I thought I had when it came to endurance and remarkably we’re both still going so I can’t let up for even a moment, not a single sign of weakness, not one little mistake. Everything must be done perfectly if I am to overcome you and earn this.
Exhausted as I am I have a moment of clarity, picking the precise instant to lean against you to push you onto your back and to claim top spot. We’ve traded all sorts of places so far in this contest, side by side reaching over and rubbing and fingering the other, on our knees doing the same whilst our breasts battled, we’ve 69’d, we’ve tribbed, we’ve used every part of our body that we possibly could to force the other to experience pleasure, mouths, tongues, fingers, hands, thighs, breasts, nipples, feet, toes. We’ve used our bodies, our words, our minds.
Now though we are both so weak and as I force you to your back you plead… I don’t hate you… we’ve spoken recently of some of our competitions, how aggressive we’ve gotten, how we risked losing our way as lovers, it’s something that as soon as you mentioned it, it hit me like a brick, it’s been on my mind since and you were so right, the sound of you groaning weakly in protest, a part of me would now want to stop, to cradle you, to simply claim victory and tend to you lovingly, it’s not hatred that makes me continue, in this situation in this fight, it’s not about any grievance between us, it’s beyond our competitive nature, this is about OUR family and so hurt, exhausted, weakened as you are… you know why I have to continue… you know what I have to try and do, just as I would know, as I would accept, if our roles were now reversed.
“… you’re… mine… Amber… give… give to me… for our child…”
Sinking into you, almost entirely dead weight on top of you, our curvy, thicc bodies pressed tight together, stuck together with sweat and sex as I slowly but forcefully rub my pussy against yours, my red F cup breasts and painfully hard and chaffed nipples dragging up and down against yours.
“… give… give!”
Amber
If the entirety of the contest left was to sit up in this bed, without your resistance, it is possible I could win. If instead, however, it could all be decided by me getting from the bed to a stand on my own, I would face the test of a lifetime. And so when you crawl atop me, dragging your busty, wide-thighed frame atop mine with what little strength you have left, my fate seems complete.
At least in terms of where I will be when this ends: beneath you and on the bottom. As I have not the strength to move or dislodge you. Not now, or even 30 minutes ago. And yet still, I try. Desperately and pathetically moving my hands to your shoulders and pushing against you, as I try first to turn left and then with equally low results, to turn right.
My efforts are no threat, and yet you want to quiet them. End them. And so, even in your state of exhaustion, you search for my hands with your own. Clasping our palms, and lacing our fingers together as we each try to push in opposite directions. Me up and you down. Our limbs shaking at the struggle, despite the paucity of force that we generate.
Then, with my hands and pushing contained to our quivering arms, you move in to lock me in another kiss, but I turn my head. Letting your chin-led descent to bring us warm, red cheeks together and our lips to each others ears, as our hips continue to fire like a cars engine, one moving up while the other moves down and then vice versa.
A synchronized and beautiful dance between two pussies made to war and trained after almost a year to do just that. A dual-sided mastery that makes it ever so hard for us to ignore the pleasure the other inflicts, and yet here we are, leagues past any marker we have ever even seen before this night.
And worst of all I am on the bottom, and destined to lose, if I cannot somehow make my every stroke mean more and yours less. I have to distract you. Turn you on. Do something — ANYTHING to win this. And so I whisper to you, putting all of my focus into my words and our battle of bliss-shaken cunts.
“Steph….” I begin, and then fail as a new wave pleasure hits hard. “I’m going … to beat you…. Jordyn is gonna … fuck me and impregnate me as I … lay on top of you…. Then you’re going to—UUunnnnmmmmppphhh.” I hiss my threats into your ear, hoping they turn you on, until suddenly my words are cut off.
Stephanie
My pussy feels both incredible and wretched at the same time. A mixture of pleasure and agony. Arousal from such intimate private and gorgeous sexual touching. Unpleasantness from the soreness and rawness of so much prolonged contact and friction. Both wrapped up in a cloak of malaise, a fog that refuses to lift, a mental lethargy that is just as draining as the many moments that have gone by since this competition started.
