(Well, it's certainly been a while since my last story. At this rate I'm averaging 1 story every year and a half maybe...I'm hoping to increase that rate. But never mind that. This is a story that I whipped up. My take on a sexfight, inspired by another story by an amazingly talented writer on this site. If you enjoy it, or even if you don't, please leave some feedback or even a like. All writers live off feedback, so the more you can give, the more encouragement we have to keep doing this for you!)
The constant rhythmic grunts had grown monotonous. Another client, desperate enough to pay for her attention, and yet, despite the ease with which she was able to make him hard, she was having problems closing the deal.
“Come on…ugh you…bitch…” He stammered out between breaths. Frustration laced each word. It was obvious she was going through the motions, despite her attempts to mask it. Desensitized now to the taste of cock and cum and the smell of sex, he was just like the rest. Nothing special. Certainly not someone she’d consider attractive or interesting in the slightest. Worse still, he wasn’t paying her enough. A discounted rate for a first timer. Not like her normal clientele.
Finally, mercifully, her lips and tongue and saliva took him over the edge, and she felt his hot liquid splash the back of her throat. Gagging on it, she held her mouth over his dick, letting it drip from her mouth back onto him. Her long brown hair hung around her face, hiding her expression from him. Her angst. She hated this. People hate their jobs, but not like this. They didn’t have to go home after a shift in the early hours of the morning and scrub themselves clean. Most had someone to go back to, someone they loved dearly, someone who would listen to their problems and put an arm around their shoulder. If only.
She held that position as he subsided and shrank. Just staring into his crotch, not focused on it, her mind wandering. As he sat up, she was snapped back to reality, flopping over onto her side, propping her head up as seductively as she could muster. She watched the man stand, walk over to the chair his pants were slumped over, and pull a leather wallet out of the back pocket. He pulled a wad of notes out and dumped them on the bed. Brushing her hand over them, spreading the paper slips out over the bedsheet, she counted them up, a hundred dollars short. She looked up at him, a questioning, almost pleading look on her face.
“Next time, if there even is a next time, whore, do the job properly…”
Like the aftermath of every other job in recent memory, she stood there in the tiled bathroom cubical, head tilted up towards the god-like showerhead above her, praying for change. Her tears camouflaged upon joining the stampede of the shower, the water migrating over her round, still-perky breasts, across her flat stomach and beyond her shapely hips. Most would consider her to still be in her prime, even though she was in her mid-thirties. Not that she felt that way. And after this particular failure, she felt disgusted, brushing her teeth furiously, attempting to remove any trace of the cum she could still taste, longing for the fresh mint to overtake and hide the vile memories of a few hours ago. Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped herself in a towel and dropped slowly to the floor of the steam filled bathroom. It was not the first time she’d cried to herself about her situation. This was also not the first time a customer had shortchanged her in the last six months, and it would not be the last at this rate.
Truth be told, Monique Giroux, or “Celeste” as she was affectionately called, was severely burnt out. Many years and temporary partners ago, she loved working as an escort, the sex was amazing, most of the time, and a lot of her regulars treated her wonderfully. She enjoyed the lifestyle for much of her twenties. However, she’d always known the work had started out as a means to an end, a temporary money maker, a trampoline to higher things. But as she trudged through her dilapidated apartment that was a far cry from the Ritz Carlton penthouse she’d been called up to more than once, the brunette was reminded of how that trampoline never bounced. Monique always felt like she was stuck, suspended at the end of the bungee cord’s length, unable to ascend. Her finances never built up enough to make it, no matter how many high paying executives and politicians and movie stars spent the night with her.
Collapsing naked on her cheap mattress that, ironically, Monique had only ever used for sleeping, she once again contemplated where she was in life. Barely able to support herself financially, the rising costs of living were taking a toll. On top of that, it had been very hard to find a stable relationship, not many were willing to give a sex worker much of a chance once they found out. It was times like these, at her most vulnerable, that she longed for a strong, caring arm to wrap around her and give her the support she desperately needed. None of her clients gave her that. They were more interested in getting what they wanted from her. She provided the “girlfriend experience” to so many, but never received it in return. As she drifted off to sleep, she wondered, like always, if she ever would.
