[JT Edson]

I can hardly wait to see what will happen next.

[sinclairfan]

Feeling Andrea's bush, I started to understand why boys in my school made such a big deal about losing their virginity.  They still "got off" from a blow job or even a hand job--why did they have to have us down there, especially with all the risks of unintended pregnancy entailed by officially "doing it".

But attacking my rival between her legs took our competition to a whole other level of being a personal struggle.  There was no turning back, no kissing-and-making-up, between Andrea and me once we attacked each others' most personal part of our bodies.

My hatred of Andrea took on a whole other dimension.  I wanted to be better than her in every way....to live a better life than her, to have better sex with her, to live in a bigger house than her, to have nicer clothes than her. 

Now.

A year from now.

Five years from now. 

Twenty-five years from now, at our 25th reunion.

> I completely hate you now, Andrea.

> I completely hate you, Monique.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

Andrea briefly got me pinned under her, and I just assumed that her big thick bush would be used any minute to attempt to smother me, or at the very least to humiliate me.

But it was Andrea who seemed humiliated.  She kept sliding her hips away from my face, not towards it, but rather towards my hips.  I couldn't tell what she was attempting to accomplish.

But I knew what I wanted to accomplish.  I wanted to ride my rival's face.

I wrapped my legs around around Andrea's, pretending to be aroused and wanting to touch genitals with her.

I started fake deep breathing, the way I did when sex with the man who was the mutual object of our rivalry was taking too long, or was too sloppy, and had ceased being enjoyable to me.

Andrea seemed to get aroused that I was getting aroused.

> Mmmmmm.  Bitch.

> Oooooo.  Bitch.  [Andrea seemed to enjoy being called a bitch.  I wondered if our mutual boyfriend called her a bitch in bed.]

> ohhhhhhhhhh

> sssssssssssssshit

[My moans were fake.  Andrea's seemed real.]

My plan was working.  Working slowly, but working.  Andrea was allowing me to roll on top of her.

And as soon I was on top of her ..... I straddled her face so that my bush was on her mouth.  And I started grinding.

Andrea wasn't aroused anymore.

She was scared.

I could tell because I felt her bush.  And it got dry real fast.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

When David and I started fucking....or, re-started after one of our many re-unions, ..... we got into a cat and mouse game of trying to trick the other into rolling on top of course.

Because, when you think about it, the person on top in fucking has to do a lot of work.  They have to make sure the tempo of the thrusting is consistent with the arousal and energy-level of the session you're having.  I could always tell that the honeymoon phase of my reunions with David were coming to a close by his becoming lazy and wanting to fuck with me on top.

I had just now lulled Andrea into letting her guard down in our vicious catfight and getting her to position herself on the bottom.  I couldn't stop wondering:  is that because David and HER had the same fucking habits as David and ME.  Trying the maneuver the other into being on top?

We're Andrea and I THAT interchangeable to David.

We're Andrea and I doomed to a lifetime .... or at least a young adulthood.... of being dumped by David for the other.

Was THIS what it was like to have a rival?

To be in a love triangle?

To hate another women so completely?

> I hate you, Andrea.

> I hate you, Monique.

To be continued.....