Only Way to Bond
McKenzie vs. Alexa P. from Discord

McKenzie:

It’s been a bad day, in an awful week, in a terrible month, in one of the worst years I can remember. Why?

Money.

Work. 

My friends being cunts. 

My boyfriends being even BIGGER cunts. 

Each of them leaving me where I always seem to be left. At the bar, on a stool in a pair of form fitting pair of black denim jeans. Heavy black boots lifted and placed on the golden pipe that travels across the bottom of the leg well. My weathered leather jacket hugging me in just the right ways to keep my breasts looking amazing in my tight red sweetheart top. 

One I wear, even though I am looking for anything other than a man tonight. In fact, not only am I not looking for a man, I’m not looking to talk. To ANYONE. I just couldn’t stand the thought of sitting in my apartment drinking alone as I stare at my old red brick walls. 

No, I had to get out. Had to break free so I could drowned my frustrations with liquor – clear, brown, or black. Whatever they got. Whatever they’ll give me. 

But as soon as I try to sink into that escape, and just forget that I have to be part of this fucking world. I catch someone staring at me. Not softly. Not flirtatiously. Not slyly, so I could only catch it on chance. No. She’s fucking staring. YOU’RE fucking staring at me. 

Glaring at me. 

And I swear to god if you don’t stop we’re going to have problems. With those malicious thoughts swimming through my mind, I try to just focus on my drink. Pounding it back in one quick SHOT, before I slam the glass down on the table and then speak. Making sure that as I do, I never give you the satisfaction of even looking at you. 

“You better stop staring at me, bitch. I am NOT in the mood.”

Alexa P.:

Her. 

I hate being away from her. 

I hate not getting to touch her body even for a single day. 

She’s like an addiction I can’t break, and I’d never want to anyways. 

The way she touches me… sure… it hurts. We spend more time trying to pull out each other’s hair and helping each other recover after a catfight than we do gently making love to each other. She needs it. I need it. We need each other. And it’s been a week…

A week away from her. A week away from the sexy madness that is our home. A week away from living every moment wondering if the love of my life is about to walk up behind me and just yank my hair as hard as she can. 

This conference has gone on too long, and worst of all, when I get home, she’ll be gone. It’s not just the ache of a week away from her that has me feeling like this. It’s knowing I’m going home to an empty house. It’s knowing that I won’t be pulling her hair for almost another week even after I walk back through the threshold of our home. 

So, I’m here at the bar, in my black top and my pink top and my blue jeans. The black boots on my feet make me look a bit taller and help push out my bulging bust. My intentions aren’t good. I want to fight someone. And not just anyone. I want bitch. I want a cunt who looks like she can put up a fight. And look who just walked up next to me at the bar. Your eyes forward. Ordering a drink like you don’t see my glaring at you, processing in my mind how good it would feel to tear out all of your hair. 

You don’t even turn your head, but at least you finally acknowledge I’m there. 

I smirk at your words, grab my shot and drink it down. I don’t slam the glass though. I calmly set it down before softly hissing the words… 

“Oh really… because I am VERY in the mood, cunt” … 

And as I say it… my nails lightly tap on the bar counter.

McKenzie:

Look, any girl who has ever gone to a bar knows this kind of thing can happen. You bump hips with a girl, she spills her drink, and suddenly it’s drama. You look at her man, or she looks at yours? It’s drama.

Drama. Drama. Drama. 

Did I do any of that to you? I don’t think so. Honestly, from what little I can gather from the periphery of my vision, still refusing to look at you, I don’t think we’ve ever met. 

Hell, I don’t even think you’ve been in this bar before. In MY bar. 

Still, you being new here or getting yourself lost in my territory is not my problem. No, I’m you’re problem. Now that I hear that voice of yours. Cooing at me, like you want a fight. 

Your voice a hiss lathered with venom, and when I hear it. Only then do I turn to look at you. Sizing you up, just as you do the same to me. 

“Look, bitch…. I’m sure on whatever BangBrothers set you came from, you’re hot shit. But here? You’re just going to get those perfect tits of yours torn off your chest, and every strand of hair you have torn from your scalp. So why don’t you do yourself a favor. Pay for our drinks. Then get the fuck out of my sight before I drag you upstairs to my apartment or into the alley behind the bar.” With my threat made, and merciful out given, I turn back to the barkeep, and signal for another shot. Then, as he starts to pour, I smirk and then raise my forearm, pointing at you with my thumb. “Tabs on her. But get the check, cause she’s leaving.”

Alexa:

This cunt. 

The confidence you’re showing. The sexiness that is just dripping off you. The way you quickly read how much I wanted to fight you and just pushed it aside. If I wasn’t taken, I’d be thinking about telling you no matter what happens for the rest of the night, this is our first date. The first of many. But unfortunately for you, I am taken, so you get the ass kicking and none of the fun. 

I just smirk at you as you talk about BangBrothers and my tits and the strands of hair on my head. At least you can talk the talk. 

As the bartender starts to pour your drink and you point at me with your thumb, I slide my glass out towards him as well. He looks at me, looks at you, and then back at me, and he starts to pour. I reach out and gently stroke his hand as he’s pouring, and I look him in the eyes. 

“Actually, sexy, put it on this whore’s tab. I’m sure she has one. In fact, put the whole bottle on her tab.” My hands slides from his to the bottle, and it takes almost no effort to snatch the bottle from his fingers. 

“The three of us” I say, holding up the bottle to make clear I don’t mean him, “are going to head upstairs. She’ll be down later to settle the tab. If she can walk, that is. If not, I’m sure she’ll be able to walk by tomorrow evening.” 

I take a shot, not from the glass but from the bottle, and I just glare at you. Everything about me right now says I’m ready to head upstairs and go to fucking war.

McKenzie:

“So… Which of you is paying? The unassuming and now worried looking bartender asks, his eyes lowered, though they still angle up at the two of us sheepishly.

“You know what, Mike. Put it on my tab. I’ll take it out of her ass.” I could leave him waiting. Leave him hanging. Telling him one of us will be down later to pay him. But I know that isn’t true.

Neither of us are leaving my apartment if we go up there. We’ll either be too fucked up, or too caught up in whatever hellish bliss we’ve decided to lock ourselves into. And so I take it off poor old Mike’s shoulders. The question of who will or won’t be coming down later. 

Wounded and disheveled – clothes torn and flesh carved. 

And with the words, he simply nods, and then turns away from us. Muttering a soft thank you as he leaves us to the moment we are so clearly having. 

With his exit, I spin on the stool, to face you and the bottle you took from him. My eyes and yours fusing together in a red hot gaze, just north of a glare. The feeling of excitement we both feel elevating hatred and rage to something far more enticing and intoxicating.

“I hope you didn’t part on a meter.” I muse, before taking that last shot the keep poured me and then downing it as we remain locked eye to eye. Then, as that good burn travels over and down the back of my throat. I flip the shot glass up into the air, and into your hands, as I dismount the still and then start to walk towards the stairs in the back of the bar. Only stopping when I reach their foot to wait for you. 

A cocky, malevolent smile on my face. The lips thereupon opening when you reach me. “I guess before I beat the shit out of you, I should probably know your name.” At the very asking of the question, I turn and start walking up the stares. Knowing you’re following close behind me, and that within less than a minute we’ll be at the door of my apartment and buried in each others hair.

Alexa:

I just watch you. You act like you own this bar. You act like you own this territory. Maybe you do. Maybe I’ve bitten off more than I can chew tonight, but that’s part of what makes catfighting so exciting. You never really know for sure if the bitch across from you is the better bitch until the fight is over. 

“Don’t worry about that. I’m at the hotel down the street. I walked her, and I’ll be walking home just fine.” 

You take your shot and then flip the glass to me. I roll my eyes, and as you walk off with the bottle, I take the other shot and then rise up from my stool. You stare at me across the bar. We both know the truth. One of us is about to get fucked up. But I walk towards you anyway. I walk straight towards whatever is going to happen this evening. 

“The only reason you need to now my name is so you know what name to scream when you’re begging me to stop.” I hiss as I follow you up the stairs, step by step, staring at your ass until we get to the top step, turn the corner, and I see you pulling out your keys. 

You reach out to unlock the door, and my hand goes to yours before you turn the key and undo the lock. 

“Last chance…” I say as I hold your hand firmly. “My name’s Alexa, and if you open that door, I’m not going to hesitate to beat your fucking ass. Do you understand?” 

As I ask, my head is turned towards yours, and we’re staring daggers at each other. I already know your answers, but I want to be sure.

McKenzie:

I suggest we should tell each other our names, and you threaten me. Because, of course you do. It’s what we have to do. Neither of us can show any weakness. Any doubt. As far as you’re concerned, your a goddess made flesh from fire. And in my eyes yours nothing more than prey. 

Even though we should both know, by all that’s been said and done. The confidence in your eyes and in mine. Neither of us are soft little wallflowers made to get picked off their wall and ruined. 

We aren’t going to latch onto each other and in an instant, one of us breaks. 

Begs. 

And then spends the rest of the night doing what she’s told. 

No, we’re two bad bitches, who just happened to meet on the wrong day. Or perhaps, the perfect day to move past catty flirting to tearing each other’s clothes off in less than half an hour. 

And though we should know that. Though we should be certain of what is going to happen when the door to my apartment opens. But still, when I reach to unlock my door, you reach for my hand, stopping me. The very instant your flesh touches mine a spark of electricity shoots up my spine. All as our eyes lock into a mutual supernova glare.

‘Alexa’ You told me your name, somewhere in what just happened. 

‘Alexa’ That’s the name that is going to be carved into my fucking skin before the end of this night. And though I found myself lost in loathing, at you daring to give me an out, this close to the moment we meet claw to claw, I give it. My own name.  