“Late again Monique? This is not like you…”
“I know, I’m sorry…” Monique cursed herself for the umpteenth time that morning as she stood in front of her boss at her day job, retail assistant at a designer lingerie store. She had overslept again, exhausted from the terrible sleep she’d endured overnight. She needed this job just as much as her escorting, a three day a week side gig that paid the rent and not much else. It did give her the opportunity to get free samples though, and she wondered what her boss would think if he knew she was advertising his product for free via her overnight liaisons.
“You’re putting too much pressure on your colleagues, and realistically I can’t keep you on if you’re not committed to your role here.”
“I know.”
“Are you ok? If there’s a problem, you can always talk to me.”
“I know, nothing’s wrong, but thank you.”
There was absolutely no way Monique would be able to tell her boss about her problems. She was sure she’d get fired on the spot if he found out what she did of a nighttime. In some ways she wished she could just sit there and dump all her problems out on him. Sure, he was a kind person and was more than accommodating to her. She just couldn’t jeopardize this kind of income at all though, so she stayed silent, and stayed employed.
The day went smoothly, all things considered. She did her best to sell revealing garments to rich men and housewives, secretly jealous that she wasn’t doing the shopping herself, trying on bras and stockings and garters for the man who loved her for who she was, that imaginary man who made her feel sexy. No amount of stares and gawks from the procession of men through the store entrance, nor the jealous glares of their wives and girlfriends, and certainly not the best efforts of the tight fitting, yet tasteful business dress she wore could make Monique feel that way. The brunette felt dirty every time they looked at her like that. But she soldiered on, the fake smile she practiced on so many lonely men in the past and a brief, tantalizing view of her cleavage was all she really needed to suck the money out of bank accounts at the till. If only it was that easy in her other line of work.
It was all a vicious cycle churning away, a day at the lingerie store, a disappointing night in a hotel room with a guy whose name she would never know, and an early morning crying herself to sleep. It continued for weeks and weeks, never letting up. Until one day, as she looked through her unread escort service emails on a bus home from the store, she read one from a potential new client. It was just like any other. Nothing special. Monique didn’t want a new client. She didn’t want another underpaying nightmare. Her regulars had been unusually quiet, however. She had prayed to whatever deity would listen that they weren’t moving on from her. For now though, while a new client was hardly appealing, the money definitely was. She replied back, accepting the offer, before touching her head to the glass of the window next to her. A solemn stare as her heart sank on the journey home.
Monique stared into the bathroom mirror in front of her in horror. Streaks of makeup down her elegant, yet slightly rounded cheeks. Mascara tears had started spattering her naked breasts. Sobs echoed in the immaculately tiled room, the sound bouncing off and replaying through her head, as if to taunt her. A collection of stained tissues in the sink to go with the one she clutched in her slender hand. Normally this happened after she’d rendered her service, not before. Certainly not in the presence of a customer, in the very hotel room he was paying exorbitant amounts of money for, moments after she had removed his jeans. The sight of this latest throbbing erection was enough to finally break her. She couldn’t do it. Not again.
“Hello? Are you ok? Is something wrong?” Monique suddenly stopped and listened. His voice. It was oddly calming. No anger, no malice, no frustration. There was genuine concern. Politeness compelled her to speak, even though she felt like she was risking the potential, albeit unlikely, resurrection of this evening.
“Ugh…ummm…yes, everything….is fine. I’m sorry….I’ll be….out in a minute…”
“……..Ok…..”
Monique spent the next few minutes cleaning herself up as best she could. Having done as much as possible and ending up not particularly happy with the result, she took a deep breath and walked back out into the main room. Her employer was sitting on the bed, fully clothed. He looked shell shocked. When he saw Monique reappear, he got to his feet.
“Listen. Miss Celeste. We….don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to…” His voice was a breath of fresh air wafting over her. It was a strong, smooth low voice that just made her melt.
“Uhhh….no….that’s not-“
“You did kinda just burst out crying when you took off my pants…I’m not really sure how to take that.”
