I hate to admit it, but I've always had a bit of a rivalry with Stacy. We've been in the same dance class for years, and while we've never been best friends, we've always been cordial. But today on the bus, something snapped.
We were sitting side by side, our short skirts barely covering our asses, when she started toying with me. At first, it was just a playful nudge, but then her hand crept over to my leg, her fingers inching closer to my crotch. I knew what she was doing—she was trying to pinch or scratch me, something that would hurt but wouldn't be obvious to the other passengers.
I tried to play it cool, crossing my legs and shifting away. But Stacy was persistent. She inched closer, her fingers slipping under the edge of my skirt, her nails grazing the tender skin of my inner thigh. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, a mix of anger and embarrassment.
I wasn't about to let her get away with it. I slid my hand down to her knee, pretending to adjust her skirt, but really I was feeling around for her panties. When I found them, I gave a sharp tug, pulling them up so tight that they dug into her skin. I could see the discomfort in her face, but she was determined not to let me win.
The bus lurched forward, and I took the opportunity to repay the favor. My fingers snaked around to her crotch, and I gave her a good hard pinch. She let out a small yelp, but quickly muffled it with her hand. The game was on now, and we were both in it to win.
We continued our silent battle, each attack more daring than the last. Stacy's fingers were like tiny, cruel snakes, sliding up my leg, trying to find a way inside my panties. I fought back with every ounce of strength I had, grabbing at her labia, pulling and twisting as hard as I could without making a sound.
The bus was filled with the sounds of people talking and the engine humming, but in the space between us, it was a battlefield. We were both panting, our breaths coming out in short, sharp gasps as we fought to outmaneuver each other.
Finally, Stacy struck a blow that made me see stars. Her nails sank into my pussy, and I couldn't hold back the whimper that escaped my lips. I had to get away, so I scooted to the back of the bus, where there were no other passengers.
She followed me, her eyes blazing with a fury I'd never seen before. We stood there, the back of the bus our makeshift arena, continuing our sick game of cat and mouse. But now, the rules were different. There was no more sneaking or subtlety. We were both grabbing and scratching, our underwear twisted around our thighs, our pussies exposed and vulnerable.
The pain was intense, but so was the anger. We were two girls, stripped of our civility, reduced to our basest instincts. The fight raged on, a blur of limbs and insults, until finally, the bus stopped and we were left gasping and bruised.
Stacy stormed off, her skirt hiked up around her waist, her face flushed with anger. I watched her go, feeling a mix of relief and satisfaction. We may never be friends, but at least now she knows not to mess with me.
