Trapped in a Trailer
Amber “Little Miss Alpha” vs. Ewa S. from Discord

Amber “Little Miss Alpha”:

I can’t say I ever had dreams of getting out of this town. I knew dreams existed. That people had lives that consisted of more than trailer parks and poverty. That there were places with bright lights and tall buildings. 

Girls who acted in movies, and sat in leather-bound chairs on some high-numbered floor. 

But from the very moment I was born, I was told those floors were out of reach. That the lights others got to see were too distant for my eyes. That other people got to have those dreams, but not me. 

All I would get to do, is the best I could in this small town of ours. To try to stay away from meth and painkillers. To not get pregnant before I was 18. Those were my hopes. My goals. And though I was almost alone, I made them happen.

I reached for and grasped those far away stars. 

It makes me feel silly that I tear up with joy, when I think about that. That I made it, without giving in to the demons and dicks that caught so many of my friends. The girls in my classes at school disappeared one by one, as the men that ruined them got to stay. 

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. But those were issues for the women who could see all those lights to tackle. Wars for those women at the top of those floors to win.

All I could do was live. Even when my momma got sick, and started coughing. Even when I  worked nine to five flipping burgers, and then five till I had scrubbed every inch of that old, beat-up bar.

Then I’d come home and take care of momma. Day in and day out, until she died. And when she did, I didn’t have time to feel sad. To cry and give in to a life that seemed by all accounts to hate me. 

No, I had to find a place to stay. Without mom’s social security, I couldn’t afford to keep her trailer. Not even with all the work I was doing. So when the bank came to take it, I called the man I had been seeing, in those few hours I had left. And asked him if I could move in. 

He said “yeah, but don’t expect nothing…. You and Ewa can share the pullout couch.” 

When he said it, like it was nothing, I felt a heat deep in my gut. He was cheating on me. With the only girl who made it through like me. The last two girls in our class. The ones who did what we was supposed to. The everyone always told me to be friends with. The one who my grandma said seemed nice. 

I would have yelled at him. Screamed at Cam, as he without a moment’s hesitation broke my heart. But I couldn’t say a damn thing. I needed him. Needed that pull-out couch of his. Cause if I didn’t have it, I’d be sleeping in the streets. 

So, I choked it down. Swallowed my pride. And said. “I … I understand.” 

“Who’d a thunk you two’d need a place to stay on the same day?” He asked of himself, as if he’d already hung up the phone. “Lazy fucking cunts….” He then muttered, before he did so. The click of it sounding like a bullet shot right through my heart. 

The sound of it, and his words echoing in my head as I walked on the dusty dirt road to his trailer. Not one in one of those fancy lots, but in an overgrown grass field. The mosquitos buzzing and biting. Old, rusty cars having been sat since before Cam was even born. The seven miles of the trip making my bags seem so heavy. And my life, such as it was, feel ever so cold….

Ewa S.:

“… I don’t care…”

The words were cold, but the voice that carried them was even colder… My eyes were glazed with tears, that I promised, wouldn’t breach the barrier as I started at the prick…

The asshole landlord, who kept me around, took advantage of me in every fucking way… The one who I bent over tables for him letting him plow me from behind, telling myself it was just what I had to do, to survive… It wasn’t cheating on Cam… Who I doubted even cared that much…

The fucking asshole who stood there holding his video camera, filming me while three of his buddies shot their loads in my mouth, on my back, on my tits… Calling it a ‘job’, and instead of paying me for ‘acting’ in it, he just said I should feel lucky and grateful he didn’t raise my rent…

But alas, here’s him, standing there, and beside him, the whore he brought in to stay…. Younger… Stupider… And fresher…

Afterall, the black halos around my eyes that accumulated from the 4 hours of sleep I barley got every day for the last 2 years, working my two jobs; behind the counter at the gas station, with my hair held up, in the baggiest clothes I could get my hands on, with no makeup, and a hoodie over my face, to make myself stand out more…

And then, taking it all off, for my late night job, spinning around a pole…. Dying slowly, one catcall and wolf whistle at a time, feeling the hands groping me, while slipping cum-glazed dollar bills in my thong….

I turned my head to the blonde standing next to the landlord and with a cold, shit-eating grin I said; “Enjoy the crib hun, and don’t worry about condoms with this jackass; he shoots blanks.”

Taking satisfaction in the jab, and the way it ruffled his pathetic weak feathers, I just packed and called Cam a second time, to tell him that I’m on my way…. And this.. This is when my tears ran down my face…

“… Mhhhmm.. Yeah… SHIT.. SHIT.. Hold on… Motherfucker forgot the beans…. GODDAMN that asshole… Yeah.. Right.. Listen… So yeah, you’re gonna be sharing the pull-out with Amber… You know her, you went to the same school right? Big titties big hair big ass? Yeah that one…”

Yes… I fucking know Amber…

I know the cunt all too well… My heart sank… And halfway dragging my luggage to his place… I almost considered turning and going under the bridge to bunk there with the rest of the homeless… Any place would be better…

But no… Fuck it.. And fuck her…. I won’t hand that bitch a win… 

I pushed onwards… My body glistening with sweat from the 5 Mile walk praying the wheels of my suitcase don’t just pop off before I arrive…

And as I make it to Cam’s house…. I am panting, breathing hard… And that’s when I see you…. Coming from the opposite direction…

We both freeze in place… We both stare…

Glare….

Fuck… You look like a fucking mess too… But the good kind of mess… The sort of mess that all guys tell me turn them on more when I look it….

Tank tops cut low…. Shorts shyly covering our asses… Too much flesh on display… Gleaming and shining under the sun we walk slower until we’re right at the mouth of his trailer’s entrance…

I glare at you coldly with my hazel-green eyes…. Lips pursed…. Eyes jealous, judgmental, unwelcoming….

“…. ‘sup… roomie…” — I say in a low hiss…

Amber:

I don’t know what it was. Why we never “clicked”. Yeah, we chased the same boys, but we ran from the same ones too. We both did things we weren’t proud of, but never at each others expense, least far as I know. 

We were both sexy, both pretty, and both poor as fucking dirt. 

I know we tried, when we were young. Sitting next to each other on a bench at recess. Taking up seats at the same table at the cafeteria. Hell, the end of school, with so many of the other girls gone, we had nobody else we could talk to….

But for some reason, we still didn’t. Instead, whenever we tried, it happened just like this. Our eyes met, and we … we just…. Ungh, I can’t explain it. Like the air had been taken out of my sails. Like we had some past, I knew we didn’t have. Like you were challenging me. Daring me. Cursing me, even when neither of us said a word. 

And once again, on that trampled grass walkway to Cam’s trailer door, we stop. Stand. And then you speak to me. Not like a friend or an almost-was, but like an enemy or a feral fucking cat. Calling me your roomie, which makes my skin fucking crawl. 

I had worked my hands to the bone. Almost every hour of every day, my whole life. My hands calloused. Heart torn at. Soul stained with the things I done to keep my momma safe. And all any of it did was bring me here. With you.  

Now, I’m a sweet girl. A nice girl, even if I do curse a lot. But when I see you. Hear you. Feel your presence, I know what I have to do. What needs be done, if I’m gonna make it through this trial. 

So I step forward, step into you, pressing my body and breasts against yours, and then hiss back. “I don’t care what we’ve been, Ewa. Or who you THINK you are. But when we go inside, you keep yourself in line…. Cam is mine. This trailer is going to be mine. And if you fuck this up for me, I’ll….” My words trail off, as what was about to come out of them feels to big to even be said.

Ewa:

It made no sense… For two girls like us, whose biggest enemy is loneliness; to not confide in each other… To not find comfort and solace, to huddle up and press our backs to each other, so we could face the cruel world together….