“It’s not what you thi-“
“Truth be told, I am on the fence about it myself. I’m happy to pay you the full rate anyway. I don’t want you to waste your time…”
Who was this guy? Monique started to choke back tears again. He was nothing like any of her usual clients. They were all strictly business.
“I….uhh….” Her words failed her completely.
“You seem pretty upset. Is there something you want to talk about? Can I help?”
For the next few hours, the two of them sat there on the bed. Monique found out this mystery man went by the name of Charles Dalton. Owner of a successful IT startup, he was as charismatic and charming as you’d expect from a company executive. He was a reasonable looker, naturally handsome and kept himself fit, not quite to the point of being a gym junkie who valued bulk over practicality, but he looked like he could handle himself if he needed to. What she really noticed though, was that he just listened. No matter how long she sat there and poured her heart and soul out, he just returned a caring, warm smile and that soothing voice that she couldn’t get enough of. Not once did he ask when they could start doing what he had intended to pay for. Charles simply let her speak.
Eventually, when they were done talking, he put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her. She couldn’t believe it. They were supposed to be in the middle of some wild, exotic sexual position, Monique trying her best to look interested. But instead, this man she’d never seen before tonight was paying to give her emotional support. She felt terrible about it, and of course didn’t want to take the money. Charles refused to take no for an answer. The lack of reason why tore at her brain. Out of sheer surprise, confusion and elation she burst into tears again. No one had ever been this nice to her. Finally, Monique built the courage to look up at him through tear-soaked eyes and ask a question she had never asked another customer before.
“Do….you mind….if I stay with you…..tonight?”
It was not long before Charles became one of her regulars. It was not long after that they started meeting for coffees and lunches and dinners. Eventually Monique stopped charging him, she just wanted to be around him. He was the first client she had ever given her real name and phone number out to. Not that he was really a client anymore. He made her feel wanted, he made her feel sexy, and he made her happy whenever she saw him. They became very close, confiding in one another, enjoying each other’s time. Over those wonderful few months since she had rested her head on the bus window in defeat, Charles had become a friend. More than that, he had become a friend that she was rapidly falling in love with.
“Monique! You’re smashing your sales targets recently! You’re outperforming even the full timers…I’d like to give you a bonus for the extra hard work you’re putting in.” The brunette could not hide her joy. Since she had met Charles, it seemed like overnight her performance at the lingerie store had improved out of sight. And now it was paying dividends. She had even been offered to move up to full time. It would mean stepping back from her nighttime career, which had also taken off again. Her regular clientele had noticed her change and responded. She was enjoying life again. And it was all thanks to him.
Christmas came and went, the rush at the lingerie store meant Monique had taken on that full time role, with copious amounts of encouragement from Charles. She had even wound back a bit on her nighttime gig, limiting it to weekends. Despite their relationship, Charles was supportive of her continuing to escort other men. She was appreciative of that support, if not a bit confused by it. They had flirted with the idea of making their relationship official, although the mention of marriage at one point made Charles chuckle and change the subject, appearing on face value to enjoy being at arm’s length. Deep within her though, she felt indebted to him for turning her life around, not once probing him for that answer. Even deeper still, she desperately wanted him for herself…
Why did he want to keep that distance? It was the nagging question in the back of her mind that she had no answer to. A topic for her mind to debate with itself on every bus ride home from the store. Wanting to take her mind off it for a little while, she looked back at her phone, seeing a new message appear on her escort service email.
Dear Celeste,
I know who you are, and what you’re doing. You’re a filthy, man-stealing whore. And you’re attempting to steal the wrong man. My husband.
I could tell you to just leave him alone, but I know you won’t. So, I am offering an ultimatum. I’ve attached details of where I’d like to meet you. I trust you’ll be there.
Regards,
Charles’ Wife
Monique sat back in shock, hand over her mouth. She could not believe what she was reading, nor that it had been sent to her through her escort service address. It could have been a hoax, but the details betrayed the devil. A coffee shop meet in the middle of the day at one of the most popular restaurants in town. A table for two. It hardly set off alarm bells. If anything, her sheer curiosity of who she might be competing with for Charles was enough for her to meet this mystery person. Knowing this could end very badly for her, she contemplated walking away, but she felt entitled to him now. He was so close to being hers, it was all she wanted. It was time for her to get what she wanted for once.