“McKenzie.” My voice almost trembling. Not with fear, but rage. Not trepidation but anticipation. 

And though I did give it. And though I did find a way to give you that one piece of information it seemed necessary for you to have. Only a few fractions of a second later, I abandon my turning of the handle, and in a flash raise my hands to your hair. The door still shut. The handle still unturned. And though those things are true, and should keep us at bay, in an instant we’re at war. 

Yanking and pulling – tugging and jerking. Left and right. Right and left. Cursing at each other, as our still clothed bodies meet and press. Breasts compressing and expanding as I try to shove you back, and you try to shove me forward. 

“FUCKING BITCH! I’ll ruin you!” Loud, hateful, and drenched in my need to hurt you, our battle begins. There outside my door.

Alexa:

The loud bar drowns out the noises we’re making in the hallway, but nothing could down out the fire in our hearts. 

McKenzie. 

McKenzie. 

I’ll have to be sure to remember your when I’m done beating your ass so I can tell Ewa all about the whore I met at the bar. If I can’t even remember your name, she’s going to laugh at me and make some joke about how hard you must have slapped me on the side of my head for me to forget your name. 

McKenzie. 

No. I won’t forget that. 

In an instant, you turned and started our war. Your hands go to my hair, and mine go to yours. You make the first move, catching me slightly off-guard and you drive me back into the wall across from your door. I grunt as your breasts smash into mine through our tops, and your whole body seems to press into mine. I can feel your hot breath on my neck as we grunt and curse. At least I like the way you feel. After I break you, I’m going to enjoy forcing you to pleasure me for the rest of the night. 

“FUCK YOU! ILL RUIN YOU FIRST CUNT!” 

I scream and use my right boot on your left calf, and I twist hard just as your leg gives slightly. We stumble back towards the stairs, getting closer and closer until we both twist away. That’s good. It tells me neither of us wants to hurt the other like that. Claws. Fists. Knees. Girl-on-girl violence. That’s fine. But I’m not looking to break your neck, and presumably, you’re not looking to break mine. 

“ARGHHHHH!!!” I scream as we twist away from the stairs, and I pull straight back on your hair, making your back arch and your breasts thrust up. I ram my breasts into yours and drive with my legs, shoving you back into your door. 

“I’ve been away from my wife for a week, you fucking bitch…. and now I’m going to make you into my fucking slut puppet” I hiss as I press against you. Your ass rams into the door handle, and in all the chaos, it starts to turn…

McKenzie:

I have neighbors. Some are noisy and some keep to their own business. But I could give two shits about them right now, as we fight. Struggling against each other as we careen through the old, dilapidated first floor of my building. Bouncing off of walls and each other. 

Towards my door and then away from it. Nearly down the stairs, until we work together to avoid falling down the same. You’re no good to be dead or paralyzed, and I can’t sit on your fucking face if I’m either of those things either. 

So, we twist and pull – drive and drag each other back to my door. A mutual movement that ends with you launching your breasts into the underside of mine. Lifting me up and slamming me down on the handle of my door. My legs kicked up just enough to avoid the key tearing my jeans. 

But with that lucky placement, my ass cheeks spread, catch, and almost grab the handle as I slide to the right. Turning it. And with another sudden charge by you, the door opens, just as I slide off of the handle. The two of us spilling inside, hairs still buried in each others hair, as we wrench each other one way and then the other. 

All of which takes place as I back peddle. Fighting not only you, but a battle not to trip and fall. That is until I find purchase with my boots. They catching on the lip of a thick, woven carpet. Giving me just enough traction to suddenly stop our advance and then fire back at you. 

Sending you back hard and into the door, just as it starts to swing shut. Your back crashing against it, as I press my body and breasts against yours. 

There, there, in that tight space, I hiss at you. “Fuck you. Fuck your wife.” God, as I speak I want to bite you. I want to devour you. But instead I continue with my threat. “I’ll send you back to her so fucked up she’ll be knocking at my door looking for revenge, SLUT.” 

With my hateful words spoken, I try to shift to the side, and try drive a lifted right knee into your stomach.

Alexa:

There are no rules in a girlfight. No one sits down before a catfight to talk about what’s fair and what’s not. It’s a fight. And we both seem to know what’s at stake: a night of being forced to pleasure the bitch who just kicked your ass. I grunt as you slam me back into the door. It closes hard, and there’s no way one of your neighbors didn’t hear that. 

We’re in that tight space, your body pressing into mine as we tug on each other’s hair and spit flies from our lips. 

“FUCK YOU! When I get home I’m going to fuck her, and we’ll laugh about all the fucked up shit I did to you tonight!!!”

Just as the words come from my lips, you turn hard, shifting to the side, and driving your knee up into my stomach. 

“UMMMMMMMMPPHHHH”

My upper body lurches forward, but unsuccessfully, because you are right there, pressing back into me, keeping me upright against the door. My stomach pulses, and I know that’s going to leave a bruise. I scream and try to push off the door, but you have me pinned… my abs aching… 

I pull back on your hair with my left hand as hard as I can manage, forcing your head back and your gaze up towards your ceiling, and with my right hand I release your hair, raise it up and start slapping down at your face… 

“FUCK!” 

“YOU!”

“WHORE!!!”

I scream and put my right boot on the door and shove, trying to force my way out from being trapped like this before you’re able to knee me again and really work me over.

McKenzie:

We’re in a fight. A struggle to see who comes out on top. Who gets their shit ruined, and who gets to spend the night making the other their bitch. And though we are, and though that should push me to focus on your body’s every moment. Tactically. Strategically. When I talk to you about your wife, and when I drive my knee into your tummy, I watch your face. Study it with a look of wrapt and wicked exhilaration. 

Why? Because I hate you.

Why? Because there is just something incredible about watching the bitch who talked shit get hit. 

And the best part? Not only can I see you suffer as I knock some of the wind out of your sails, you can see my face too. 

Watch the smile on my face curl up as I hurt you. The sight of it telling you exactly what kind of vicious harpy I am. A harpy, who goes to drive another knee, and then another. 

But before I can, you yank hard at the hair on the back of my head, and pull my entire head back with it. Forcing me to look at the ceiling as only a moment later you start raining slaps down on that same face that contorted with pleasure as you groaned and grimaced. 

“Owe! OWE! BITCH!” I cry, just before you suddenly erupt forward from the door. Sending me backpedaling once more. This time, the same carpet that played the role of savior catching my boot and sending me into a fall down to the floor on my back. Your momentum threatening to drag you with me, if you don’t let go.

Alexa:

God damn. 

It feels so fucking good to slap you. 

I wish you could see my face. I wish you could see the glimmer in my eyes as my palm smacks down into that fucking gorgeous face of yours that was just smiling as you kneed me in the stomach. I want you to know how much I enjoy this… how good it fucking feels to me. But you can’t… because my palm is making sure that your face lights up in pain every time I swing it down. 

And with a shove of my foot we go stumbling back, your boot catches, and you collapse backward. I suppose I should let go, but I don’t, and my body comes crashing down on yours hard… 

“UGHNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!”

My body smashes down into yours, but I swear it feels like its our tits that really absorb most of the collision. I can feel you down. Really feel you. You weren’t wearing a fucking bra, and neither was I. Those big tits you were showing off at the bar were really as big and firm as they looked without any support, and as basic as it is, it fucking pisses me off to feel another pair of tits. 

“FUCK YOU!” we both scream at each other as we moan in pain from the fall, but then I feel you jerk my head, turning to your right, and you pull me off you. 

“AWW CUNT!!!!” I scream as you get on top, and I reach behind you and start slapping at your back…slapping low… where your top has lifted and your skin is exposed… trying to really make it sting and hurt as I slap wildly and pull your hair, and our bodies grind between us.

McKenzie:

You could have let me fall. Could have let me go, and then strutted around my apartment like the top cat. Posing and preening for me, as I glare up at you. 

A lot of the women I’ve fought would have done just that. The ones who do this for vanity’s sake. The ones who fight because it makes them feel more confident about themselves. Where the show they put on is more than half the battle. 

But in our fall, I can tell what you are. Who you are. You’re like me. You fight, because it feels good. You found me, baited me, and then followed me up to my apartment to get off on us fucking each other up. 

And god, right now? As you lay atop me. Our seemingly matched pairs of tits pressing and compressing. I can feel it. The thing that has made me addicted to this and to women like you. Our bodies, even though we’re at war, and recovering from a hard impact on the floor of my apartment, aligning and shifting. On instinct. 

Pure primal instinct. 

And though they do, giving us just the briefest taste of what drives us both wild. Before we can focus on it or let it distract us, I reach for your hair and jerk you. Off and over onto your back. With you there, I role. Deftly taking off my already unzipped leather jacket, and tossing it across the room as I mount you. 

My thighs sliding down around your hips, and my denim-covered pussy sitting on your mound as we both start to slap with one hand, and grab for hair with the other. My left hand going for your face, as one of yours goes for my back. Neither of us unleashing dainty, girly little slaps, but wild, hateful, stinging strikes that make each of us wince and whiny – cry out and curse. 

“BITCH! BITCH! FUCK! YOU!!! AAAAHHHHH!!!!” I shout, as I sit atop you. My braless breasts hanging beneath my shirt. Daring you. Teasing you. 

Just as your kicked up top shows me just the smallest stretch of the soft underside of your gorgeous breasts. Breasts I reach for. Breasts I latch onto. Breasts I dig my nails into deeply. Beneath your shirt.

Alexa:

You’re on top of me. I’m screaming and squirming and trying to get off. And I’m cursing these jeans we’re both wearing. It’s not that the extra fabric between us makes the press against our pussies even tighter, but they’re also keeping us from pressing directly. Maybe that’s a good thing because I’m not sure how long I could resist this fucking heat…

“AAAAAAAAWWWWWWWW BITCHH CUNT!!!! STOP SLAPPING MY FACE!” I scream hypocritically because only moments before I was slapping your face at the door. 