Instead, we turned our backs, and heads… Trying to walk away, but also, never trusting the other… And it always puzzled me…

This sick, twisted sensation in my stomach everytime you walked into class, or I saw you sitting in the cafeteria… It was… carnal… Innate… Primal… I never understood it, even those hot sweaty nights in my room, laying on my back, surrounded by a couple old toys, failing to get myself off thinking of boys, then, rolling over, biting the pillow with my teeth, and burying a hand between my thighs, thinking.. of you…

But I never thought of you in a… romantic.. way…

I thought of you in the worst of ways… I thought of just… You.. Standing there.. Staring at me… I pictured us stripping in front of each other… I pictured us sitting next to each other in class, curling one thigh around the other, and trying to bend the other’s leg to see who winced first… I pictured us just bumping and glaring…

And it got me off… 

Everytime…

I utter the words, and my lips curl up in a little dirty grin… Between us, no doubt, I know you think you are the ‘good girl’… If that was actually a thing… No one associating with Cam is decent, that much is true… And to find out that you knew him, means, that you’re no better than me… No matter what you tell yourself….

The difference between us, Amber.. Is that I KNOW I’m rotten… I’ve come to accept it.. Because… I’m not a hypocrite…

But my smile vanishes when you step up and… PRESS your body into mine… I almost choke on my spit, as you hiss your words, but my mind is fixed on the feeling of your large breasts squished against my own…. The sensation of your stiff nipples, poking at mine through our thin, sweat-drenched tops… The skin spilling from the low cuts rubbing against another… 

“You don’t say…” — I hiss under my breath.. and… LEAN… into you… Pressing our chests more….

“And what makes you think I give a FUCK what you want, Amber?? — You’ve always been a nobody.. To me… To Cam… Even to your fucking folks….” — I see fire light up in your eyes… I can hear the growl in your throat… And you can see the clench in my teeth…

But then we hear the trailer door creaking open and we turn quickly facing him…

“Oh good… Y’all here… I was about to skip to the bar and lock the door, y’all lucky you didn’t keep me waiting, I don’t like waitin’….” — He jogs down the two steps from the door… Not offering to help.. Not looking even happy to see us…

“Make yourself useful… A couple lights are busted… And the oven needs cleanin’…. My rules.. Don’t break shit.. Don’t steal shit… And don’t fucking bicker… Or you’re all gonna be flat out on your asses…”

Amber:

I prayed, begging God to keep you out of my thoughts. Asking him to help me purge my feelings towards you. But not because hate was a sin. Or because jealousy came from pride, and pride before a fall. 

No, I was fine with the hate. I could accept it. Keep it close to me. Wear it like a badge of honor, with the way you looked at me. With the way you’d snarl when our eyes would catch. But quickly after that hate would come, washing over me like a wave, I’d feel it. 

Something different. Something strange. Something that seemed so very much at odds with that hate. I wanted to be near you. By you. I wanted to rest my chin on your shoulder, and hiss in whispers into your ear. I wanted your attention. Your obsession. I wanted you to cry for me. To bleed for me. To beg me to let you go. 

And when those thoughts came for me, I’d get all twisted up in knots. Wrapped and tangled. My cheeks turning red. My body feeling warm. My womanhood, tight as it was, calling for me to give it release. 

I barely spoke, and yet I used you. To get through those hard, filthy moments of survival. Claimed you as mine, when the world told me I’d get nothing. And so I prayed. 

And so I begged God to set me free. 

And though I did, and though when we’d go without eyeing each other, I’d find peace. Here you are. Here we are. And I’ve given myself up to those shameful desires. Pressing myself against you and daring you to give me what I want. 

Your fire. Your ferocity. Your hate. Your hisses.

And you given them to me, and in an instant I feel alive. But unlike in my dreams where your words bring me close and give me satisfaction, those you speak now make me so angry I want to grab you. So upset, my blood boils. 

My hands lifting, fingers spreading, and nails getting ready to dig into your skin. 

But then Cam, the man we came to stay with, bursts through his door. Stepping, with his bum right leg in a hobbled jaunt towards us. His eyes sizing us each up, as he always does. Though he sees none of what is actually happening. Oblivious to the moment that is brewing between. Blind to the hate we so clearly share. 

His only effort spent on telling us to get inside and start cleaning. To leave his things unbroken and each other alone. And then he just kept walking, out to the garage on the distant end of his property. Shouting back at us, from nearly 20 feet away. 

“Have dinner ready and on the table when I get back. 6:00 PM.” Dinner, yes. On the table, I can do it. HEll, I’ve been cooking for momma since I was young. But 6:00 PM? That’s three hours from now. Three hours where we’ll be alone. You and me. Fuck….

That knowledge sends an electric chill up my spine, and as it passes, pushes me to turn from you and our closeness and then scurry up to the trailer door inside. Knowing you’re not far behind.

Ewa:

Memories….

Memories come flooding back…

Memories I didn’t know I possessed or had…. 

7 years old us, in the class room…. Me sitting in a corner, watching with jealous, confused, envious eyes… As you sat there, the only blonde girl in the class… Surrounded by almost every body, talking you up between classes… Like a sun, you were the center of attention of everyone….

13 years old me…. Grinning, while making out with Brad Tucker… The boy I KNEW you had a crush on… Holding his head so he doesn’t see you, standing frozen, at the mouth of the bleachers where I finally got my revenge on you…

16 years old me… Frozen…. With the situations reversed, except, that you didn’t notice me… You didn’t know I was there… When your lips and Samara Kellers lips softly touched and suckled on each other… My eyes filling with tears… Of jealousy… Because not only did I find out, that you are like me… Into girls…

But because I wished I was in her place… Realizing that the reason behind all I did, was trying to get your attention… And at that moment, my heart broke… And I vowed… That we’re better off.. Enemies…

Yes, I sucked, fondled, and fucked men… More than I could count… But it was always to survive… To pay rent… To get ahead… To keep my head above water…

But I always ended up in my bed, alone… Trying hard to not think of you, before succumbing, and touching myself to the one girl I wanted the most, and hated above all…

And in this fucking moment, of us pressing together… I found solace, that all I felt towards you, was rage… Anger… That I felt my fingers curled into claws besides me, not soft cuddling palms….

But Cam, interrupting us, heading to the goddamn bar at 3pm… Telling us he wants dinner… Establishing so quickly, our roles… We’re going to be his maids… His cooks… And his cum dumpsters…. Picking the one he fancies every night… If not both…

No.. Fuck that…. I give him a quiet smile as he walks off, before grabbing my suitcase, without words, I grunt as I pull it up the two steps and go into the trailer…. Hearing your own grunts behind me… Neither offering the other any help…

Why would we?? When we have three precious hours… To…. ‘Pursuade’… the other to leave before she even unpacks, and then make him dinner??

We go into the small trailer… I drag my suitcase to one side of the futon… Watching you pull yours to the other…. Staring at each other….

The tension so thick…. And menace is on our eyes…

Then I turn and grab the base of the futon, and watch you reach for the other end, and we… Cooperate… Perhaps for the first, and last time ever… Pulling it up… “Our” bed….

Our arena….

And slowly, I slide my left knee on the futon… Feeling the rough, hard mattress… Smelling the stench of sweat and cum already filling my nostrils…. 

But it’s not just a knee press… I’m claiming it…. That knee press is a territorial move…. And reaching back, I pull my flip off off, letting it hit the floor… Glaring at you…

“I don’t suppose you’re serious about staying the night here… Amber… I suggest you leave…. A pretty little thing like you… Knows how to land on her feet…. Don’t you?” — I hiss in a cautious… Predatory voice…

Amber:

I tried to write it once. “Our” story. The very first memory I had of you, to the last. I tried, until my pencil would break in my hand. First the led, then the center of the pencil in a loud crack. 

The page beneath that snapped #2 stained with tears. Crosses scribbled on the edges of the paper, as I tried to remind myself that I was a Christian. That I was into boys, because god said I had to be. 

In some ways, the anger, jealousy, and resentment you always seemed to show me, made it easier to pretend I was straight. The feelings I felt for you were powerful. Overwhelming. Soul-wrenching. But it was because we were enemies. For no reason. For any reason. For every reason I could think of. 