Walking into the bathroom, Monique sized herself up in the mirror. She felt confident, in control of herself, defiant even. She had not spoken to Charles since the email. Preferring to know what she was up against, she decided to wait and talk to him once the meet had happened. Thinking this unknown wife of his likely had the money to dress well, she wore her best day-job outfit, so she could at least appear to compete. When she was satisfied she looked the part, she headed out the door.
“Reservation under Dalton.”
“Certainly madame, please follow me.”
Monique was led over to a table in the corner of the restaurant. As she suspected, the occupant of the other seat was extremely well dressed, clearly taking advantage of Charles’ wealth. She may have only been a lingerie saleswoman, but Monique knew her designer brands, recognizing a number even from afar. She thanked the waiter as she sat down, and took her first look at who sent the menacing email. A woman, devastatingly and naturally beautiful. A petite nose, well balanced cheek bones with just enough bulk to her cheeks to stop her from looking malnourished. Her skin glowed a well-tanned bronze, and her straight blonde hair framed her face exquisitely, cut to perfection so that the ends brushed her shoulders delicately. The true definition of a fashion model’s face, oozing with opulence and refinement, propped atop a slender neck. If Monique could model for Victoria’s Secret, this woman was capable of running Louis Vuitton’s global advertising campaign by herself.
“Hello, Celeste I presume…?” Monique’s heart sank. Everything about this woman was pure class and regal elegance. How could she possibly compete with her? She tried her best to hide her trepidation, staring intensely into the woman’s deep brown eyes.
“Yes…and you are?”
“My name is Olivia Dalton, and I am Charles’ wife, as you know. Now, before you say anything, I’m going to be straight with you. I don’t like having my things taken.” Venom dripped from each word, despite the calm, confident tone of her voice. “Tell me, do you have any idea what might happen to people who attempt to take things from me?”
A waiter brought their coffees, the two women never broke eye contact. Outside of the unwavering staring contest, no one would have guessed there was any animosity at all.
“I have some ideas.”
“Good, so you’re not as stupid as your flagrant thievery would otherwise suggest. Now, Miss Celeste the Whore, since I know you won’t give up Charles so easily, and honestly I’d be disappointed if you did, he’s a gorgeous man after all, I’d like to propose we settle this disagreement.”
Monique used every fiber of her being to stop herself flinching at the brazen mention of her profession in the middle of a busy restaurant. She shuffled slightly in her seat, still eyeing off her rival across the table.
“My name is Mon-“
“I don’t care what your name is darling. You’re nothing but a low life slut. To me you’re Celeste the Man-Stealing Whore. Now, would you like to hear my proposal?”
Outrage surged through Monique’s body, she clenched her teeth behind her lips, and clutched her thigh as she tried to calm herself. This woman was talking down to her, and the brunette was not a fan.
“I suppose I don’t have a choice.”
“No, no you don’t.”
Olivia pulled a manilla folder out of her bag and tossed it onto the table. Monique opened it to find a stack of photographs, each more incriminating than the next. Images of her through hotel windows from afar. Each photo clearly showed who she was with, and the sexual positions that were employed. Monique looked back up, Olivia’s expression had not changed, still that stern, menacing look she had on arrival. Under the photos was an envelope. Olivia nodded, suggesting she should open it. Inside was a hotel keycard, for Room 2102 at the Ritz Carlton. The same room Charles had paid for her that night.
“What is this?”
“You have two options. The first option is you try to ignore me, continuing on the path you currently are heading down. I send copies of those photos to your boss, your loved ones, your disgusting clients. Don’t worry, I’ve identified them all. Make no mistake, I will ruin you, completely.”
Monique felt a giant lump in her throat form, anxiety taking hold now. Olivia was clearly not bluffing, everything she said was possible.
“…What’s the second option?”
“You join me in that hotel room at nine in the evening, a week from today. There, we will see who is more deserving of Charles. Or, more appropriately, I will demonstrate to you how I deserve him more than you, since I am his wife, and you are a worthless whore.”