The strange antithesis of arousal and anguish that should cancel one another out or where one should at least dampen the other but contrary to logic both exist at the same time, a paradox of pleasure and pain.
The conflicting and contrasting sensations not warring, simply, somehow, coexisting. It is this coexistence that allows me to want to cum, I want to orgasm, I want the pleasure, the momentary relief but now, this deep into the fight I don’t know if I can handle it, not just whether I’ll be able to endure the sensations, of that I’m not sure, but this far gone I’m genuinely concerned I might just pass out, my brain simply giving up trying to process so many and such strong obverse sensations and so I continue.
Looking down at you, loving your features even twisted as they are. Then you start to whisper to me and I FEEL the words between my thighs, I shudder at every syllable, not just your words, or the way you say them but the sensation of your breath against my ear, the intimacy of the act.
“uuuuh… oooh… noooooo… noooo” I can feel my pussy trying to latch onto something, the walls of my vagina trying to clamp down on a non-existent presence. “uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh… nooo… he’s… your… uuuuhnnnnnnnnnn”
I start to shudder, our moans meeting and my body convulses as I close my eyes tight and bite my lip as I have yet another orgasm whilst atop you, so exhausted I barely make any noise as I give in to the tremors then after a moment, go limp on top of you, too exhausted to move my body, my entire weight on you as I need to rest but still, albeit barely awake. ()
Amber
You’re fucking me so good. So hard. Our hoods catching and clits, with their tiny wrinkles catching for a quarter of a second before they peel free from one another. Each such decoupling makes us whimper into each others ear, even as I try to talk you to orgasm. To release. To explosion.
But even with those efforts, and the effect they seem to be having, I can feel you dragging me towards another orgasm. Not in a wild, dominant inflicting of will and womanly prowess. But instead, with only our hips moving. All else having stopped and given into a gentle rest to conserve energy.
But even in that slow, focused moment, we pull one another hand in hand and pussy to pussy to orgasm. Who will cum next and quickest? It is a question I dwell on, hoping that if I can just make you cum once more, you will be too sensitive to continue.
A wild hope, for a woman on the bottom. A desperate hope, for the woman trapped beneath. And yet it is all I have and so I continue to talk and hiss until finally, I feel your body seize. All of your exhausted muscles flexing at once, just before you mutter to me a rejection. A plaintive, pathetic “noooo.” It is beautiful. It is incredible. And it is far too much for me to handle. My body betrays me in reaction to an empathy for you I cannot control and obsession with our struggle neither of us truly understand.
My toes curling. Person shaking. And nearly dry pussy squirting out a nearly exhausted stream of essence, drawn forth by your cries of pleasure, pain, and rejection.
I got you first. By a second or less, and yet still, I got you. Which makes it what now? Four to six? Eight to seven? A tie in terms of number? At first we counted and gloated. Wrote the number on each others tits in cum with a pressing finger. But since those moments of energy and strength, we have abandoned both those taunts and even counting.
And though I we are not counting and comparing orgasms, we still must exist in their aftermath. This last exchanged pair draining us beyond all comprehension. Leaving us to just lay, you on top of me for what feels like an eternity. Neither of us moving. Neither of us speaking. The breadth and silence of it, bringing words to Jordyn’s lips, as he sits forward in his chair to check on us.
But just as he moves, I feel your hips SLOWLY drag your liquidless pussy over mine, and in a sharp, sting of near unbearable pain, I scream out in pain. My eyes which had already begun to water, turning to a sob.
Stephanie
I lay on you for I don’t know how long. The latest orgasm… not the most forceful orgasm I’ve experienced in this fight by a long shot, my body likely no longer capable of such thrashing and toe curlingly intense reactions but it’s enough to just stop me dead in my tracks as I collapse on top of you, our huge reddened breasts pressed together, our thicc bodies glued to one another with so many different fluids, the nectar from our pussies, sweat, tears and I feel so raw it wouldn’t surprise me if some blood was in there as well a blood vessel or two must have been broken by now and if by some miracle that hasn’t happened the friction burns must have left a few red grazes, it certainly feels like it.