But gawd… I wish I hadn’t said that… Fuck… I should have just let you keep slapping at my face. Because you comply with my scream, and I pay for it. 

Your right hand grabs my left breast from under my top, and you dig in. 

“AAAAAARGH FFUCCKKKKKKK!K!!!!”

I just scream in pain. You don’t pinch. You squeeze. You don’t keep your nails from my skin, you stab them in. And I SHRIEK in pain because of it. 

“GAWWDD GET OFF!!!” I scream and pull on your hair, twisting it around my fingers on my left hand and pulling as hard as I can, but you won’t fucking budge from on top me because you have my tit in your grip and you know I’m suffering.

My right hand comes from around your back. I press it to your stomach and I slide up under your top. I grab your left tit as well, but I grab from the side, extending my thumb, and I STAB it at your nipple as best as I could while my other fingers grip and stab in, and I push with my hand in the same direction as I pull your hair, and I scream as I try to force you off me… 

And meanwhile… our hips… our jeans…. our pussies…. they continue to rub as the rest of us fights…

McKenzie:

I have you. I’m hurting you. And there’s that cheshire grin on my face. My eyes narrowing into the tiniest little glee-filled slits as I gouge at your breasts. Digging my nails in as I knead them. 

I hear you scream and it’s music to my ears. Music we both dance to, beneath the din of claws and catfighting. Our hips, without being told to, grinding our kittens together. Even through our thick denim. 

The need for it. For the pleasure. For the distraction. For the release too great for our subconscious’ to ignore. Even though we are focused, fully and completely on wounding each other. On making the other give. But we’re so far from that moment.

Leagues, miles, countries, continents away from one of us breaking. Instead, we remain here, in the beginning of the beginning. Me clawing at your perfect tits, as you try desperately to get me off of you. Grabbing my hair and yanking, but when you do, I hold on. Not to anything other than those same tits of yours that make us even more perfect rivals than our attitudes or desires. 

And because I cling to them with my talons, and because your pull only worsens your own pain, I get to remain and torture. Remain and wound. That is until you reach up for my own left breast, and then with it in your grip PULL! Both that tit and my hair. And when you do, though I want so keenly to stay in my straddle above you, I fall, and you chase me. I fall, and you mount me. Splitting my spread thighs with your lower half. 

Thrusting your woman hood into mine, covered though they are. 

Your hair-bound hand moving to my right breast, as we lock in. Lifting each others tops up as we claw and dig – gouge and squeeze. 

Groaning and moaning. 

Fighting and grinding with our hips. The force of those met thrusts and simultaneous retractions cause, on one compression of many, the buttons of our jeans to catch. To snag. To pull. And then to snap off. 

“Fuck you and yours tits BITCH! I’ll tear them off your fucking ches–OOWWWEE!!! GOOODDD!!! FUCK!!!!” I try to tell you. Try to threaten you, but you give as good as you get, if not more. And though I would love to look unaffected and unwounded by your attacks, beneath you I suffer. Our now loose jeans starting to shift down lower and lower with every shift of our writhe.

Alexa:

You’re a bitch. 

A fucking bitch. 

And I love other bitches. 

My wife is the biggest that I know, and I adore her for it. I don’t know what you’re like outside of this moment. We didn’t talk. We didn’t get to know each other. Our whole beings could be so perfectly aligned that we could be best friends, but right now, all I can think about is hurting you. 

And now just hurting you, but hurting you in the most intimate, feminine parts of your body. I want to take the parts of you that make you a woman… that long, gorgeous hair… those perfect fucking tits… and that pussy that seems to be radiating heat at me… and I want to make them suffer. 

I want to make YOU suffer. 

But we’re both suffering right now… with our hands on each other’s tits… squeezing… gouging… kneeding… my G cups in your fingers being tortured as I scream out..

“Noo! Fuck you! And fuck your tits!!! I FUCKING I HATE YOU!!! AWWWW GAWDDDD!!!!”

The buttons on our jeans hook and pop open. We go rolling back and forth across the floor, spitting in each other’s face, screaming and hissing threats at each other, our jeans sliding down… Our legs start to get tangled in the thick fabric, and we roll to our sides… both groaning… holding each other… both pushing down on our jeans with our feet as much as we ca… trying to get them off us.. neither of us saying it… neither of us admitting it… why are we are desperate to get these jeans off?

Because we want to feel each other… I get mine off first, but instead of taking advantage, I put my foot in between your legs and press down, and your jeans finish sliding over your feet, and just as they do I turn into you, getting back on top, with my leg already between yours. I slide into you, our thongs rub to the other’s hip, and the moment I feel how wet you are, I hiss at you and then spit right into your face..

“Sluuuuuuuut!”

McKenzie:

We’re fighting! We’re attacking! We’re savaging! We’re suffering! 

And though we are doing all of that, somewhere in the maelstrom I feel a compulsion leap from subtext to sacrosanct. From unnoticed urge to undeniable desire. Something that softens our grips on each other’s tits, as our focus shifts down. 

Two women who found spark turn to flame from the very first moment we met, now … working together. Shifting and shimmying. Bracing and bending. Together and separately. Trying to work these jeans we love off our bodies as if we hate them. 

As if they are suffocating us. 

As if having them on is anathema to what we want. What we NEED. 

All of which proves to be true, when finally you get yours off, and then in one swift stab of your sole, you push mine off too. Then, as if we had taken a break together, you come back to me. You getting back on top without a doubt in your mind that I’ll let you, and in response, instead of defiance, I do exactly that. 

Allow you to top me. It makes no sense. It can be justified by no reason or logic. But we both knew it was right. And so you acted. And so I allowed. And then, once done, you surge into me. Bringing your soaked panties and dripping cunt to mine in a hard thrust. There, as we feel each other’s liquid lust and elicited excitement, you coo at me. 

‘Sluuuuuuuut!” Just as I growl back. “You want this sooo bad….” As our voices overlap and layer atop one another, you spit in my face. Your saliva landing on my lips, just before they open to spit back in yours. Then as that projectile wetness drips and slides down our faces, I lean up, and press my forehead to yours. My arms reaching around you so my claws can dig into your back and then draaaaaaaaaag.

“Your wife’s a lucky bitch….” I hiss, as my claws travel. I compliment, as my hips and yours start once more to dance.

Alexa:

I call you a slut. You call me one right back. I’m on top of you, but I don’t even imagine for a second that I’m in control. There is such a thing called fight lust, a primal, inescapable urge, and it’s the one in control right now. 

I spit into your face, and you spit back into mine. Yes, I want your bodily fluids all over me… 

Our foreheads press. I press down into yours like I’m trying to pin your head to the floor. Our lips brush. I won’t kiss you. Not yet. I’ve not lost that much control that I’d be giving into your lips only minutes into a fight. But gawd… the feel of them on mine… my lips start to extend… wanting to embrace yours despite my will to the contrary… and then I feel your lips move… not for mine… but to hiss… to say my wife’s a lucky bitch… and before I can agree… your nails stab into my back and start to drag across my skin. 

I arch up in pain, my lips pulling from yours as I cry out, and I swear the more I scream the more you dig into me. The bend of my back makes my pussy thrust to yours and I feel you grinding against me. It’s not just that we both want to orgasm. It’s deeper. It’s darker. It’s more sinister. We both know how hard it is to keep fighting when you orgasm… only the toughest bitches can just keep going… more often than not… you make her cum… you can have your way with herl…

And I want my fucking way with you.

You twist hard with your hands on my back, rolling me over and putting my freshly scratched back on the carpet. I scream out and grab your hair, pulling back, but I extend my thumbs and let them dig into your temples. A little migraine never hurt anyone, right?

McKenzie:

It’s always there, but it starts as a hum. A low vibration in the back of your mind. Something that wants, despite the hate and anger – despite the pain and power you fight over, to make you give in. Not to your rival, but to passion. To lust. To let your gripping, grasping, gouging fingers soften and press. 

To lose all sense of combat and countering, so that you can focus on not only feeling pleasure but giving it. 

It’s something we all struggle against when we’re fighting. A shameful desire we have to resist, so we can focus on fucking each other up. 

And though I always can. Always do. Fuck…. There’s something different about you. About us….

Something that makes that low hum a thousand times louder. Something that makes that gentle pull feel like the gravity of the fucking sun. 

And there, in that singular moment, it threatens to overwhelm me. Overwhelm us. Our hands pawing at each other, as we pull close, and near a kiss. 

Our lips brushing. Our eyes drifting and glazing. Our words no longer bragging and rage-filled, but instead desperate and weak. 

Even when we spit at each other, we can see it. How willing we’d both be to get into a fucking bathtub of the other’s saliva and just be. Mmmm, fuck…. 

But NO! BUT NO! We can’t! We won’t! We’re fighting and I hate you. Fighting and I want to send you back to that wife of yours torn, tattered, and timid. I want her to show up at my fucking door looking for the woman who broke her hellcat. 

And so I latch my nails into your back and drag. Hard. Hatefully. And when you react to that pain, I roll us and mount you once again. 

But the very moment I reach that perch you reach up and grab my hair. Your thumbs and their nails digging into my temples so hard, that I instantly start to scream out in pain. “AAAArrrggghhhhh!!!! FUCK! BITCH! STOP!” As I curse and complain, I also try to escape. Pulling back from atop you, and to my knees. But, you bitch, you follow.