Monique stared back at Olivia defiantly. She took the keycard and slipped it into her purse. Olivia nodded and stood.
“You’ve made the right choice darling. Keep the folder, I want you motivated…”
The brunette’s eyes watched her newfound blonde rival catwalk strut her way out of the restaurant. Saw her tip the waiter a wad of notes. Looked on as every man in the restaurant caught a glimpse of this enchantress as she left the building. She’d been utterly dominated already, and she had no idea what was in store for her in Room 2102…
As if by habit, Monique closed the clasp on her most expensive black lace bra, her matching see through panties sitting comfortably on her hips, betraying her freshly shaved pelvic area. She had taken the day off work, taking extra care to make herself up. Her stylist had outdone herself, Monique’s thick wavy brown hair billowing up and back, flowing over her shoulders, ever so slightly curling back beneath them. The movie starlet look had served her well all this time, no point changing it up now. After applying her perfume and touching up her mascara, she leaned on the basin and stared forward into her intense brown eyes reflecting in the mirror. She had stewed on this evening all week long, playing in her mind over and over what might happen. A fight was the logical conclusion. But Olivia seemed above that, and while Monique kept in shape, she wasn’t exactly experienced. Pugilism or not, if she had any chance of standing up to Olivia, she needed to look as close to the part as possible.
A tight-fitting black dress, a fur jacket, a pair of stilettos and a short taxi ride later, Monique made her way to the lift in the spacious foyer of the Ritz Carlton. She felt the glances from bystanders as she crossed the marble floor, passing through the rabble in the still busy ground floor lobby. She entered the elevator and pressed the button for floor twenty one. She sauntered down the sleek, clean, dimly-lit hallway to the door and swiped the keycard over the lock.
The room was exactly as she remembered it. Large, king-sized bed with plush, perfectly snow white bedding and copious amounts of pillows. A huge floor to ceiling window overlooking the cityscape. Off white walls and patterned carpet, lightly tinted in a soothing yellow from the candelabra style light fixture above. A spacious bathroom with rainfall shower and frosted glass wall. The usual trimmings of a high-end hotel room. Monique scanned the room as the door clicked closed and locked behind her, taking it in, remembering the detail of the night she met Charles. Where they sat on the bed talking, where she ran off to the bathroom crying. In the high-back lounge chair facing the drape-covered window, she could feel the already overwhelming presence of her rival.
“I’m glad you’ve decided to show up. I would have hated having to distribute those photos…” Monique still couldn’t see Olivia, the blonde just sat in her chair and spoke. She started to slowly move into the room towards the bed.
“If you hate it so much, why go through with it?”
“Do not mistake me, Celeste, it would have been merely a hassle. Just like you have been. This option, however, will be much, much more enjoyable…” Olivia rose as she ended her sentence, turning around the chair and starting a slow fashion march towards her prey. Her catwalk caliber body on full display now, blonde hair tied back painfully into a bun behind her head, clad in nothing but her underwear, a wedding ring, and a pair of designer high heels that were more akin to stilts that accentuated her thin, long, smooth legs. It was the bra and panties set that caught Monique’s eye, filled out just as you’d imagine a catwalk star would, with fullish breasts that were not too big, but eye catching nonetheless, and hips just wide enough for her panties to perch neatly on top. She recognized the garment as the La Fenêtre Noire showpiece set, the most expensive lingerie available exclusive to where she worked. Olivia wearing that particular set couldn’t have been a coincidence.
Ever since that email, Monique had been on the back foot, constantly trying to recover her position. Even now, as Olivia approached her, she radiated dominance and control. Monique still did not know why she was here. She decided to stand her ground as Olivia closed in, with those shoes, the wife forced Monique to look up at her as they stood together.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I asked you up here. As you already know, Charles paid for you to do despicable things with him in this very hotel room. You have since been repeating those despicable, vile acts with him. For that, as I told you, one way or another I’m going to ruin you completely.”
“So, what, you want to beat me up? Is it a fight you want?” A wicked smile crossed Olivia’s lips, a chuckle briefly passed through them.