But still, I couldn’t get you off my mind. Not even by writing it all out, hoping to close the book on what we were. 

Maybe though, it’s because writing wasn’t the way we set ourselves free. Putting words to a page wasn’t how we stopped this thing between us. 

Maybe, it’s this…. I think to myself, as together, for the first time in our fucking lives, we do something together. Pulling out the futon, a hand on either side. 

You crawling atop it, making sure you beat me to placing down a knee. Threatening me. Telling me to leave and land on my feet somewhere else. And though I can hear your disdain for me. Feel the tension between us. I know you don’t want that. Just like I don’t. We’re too close now to all of it. Too near the sun. 

And so I call your bluff. Not my advancing with a knee, and tying the score, but my throwing myself forward and down on my back. My body and sweat-covered breasts bouncing in the center of the bed, as we both refocus. Me looking up at you in a glare, and you looking down at me with equal parts confusion and surprise. 

Then, as I see your lips part to speak, I reach up for you. Stopping just short of my hands getting to your hair and grabbing tight. “I don’t want either of us on our feet, bitch….” I give no context. No explanation. No short form for what I really mean, but you know.

You know, because I would know. 

You understand, because of all the people in this shit show of a town, you … are like me.

Ewa:

My eyes go wide like saucers… My nostrils flare….

You don’t speak… You don’t even match me… No.. You go all out.. Throwing your body on your back on the bed… Claiming it fully… No.. Fucking.. DARING me… Your big milky tits jiggling under your sweaty top…. Your belly button peaking under it… Your denim shorts clinging to your ass, and nothing else…. Your hands reach up… They can’t touch me yet… But the gesture is clear…. So is the invitation…

Your words… Say it all… And I snarl….

“Good girl my ass…. You’ve always been a leg-spreading whore.. Amber…” — I hiss the words, my voice trembling, showing a crack in my confidence for the first time….

How.. How DARE you…

You’ve always been supposed to be the good girl… The teacher’s pet… The perfect princess… And me, the bad apple… How fucking DARE you… So effortlessly, swap roles… Look so fucking enticing, and provocative like that…

I reach back and flip my other sandal off… And I push your left hand away, and without words… Without slowness I DROP my body on yours… As sudden and violently as you did to the mattress…

“UUGHHH!”

“NNNGHH!”

Two grunts fill the air as our tits touch for the second time, but this time it isn’t a caress or press, it’s an explosion….. My denim shorts press on yours, and I almost moan at the sensation…

I’ve dreamed of this all my life…. To be pressed against you… On a bed… With the one girl I wanted… The one girl I found out that day at school was… different… Just like me….

But it’s too damn late… Too fucking late, for our lips to caress and our tongues to playfully wrestle… Too late for our hips to gyrate and bring pleasure to each other… For our souls to meet in the forbidden gardens…

They will meet in the fires of hell….

And I’m ok with it…

My arms slip under your shoulders, and my fingers reach up into your blonde mane, grabbing it by the base of your skull and I TUG, but your head has nowhere to go, it’s already pressed to the dirty, firm mattress of the futon…. My left leg pushes between yours and curls behind your right, feeling your soft, thicker thigh against my slender, dancer one…

“You’ll always be on your back, under me… Bitch….” — I snarl as I push my body into yours, like I’m trying to drive you through the futon…

Amber:

We could have spent the next 30 minutes, maybe even an hour, pretending. Playing the role of ice-queen. Not speaking, until we couldn’t take it any longer. Taking cruel petty snipes at each other, until we started screaming. Shouting at each other until we stepped closer. Pressing chest to chest until finally, one of us broke, and it began.

The moment we had been building towards our entire lives. 

The fate, that as dark as it is, seems like the light at the end of the tunnel. We’re nothing to the world. Nothing to Cam. Nothing to our teachers or the lenders at the bank. We’re poor, hopeless, throw-aways in a city that will never let us go. 

But to each other, we are everything. We are real. We are tangible. We are worth SOMETHING, even if it’s hate. Even if it’s WAR. 

And so I claim it. Yes, the bed. But more so, this moment. These 3 hours we have alone. Throwing myself down and into the spot you would have no doubt claimed seconds later. And then with me there, I reach up for you, knowing what has to happen between us. Knowing what we need. 

And again, you give it to me. Dropping your gorgeous, busty body on mine. A small spray of sweat kicking up from our heavy tits, as our tops bunch up at our midsection and tight, cutoff jeans, show off our delectable thighs. Thighs with extend and lock above calves which then hook and lock us together. 

There we glare, as we take tight grips of each other’s hair. Settling into this hateful embrace. 

“Fuck you, Ewa.” I hiss back at you in the unbearable calm before the storm. 

“We’ll see who winds up on toooooopppppppppppppppp!!!!!!!!!!!!” At the very moment my challenge ends, we both yank as hard as we can on each others hair. Our bodies seizing, muscles flexing, and long battle of attrition beginning.

Ewa:

Damn this city…

Damn this cruel world, for what it does to people like us…

If there was a God, if there was justice in this universe that brought us together… Two girls… Who by all means, should have ended together… Been each other’s rock, confidante, one-and-only… It would have been so…

But the world took us, battered us, threw us around, maimed and scarred us… And turned us into this… Making our first embrace, not one of love and kinship.. Not allowing us to shut our eyes, rest our heads on the others shoulder, and weep in happiness…

Instead…. It’s that of two felines…. Fighting for turf… For territory.. For the attention of a male, whom neither truly desire… Battling, tooth’n’nail, for a filthy stained futon in his trailer…

I can feel your body… And gawd, it’s as tight, soft in all the right spots, and hard as concrete in others… I feel your legs coiling around mine, and I oblige… Our limbs locking behind the knees, and then again, around the anklkes, and with your banshee shriek, we both PULL violently…

“AHHHHHHHH!!!!! YESSSS LET’S FINNNNDDD OUUUUUTTT!!!”

The pain in my scalp explodes, it forces my eyes to shut, my head jolted back, while yours, has nowhere to go… Giving you an instant edge…. But yet, I keep pushing my chest down.. Our tits boxed between our bulging biceps as they have nowhere to go, but INTO each other….

We screech and squirm on the bed…. Writhing and struggling…. Me trying to keep you pinned, while you, having the liberty of whipping my head around, side to side, back and forth…. Taking a toll on my neck, that after a minute, makes me YELP and my body leans to the side… 

And without pause your body pushes into me, rolling us to our sides; my right, your left… And now, with space behind your head, I STRETCH my arms, finally able to jerk your head back, to give your neck a taste of your own medicine….

Our chests still grinding, our denim shorts still pressing, I can feel the top button of mine latching to yours, hooking one another as they begin to tug, slowly undoing one another….

“Fuck… YOUUUUUUU!!” 

I screech and as I feel you already pushing me slowly back, I release my left hand off your hair and swing it down in a WHAPPING clap to your right cheek…

Amber:

There is nothing about this moment that is joyous or positive. Nothing good or glorious. And yet, as pressed together tightly, we begin, my expression changes. From frustration and anger to a visible, wide-eyed excitement. 

In part, because I have the advantage, and I can bend your head back, and then wrench it from side to side, but also because finally we have it. I have it. What I’ve wanted since I first met you. I didn’t know it them. I barely know it now. But being here, with you, fighting. Hurting. Hating. It’s … it’s … incredible. 

And so even as you tug at my hair, and smash your body and breasts down atop mine, I study what I can see of your pained face. Watching your jaw open, eyes close, and nose scrunch as you groan. 

The sight makes me want to bite you. To lick your face, and taunt you. But before I can, my own excitement pulls you off me to the side, and I give chase. Not letting our busty bodies part for even a moment, as I roll with you. 

Roll with you and then cry out in pain, as with your new found freedom you yank my head back, bending my neck at high angle, as I try to stand the pain and inflict my own. Our lower halves, very much opposite of our tops, remaining almost still. Fulcrum at our denim-covered womanhoods. Tiny, almost imperceivable shifts forward and together coming on instinct. Our perfectly framed and blue-hued asses looking majestic as we struggle. 