Wrapping the calves of your spread legs around the back of my thighs. Pouring on the pain as in between your legs I start to collapse. Not back, but down. My upright posture giving way, as I spend all of my focus trying to endure the pain you inflict. My hands moving to your wrists to pull at them. All as once more you push your forehead to mine and hiss. Your hips, even in that new position, still firing. Still rubbing your cunt against mine. Giving me both satisfaction and suffering. Trying to drive me to orgasm, and also towards submission.

Alexa:

The pain on your face. It feels so good. I can’t deny you’re hot… I can’t deny that how sexy you are makes this all the tougher… but it’s the fact that you like to give and receive pain like this that is sending me into orbit…

And right now… I’m giving… and you’re receiving… 

I’m squeezing in my thighs… watching you scream in pain… my thumbnails pressing to your temples…. what is it about me that makes me want to torture someone I’m so obviously attracted to? 

And as my pussy rubs on your.. and my nails press into your temple even as you pull on my hands… I hiss down into your face… 

“I’m going to torture you McKenzie…. physically…. sexually…. all fucking night… Do you hear me, bitch?”

I get my lips close to yours as I hiss it, and the moment your mouth open even slightly like you were going to kiss me, I spit right into your mouth. You gag and scream and pull my hands from your head, making me collapse fully on you. Our noses and lips press. Our breasts smear together. Your arms push at my hands… trying to turn me over, but I keep pushing… resisting… forcing my body to yours… my pussy into yours… the sweat running down my legs and my back… the AC is blowing but there’s nothing that could cool us down right now….

You shove and force me over. You pin my hands down and start to grind on me. You spit on my face, but I spit back up into yours.

I pull my right hand from your grip…. I grab your ass… I dig my nals into your sweating cheek and I PULL…. pulling your hips into me… and digging my nails into your skin as we both scream…

McKenzie:

I want to hit you. To scratch you. To slash my claws at you and make you regret what you’re doing to me. To grab your breasts and tear them off your fucking chest.

But your thumbs stabbing into my temples are angled just right to keep me paralyzed. As if we had done this a thousand times. As if you knew exactly how to hurt me. Not any woman or women like me, but me. 

And so I melt in your grasp. My body seeming to give way beneath your thighs until I am almost in your lap. Pulling at your wrists to no avail. 

That’s when you lean forward and into me. You get so close, I think you’re going to kiss me, and in response, I open my lips. Their soft, lipsticked surfaces pulling apart just before another cannon shot of saliva flies between them and into the back of my throat. At the intrusion I cough and cry, until suddenly, you drive forward. Pushing me to the carpeted floor, before you throw yourself atop me. 

Your hands moving to my top to tear it off, just as mine move to yours to do the same. Pulling free the last fabric between our giant G-cup breasts before they seal together and compress once more. 

Then, as we settle in. Lost in the passion and fire of this conflict, we reach for each other’s panties and tear them off. So that finally, we can meet. Pussy to pussy and clit to clit, and god we do. Hard and fast. Our lips sticking together and spurting out small gatherings of liquid lust. 

“Bitch, I hate you.” One of us cries.

“I hate you more.” The other fires back. 

“I’ll hate you forever.” Another cry. 

“I’ll hate you longer.” The words are folly and nonsense, but as we claw at and thrust into each other, they make perfect sense. Driving us deeper into madness. Closer to the precipice. Nearer to the absolute depths of depravity. 

But we love it. We always have. You and me. Again and again. No matter what we say or how we get to this moment, it always drives us wild. Pleasure welling within us. Building and building. Swelling and swirling as we roll and then settle. Turn and then melt together again. Until an orgasm is so near – so close, that we lose it. Our control. Our fantasy. 

“Mommy….” I whimper to you weakly as the waves start to crash. 

“Babygirl….” You whisper back, your voice trembling. 

“Fuck me….” I beg you. 

“God yes!” You answer in a cry as we fuck there on the same apartment floor we we’ve fucked on over a hundred times. Always as different people. Always as strangers. But we always reach this moment. 

This consequence. 

Fire. 

Lust. 

Explosion. 

Satisfaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaction. 

And this time, when it comes for us, I kiss you. Desperately. Our tongues coiling somewhere in the confines of our sweltering mouths. Your saliva and mine mixing once again, as we ride each other through glory and bliss – cataclysm and carnal calamity. Our fingers still clawing. Talons still dragging. 

Until finally our mutual orgasm passes and we are left in its destructive wake.Your body atop mine. My arms wrapped around you. Our lips still met and kissing. Now slowly. Softly. And weakly. Until finally our kiss breaks, and we turn our heads. Effort and passion warmed cheeks pressed together. 

Eyes closed. 

Minds awash in chemicals that make our lips curl into soft smiles. Though the fire and tumult that brought us to this moment isn’t far behind.

Alexa:

“No. No. NO!” 

I threw the positive pregnancy test across the bathroom, and it collided with the mirror. It was still taunting me though as it landed face up, still showing the two lines. 

I was 14. I couldn’t be pregnant. 

Although, I was the poster child for the kind of girl who would get pregnant this young. It wasn’t mom and dad’s fault. They raised me right. But there was something in me… something wild… something bitchy… something too clever and smart for a normal life… I was bored constantly… acting out the moment I got bored… picking fights with other girls and fucking whomever I could find. 

That was maybe the worst part. I’d fucked more guys that I could remember last month. I couldn’t even tell you who the baby’s father was. 

I thought about terminating the pregnancy, but I couldn’t. Because as much as I hated that I had gotten pregnant at 14, I loved being pregnant… I loved that there was life in me… I loved that I’d have a baby to hold. 

But what could I do? I’d be 15 when I delivered. Mom and Dad insisted I still had to finish high school, college, even grad school. I had plans. I had dreams. And so we concocted a plan. I would have my baby. Mom and Dad would raise her as their daughter… as my sister. 

I should have been there more when you were growing up… my precious Amber McKenzie Pearl, but I knew you were in good hands. I loved you. I was the best older sister I could be to you, and it was easy, because you were so much like me. Catty. Gorgeous. Incredibly smart. Smart enough to know there was something wrong in the story of your life. Smart enough to sniff it out, and one day you asked. 

And I was honest. 

I told you I was your mother. 

You screamed at me. You screamed at mom. You screamed at dad. You were outraged, and rightfully so, and the only reason you didn’t fight me right there is because mom and dad were watching. 

You told me to leave and I did, and I only came around on limited occasions… always keeping my distance from you… always aching to be close to you. I even invited you to my wedding, but you wouldn’t come. 

When you moved away and started college, I’d find reasons to go to your new hometown, but when I came to your door above the bar, you told me flat out that you didn’t want to see me. I was heartbroken. I went down to the bar to have a drink, and I sat there, fighting back tears, getting angrier and angrier at you for pushing me away. It’s not like I was absent from your life. I was there for everything. 

Then you appeared. Looking as sexy as I’d ever seen you. You came up next to me at the bar but acted like you didn’t know I was there.

“Amber?” 

I said in a surprised tone. You didn’t answer. I grabbed your arm and said your name again. You glared at me. 

“My name’s McKenzie. Not Amber. And I’m in a really pissed off mood, so you better take your hand off me.”

I didn’t understand it, but I could tell… you wanted to fight. You didn’t want anything to do with me…. nothing except fight me. Not as my daughter. But as McKenzie. 

So I played along. 

“If you knew who you were talking to, you wouldn’t threaten me with a catfight.”

You smirked and told me your apartment was right upstairs. You said if I followed you, it would be the second worst mistake of my life (implying the first was ever lying to you). You turned, and I followed. I’d do anything to connect with you again. Even this. 

I followed you up the stairs and the door to your place was open. I came in and closed it. I saw you standing there in your bra and panties. 

“Amber?”

“My name is McKenzie… now strip.”

I did… and we fought… hard…. for 30 minutes… until you were on top of me…. grinding on me… our panties long gone… your tongue in my mouth… our pussies gushing at each other… you had beaten me… And when it was over, you said, “Any time you want to see me. Go to the bar. McKenzie will find you.” And that’s been our life for years now…. 

As the years past, the fights got more sexual. We’d talk more on the phone between fights, but we never could connect like we did when we were alone and trying to pull out each other’s hair. And it became more frequent. Quarterly visits turned into monthly. Sometimes I’d be here every weekend for several weeks in a row. Whenever I could get away because Ewa wasn’t around, I’d be here… in that bar… waiting for you.. only the bartender knew… he’d see me… and he’d make the call… I always assumed you were fucking him… I almost never had to wait long… and the moment I saw you… my pussy would start to drip… 

You were me. Everything a woman should be and more…. and if you hated me for the rest of your life … and this was the only way we could ever really connect… I’d take.. I’d take it forever.. fighting and fucking the perfect woman I brought into this world… 

And tonight… tonight has been as wild as ever.. the facade breaks, and you call me mommy… I call you baby girl… our tongues dart for each other’s mouth… we kiss.. and we CUMMM… squirting into your pussy as yours squirts back at mine. You beg me to fuck you, and I keep doing it with my tongue wrapped around yours. 

I lay on you as the orgasm subsides. I kiss you softly, and I moan, “Do you give?”

I hear you moan, and then you say, “Do you really think we’re finished, cunt?”

“Fuck you, McKenzie” I moan, and I start to rub my wet pussy back at yours…

“No, fuck you, MOM!” You hiss back and grab my hair, twisting me off you, but as you roll over on top I pull my right leg in and push my foot against your side, and I use your momentum to throw you off me. For a moment we just lay there panting, I slowly rise… glaring at you… and I turn and walk away from you… heading to your master bedroom, but I don’t stop there. I walk right into the shower, turn on the hot water, and I wait for you…

McKenzie:

I’ve tried. WE’VE tried. To me mom and daughter. To talk like normal people. Not in long convos that go off the rails. Not even in short ones. 