“No, you ignorant bitch. Now you’re going to show me why Charles is forcing me to share…”
Monique was unable to stop her jaw from falling. She immediately understood now what was happening. Olivia was entering her turf, trying to dominate her on home soil. She had turned and started walking back towards the window.
“I don’t work for free you know.” The blonde paused a step and turned her head.
“You don’t have a fucking say in the matter.” She then continued to the window, stopping in front of it provocatively, before throwing open the drapes. The nighttime skyline glistened outside.
“We shall see who should have Charles, you and I. This room, our arena. The city will be our audience. Celeste the Whore, on show tonight! You should be happy, you’ll be the main event. The Thief Who Got What She Deserved…” Olivia mused as she stood, almost triumphant in front of the window.
It had been many a year since Monique had been with a woman. That could not be a hindrance now. The brunette escort made up her mind, then and there, she could not, and would not back down from this challenge. Charles was hers now. As Olivia seductively marched towards her again, Monique locked steely eyes with her adversary and got into her well-practised rhythm. The blonde wife was now her client, and she would use every technique she had at her disposal. First she slid the fur jacket over her shoulders and tossed it over to a waiting chair. Then she turned, cocking a knee to accentuate her calf, gliding her tight dress slowly down her body, bending to slip it over her feet, holding the glare the whole way down.
Both women walked towards each other, leaving a trail of underwear and heels in their wake, finally meeting again in front of the bed, naked but for a wedding ring on Olivia’s finger. Now at proper eye level, Olivia leaned forward, pressing her naked breasts into Moniques, the escort feeling her chest compress. Their foreheads touched. Rapidly hastening breath wafting over their faces. Monique felt something, an excitement she had not felt in a long time. And the thick, erect nipples poking into her suggested Olivia had the same feeling.
Suddenly, a sharp pain stabbed into Monique’s scalp, as her hair was pulled at roughly. Olivia had one-upped her yet again, and before she knew it, the brunette was on her back on the bed with the blonde straddling her. Bucking her hips up into Olivia’s crotch, Monique grabbed hold of both slender wrists, trying to pull those hands away from her hair.
“Well, well…there’s some spirit in you after all…” Olivia licked her lips as if she was eyeing off a three-course banquet in the restaurant downstairs. She used Monique’s latest hip thrust to drop forward, their tits coming together once more, and planted those freshly wet lips onto Monique’s. It was not a tender, delicate kiss though, it was a forceful, vicious kiss, filled with contempt. The escort immediately tasted tongue as it scythed through her lips, forcing its way to the back of her throat. Desperate now to get back on equal footing, Monique writhed and twisted beneath the blonde, managing to plant a foot on the edge of the bed and rolled them both over. Laying on their sides, Olivia locked her ankles behind Monique’s back, deceptively powerful thighs squeezing down on the brunette’s midsection. A gasp from her brunette rival materialized another evil grin across the blonde’s mouth.
“Let….GO….of me!”
“Make me, whore!”
Frustrated, and already running out of options, Monique decided to go on the offensive. Letting go of Olivia’s arms, she wrapped a hand around the blonde bun, pulling Olivia in for her own forceful kiss. The other hand dove down between the legs that trapped her, fingers probing the soft flesh between them. A loud, involuntary moan emanated from the blonde, a surprised reaction, giving Monique enough of an opportunity to slip out of her captor’s shackles and push her away. The two beautiful women, already perspiring slightly, sat on their knees at either end of the bed. Olivia had an angry scowl on her face, her eyes piercing Monique to the core.
“How dare you touch me down there!”
“It’s what you fucking wanted isn’t it?” Monique spat back. The sexually charged atmosphere made her body tingle. It was almost as if she needed this herself.
“I want you out of Charles’ and my life, Celeste the whore!” Both enraged women dove across the bed at each other. Bodies slapping together mid mattress, another hungry, violent kiss ensued. Four slender hands wiped up and down backs and combed through hair. Olivia’s bun came apart, her hair falling down around her face. Nipples gouging breasts. Each woman pushing into the mattress, trying to topple the other, their wet pussies starting to drip onto the sheets below.