“BIIITTCCCHHH!!!” A shrill, panicked howl escapes my lips, and when it does, my upper body arches back and away from you. And though in that moment I am in pain, when you chase me. Leaning in and against me, I yank your head forward. Down. And your face into my sweat-glistened breasts. 

In the ferocity of the moment, my own flip flops fall off, and when they do I pull my left leg up and plant it. Looking to drive up and over. Wanting you on your back and me atop you. But in your fierce pull, we simply twist. My lower body layering atop yours, as your upperbody does the same to mine. The two of us wrenched in opposing directions. Each of us hoping to push the other over.

Ewa:

We’re so much alike…

Too much alike, it’s painful…

Both emotionally and physically…

Two other girls in our place, where we grew, who have been mobbed in dark alleys… Jumped around dark corners of our shitty neighborhood… Stalked and threatened by the trash littering our corner of the world, the trash that we belong to… Would have squared off, fists clenched, raining blows to faces, ribs, stomachs, smashing each other’s faces into walls and windows…

But no… 

We don’t…

Because, we want this… We want THIS…

Your body pressed to mine…. Our struggle intimate.. Bitter.. Vicious.. We’re not seeking a beatdown.. No… We are seeking to annihilate the others body with her own…

And after useless minute atop of you, I concede the top spot, at least, I tell myself so… And on my side, slapping at you with my left hand, hearing you yelp, but then pull your head back, and YANK my own forwards and into your cleavage…

“MMMPPHHH!! BBBBTTTCHHHHHH!!!”

My cry is muffled as you tilt your shoulder back, your arms wrapped around my head, your nails jammed into my scalp… Forcing me in, as your hips press into mine, and like a human pretzel we twist… Each half atop of the other in her own way…

My mouth opens, I try to suck in air, but the sweat covering your skin is forming a seal around my mouth… I only suck in air bubbles, salty and bitter… As my own cheap lipstick begins to smear your skin, bright stripper pink, and I taste it on my tongue…

My left hand slaps at the pillow beside your head… But you have me good… I try to wiggle free, but its to no avail…. My right hand loses its grip on your hair… And I slide it down, over your face.. Pawing at it… Pushing my short, rounded nails into your cheeks and forehead… Avoiding your eyes… But trying to force your head back to weaken your grip…

My left hand slips down, and I start to swing wild slaps at your right thigh… Once.. Twice.. THRICE… But your thick thigh just jiggles, your grip doesn’t loosen, so I dig my claws into the flesh, clawing into your flesh, trying to dig into your hamstring… As my own lungs begin to burn…

Amber:

We could have raised our closed fists and circled. Could have pretended we were boxers or men. Looking for a quick knockdown or out. Trying to get the each other out of our way as quickly as possible. 

Throwing punches and kicks. Going for holds we’d seen on TV or in the movies. It’s what others might do. What others would do. 

But not us. Not ever. Because we aren’t fly-by-night rivals. One off enemies. We’ve waited. We’ve nurtured. We’ve, shamefully, fucked ourselves thinking about this moment. About this encounter. And so we will take it. Seize it. Steal every ounce of satisfaction from it we can. 

Looking not for a bowed head and a handshake, but to conquer. But to subdue and own. Even if it’s just for the hour, the day, the night. We have to have it. Have to take it. Control. And so in close – in tight, in this filthy bed, we writhe. Twisted in a knot, with your face buried in my breasts, and my legs climbing yours like a hill. 

There we teeter. There we linger. Until suddenly, I feel your hands crawl down the back of my scalp and neck like a spider. One inching towards my face and the other towards my leg. I try to wriggle, to angle, to keep them away and at bay. But I cling to my smother. Knowing the more breath I can steal from you, the easier keeping you beneath me will be. 

But then in an instant you strike. Driving nails into my cheeks and slapping at my thigh. At the pain, I lose focus. My grip on the back of your head loosening just enough for you to slip free. And though I try to keep our lower halves lifted and turning, your slapping hand then begins to claw and dig with its nails into my flesh. The two pronged attack is too much for me, and so beneath you I collapse. Your arms extending and pushing out my own. Putting you both on top of me, and me without a single defense left.

Ewa:

Every moment I’m forced into your tits, my hatred to you grows…. Every pulse of your pecks flexing, causing your enormous, soft tits to jiggle and pinch on my cheeks and nose, makes me think of what could’ve been…

What I’ve lost…

Because you never wanted me… Because you, were just.. YOU… Chasing after boys in our youth… And when finally, revealed that it was just a mask… A cope with society and what it demanded of girls like us.. It was with another girl…

My mouth opens and closes, trying to bite.. But I can’t reach flesh.. So I change tactics… Fine.. Let the claws come out… 

Feel their bitter edges… You WHORE…

My nails press into your cheeks, into your thigh, and I hear you squirm.. Crying out pain… So musical to my ears that as you collapse to your back again, and my head jolts back, GASPING for air, you can see the wicked grin on my disfigured lipstick, a menacing smirk worthy of Harley Quinn…

My upper body arches back… My chest lifting off yours… Our tees have hiked and shifted… Slowly turning to crop-tops… My taut abs pressed to yours… Sweat creating a seal around our belly buttons that press, creating vaccums that break with every shift in small pops…

I keep my right hand on your face, feeling you turning your head side to side, making it difficult to keep my grasp.. So I quickly bring my left hand up to aid…

But as I move it, my wrist brushes against your bulging side boob… The one that almost choked the fight out of me… And vengeance takes hold…

My fingers, grab at the sweaty top, and I YANK it upwards… Lifting it over your tits, exposing them…. My eyes flaring in rage as I stare at your massive aerolas.. Your stiff nipples… And with a shriek of anguish, I PUSH the top against your throat… My left hand fisted and jamming into the pillow beside you, trying to cut your own breath in turn…

“That’s.. right… On your.. back… Where… You.. belong..” 

I grunt out the words, then with a fit of rage, I drop my upper body on yours, slamming my covered tits into your bared ones…

Amber:

The first time I remember meeting you, I was sitting on wooden bench outside of my church.  I had just been lectured about being sinful. About being demonic. About being doomed to an eternity in hellfire, and so I cried. 

You saw me there, on that bench. Sniffling. Sobbing. You came towards me, and I hid my eyes. You took the seat next to mine and I trembled in fear. I felt your hand take mine and squeeze. 

It was the moment. The opportunity. The chance we had, you and me, to be more than enemies and less than the messes we became. But I was afraid. Of life. Of you. Of being labeled sinful, again. And so I pulled my hand free of yours and ran. 

Back into my church, and into a cruel, unforgiving life. And it was you who could have saved me from that cruelty. You who could have saved me from the dark, the dim, and the destitute. It is now you, as I lay on my back, that chokes me. Using my own shirt to cut off my air. The sweat from it squeezing out in droplets, as you get your revenge. 

For a moment I buck and reach. Grabbing for your hands, your wrists, your shoulders. Anything that might make you release. Thrusting my hips up against yours, trying desperately to break free. But you hold me. You have me. Glaring down at me like a psychopath, happy with your good work. 

Slamming your tits into mine once and then again as I cough and wheeze.

In my eyes you can see fear, fire, rage. But you seek to squelch it. Extinguish it. And so once more I reach, this time up and around, grabbing your own top and yanking it up and forward. Over your shoulders and your head. And though the thought crosses my mind to choke you, instead I blind you with it. Wrapping it tight around your face, letting your magnificent breasts pop free. 

“Not…. For…. Long…. Bitch….” I croak out, before extending my arm and then bringing it back hard crashing the palm of my right hand against the right side of your face. As the impact registers, and as I still choke under you, I reach down and between us with both hands, and then dig my claws into the undersides of your massive breasts. Looking to drag them up and towards your still-covered face. Hoping the pain is enough to relieve the pressure of your choke and perhaps more.