Laying there, barely conscious, some small part of my brain screaming at me to move, it seems so distant, like hearing someone yelling at you from across a busy street whilst being fast asleep and dreaming of a rain storm, just the tiniest, most minuscule, so tiny that whatever word exists for it I don’t know it because it’s so small that I’d never have use of search a word, something so small that microscopic is too big… some diminutive, minute, teeny tiny part of my brain screams against a hurricane of white noise, numbness and slumber for me to move.
Despite my lethargy that voice is somehow, incredibly able to rouse something in me. The effort is barely detectable, but I grind my hips ever so slightly, I don’t even know if I’m doing it, it’s like that point right before passing out, the point where you’ve already lost all feeling in your body, when you’re deaf, when you’re vision is no longer colour and you can see the darkness closing in all around you and you try to move or you think you do, with no feeling of your own body, robbed of the sense, you have no idea if you’re actually moving or not and in that confusion you can’t even explain what motion is, how do you actually move any part of your body? You just sort of… do it, it’s not… will, it’s that weird disconnect between your brain and your body where you feel yourself make the move you want to and it just happens somehow but if you think about it you can’t even tell where that comes from. I’m well past that point, thinking I’ve moved, and I have, but just no way of knowing.
Despite not having much of a clue what is going on I continue trying, unknown if my efforts are working, it starts slow, it never really gets much quicker, but with each motion, each movement, it becomes firmer, more substantial, more forceful and slowly but surely I start to get the feeling back, for better and for worse and I know I’m moving and before I really know it I’m grinding down on you hard and, considering the pace we’ve had recently, surprisingly fast.
“… you… can’t… win… uhhhhhhhhh… cum… cum for me… and… uhhhhhhhhhhh… surrender… my win… my uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhh… turn!” ()
Amber
With each successive orgasm the percentage intensity of pleasure vs pain has grown. The first we drew from each other lying entirely in the column of bliss and ecstasy. Then the next was near-unaffected glory, with only a hint of sensitivity. Then a mile-high with a twinge. Followed by an unexpected whimper at the tale end of our moans. Then groans. Then tears.
Until now, as your slowly build back into a heavy grind, I am in agony even without orgasm. Pain from raw, dry, friction torn flesh, that muffles and muddles the pleasure I should be feeling. My suffering so intense, that even as you challenge me, and tell me to give in, I cannot even move my hips once, let alone fuck you back.
But I cannot let you know. Cannot let you see what your finally earned moment of dominance is doing to me. Not until I cum for you. Not until I give you your crowning, unanswered orgasm.
And so I find a way to pull my palms and fingers from yours, and then wrap my arms around your back. Pulling my lips from your ears and then burying them in your next so you can’t hear me cry, mewl, and groan out in pain. Instead letting you fuck my shattered, burned, and Steph-branded pussy until what seems like an eternity later, and as you finally tire to the point where you annot fuck me any more, I finally cum for you. Feebily. Forcelessly. And in so much pain that when the breakthrough pleasure I feel finally subsides, I bring my lips to your ears, and finally let you hear my crying. Whispering to you with all the love I have in me “I give…. I give… You carry our baby, Steph….” Words that then crumble into abject hysteria. No longer able to hold in the effect our battle and your victory had on me.
Stephanie
My physical conditioning has varied considerably over the years, back at senior school I was incredibly sporty and in great shape, often representing the school several age groups above mine. I played hockey, squash, lacrosse, netball, football, badminton I even once, after begging was allowed to play a game of rugby, I participated in several track and field events, cross country, hurdles, sprints, long jump. A bad injury some years later severely hampered my athletic endeavors, funnily enough taking place at my first proper job out of school. Since then I went through a number of short phases of being sporty or going to the gym. But through all of that I can’t think of a time when I’ve been this physically drained, this exhausted, and still somehow I continue, far past my best in this fight, that was a point we both waved goodbye as we sped past what feels like and what might well be hours ago at this point.