No, those attempts were more phone calls, where you picked up and answered. “Amber?” I wanted to respond. I wanted to say, “hi, mom”. To have you in my life, like you always should have been. 

Knowing it would help me. Knowing it would heal me. Heal us. 

But after you say my name. My real fucking name, I can’t speak. I can’t think. I can’t move past the way my life started with a lie. 

A lie I was told every fucking day for years. 

And so I just sit there, wiping away tears, and run mascara lines, as I hear you breathing on the other end of the phone. In those moments I can smell you. Taste you. But I can’t…. 

I can’t be “Amber”. I can’t be your daughter. Not in those moments. Not without….

“McKenzie?” You then say, and in an instant, I feel it. Confidence. Strength. Power. Indignation. 

“Fuck you, slut.” I spit at you through the phone. “Meet me at the bar, cunt.” I hiss, with my eyes narrowed into the tiniest of slivers. 

To those curses and catty challenges you reply with your own venom. And we talk each other into absolute unrepentant madness. Either with you free and unafraid to drag us both down into a loathing-laced back and forth. Or with you whispering to me, not wanting your wife Ewa to hear. 

Both drive me wild with excitement. Knowing that on either end of the phone we’re pleasuring ourselves. Not mother and daughter, but McKenzie and Alexa. Two hellcats locked in an eternal feud. 

A feud which has brought us here to this moment. 

The two of us on our backs. Feet away from each our. Our chests heaving as we fight to breathe. To calm. To come down from a moment that brought us both, not only to a mutual orgasm, but past the point where the pretense I need could be held to. 

Each of us claiming our roles. You mother and me daughter. In the throes of an incredible orgasm. 

But now, as that orgasm fades. And after I have made it clear we are nowhere near done. You get up, and then walk. Not out of my apartment, which would have driven me to tackle you before you hit the door. But instead, somewhere that makes me almost as livid. My master bathroom.

After all, this is my house. My life! And though I am hungry and desperate to have these sessions with you. I still resent all those years you spent lying to me, in the deepest of ways. And so as I recover the strength to do so, I rise and give chase. Catching you just as you turn the water on, and turn back to wait for me. My naked body crashing into yours, after each of us pulled our soaking wet panties free in our travel. 

Then, and there, I reach for your wrists, and when I catch them, I fight to pin you to the shower wall. Our quickly wetting breasts and bodies struggling and straining against one another.

“This is my apartment! My bedroom! My shower, mom! Don’t you da–” Suddenly my angry tirade is interrupted. And we are once more at war.

Alexa:

In my home, the water comes out nice and hot instantly. There’s a reason they call it insta-hot. If you would only come back home… we could have a life together… you could sleep in the same house as me again… you wouldn’t have to live above a bar… you wouldn’t have to deal with this small apartment… you wouldn’t have to deal with this shower that takes forever to spray warm water… 

And god damn… I wish we were in my home right now… or that you could have waited a fucking minute or two before shoving me into the shower… 

“UGHHH FUCKKKK!!!”

The cold water blasts me as you grab my wrist and pin both of them to the shower wall, but at least I’m not the only one suffering from the chill. You don’t seem to mind though as you scream in my face, shouting about this being your apartment… your bedroom… your shower… and as you keep screaming… unable to fight back with my hands… I just shove my lips to yours… catching you midsentence, and we start making out again… our lips spreading for each other… our tongues invading each other’s mouth and twirling… rubbing… fencing….

My right hand comes free of your grip as the wetness makes it too hard for you to hold me, and I grab the back of your wet hair and pull back. Your lips pull from mine, and your face pulls right into the stream of the cold shower. 

“You shouldn’t even live here, you dumb cunt. You should come home…. you should live with me!”

Of course… it’s not just me… it’s me and Ewa… the love of my life… my everything… who doesn’t know I have a daughter… she only knows the lie… I have a little sister… a gorgeous little sister… who’s so rebellious and aggressive she wouldn’t even come to our wedding… one day I hope you two will meet… if only so I can watch my wife and daughter tear at each other in the fight of century… 

I feel the water starting to warm and I push you back, shoving your back up against the glass and pulling your hair. My other hand comes free as my naked body presses into yours, and I reach down between your wet legs. My fingers grab your pussy gently, and I rub over your slit. 

“I’m going to fuck you all night, baby girl…. but only after I remind you who the better CAT IS!” and as I shout the last two words, my fingers SQUEEZE on your pussy, and my nails start to stab in.

McKenzie:

You’re right, I don’t fucking belong here in this crappy apartment. In this rundown part of town. Any open window letting in the smell of fish-guts from the market in the adjacent building. Any trip down the hall to leave backdropped by left-up graffiti markings and unswept floors. 

I should live somewhere nice and clean. Somewhere safe and warm. But you took all that from me. Not directly. Not so you can see and feel the guilt you should own. No, but instead by breaking me. My spirit. My soul. My heart. 

Refusing to claim me as your daughter because of what? Because why? Because it made you look like a slut? Fuck you…. 

“FUCK YOU!” I hiss our between kisses, as I fight to keep you pinned. My heavy G-cup breasts pressed hard against yours, so each pair flattens and expands out in fleshy rings between us.

 “You want me to live with you?!” Another break in our battle of tongues and passion, and when it comes I argue with you. Just as I always do. “With your wife who doesn’t even know who I aaa—FUCK!” As I try to tell you. Try to tell you exactly what is keeping us apart, your hands breaks free and grabs my hair. Yanking it back, so that you can then burst forward and shove me against the opposing glass wall of the shower. Your body then surging forward and slamming into mine, just as I had done to you moments before. There, you reach down, between us and my legs, and then grab hold of my swollen pussy. 

Then, as you rub and squeeze – stab and scratch. Telling me that you’re the better cat, I reach around you, even as I grimace and whimper – crying out in pain. My hands grabbing the back of your head with two firm grips of your hair before dragging your face down into our warring tits.

“You’re not gonna fuck shit, bitch! You’re gonna spend the night trapped between my thighs licking! But first, I’m gonna smother you out with these pretty tits you gave me!” Shifting my upper body left and right. Back and forth, I pull you deeper. Further into our met ravine of dipping cleavage.

Alexa:

I hold onto your pussy and squeeze. I can feel the water running down your body and into my hands, but I’m almost certain you’d be this wet even if the water wasn’t running. I squeeze a bit harder as you start to pull my hair, but then you shove my head forward and my face goes down into our swelling cleavage. It’s not just our tits that make it hard to breathe, it’s the water on them. Every time I try to say something or take a breath I’m either sucking on flesh or water. I struggle to breathe and you show no signs of letting me go, so I do what I have to do… 

My middle finger extends, and it pushes inside you… I’m inside my daughter…. fingering you… rubbing you… and then… STABBING…

My nails presses to your ceiling… I hear you scream and you pull back. I pull my hand from you so as not to scratch you there anymore, and you pull back towards the shower head which can be removed and settings changed with a simple twist. 

“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” You scream, and as you scream, I slap you HARD… right across the face… so hard you turn and lose your balance on the wet tile, and you end up on your knees facing the shower head. I reach down with both hands and grab your hair, and I pull up. I hear you screaming, and it only makes me smile. Once you’re back up, with your back to me and my chest in your back. I wrap my left arm around your throat from behind, and I pull you back, choking you. 

“I told you you were going to be my bitch all night… I fucking made you McKenzie… don’t you forget… you can be pissed off about your childhood all you want… but you’re still fucking mine… I own you…”

As I hiss the words I reach up and grab the removable shower head, but not before twisting it to extreme pulse. The water starts coming out of three jets at super high pressure with a pulsing mechanism so that it’s not just a constant stream. 

You’re screaming for me to let you go, but I refuse,,, and instead… I shove the shower head between your legs, letting the sprays pummel your pussy as I hold you in place and choke you.

“Mmmm you fucking whore…. cum for mommy… you damn cunt…. you wouldn’t even be able to stand a night in my house… not with Ewa there… its this life…. a catfighters life…. dialed up to 11…. you couldn’t fucking handle it…” 

I taunt you… and of course… it’s a lie… I’ve never been worried that you couldn’t exist in the life Ewa and I have built together… I’ve only ever worried about what happens when a twosome becomes a triangle… and my own daughter is involved…

McKenzie:

I have you breathless. Buried in my tits. Water pouring down over us. Between us. Pooling at the center of our breasts, in just such a way where when you try to breathe, you get nothing my scent and shower water that taste of my flesh and yours. 

I can tell you hate it. I can feel you struggle. In exactly the way you do when you hate something. Your reaction isn’t because you hate my tits, or because you hate being smothered. God knows we’ve done it to each other a thousand times or more. 

No, you want control. Need it. Not always, but now. Not in every moment of our battles, but in this shower. With me pinned against the wall. Your hands gripping and clawing at my pussy. 

And though I could give it to you. Turning soft like some subby bitch, I refuse. Just as you taught me. I rebel, just as you want. 

Keeping your head down, your face surrounded by titflesh, and your mouth submerged in that breast-borne pool of Amber-flavored shower water.

But then I feel it. A stab. A deep, vicious clawing digit. And in an instant it all comes undone. Before I know it I am on my knees and screaming. Then before I can even process what is happening, I am drug up by my hair, with you behind me. The showerhead detached and in your right hand, as your left chokes me. 

That weapon of water you then lower, as I struggle and yell. Down deep between my legs and then turned upon me. Not my face. Not my hair. But my pussy. God, it feels so good. God, I love that’s your choking me. 

But I don’t relent. I don’t give in. I don’t let you. No, I strain with everything I have, even as you whisper to me. Telling me to cum for you and that I’m not woman enough to survive with you and your precious wife.

I hate it. I hate you. I hate her. 