Ewa:

As I lay atop of you, gasping still for air… Realizing that the thump I delivered to you, slamming my chest down on yours, didn’t help my lungs recover yet, expelling almost all the air I gulped in… And yet… I still smirk… My dark hair falling down on your face… Watching your cheeks flush… Your eyes widen in panic…

Your fingers touching mine… Scrambling in fear…

That touch…

The tough of our fingers that sends me back to that moment… When we were little… On that bench… When I stood outside the church… The place that made my skin crawl, ever since Father Mathew…. Did what he did to me… The place I had to frequent because my parents didn’t believe me… Force to sit, trembling on the pew, staring at the man who violated my innocence…

I saw you crying, and I thought, you too suffered… I touched your hand… And you… Just ran away from me… Like I was tainted… Like you were still.. Better than me, at your lowest point…

It’s the shame and crushing of soul, that made me sit in the corner of the class, staring at you with envy… With jealousy.. With contempt.. As you regained your smile… As you beamed.. Like the sun…

“I…. hate…. you…” — I gasp out the words, feeling your hands suddenly pull my top up and over my face… I yelp…. Both blinded and smothered… My top is SOAKED… The wetness not allowing any air out.. This must be what being waterboarded feels like…

But why am I more fixated on the sensation of my naked breasts spilling over yours…. My caramel complexion against your milky one… The stiff nipples pushing into aerolas… The way your tits DEFY my own, screaming at them ‘No, YOU will bend, not me’…..

I squirm, and release your face, reaching up for my top, hooking a scared thumb inside the neckline, tugging it up.. But I barely manage to pull it over my lips when your claws strike….

“AAHIIIIEEEHHH!!!”

I shriek in pain, my body jolting in absolute agony.. Your claws GOUGE.. DIG… And I thrash falling off you to my right side, but your claws don’t relent, and you push me to my back, with your weight atop of me now….

“AAARRRGHHHHH!! KURRWAAAAAAAAAAAA!!”

I scream at you the insults I heard my grandmother throw at me… The devil child.. The problematic one.. The irredeemable… My hand pushing my top over my face, revealing the two rivers of tears rolling down temples as I reach down and grab at your wrists.. Trying to weaken your grasps…

But your nails are wedged in.. Your weight behind them… Our denim shorts now fully unbuttoned… Slightly crawled down, revealing the tops of our cracks…. And I can feel your blonde fur against mine… 

Why.. Why oh why, amidst this agony, all I can think about.. Is that you didn’t wear any panties…. Because you showed up, much like me, ready to give Cam an ‘advance’ payment on his fucking rent??

Screeching in pain my arms slide around you…. My nails digging into the top of your back, and with clenched teeth I growl, and dragggggggggggg all ten nails down your flawless back… slowly….. Squirming with hatred and pain…

Amber:

I started with them deep. Planting my nails at the very base of your tits, just as they connect to your chest. Then when I had them good and wedged, I began to pull. Dragging them hard. Not enough to cause you to bleed, but enough to hurt you. Enough to take advantage of the soft, least defensible flesh on your body – as it would be mine. 

And like those travels fingers were rolling over a dimmer switch, as they advance, you cry out with increasing volume. A cry that comes as you shift, twist, and then tumble off of me and to the side. To escape my claws, and to avoid my dragging digits. But you aren’t escaping me. Not now. Not ever fucking again. So I roll and lift, advance and mount you. Using my meaty thighs to without hands, work not only by denim bottoms down, but yours with them. Past pussies and knees, down to calves, and then off with a quick series of well-aimed kicks. Kicks which take place, as I reach and rid us off our sweat-drenched tops. Wanting us bare. Wanting us without defense or excuse now that I have you beneath me. 

And with all of that achieved, I center. I target. And then I slam my body down on yours. My heavy tits crashing into yours, so that tiny ripples, spread in waves across them. My hips coming down, in just such a way where our soft, inner thighs lock together tight. 

The warmth and wetness we each bring to that collision making known to both of us the truth we had been wrestling with along with each other. We wanted each other. There was hate. There is hate. But there is also desire. Wanton, wicked, carnal desire. 

But whatever that may have become, had I taken your hand and stayed, it is not cemented as something else. Something feral. Something primal. Something we cannot break from, even if somewhere deep in our hearts we wished we could. 

Despite that revelation, as soon as I lift my body to meet yours once again, tit to tit, and this time clit to clit, I feel your claws dig into my back and then DRAG. Just like mine had, moments ago. And when they do, I collapse forward and with eyes closed scream out in pain. But your fingers don’t stop, they keep going, and all I can do is try to weather the storm, laying on you, my face turned, and head shifted to the right of yours. So that our lips hover not more than centimeters apart as I whimper. Whisper. And curse. 

“I hate you….” My lips brush yours as I speak, until with a sudden jab of your left breast, I fall off of your body to the side.

Ewa:

I hate you… I hate everything about you…. 

But nothing more, than your hypocrisy….

For almost two decades of our lives, you’ve feigned this image… This aura… Of the good girl… The perfect angel… As pure, as someone raised in the filth of our society could attain… You lost your virginity as early as I did; but you never cheated on your boyfriends; whereas I had… You pretended to be into boys, while I openly flirted and dated girls…. You frequented the church, whereas I stopped the moment I left home when I turned 18… You cared for your ailing mother, while I cursed my family and swore to never see them again…

And yet…. Here you are… A vulture… An animal… A cruel demoness, tearing into me, clawing into my chest, like you are trying to rip my heart out, so you can stab it again….

Here you are… Wiggling your whore hips, shifting your thighs, untangling our sweaty legs that have grown numb from the intense tangling, not only pushing your own shorts down, but hooking your toes into mine and STRIPPING me.. BARING me…. Something I would have done for a bat of your long lashes many years ago…

But now… You’re doing it to violate me… To slut me out… 

And as your naked body collapses on mine again I yelp, then slash my claws down your back, it’s slow, it’s vicious, and you scream and our cheeks hit each other, the corners of our lips touching, I can feel your saliva drooling on my lips, before suddenly you JAM your claws into my left tit one more time and put your whole weight on my chest and roll off me..

“AHHHHIIIEEEHHH!!!!”

I scream and my body spasms, rolling to my side, my back to you, my arms crossed in front of my chest, weeping…. My legs bent in a half fetal position… Feeling the nasty gouges you left on my chest… I can hear you panting behind me… Breathing hard…. Gasping….

Then… I hear your voice…

Words, dripping with contempt… With mockery…

“Had… Enough… Yet… BITCH?”

The words shoot through my aching mind like a hollow-point bullet, tearing at my insides as my pained eyes widen, and I don’t respond..

Not with words at least…

I GROWL and fling my body backwards, rolling to my back, beside you on the bed, both facing upwards, and my right arm swings down… SLAPPINNNGG my palm against your naked, whore CUNT…

My fingers curling, digging into your soft folds… Grabbing your womanhood, the prize I longed for half my life… That I wished to kiss, make out with, suckle and worship…

And instead…. The hard points of my nails PRESS into your thick puffy smooth labia…. my fingers scrunching as I try to squeeze them together, like they are caught in a bear trap…..

“NOT… UNTIL… YOU…. ARE… FINISHED!!!!”

Amber:

That moment, more than any other, is a crystalline encapsulation of what our lives have become. What our shattered dreams, dirt roads, and burdened journeys have brought us to. 

To each other. 

To war with the one person who could have saved us, had we let them in. 

Had we given in to the temptation we felt. 

But those words are tainted by bias. By lies I’ve always told myself. In part, because of some old dusty tome, and the groping hands of a man behind the pulpit. 

It was I who kept you out. Away. Not just at arms length, but as far away as I could keep you. 

And yet now. Here. As your nails carve deep ravines down my bare back, and I collapse on top of you. Our cheeks pressing. Lips meeting. And saliva seeping. I am in pain. Agony. Anguish. And yet there is nowhere I would rather be. Not in the confines of my life or the limits of our filthy, cumstained world. 