Sensing my victory is near, my moment of triumph of properly proving myself not just to you but to Jordyn. I know every single second I continue for will add long minutes of suffering on at the end, not just my body near breaking point but my mind and spirit but still I keep going, somehow tapping into energy that should have long been used up.
Rubbing, grinding my raw and oh so sensitive pussy against yours as I tell you that you can’t win, as I tell you that I already know I’ve won, that I’m going to have our next child.
You lay there under me, the lights on but if there is anyone home I don’t know what they are doing, for all intents and purposes right now you are an incredibly sexy lump of woman but I don’t relent, I need to hear you say it, I need to force you to concede, to make you surrender, to hear the words from your lips.
You start to move, I wonder if you’ve saved some energy for another attack but instead of fighting me you bury your face into me, I’m not sure if you’re trying to hide your reaction from me or if it’s a move, to kiss and lick at my neck perhaps, to bite me even? I’ve had a number of sex fights over the years but quite honestly none have taken this toll on me and I don’t know how either of us are still going and here, deep in uncharted waters I have no idea what you’re capable of… then… your breathe against my ear as your move your head and I hear the words.
“… louder… Jordyn… has… to… hear…” I mutter somehow still moving despite your surrender, my body screaming for mercy but I convince myself to keep going this time isn’t like the thousands of other times I’ve deceived my body, tricked it to continue moving with the promise that victory is seconds away, this time it’s no lie but Jordyn needs to hear it for himself… he needs to know I’ve earned this, that I’ve genuinely beaten you “louder!” I cry in both senses of the word, refusing to stop until I know he knows. ()
Amber
My mouth is so dry that I feel like I have been chewing on sand. My tongue so sore that it can barely lift to form words. And yet I overcome both frailties to tell you that you’ve won. That you’ve beaten Jordyn’s big busted American wife in the most epic sexfight of all time.
But you do not stop when I cry for you and tell you that I have given in. No, instead you growl for me to yell it. To shout my surrender to Jordyn. So he knows which of us truly came out on top. For a moment I try to gauge my abilities. My strength of lung and dexterity of lips and tongue. But then, when finally I decide that I could do as you ask, the darkness that had clouded our minds for so long takes me once more. My heart hardening and resolve resteeling.
How dare you make me tell him? How dare you ignore my suffering?! I ask myself, as my tear-filled eyes narrow into a glare. One I move my arms to your shoulders, push you back and then force you to look at, as we press forehead to forehead.
I won’t scream it. I won’t shout it. Fuck you Stephanie! I think to myself, as I set my every remaining cell to enduring your onslaught. My hips even starting to move again, fucking you just as you fuck me, even though every thrust sears and every separation burns.
In your eyes I can see confidence turn to fear, as the victory you sensed so close, I begin to take from you. Keeping it just out of your reach for seconds that turn into minutes. The same pain I felt moments before, and still suffer from finally plaguing you. Our two pussies so dry, so raw, and so seared by friction that we no longer moan, but instead cry. Sob. Groaning and whimpering in pain as we make a second mad dash to the end.
“Never…. Never…. Never….” I chant, like a mantra, as we each press. Driving our wounded clits and withered cunts together harder and harder. Driven now more than ever by jealousy, anger, and frustration.
You could have had it. You could have taken the win! You could have taken Jordyn and had him fill you with his seed as I watched, but instead you tried to humiliate me once more! And so are trapped now, in the ride of our life. Fucking not to please but to hurt. In a desperate game of chicken! A mad struggle of our endurances!
Until finally, nearly 10 minutes after you demanded I shout my surrender, I do, just as another final orgasm takes me. “I give!” I cry. “Fuck her, Jordyn!” I shout! “She gets to carry our next child!” I scream! As another new wave of pleasure and indescribable pain overtakes me!
The End
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