Tongues churned away violently like a storm on the ocean within their mouths, their saliva starting to escape through the gaps and drip down over their chins, falling into the cavern that was their shared cleavage. Moans and grunts began to fill the hotel room, neither woman letting the other break off the kiss for air, whenever they tried, the other would bite a lip or push forward and re-engage. Monique had naturally been a part of some wild and rough sex sessions with her clients, but this was on another level. Olivia was ravenous.
After a back and forth, the wife of Charles finally started to assert her presence on the mistress of Charles. As she was slowly but surely forced backwards, almost toppling onto her back, Monique again forced a hand between them and in towards her rival’s sensitive pussy, in an attempt to regain some control. But it only served to enrage the wife further.
“I knew you were a whore. You can’t keep your hands away, can you…” Olivia broke off the kiss, total frustration in her voice.
“You were the one who wanted this. You afraid…?” Monique challenged. She knew this would likely make things worse, but she needed to fire back at the overconfident blonde.
“You can’t win, bitch. You’re NOTHING!”
Monique felt a surge of pleasure ripple through her body as her rival plunged her fingers inside. Both women were upright again, foreheads pressed together just like their tits, eyes peering under their eyelids throwing invisible daggers at each other. Their hands furiously pumped away, two fingers each violating the other’s cxnt. Labored breaths were mixed with subtle moans, their bodies unable to process the difference. Once again, Olivia had surprised Monique. This elegant woman clearly knew what she was doing. The brunette had not felt this good during sex in years.
“What if….mmmmm….I do win….bitch?” Monique taunted her opponent.
“Imposs….ughible…”
“ANSWER ME!” The escort screamed, partly angered by the incessant disrespect from Olivia, and partly from a particularly effective swipe across her clitoris.
“You….uggh….can’t beat me…..” With her free hand, Monique grabbed hold of a chunk of blonde hair and ripped her rival’s head back.
“I will give you what….you fucking deserve…..Olivia! And then you will get out of our life!”
“What…uughhh…how dar-“ The two women were cut off as their bodies took over at the same time, shuddering together on each other’s hand. Monique threw her head back, eyes as wide as they could go staring into the ceiling before she collapsed backwards at the same time her rival did.
It took a few minutes for the two love rivals to compose themselves. Monique propped herself up on her elbows and peered over her chest. Olivia was lying on her side, one hand covering her pussy, the other holding her head up.
“You’re good, I’ll give you that. I see now what Charles sees in you…”
“You didn’t answer my question, Olivia. What if I win?”
“If you somehow beat me, I will divorce Charles and leave him to you.”
“And you’ll burn the photos?” Monique made sure to add that detail.
“Yes. All of them...” Olivia licked her smiling lips. She was enjoying this. Monique had to admit that she was too, as much as she despised this woman, she felt alive.
Monique flipped over onto all fours, entering a feline crawl towards her nemesis. Olivia matched her and they circled around the mattress, eyeing the other off. Battle lines drawn completely now. Eventually the tension became too much, and they leapt at one another again, locking up, body to body, head to toe. Arms wrapped around backs, locking at the wrists. Lips, breasts and abdominals colliding, sliding uncomfortably back and forth due to the sheen of perspiration and saliva that covered them. Their smooth, toned legs snaked together, keeping their rival close, but preventing each woman from getting any real leverage.
Over and over they rolled together on the bed, a pulse of ass muscles and hips the only means of moving their rival off. Each thrust into the other’s pelvis forcing a moan from a mouth. Eventually they would reach the edge of the massive bed and topple over, causing a flurry of action on the floor before they would break apart and get back on the bed. This went on, each suffering through blissful orgasms several times, but neither truly finishing her rival off. First the wife would get the upper hand and cause the whore to scream out in pleasure. Then the wife, barely able to contain herself, would erupt almost on contact.
As the exasperation at this constant stalemate grew, Monique felt her body weakening. Charles’ wife was something else. She knew she had to do something at this point, for all her skill and endurance from years of sexual encounters, the brunette had never done anything this intense before. Her clients would almost never keep her going this long, and certainly never with this fervor and animosity. It felt completely foreign to her, such an odd sensation, the volcanic mix of pleasure and fury every time an orgasm was forced from her body.