You are now my only dream to chase, though in truth it is more a nightmare. I want to hurt you. To hate you, just as I do now, forever. To punish you for being the last dagger in my heart. 

Reminding me of the life I could have lived and the happiness I could have had, were I strong enough to resist the lies I was told. 

A reflection of hope lost and chance missed. And I aim to ruin you, my terrible, soul-wounding relic of revolution denied. Savaging your breasts, just as you do the same to my back. Until we separate.

Falling apart, until that series of turns and peeling sweat-coated skin leaves us on our back. Side by side. Your right hand raising and then coming down hard atop my soaking kitten in an audible clap. Your fingers then curling and digging into my soft, sensitive, glistening pink lips. 

I cry out in pain, as my hands shoot to your wrist on instinct. At first they pull and pry, trying to remove your hand from between my thighs. But as I exert effort and angle to try and end your attack, I feel your attacks slow and soften. Not fully or even by half. But just enough for my own desires and demands to take over.

Your words ringing in my ears. ‘Finished….’ You growl. ‘Finished’ You hiss, as I squirm and writhe on the bed. My hands still clasped around your wrist, but allowing it. For a moment that lingers. 

To my side I hear you purring. Snarling. Making feral, primal sounds of enjoyment and fury as you work on my swollen pussy. But just as you go to move. To capitalize on my moment of inaction and allowance. I reach out down. And slap my own left hand down on your cunt. The impact sending up a spray of sweat, as my own fingers retract and drive into your cunt. 

“THIS … WILL … NEVER … BE … FINISHED!!!!” I shout! As if I am about to lift and tackle – rise and lunge. But instead we remain on our backs. Side by side, as we always should have been. Our digits digging deep into each other’s cunts. Wetting with each others nectar. Hooked claws stabbing at each other’s delicate pink walls.

Ewa:

I might as well be beaten…. Defeated… Broken after the last round of our battle….. After nearly three minutes of you mauling and assaulting me… On our futon… Our arena… Our adult playground, that we were granted by the Goddess herself, a boon to make up for us never using the one we had as kids…

And yet, we’ve turned it into our brutal Coliseum … Into our battlefield, to hurt and maim… To punish and exact vengeance….

And instead of curling up and sobbing our ways into a bitter draw… You had to utter the words…. You had to rub the wound that never stopped bleeding…. And I… I have no recourse but to strike….

For pride… For dignity… For Satan’s honor… I slap my palm on your cunt, crossing my right leg over your left, stopping you from rolling away, but at the same time, bounding myself to the same fate, as I attack and punish your womanhood…

“YES!!”

I bark out…. My body tensed.. My teeth clenched… My cheap makeup smeared into several partial faces of me on the dirty sheets, on your cleavage and shoulder… Tiny pieces of a puzzle that will never be put together…

“JUST SCREAM YOU HYPOCRITICAL CUNNNNTT!!”

Your hands slapping on my wrist, but to no avail… And then, I watch it.. Your left hand rising… Like a scorpion’s tail ready to strike…. And I know it’s a warning…. You will do it…. It’s my chance to stop, roll away, and satisfy myself that you screamed last…

But then…. We both know, long before you verbalize it, that it will NEVER be finished….

So I shut my eyes, and feel your palm smacking down… Your fingers curling, your nails biting into labia, two slipping inside of me and I shudder and HOWL in agony….

“AAAHHIIIEEEEEEHH!!!”

My own free hand going down, grabbing your wrist… Tightening and trying to pull away, to pry, to ease the agony, but there is no hope of that…. Your left leg, that is pinned under my right thigh curls more, and you slip your ankle over mine…. Double-locking us…

Accepting the challenge.. The dare…

Committing us to this duel of wills… Of anguish.. Of punishment… As we both thrash on our backs, trying to see who will outlast whom… Crying and molesting each other’s most sacred of temples…

Amber:

When those attacks began, hands clapping down on each other’s mounds, as fingers clip deep between wet and quacking thighs, we seemed so defiant. 

So strong. 

Crying for each other. Screaming at each other. Knowing our horrible host won’t be back for some hours yet. 

But as seconds turn to minutes, and minutes to handfuls of them, our fires begin to dim. Neither of us able or willing to truly go all out. Instead studying cunts that for so long vexed us. Examining every inch of the pussy that for so long called to us. 

Muttering hatefully as we sweat in this hellhole. Crying out in pain and whimpering in delicate devastation, as we both try to outlast and outdo one another with our angling, anguishing assault. 

But finally, after so long that we barely remember what it was like to not having a harpy claw at our insides, I concede. Not in words. Not in a verbal surrender. But instead, when my talons retract and my attacking hand moves along with its pair. My body turning on its side, to face you, as my hands move to your hair. 

Pulling and yanking, as you turn towards me. Still clawing. Still pinching, twisting, and clawing. Tears flowing from my eyes as you advance and press into me. Your breasts and body pushing me over onto my back again as you mount me. 

“Fuck you, Ewa!” I hiss, even as I sob. Glaring up at you through tear-filled eyes. Still pulling at your hair, even as you settle in atop me. 

Into your mount. 

Your throne. 

Your placement as we lock body to body again.

Ewa:

We squeal and cry… Our heads arching back, digging into the futon as we attack each other’s sexes…. Cruel attacks, ones that vent the fury and frustration of two girls, who should have had their hands on each other in the most gentle of ways many years ago…

But now… It feels every pinch.. Every gouge.. Every scratch.. Every pull and tug is meant to punish the other for not giving her what she wanted… 

Our tits sway and shudder on our chests, violently as we thrash… Rolling sidways before smacking into their own twin, our bodies squirming, asses grinding into the sheets…. Sweat and cum seeping into the cracks like small rivers.. Sticky rivers, made thicker by the girl juice seeping from our abused cunts…

Its our hell… Our personal hell that we have damned the other to… And as my wrist trembles… Barely holding on to you… My assault diminished to a weak pinch on your left fold.. I feel your hand slip out from inside of me… And then grabbing my hair.. A vicious TUG on my hair turns me into you and I slide my left leg over your hip…. 

Our bodies jostle for a moment, but then, without much fight you roll to your back…

And I suddenly realize it… I didn’t overpower you… You granted me that position… You did, courtesy of losing the game of pussy-pinching-chicken….

And I sneer, pulling my hand from your labia, and sliding it up, wiping your juices against your ribs as my body nestles on yours… Our thighs spreading each other, wiggling and grunting, as our sore, abused sexes find each other again…. and with the rapidly forming familiarity they lock anew….. WIth a grunt from both of our lips…. My left leg, curled around the outside of your right… Feeling your stomach sucked in, your hard abs outlined… Your chest pressed into mine.. The blue veins outlined through your milky complexion…

And with two clutches to the others hair…. I glare down at you… Teeth clenched, my spittle misting down on your face….

“Fuck… YOU.. Amber…” — Groaning the words in the face of my nemesis.. The only woman I desired… The only woman I truly hate….. Wishing to see the agony and defeat in yours… The apology for rejecting me…. But instead.. I see…

Defiance…

And I know that I want nothing more, than to BREAK it.. And you…

Amber:

There for an eternity beneath you. Your cruel, malicious hand ruining my sex as I try to endure your onslaught. No longer on offense, save for my pulling at your hair. 

That’s what I pictured. 

That’s what I imagined. 

You atop me. Above me. Looking down and ravaging my body. 

But instead, almost as soon as you mount me, your hand relents. And you focus not on hurting me – not on punishing me. But on aligning us. Your eyes leaving mine so that you can look down and adjust just so. Your thighs shifting and calves hooking. Your mound finding and securing to mine. Your body arching so you can lock our wounded pussies together. 

Our torn, tortured, throbbing lips finding and sealing together tight, aided by liquid lust and swollen folds. 

It is only when you have us so that you turn your attention back to me, and grab for my hair. Taking a hold no less than my own, and wrenching it in small, forceful tugs. 