But it feels so good. Not just the water which massages and assaults me. But your cruelty. Your control. Your power. And so, ever as my hands reach behind me and start to claw at your hips, thighs, and ass. 

Even as I use my feet to try and kick you or trip you. 

I turn my head, find your lips, and then kiss you. Doing so, though I can’t breathe. Though I can’t fight you. Though I am, in that moment a slave to your will. We kiss as pleasure and lust starts to overwhelm me. Welling deep inside me, as I feel my lungs burn and lips drag at the air inside my own mother’s lungs.

Alexa:

Treating other women badly isn’t just a hobby of mine. It’s a passion. Hurting them. Abusing them. Humiliating them. It’s a rush. I can’t get enough of it. And to find someone like Ewa…. like you… who seem to want it just as much as I do… who keep coming back for more in this terrible faustian bargain…. where I want to abuse you… you want to abuse me… and so we keep coming together to see who gets her way… 

Right now… it’s me. In control of my own daughter… choking her…. holding a pulsing showerhead between her legs and fucking against her will… of course… not totally against her will…. 

Your hands reach back to try and grab me… your feet stir trying to take my legs out… but the tile is wet… and the showerhead is doing its work… I hear you start to moan… like a whore… 

“God you sound like a basic slut…”

The taunt makes your arms start to move again, but I keep the choke on you to remind you who is in control. And the longer I hold you like this… the weaker you get… until your knees start to give out… and gently we go to our knees… my arms holding you up as we get lower… you collapse forward… your hand going to the wall to keep you up… you’re panting … moaning… 

And I just keep holding it there… right between your legs… letting it work you over… I feel you start to spasm… I know you’re orgasming because the feel of your body is joined by loud cries and moans….. and I just keep it there… 

“Moooooooooooooommmmmmmmm” 

You moan for me…

“I’m right here, slut… I’m the one doing this to you…”

I can tell you’re cumming over and over… but I don’t know how many times… you start to scream even louder… your body clenching even tighter… 

“I told you I was going to torture you all night…”

You start to scream…. you almost fall forward completely… I can tell you’ve had enough… and so I let you go… watching as you collapse onto the floor of your own tile… 

I reach up and turn the water off, and then I grab your hair. I step out of the shower, and I start to pull… you moan as your body starts to turn… but quickly you realize you have no choice… walking on all fours like THE BITCH YOU ARE…. and I drag you towards the bed…. I sit up on the end of the bed…. my legs spread… you on your knees before me… and I pull up on your hair until you are face to face with the pussy that birthed you… your mother’s cunt…. spread… wet… glistening…. and I moan at you…

“Eat me, whore…. and the fight’s over”

McKenzie:

I came for you. God, I came for you so many times. You had me at your mercy. Too weakened by pleasure and taboo to fight back. On my knees moaning like a whore. Like a basic fucking slut.

Damnit! DAMNIT! 

I hate it, though part of my mind begs me to just accept and enjoy it. To give you the baton and control and let you dominate me. That the sane part of me. The normal part. The section of my brain that somehow hasn’t been overtaken by nature and nurture.  

Unaffected though that sliver of brain matter is, as the last orgasm fades, somewhere between the shower and my bed, the rest of my consciousness awakens. The part you gave me. The part you’ve trained, either in these battles, or in the childhood we both suffered through. 

“Bitch, let me go!” I grouse, as you toss me to my knees and climb on my bed. Spreading your legs, and displaying your glistening pink pussy. Telling me to accept my defeat and lick you. 

Offering me the same fucking out you did at my door. And just like then, it pisses me off. Just like then, it makes me become every bit the daughter of Alexa fucking Pearl.

“You’ll be the one EATING PUSSY, MOM!” I shout and then lunge. Not on top of you, but to your left side and past you. I can tell you didn’t expect that less than direct attack, and so you try to catch me. Grabbing at my legs, as I scurry over my comforter and then dive for my nightstand. 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?!” You growl, as you try to pull me back. Wanting my lips on yours and my tongue buried deep within you. But as you grasp and grapple with my legs, I kick. Not viciously, but just enough to break free and push you back. 

And though those slamming soles and crashing toes do move you, the send you over, and your upper body off the right side of my bed. Your legs and ass still atop and on. Not just as I grab what I was after, but then again, as I spin and dive on you. Reaching down, grabbing you by your lucious brown hair, and then dragging you back up and onto all fours on the bed.

Then, with you there, I drive the item I chased into your cunt. A pretty red double-ended dildo that seems only a percentage or two short of being large enough for the two of us, until one takes into account my plan.

“Let’s see if you can out cat me when we go ass to ass, mom!” I challenge as I shift, align, and then while on all fours, drive the opposite side of that toy into my own pussy. The feling of it. The sensation of it new to me, though in an instant you know. 

What toy it is and where I got it. Who was usually on the the side of the toy I’m on, using it to fuck you wild.

Alexa:

It was a dumb gift, but I thought it was sexy. It’s not like we were giving up cock forever. Neither of us expected anything approaching monogamy, not with men or with women. We both knew who and what we were marrying. But it wouldn’t be like us to get Hers-and-Hers towels, so I got us something different. 

A dildo. A double dildo. A thick double dildo with our names on each end… but our names weren’t pressed in… they were raised… they were bumps… so we could feel them…. I’ve used the dildo many times… especially when Ewa is away and I can’t make it over here to see you. I always use her end when I use it alone. I make sure the bumps from the letters E-W-A rub over and over on my clit. In a small way, it makes me feel like she’s still there. To say I KNOW that dildo would be an understatement… 

And the moment you shove it inside me from behind…. the head penetrating my wet, eager cunt easily… I feel it… the letters… not E-W-A, but A-L-E-X-A.

At first I moan…. then I feel it… the raised letters… I try to process what I’m feeling … there’s no way… you’ve never been to our house… you’ve never been to our bedroom… but how did you get this…. how did you get this toy… I would never have taken it from the house… and there’s only one in the world… you… you must have been to my house… but when…. why… who let you in…

My mind is racing, but before I can even say anything about it, I feel the dildo suddenly driving deeper into my pussy and your ass smacking back into mine. Fucking bitch and her young kegels…. you must have a death grip on the faux cock because you ram it into me and pull back easily…. 

“FUCKING WHORE! WHERE DID YOU UHHHHHNNNNNNNN!!!”

You slam in again and I grab the bed… trying to brace myself… our ass cheeks clapping together… your pussy fucking mine with the big faux cock. The letters of my own name rubbing inside me… the letters of my wife’s name rubbing inside you…

“CUNT!” 

I scream, no longer as worried about how you get the dildo as making sure that I don’t end up fucked by my daughter like this. I grip tight with my pussy and pull back, and then I slam into you… trying to drive the dildo into you… fucking my own flesh and blood with the end of the dildo normally reserved for my perfect wife.

McKenzie:

How many times have you invited me over. How many times have you sent me your address in a text. 

‘Please, come home.’ You’d beg me. 

‘It can be like it always should have been.’ You promise, but get no reply. Your address left as an addendum, in case, despite my silence, I decide to give in and get past our history. 

And though I know you believe that I have always rejected those pleas summarily. And that I have never even seen your beautiful home. You have no fucking idea how many times I have sat there in my weathered, rusted, and paint-torn Geo Metro. 

Watching you and your pretty wife eat some home-cooked meal. Scarfing on whatever the cheapest dollar menu crap I could find. Glaring at you and her. Wishing I was there beside you, and that she even fucking knew that I was your daughter. And by all rights, hers too.

But no. BUT NO! I’m your dirty little secret. And so all I get to do is watch and envy. Gaze and wish. Mutter to myself, before I take off in a rage. Until that one night, I watched your wife leave. Her busy day ahead distracting her to the point that when she pulled the door shut behind her, and it failed to close all the way. I decided to go in. And to see up close and personal the life you built without me. 

And though I saw a lot of shit that pissed me off and made me jealous. It wasn’t till I found this double-sided dildo. One with both of your names on it, that I knew I needed to act and not just witness. Take and not just hate. And so I did, and now ass to ass, in the center of my bed, we slam. Again and again. Feeling you’re gorgeous wife’s name drag across my deep inner walls. 

Hating that I love it. Hate that I it makes me so much more fucking hot, knowing that those three little letters, raised and curved, are making me moan. You and she, somehow, even in her absence, working together to make me cum. 

All as I tell you how I have it. And how I took it from your beautiful home. “I stole it from you! From her! FUCK! UNGH! It’s NOT FAIR, MOM! IT’S NOT FAIR!” I grouse as we grunt. Drive my supple ass cheeks into yours, as we fuck. Every collision releasing a little spritz of essence from your pussy and mine. Wetting our cheeks as they collide in audibly fleshy claps. 

Until we slow. Until we grind. Sliding our asses left and right. Left and right. Wriggling and wiggling, to drive that toy deeper into each other. 

The years I’ve spent strengthening my kegels paying off, as I find myself able to hold and push. Keep and cram this tool of jealousy and hate deeper into you than you can into me. 

“But take it! TAKE IT, BITCH! Getting fucked by your own daughter!” I cry, as we continue to war. Ass to ass. And filled pussy to filled pussy.