Olivia’s face was flushed with rage, clearly angry she was not able to assert herself on the escort enough to make her surrender. Monique decided to tap into that, trusting herself and her body to give Olivia what she had given countless men before her. She wanted, needed her payment for this night of pleasure, not money this time, but Charles. Sitting across the bed from Charles’ wife, the brunette escort spread her legs, her fingers dangling tantalizingly over the tip of her cxnt.
“Olivia, you think you can break me, well bring it on.” She openly challenged. Olivia could not help but laugh.
“Oh I’ll break you, Celeste the Whore…”
They shuffled across the bed lifting a leg over their opposite. Never breaking the hateful stare, they docked together slowly, uncontrollably whimpering together at the seal. Hands planted behind their backs, they started to move as one. Sex-slicked, reddened pussy lips provided only the weakest of resistances, just enough friction to send them both into a frenzy again. They were now a powerful sexual engine, generating heat and sweat and sound in large quantities. Hips thrusting their sexes against the other woman. Breasts bouncing away with each gyration. Feet and hands lifting their backsides off the mattress as both the wife and the escort tried to impose their will on each other.
Monique’s body was starting to quiver uncontrollably, slowly at first, but more aggressively as she felt the latest orgasm start to build. Finding it hard to keep it at bay, it was taking her attention away from her rival. Olivia sensed this, trying to push forward into the brunette. A free hand whipped out and latched onto Monique’s throat. Cutting off breath as the fiery blonde wife drove into her relentlessly, leaning forward so they were face to face, their nipples lightly brushing as the distance closed, only adding to the arousal of both women.
“You miserable cxnt. Mmmm…..UgghYesssss. This is…what my hus….band wants? Admit I’m….ughhhh….better!” Olivia snarled viciously as she rolled over her own waves.
“….Uhhmmmmmm…mmmm...Never!!” Monique replied defiantly through her compressed airway.
“Admit it! You know you want to…….Celeste the whore!”
The last three words stung more than before. On the precipice now, a crooked fingertip hanging on, a stiff breeze away from plunging into that shameful bliss of failure, the very mention of Monique’s work name made her roar back into life. Exploding into a furious sexual rampage, the brunette surged her pelvis back into Olivia, clutching her own slender fingers around the blonde’s throat. Olivia’s eyes widened in shock, suddenly revealing for the first time a fearful undertone beneath the whites, mouth agape, searching for air to feed her lungs. Feeling the pressure on her own windpipe loosen as Olivia instead tried in vain to remove the hand around her neck, Monique forced her rival onto her back.
“My. Name. Is. MONIQUE!!!” Each syllable hammered home with a thrust of her hips, in that moment she thought of Charles and what he would think hearing his wife’s guttural, rapturous scream ring out through their expensive hotel room twenty one stories above the ground. What he would think seeing her body convulsing powerfully underneath the woman who was taking him away. It was a fleeting thought, just like the sinister smile that crossed her lips watching her prey come down from her high. A moment to savor for Monique before she threw her head back and let herself go unlike any time before…
Epilogue
The ceremony was incredible. A small yet lavish affair, in a church unknowing of the sordid history being left behind. Every schoolgirl’s dream, Monique was led down the aisle, Charles smiling back at her from the altar, dashing and handsome as always in his tuxedo. Her flowing wedding dress was more expensive than her former apartment was worth, especially picked out for her as she made her way up to marry the man who’d pulled her up from the depths. The start of their new life together, sealed with a kiss…
The small gathering of treasured guests applauded and congratulated. Monique could barely contain her excitement, never thinking this day would come. The cohort left the holy building full of joy towards the line of limousines destined for the reception. Charles stepped into the lead car, Monique about to follow him, suddenly stopping with a foot already inside. Her expression soured, gazing over the roof into the distance. She had seen something she wished she hadn’t.
The briefest of stares that felt like time had stopped completely, before the blonde woman down the street turned and strode away…
(Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoy!)