Cursing down at me, just as I do up at you. “Fuck … you … Ewa… You’ll neve–mmmmnnnppphhhh” I try to tell you. To convince you, or perhaps myself that we aren’t in the endgame. That we have only just begun. But as I speak you lean in, down, and bite my lip. 

It makes me cry out in pain and whimper in the same, as you settle in. Sweat pooling in every dip and running down our writhing bodies in long-tailed drips. 

Our large breasts, which once played such a focus now only a buttress keeping us from becoming one, but failing in the endeavor as they spill out to our sides. It is in that state and madness that, as I try to wriggle free from your bite, and as we pull at each other’s hair, your hips thrust into me, and I moan for you. 

Even as you hurt me. Even as I hate you with every fiber of my being. 

Nothing has ever wounded me more. Wounded me worse. Not your claws. Not your teeth. Not your barbarous words or your smashing tits. 

And though all of that is true, as your hips fire off again, I once more moan for you. Into your bite. Giving you another victory. Intimate as any could be.

Ewa:

Damn you…

Damn you to hell…

I never believed in one… In the bearded man in the sky… Why would I? When everyone who believed in him showed me nothing but disdain and cruelty… Told me I’m rotten…. Rejected… Abused me when I was a child, and then, flayed me for speaking up…

But in this moment… I wish there was a hell… So I could commit our souls to…. To latch to it with smoky tentacles and pull you down with me… To burn your white feathery wings to a crisp… To char them… To take the one everyone called a perfect angel, and bring you down to the pit that I was told I belong to… 

I’ll writhe in it for eternity…. So long you are there too….

We grimace and I moan, but I muffle my cries by biting your lip… You shudder… Your fingers tighten in my hair.. Your nails scraping at my scalp, and I burrow mine into yours… My body shifting…. my hips rotating in a small, bitter circle… Against yours… Our labia splat open like a spatcock chicken, rubbing our abused, scratched pink folds against each other… 

And you don’t resist… After minutes of mauling each other’s sex, it seems you agree, like me, that this is a better battleground…. As my clit and yours circle and unsheath each other… sending trembles through our bodies, ripples that ricochet across our chests and lungs….

My breasts and yours battle, roll and glide… The scratches now settling in, etched on the skin, rubbing as nipples find them and seem to follow their tracks…. Our mounds rolling over each other like soft squishy hills, before dipping in the others cleavage, gliding out again….

Isn’t this what I dreamed of… Wanted…. All my young life… To writhe with you so intimately… So wantonly…

Why is it though, that I hate it… Loathe it, and you…

It’s because I know that you are hating it too… That our motions are not those of passionate lovers, but duelists… That you are fighting me…. That you’re giving me finally what I wanted, just to take it away…. To give me a taste of the panacea I chased, before denying me….

The futon creaks beneath us…. And I accept it…. If hating you… If bruising you… Cutting you…. Hurting you… Is the only way for us to become one…

So be it…

My hips gyrate, moving rapidly…. Like one of the pornos I watch in bed for an hour every night on the stolen WiFi…. Grimacing as I feel your body tense and falter…. Feeling the river of sweat roll down the grove of my spine, seeping into my butt crack and drizzling down on your sex, my teeth releasing your lips, then lashing with my tongue, to lap the blood dripping from it, and pressing my lips to yours, feeling them part, I don’t kiss you…

I spit the blood-tinged saliva into your throat…. Hoarseling groaning..

“No… Fuck… you… Amber…. You… will—uuunngghhhhhh”

Amber:

I laid down on this futon willingly. Accepting the fate we had always walked towards. To be together. Fully. Completely. 

But not how you wished or I would have wanted, were I not so blind. Not lovers. Not two women in love, facing the world together hand in hand. NO! We could have. We SHOULD have! God, I would give anything to go back and make that reality ours. 

To tell myself that everything else in the world was fucking bullshit, except for you. 

But I can’t. It’s too late. Far. Too. Late….

And though it is. 

We are still forced to abide. Still forced to be.

Together. 

Still forced to be connected, clit to clit, as we would have been in that other, better world. 

Fucking as we would have been. 

But not because we desire pleasure, instead because we desire control and revenge. The other’s destruction and some way – ANY way to feel pride in who and what we are now. 

But I can feel myself fading in that struggle to obtain. My body tiring. My heart aching. My soul pushing me to keep fighting, though my body begs me to stop. 

My tugs at your hair weakening with every passing second. My fingers aching. Palms stinging from usage. And so I let loose my holds, just as you release your bite and enjoy the taste of my blood. 

Then, as you tell me I will give in. That I will break. I reach my right hand between us, and press my palm to your the bottom of your chin to push. To force you to look away from me, even as you grind atop me, and I, on primal instinct alone, grind back. Your breasts enveloping mine, and with pressure crushing mine between us. 

My left arm lifting and extending to slap you. Somewhere. Anywhere. But before it can, you grab it and pin it to the futon beneath us. Keeping me trapped beneath you as a deep well of pleasure begins to grow within me. Forcing me still to moan for you, until suddenly my pressing palm slips, and your mouth once more descends towards mine. 

Your lips sealing to mine in a terrible, hateful, ill-named kiss. One that allows you to spit the blood you took from me deep into the back of my throat before pulling back and away from me.

A proud, dominant, woman. Despite all we have been through. Despite all the suffering you have endured, at my hand and all others.

Ewa:

The entire trailer is shaking… Subtly…. The wheels of the motorhome gently massaging their rusty springs, flexing and compressing them…. Paling in comparison to the rough, well oiled grinding of the motion at its heart…. Creaking the futton, as we HATEFUCK each other….

In this moment, I’m forgetting about my shitty life… About the homelessness that loomed over my head…. About Cam and his incoming abuse for the next weeks and months… About his friends he will invite over and stand around me in a small circle, drinking beers and cumming on my face and tits, before berating me I didn’t swallow hard enough, with the threat of kicking me out…

I forget about all that… Because right now…

I’m a conqueror… I’m an avenger… I’m a Goddess.. Who felled her rival…..

And yet… You still fight… You palm my chin, hard enough my own teeth bite my tongue and I yelp, tasting my own blood in my mouth as you shove my head…. Your other hand peppering my side with angry, defiant slaps… Ones that I return with my free hand, growling in indignant fury that you still.. DARE… To fight back…. To defy me… 

To taint my victory… Refusing to hand it to me…

Even with your curvy thick buttocks squished against the drenched sheets, soaked with our sweat and cum…. You still jab your clit into mine.. Your labia still tighten around mine, kegels flexing and tugging… 

I grab your slapping wrist and push it down…. Grunting… My chin slips and I drop my face on yours…. Panting… The corners of our lips hitting each other and we grunt, it feels almost like a misplaced headbutt… And as your right nipple dragggss across my left I moan, freezing, but I grab your other wrist and push your arm down… Crossing your wrists over your head… Trying to PUT you in that surrendering position that you yet refuse me…

But I don’t care… I will… MAKE.. You… Surrender.. Even if I can’t break your soul.. I will contour your body into it, until your mind follows…

My lips smother yours… The cuts on our lips, cheeks, tongues bleeding together, and I kiss you… Ravishing you…. A hatekiss, because neither shut our eyes…. Hazel-greens meet blues as we whine and moan, staring, our long lashes fluttering, their ends fencing like dozens of rapiers clacking…

My breasts smothering yours…. To no avail, so they settle in one mold, each with one tit pushed out…. The other cradled into the others cleavage… Flattening.. Deflating… 

Our ribs touching… Their ridges fitting together….. Our tummies flutter…. Taut abs expressed then buried under the bulging, gasping for air stomachs….. Our belly buttons aligning, yours flooded with sweat, sealing each other then making soft pops as the seal breaks…

Our pussies gyrating, sucking, grinding, rubbing.. Every scratch burning…. No amount of seeping cum soothing the pains that we inflicted upon each other….

And despite it all… You still fight back… Just like you did all your life… 

Rejecting me as a friend…

Rejecting me as a lover…

And now, rejecting me as the winner…. 

Still spitting on me, no matter what I do….