Alexa:

I hear your confession… you’ve been to my house… not just to my house but in my house… how you went into my bedroom… how you stole my toy…

My mind immediately fills with wicked thoughts…. thoughts no mother should have… I start to imagine you with the toy all alone… which end did you use? The end with your mother’s name on or the end with her wife’s name? I imagine you sucking it… pushing it between your legs… riding it… cumming all over it… sucking it… thinking about me and my home the whole time…

And it makes me so wet…. just as you decide to slow things down… you start to grind your ass left and right across mine… and I grind with you… our asses… the last taboo… as if this all wasn’t taboo enough… we’re rubbing our cheeks… there’s sweat dripping down them between our cracks… sweat and spurts of cum mixed together… I turn my hips a bit… you turn yours the opposite way… and we both push…. our cheeks spreading… we moan loudly… the dildo forcing its way into both of us… I’m trying to push my bud to yours… to touch you in a way we’ve never touched before… to rub every part of me against every part of you… 

But then suddenly you pull back.,.. your kegels gripping more tightly than I am in the moment, and so much of the dildo pulls out of me until only the head remains… and you scream for me to take it just as you slam back.. and the dildo pounds into me again… and again… and again… calling me a bitch… screaming about getting fucked by my own daughter…

I collapse forward onto my tits from your next thrust… I scream… and you keep driving into me…

“WHORE…. FUCKING CUNT!!! LET ME UP!!!! FUCK YOU!!!”

But you don’t stop… you won’t stop… you keep driving your ass back into mine with your pussy clenched tight around the fake cock, and I’m getting fucked by my own daughter on all fours…

“UGHNNNNNNNNNNN GODDDDDDDD FUCKKK FUCKKKKKKK!!!!”

I scream as suddenly my pussy bursts all over the dildo… and I frantically try to get my hands under me so I can push myself up and get back into this double dildo assfight…

McKenzie:

When we fight, mother and against daughter, it’s wild. It’s frantic. It’s intense. We give every bit of ourselves to the battle. But that does not mean that at every moment we are unleashing our full reserve. 

No, we wax and wane – ebb and certainly flow. Sometimes battling and resisting, but in such a way where the other can take their moment in the sun. Why? It’s complicated? What makes us offer less in those moments? Desire. Distraction. Fantasy. Ecstasy. Any number of emotions that push us to give the other the stage, Or, to just not have the same fury that the other does. 

And right now, try though you might, I am unleashing everything. All of it. Every skill. Every ounce of strength. Every trick you have ever taught me. And so when I hear you scream for me to let you back up. And feel what you wanted from me only a moment early, I gather all my strength and momentum and then DRIVE back into you. Hard enough to go as deep into you as any dick or dildo ever has.

“CUM FOR ME!” I scream, just before I feel you burst. A splash of liquid ejected from your pussy onto mine. Only seconds thereafter being either sucked up into my cunt by my seizing muscles, or brought inside just the same, carried by the toy we fight over.

And in that moment, when I know you are weak and wounded, I strike. Keeping my shifted-back placement on all fours, like a jungle cat ready to pounce. My aim to keep the dildo soul-deep inside of you, and angling myself in just such a way, where when you try to rise back up, and when the weapon we wrestle slides back into me, our cheeks spread, our valleys align, and then in a moment of absolute majesty, our darkstars seal together. 

At the sensation we both moan like wounded fucking animals. Not women. Not warriors. But shattered souls who have just crossed the last shameful rubicon. 

Then, in the midst of that magic, I start to shift. Barely. Almost imperceivably. But as I do, we are not only fucking each other cheek to cheek, and pussy to pussy, but now rosebud to rosebud. 

Even though it breaks us. Even though it destroys us. Every slight movement. Every subtle jab and parry. Neither of us in control in that moment. Neither of us free from the assault being wages. No, we’re suffering. Savaged. Torn a fucking sunder, until in a white hot flash of lightning electricity seems to come down from the heavens and smite us. 

“FUCK! OMG YOU BITCH! I HATE YOU! MOMMY!!!!” I shriek as tears that had already begun to well start to fall from my tired, lust-filled eyes.

Alexa:

I feel so dirty right now… 

so raw…

like an animal…

I’m in my daughter’s bed…. my pussy is stuffed by a fake cock she’s controlling with her strong, tight cunt… and… I can feel her…

all of her…

all of you…

I’ve never gone this far… never… never so far as to feel her dark star on mine… never so far as feel my rose budding rubbing all over hers…

You screamed for me to cum for you… I had no choice… it was against my will… it came squirting out of me.. 

But this is a choice… a choice we’re both making…. to rub our sweaty assholes together like dirty whores… 

“FUCKKK!!! OMGGG YOU WHORE!!!I HATE YOU MORE!!! I HATE YOU MORE MCKENZIE!!!”

But I don’t… it’s just… this moment… this sensation… this feeling… of being this raw…. this exposed… this primal with another woman.. I don’t know if it’s just the muscles natural reaction or something we’re both doing without thinking about it… but I can feel your star biting at mine… moving… opening… tightening.. like it’s trying to nibble on my flesh… 

I grab the bed… and squeeze the covers… I tighten my kegels… and I PUSHHHHHHHHHHH…. pushing back into you… trying to force you back… making our butts spread even more… our hole rub even harder…. our buds and our taints smearing while the dildos shove more cock deeper inside us….

“UGHHH MCKENZIE YOU FILTHY WHORE!!! WHO FIGHTS LIKE THIS!!! YOU FUCKING BITCH!!! I SHOULD HAVE SPANKED YOU MORE!!!”

I scream and I reach back with my right hand… and I just start smacking as hard as I can at your ass… smacking and dragging my nails…. every slap making us flinch… making us rub…. making us smeer together more in this unholy war as I try to get this fight back to even ground…

McKenzie:

It’s wrong. It’s shameful. It’s filthy. It’s … it’s … EXACTLY what we fucking want. What we fucking deserve. And so we savor every second of it. Keeping our cheeks shifting and the dildo passing from one pussy to the other by force of will and strength of pussy, while clinging desperately to this contact. 

Our forbidden exits seeming to come alive and latch onto each other. As if they were biting. Catching. Chewing on each other. All as we scream and curse. Hiss and hurl brags about hating each other, though deep down, every battle like this one burns the truth into our souls. 

We don’t hate, though we want to. We don’t loath, though it turns us each on to no end to pretend that we do. We … we … love each other, and this is our dark, sick, sadistic way of showing it. 

But even as somewhere in our core we know that to be true, and even as we would each bind ourselves to each other to keep this contact of one dark delight to another, our fighting. Our struggling, our NEED to be in control forces us shift, to lean, to fire back, and then to fall. Not away from each other, but to our sides. Sides we instantly roll away from, and into a picture perfect catball. 

The two of us reaching for each other, and pulling together. Forehead to forehead, nosetip to nose tip, breast to breast, and still dildo buried cunt to the same. It is in that position that I rage at you. 

“You took that from us! That moment! That feeling! You could have just let me fuck you! Let me please you! But you took it AWAY! JUST LIKE EVERYTHING ELSE!” My words are fiery and angry, and as soon as I spit them out, I spit in your face. Our hips now firing forward instead of back. Our asses taken out of the equation, as our pussies take center fucking stage.

Alexa:

The dildo isn’t LONG… but it’s long enough to satisfy Ewa and I at the same time…. so when we finally crash to our sides… it comes close to pulling out… but it doesn’t… and we adjust… or really… I try to get to my back and you adjust and throw yourself on top of me.. 

You grab my hair… I grab yours… our foreheads press…. out tits rub over each other… our noses rub…. and you start to scream at me from on top…

I’m more than happy to scream right back…

“Why would I let a pathetic little cunt like you FUCK ME!!!!” 

I scream it out, and you spit into my face. I spit right back into yours. Your hips fire. Mine fire back. And we start fucking hard… hate fucking… angrily….we have so much to work out…. so much of our past that we’ve ignored… that takes reorienting… I know why you’re mad… you saw me as a sister…. you said things to me you’d never say to your mother…. like when you asked me how to kiss because you were nervous… so I taught you… long… slow… deep… we made out for what felt like an hour until our hands started to grope each other. I remember… you stopped…. you said sheepishly… “we’re sisters…. we can’t” … 

You came to me about boys… about sex… about masterbation… about porn… about catfighting… about everything…. things you couldn’t talk to your mother about… things you thought were secret between us as sisters… I cherished it all… I hated not telling you…

I told you to fight if it feels good… you told me it does… I helped you… I got mom and dad out of the house so you could have a girl over for a fight… I held you when you got hurt…. I helped get the other bitch home when she was the one hurt… you were just like me…. the exact spitting image of me… and when it all went south… and we had nothing left… we had this… fucking… fighting… pretending to be strangers… staring into the face of my daughter…. finding more than a sister… more than a daughter… finding all that… and a rival… someone I never want to stop fighting…

I grab your hair and twist….. rolling you off me…

I pull my knees up until they are almost on each side of your ass… and I squeeze the dildo tightly with my cunt… and my hips start to hammer… my forehead pressed to yours… breasts rubbing… hips hammering…

“You don’t fucking belong here, McKenzie…. you belong with me… you belong in my home…  I know you’re mad… I know you might never forgive me…. BUT IM YOUR MOTHER YOU STUPID BITCH!!!” 

My hips drive HARD as I scream it… driving the fake cock deep inside you….

“And I don’t want to spend another day apart from you!!!”

McKenzie:

We fuck. GOD we fuck. So hard I feel as if my pelvis is going to shatter. So violently, that I am certain yours will too. But somehow we keep going. Keep battling with that beautiful, name-emblazoned dildo. 

Back and forth. On and on. Through closed eyes and grit teeth. Perfect strikes and immaculate parries. 

We have done this so many times, and yet everytime it feels as if its the first. Our first connection. Our first time to be mother and daughter, in the most taboo of fucking ways. Maybe that’s why we want it so bad. Is that it feels wrong, because of the connection that neither of us can deny. It forces us to see it. To feel it. To know it. To HOLD it close to our hearts as we battle with our matching bodies and breasts. 

In that catball with crossed thighs. Thrusting in opposing piston shots. Until in a sudden surge of energy and power, you put me on my back and start to fuck me. Your heavy breasts poured as if from a glass down on mine until they compress with your lean. Your forehead sealing to mine as you hammer me. Fucking me into the bed as pleasure starts to overwhelm me. 

Clouding my vision. Robbing me of focus. Stealing away my ability to fight back. All of the momentum and control passing to you, as in the missionary position, you destroy me and my pussy. 

The pussy you made. 

The pussy that was created as a perfect match for yours. 

But right now, after all we had been through, it is spasming. 

Squirting. 

Leaking

Losing.

As you tell me I belong with you. In your home. In your life. 

And though I can’t roll us or turn the tables, I growl back at you, as tears start to flow. “Then tell her…. TELL HER YOU BITCH! TELL HER I’M YOURS AND I WILL B-B-B-BEEEEE….” FUCK!!!!! NO!!!! UNNNGGGGHHHHH!!!! MOMMY!!!!!” Another wave crashing. Another lightning bold from the sky. Another cataclysm and paradigm shatter hits me. A wild, indescribable, UNIMAGINABLE orgasm washing over me as I scream for you. 

My mommy. 

My family. 

My only reason for being in this fucking world.

Alexa:

I hold your hair. I keep my face pressed to yours. I keep fucking you. I keep fucking you as I scream at you. I keep fucking you as you scream back at me. I keep fucking you as I feel you start to orgasm so hard your whole body is shaking wildly. 

“YES YOU SLUT!!!””

“YOU FUCKING WHORE!!!”

“OH YOU LITTLE TRAMP BITCH”

“I SHOULD HAVE BIRTHED A STRONGER PUSSY”

I keep fucking you as you scream and shake. I don’t stop… until I start to get close too… but this orgasm… this one… you’re not taking from me…. 

I pull back some… sitting up… you just lay there… moaning… I slap your face hard to see how you react… you cry out… but there’s no fight… I can still feel your pussy drooling on mine…

“Mmmmm someone’s had enough, I think…” 

I say it with an evil purr and grin, and I release the dildo between my legs and slowly pull it out of me. I leave it inside you though. And then slowly… I start to climb up your body… I push my pussy to your pelvis and start to drag it up your skin… smearing you with my cum… marking your body with my pussy…. dragging up to your tits and then riding each one for a moment… getting your nipple deep into my pussy…. rubbing and pressing down…. but I’m not here for your pussy… 

I’m here for that gorgeous face… 

My knees go beside your head… my thighs start to press to your cheeks… My ass crushes back on your tits… and I grab your hair as you moan in protest…

I look down into your face… my daughter’s face…

And I spit into it… 

I spit and I grab your hair…

“I’m so tired of pretending I’m not your mother… I’m so tired of pretending like I didn’t hate this lie as much as you… I’m so tired of pretending like every time you called her mom my heart didn’t sink deep into my chest with a pain I’ll never be able to forget… I’m never pretending again…. ever…. do you understand, bitch? I’m your mother…. NOT HER… ME….. now tell me….. tell me you love me…. and eat mommy’s pussy” As I say it, I pull hard on your hair and pull your mouth up into pussy that birthed you…

McKenzie:

It hadn’t been building. One fight to another. It hadn’t been a slow march or patient advance. You played the role I asked you to play, though I never gave instructions or told you what I wanted you to do. You just felt it. You just knew. 

And you never asked me to stop needing what I needed. Never told me we were through or done playing this little game. But something about this fight. This meeting. This affair, after so many, was different. 

I don’t know what or how. The moment it turned from one fight between ‘strangers’ amongst many to the end of that charade. 

But as my orgasm fades, and I gaze up at you. Proud and powerful. That cocky smile on your face, that you’ve seen on my face so many times. The way you wait for my pussy to drip and dribble every last drop onto yours before you even think about moving. 

The words you speak to me. Cruel. Stinging. Harsh, until I am broken, and then it shifts. Not completely. Not entirely. But just enough where I feel safe in my moment of weakness. My eyes looking up to you softly. My eyes wet and welling. 

My arms lifting and wrapping around my breasts to warm myself at the sudden feeling of cold. 

But then you move. Pulling the foe cock from your pussy though not mine, and then crawling forward. Dragging your victorious cunt over my body as you move forward. Marking me. Claiming me. 

My arms parting for you like the red sea as you smear your essence of my tits. Then you mount me and my face. Sitting on those very same tits, as you reach down and grab my hair, just as you spit down in my face. 

Yanking my mouth and nose into your soaking wet cunt, as you start telling me how it is. How it will be from now on. That I am your daughter and that you are my mom. No more pretending. No more roles for either of us. 

And though my doe eyes look up at you. Fireless and weak. Broken and willing. Before I start to work eating the pussy that had defeated my own, I speak as you requested, though with a touch more. 

“I love you, mommy. And I love that you’re going to tell her. Tell … Ewa….” As the words pass my lips into yours, just clear enough to be heard before they ascend into muffles, I begin. Lifting my right arm to wrap around your thigh to hold your pussy to my mouth, as my left moves to the dildo you left inside of me.

Alexa:

As your right hand reaches for me, I welcome it… but as your left hand reaches back for the dildo. I slap it away. 

Your words are still lingering in my mind. Yes… I’m going to have to tell her. Ewa. That I’ve been lying to her. That I have a daughter. That I’ve been sneaking off to fuck and fight my daughter almost weekly for years now. And I’ll have to tell her that my daughter is… just like us. Welcome her into our lives isn’t just welcoming a daughter. It’s welcoming another cat. 

“I love you too… but what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I ask as you grab for the dildo again and I smack your hand away again. 

“Mommy….” you moan into my pussy, and I hiss back, “Just keep eating me, you bitch…”

I start grinding hard on your face as I say it…. smearing up and down over your mouth and nose… rubbing on you… rubbing off on you… as I arch my back.. shoving our my huge, bare tits.. the ones I used to breast feed you because even though I was 15… and even though you’d grow up calling your grandmother mom… I was never going to deny my daughter the nourishment my body was making for her… you might not understand this… but from the moment I first saw you… I wanted to give you EVERYTHING… and that never changed…. no matter if I played the roll of your sister… your mother… or a stranger.. 

I moan harder as you keep licking, and I reach back. I take the dildo in my hand… and I start pummeling your pussy with it… 

“Mmmmm you bitch….. you hot fucking slut….I’m done pretending I’m not you’re mother and you’re not my daughter…. but I’m never going to be done fucking you and fighting your…”

I squeeze the dildo and start to drive it deeper inside you… quickly pulling it out and ramming it in… forcefucking my own daughter while I use her face like a sex toy… 

“Say it again!”

“I love you, Mom!” you scream into my cunt…

“KEEP SAYING IT!” I shout… and you do… over and over… and I keep fucking you… and I keep grinding on you… until…. 

“OHHH GAWWDD…. GAWDDD DONT STOPP KEEP SAYING IT … FUCK… FUCKKK MMMMMMMMMMMM OHH GAWDDD YESSSS MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM”

Suddenly I burst…. cumming right into your open mouth… squirting hard onto your tongue and filling your mouth…. and I feel your pussy tightening… clamping… get closer… and I just keep fucking you as I moan… not relenting… not stopping.. cummming right into your mouth as I scream.

McKenzie:

It bursts like a damn. A flood of your liquid lust pouring into my mouth and onto my face as I ravage you with my teeth, lips, and tongue. You scream at me. Scream for me. Telling me you want me to say it again and again, and I do. 

I mutter it into your lips. Into your clips. Using it to reverberate your most sensitive of triggers. G-spots I have learned in our many battles. “I love you, mommy. I love you. I love you mommy, I love you.”

Then when I know you need more touch and attention, I set in and delve deeper, and spell those same words with my tongue on your clit. And you know it. You feel it. I can see it. Your own lips mouthing out the words as I spell them. 

God, I love you, mommy. So much. FUCK! My heart swells as I eat you. My soul cries out for me to be yours, now and always.

And finally that desire – that longing is not a dream – not a hope. But real. But our reality. One that we settle into, as your orgasm passes, and you crawl back and off of me. Down my body, just as you came up it. Once more marking me with your juices, before you bring yourself to a sit between my legs, and then take the double sided dildo from my cunt. 

“I’ve beaten your pussy. Your body. Your mind. And now…. I’m going to break the one part of you I didn’t, baby girl.” I don’t know what you mean. What’s you’re doing. As weakly, I try to lean up to look at you. 

But I’m so weak. So spent. I can barely move. But then you speak again, and I know. “Now I know this is your first time…. But you’re going to do it with mommy.” The words send a warning alert through my mind, just a second before I feel you slip it in. The dildo into my darkstar. I gasp, and whimper, and then cover my mouth not wanting to scream out in pain and interrupt you. 

Then, I feel you manipulate the toy, putting it in your own ass, before you start to thrust into me. Fucking me, ass to ass once more, but gently, Softly. Letting the toy slide further and further into me as I start to sob. Gripping the blankets beneath us, as pain turns to pleasure. And fear turns to desire. 

“Tell me you love me, my sweet little Amber.” You didn’t call me McKenzie. Not the name you had always used. Or baby girl, like we do when that line has been crossed. 

I should hate it. I should rage. I should rebel. But instead I just mutter softly. “I love you, mommy. I love you, mamma Pearl. 

Calm words of devotion and affection that hang in the air around us like the sex scented air, until I start to moan for you. Moan with you. The dildo sliding deeper and deeper, as you fuck me so good. 

So perfectly. 

Shattering my defenses and norms with another taboo, until eventually I start to shake, scream, and then cuuuummmmm…. My pussy so perfectly aligned with yours that after another burst, this time from me, I coat you and the pussy that gave birth to me.

The spurted splash dripping down that very same pussy, as you pull back and then remove the dildo from us. Then crawling forward to lay with me. “You are one delicious bitch, baby girl…. MY delicious bitch…. 

The End.

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