And me, still, doing the only thing I know against it…

Hating you… Fighting you back…. Groaning… 

Except that today… I’m going to prove it… My worth… My status… Over yours… I’m going to… Break you… I’ll finally… Show you… 

That I’m… Truly… The… Better… Woman…

Amber:

I could see it. Picture it in my mind. Two women, fighting with not but their cunts. Trying to push the other to orgasm in some sort of backward race. Looking to push the other over the edge first, to claim a victory of making the other cum first. 

But this – what we’re doing, is not that. Yes, we’re grinding. Yes, we’re fucking. Hard. Violently. Pouring our hatred into every thrust and shift. We are in no hurry. Not that I play a role in the decision or pace, or strong enough to dictate speed or rhythm. But you do and are, and in that position of power, you fuck me. Cruelly. Dominantly. And whenever it suits you or your desires, you slow or pause. Keeping my pleasure and humiliation contingent on your every whim. 

If I didn’t already hate you with all my being. Didn’t already blame you for everything bad that has ever happened to me. Didn’t already loathe you to the depths of my soul, I would now. 

Now as you ravage me.

Control me. 

Punish me.

Ruin me. 

And though I am too tired to grab the pendulum and swing it back in my direction, I won’t give in. Won’t stop defying you. Trying to slap. To scratch. To thrust. To fight you in any way I can. 

Until finally, you catch my only free hand, and like you do my other, pin it above my head. Keeping them both trapped and you above me. Glaring down and into my eyes, as I continue to sob, moan, and cry out in pain. Your heavy breasts, because of your positioning, dragging up and coming to a rest just before my chin. Threatening to smother me. Framing my face in your blood and sweat stained cleavage. 

My dry, bitten, trembling lips letting loose another salvo of vitriol as I try to resist you in any way I still can. “I … hate … you … Ewa….” The words cause my crying to worsen, before I speak again. “And … I … ALWAYS … will….”

Ewa:

Your words…

Your fucking eyes…

Gawd… 

I hate you… 

As you utter them… I gasp… A pained cry coming from my core, as you repeat it, your hatred to me, like a mantra… And growling that ALWAYS with the ferocity and certainty that demolishes any hope… Any chance…

It makes my right hand shift, letting go of your wrist, and using my left hand to hold both your crossed, weary, fatigued arms over your head…. And my paw comes down and wraps around your slender, soft, marble-like throat…. Gripping it…

“Like… I… CARE… Anymore… Amber…”

I growl and start to squeeze… I watch your eyes go wide with shock and fear…. The tears welled in them seeping out… Your lips trembling as I choke you… Grunting and gyrating into you…

I could kill you right now… I could end you… 

In this fucking trailer…. For Cam to come back and find me atop of you, still fucking your corpse… Still screaming at you, slapping you… Still thrashing over your warm body, demanding for you to KEEP FIGHTING me… Till the cops place me in a straight jacket and wheel me out to the hole to spend the rest of my days in…

MY teeth clench…. Glaring at you as I strangle you… Hearing you gasp as I slowly growl… Still grinding into you.. Still FUCKING you, watching your cheeks turn purple…..

“… I’ve… always… hated you…” 

Your lips tremble… The asphyxiation causing our cunts to twitch.. You and mine.. trembling, our cum still seeping out as we war on our futon… Our arena….

I see your eyes get bloodshot, your wheezes dry, devoid of air… When suddenly I release your throat and DROP my chest on yours…

My forehead grinding into your temple… Turning your head… Your lungs burning to suck in air, but I press my tits on yours.. Squishing them as both pairs bulge out… Wanting you to SUFFER while drawing in the air you’ve been deprived of..

My bleeding lips brushing against your cheek, tainting it crimson as I hoarsely speak, as if I was the one strangled a moment ago…

“I want you.. To hate me… more… I should.. Drag… Your ass out to the curb…. To wake up… With the cum of a dozen junkies oozing from your mouth and ass…. But… I won’t…. I want you here…. I want you waking up… Next to me… Going to bed… Next to me… I want you smelling my sex sweat everytime I come back from Cam’s room…. I want you.. Thinking of this moment…. Of what.. I’ve done to you.. I want you… To hate me.. FOREVER…. ah.. ah.. ahhhhhhhh…”

My own words send me into a trembling climax, as my body shudders and my teeth gnaw at your jaw weakly.. Not biting, just holding your face turned sideways as I shudder and CUMMMMMMM….

And like the sun parting the clouds to beam on me… I feel it.. That rush.. That… LUST… That.. PEACE…. I found in the middle of this war…

The PURPOSE for my existence… That gives me the best climax of my entire life….

Amber:

I hate you. I say it because I do. I say it because I have constructed my life with you as my singular villain. The evil queen. My nemesis when we are apart or together. 

I blame you for my failings. For my falters. For the moments when I reached for the stars and crashed down to earth. For the times I flew too close to the sun, and my wings singed, and I fell from the sky. 

And though all of that is true, when I speak the words I hate you, I can feel my already broken heart splinter again. A fragmenting that worsens when I see your eyes upon the hearing. See how, despite our fighting, despite our competition, despite our lifetimes of missed chances, your own heart do the same. 

But those still slivering hearts do not stop us. Not you from trapping me fully and completely. Not your breasts from crashing down on mine and imposing their will. Your will. So forcefully I feel as if my own, already wounded tits might explode. 

Not you from turning my head, and fucking me…. Hard…. Brutally…. All as you gnaw on my blood stained chin. 

The moment should make me fill with rage and rebel against you. Should push me to surge into the moment and turn us so I can take the advantage. But instead, as I hear your biting mouth release tiny, delicate whimpers and primal moans of pleasure and words of such venom and menace that I can barely breathe. Barely think. 

But in those words you tell me…. Threatening and assuring – promising and dooming me to a fate of us. A fate of you and me. Together. At war. Now. Tonight. Tomorrow. And FOREVER. 

It is only then, when you have spoken every single filthy word you need to say, that I feel you stiffen and tremble – buck and in one long, deep, desperate thrust, you drag your soaked kitten against mine. It is the last stone thrown before the castle’s walls fall. 

The last thrust before you, in all your victorious glory, cum. On me. In me. Coating my pussy with your essence. Marking me with your scent and succulence. 

And as you do, rather than seizing that moment to fire up and surge into you. Instead of taking advantage of your moment of distraction and weakness. I grind myself against you. 

Weakly. 

Pathetically. 

Humping you without a shred of control or pride. Trying to steal from your moment of victory a shred of pleasure in this cruel, shameful battle of wounded unwanted women. Letting you ride me – ride US into a paradigm-shifting, soul shattering orgasm that crests over us in one wave after another. For seconds that tick on and on. As the hands of the lock spin in interlocked circles.

The intensity of our battle and passions we had built up since we were children exponentiating the orgasm we had always wanted, regardless of how it came. Or how we ended up forcing each other to do the same. 

Until finally, in the wake of that majesty and tragedy, you roll off of me and to your back next to me on the futon. Each of us laying in a pool of sweat made pink with the smallest droplets of blood. 

The hot, sex scented air of the trailer washing over us, as I sob. Next to you. Next to the very woman who hurt me. Next to the woman who has been hurting me since we were children. 

I should get up and leave. Roll out of bed, get dressed, and find somewhere – ANYWHERE to sleep, other than were you are. 

But this…. This trailer…. This moment… This war…. And YOU are all I have…. All I will ever have, given the way my life has gone.

And so, instead of running, I remain. There beside you – in the wake of our battle. Our war. 

“This isn’t over, cunt.” I mutter hatefully, even as I wipe away tears. 

“Never”, you reply, before you shift and with your legs kick me. Pushing me off of the futon to the floor in a clump. 

“Now get to making Cam dinner, slut.” You hiss, as on the floor I cry. Searching for the strength to do as you have told me. Knowing I am in no place to argue, and will be without a place if Cam’s dinner isn’t made when he gets home.

To Be Continued in Chapter 2. Click Here to Go There!

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