Can Do Ep 04

Weak light filtered through the bedroom window, spreading faint shadows across everything. Trinity knew she was awake, the ethereal sense of a dream was missing. She felt pretty good considering the near agony and mind-shattering ecstasy of the night. Her balls throbbed mildly, which was only a pale memory of their aching need for release hours before.

Zenova sprawled atop her, drooling on a breast. Their flaccid cocks lay entwined in the sticky morass of pubic hair and abs. Trinity felt a strong desire to bury her nose and lips in the brunette's crotch. The only problem was she couldn't move. All her muscles were frozen in place.

With herculean effort, she swung her recalcitrant legs over the side of the bed, sliding clumsily to the floor, back propped against the mattress. She was surprised when Zenova didn't wake, had only snorted vacantly when her head slipped off Trinity and fell onto a pillow.

"I should get up," she said to the room. "I need a shower before breakfast. Up. Come on, bitch, move your sorry ass."

"Are you talking to me?" Zenova's head appeared, upside down, next to her own. "I think moving this far is a major success. We may have overdone our training yesterday."

"And our fucking last night," Trinity added, waving at her cock. "You're next to me, smelling of sex, and the soldier won't stand to attention. That's disappointing. Are you hard?"

"I could tell you yes, and you would not be able to get up to see," the brunette chuckled. "But, no, I am soft as you, despite wanting to wrap around you one more time."

"Help me up, then I'll help you." Trinity raised an arm, expecting her partner to grab it. Instead, the brunette slid off the bed. The pair lay in a heap, trying to make their legs work.

"That may have been a bad idea," Zenova said, face to the floor. Slowly, she pushed herself to her knees. From there she had enough leverage so the women were able to stand upright, though their legs trembled with the effort.

"I think we take a rest day, and begin training again tomorrow. Every other day will probably be better for the first week." Zenova seemed embarrassed by her lack of strength. Trinity put a hand on her shoulder.

"Tell me, when was the last time you fucked and wrestled all day? Never, right?" Zenova bobbed her head in reluctant agreement. Trinity continued, "So, why are you so fuckin' hard on yourself? Stop pouting. How many other people could do what we did and not be unconscious instead of making slow way to the shower?"

"You make it sound like an accomplishment. I am better than this, I am stronger. I should be dancing around you, taunting to you with spicy French insults."

Trinity pushed Zenova away gently. "Fine. You want to mope, go back to bed. I'm going to crawl into the shower so I can get dressed and have some breakfast. Maybe a walk afterward to loosen up. You coming or what?"

Hot water did wonders for Trinity's aches. A semi-erect cock pressed between her buttocks did wonders for her attitude. Zenova had joined her soon after the first splash of water cascaded around her corn rows. A little soap, a lot of rubbing, mostly standing with heads laid on shoulders, letting the soothing liquid heat sluice around them. By the time the water cooled and they dried each other, Trinity felt closer to normal. Her cock stiffened at Zenova's touch, but the desire wasn't strong enough. The previous day and evening had drained them both.

Walking was easier after the hot water soothed their sore muscles, though bending over was another matter. Trinity eyed her duffel bag and suitcase grimly. She didn't relish kneeling to get dressed. Zenova must have read her mind. She opened her armoire to remove clothes, and tossed a safari shirt, cargo shorts, and a pair of deep blue boy shorts to Trinity.

"We are the same size, save that my cock is longer and my breasts are bigger. These will fit you well." The brunette slowly pulled on a pair of ebon boy shorts, baggy shorts, and a sleek, scoop-neck pullover. "Though one of us is going to need to bend down to get our shoes." Zenova smiled blandly. "How do we decide?"

Three rounds of rock, paper, scissors and five minutes of fumbling later, Trinity struggled to her feet, a pair of sneakers in each hand. Neither of them knew how to get them on without stretching muscles that complained when they walked. Shoes in hand, they helped each other down the stairs to the enticing smell of breakfast.

Amélie-François hummed to herself as she slid the last piece of grilled ham onto a serving platter. The scent of the undefinable spice filled the air. Trinity hadn't realized how hungry she was.

All the exercise, I guess.

She and Zenova dug into the food, eating so fast the older woman smacked the backs of their heads in mock reproach.

"If you do not slow down, you will choke. I am not in the mood to give the Heinrich to you." When she was satisfied at the pace they ate, she sat at the table.

"What will you do today, eh? No hard exercise, I think." The brown eyes twinkled in amusement. "Zenova has always been too eager for things. She rushes forward without thinking of consequences. Like today, eh, ma chaton?" She patted her granddaughter's wrist. "Perhaps today you take a rest? A walk, some video, some nap. I must do errands, so I will not be here until dinner. You make your own lunch. If you can." She stood, chuckling.

"We are sore, not invalids, Grand-mère," Zenova answered with more snark than Trinity thought was necessary. "Go, shop, do whatever. Trinity and I will be well by ourselves."

Amélie-François' grin said she believed otherwise but remained silent. When she was gone, the pair dug back into their food, wolfing it down, cleaning the juices and smears of yogurt from their common plate with the last of the bread.

They cleaned the kitchen, then sat on the patio, listening to the birds, watching high clouds drift overhead. The day was cool, though it promised heat later. Zenova opened a bottle of a light red wine. Trinity thought it might be too early to drink, but on the first taste, she decided she was on vacation and all was good.

"We should walk," Zenova said quietly. "Stretch the muscles, you know. So we can be ready for tomorrow."

"What's today?" Trinity asked the sky. "I lost track of time."

"Tuesday. You arrived on Sunday. And yesterday..." The Belgian woman sighed contentedly. "I would not change it at all, despite that we are not as limber as we thought."

"Me, either. It was intense. I'd do it again. Tomorrow." The blonde reclined in her chaise, glass in hand, completely relaxed. "We can walk after we finish the wine."

An hour later, they left the house. It had taken some time for them to put each other's shoes on; they couldn't easily do it themselves. The half mile walk to a cozy group of shops off the Rue de Tubize eased the kinks in their legs and lower backs. While they walked, Zenova had tentatively taken Trinity's hand. It felt good, the blonde decided.

I'll figure out how I feel about her later

, she told herself. No one stopped to stare at them.

They walked hand in hand past the shops, pausing on occasion to look in the windows. Still no one seemed to take any notice, which Trinity found to be a good thing. In the States, when she and Melanie had gone out--before the arrival of Willow--they'd been careful not to show any affection. Even a brief touch might cause people to whisper or react with disgust.

The exercise soothed the aches. In another hour, they walked with lighter, less tentative steps. Trinity found she was concentrating on their conversation rather than a pinch across her shoulders, unlike earlier in the morning. They talked of nothing, pointing out things they liked or found outrageous in the shops. They had similar tastes, which surprised the blonde. She'd expected Zenova to be more... cosmopolitan. Turned out she was a small town girl like Trinity but with big ideas.

As they leisurely walked the street, preparing to head back to the house, she noticed a woman watching them with a distinctly unfriendly gaze. "Who's that?" she asked when it became clear that Zenova had seen her, too.

"Pay no attention to la garce--bitch; she is nothing."

The woman followed them at a distance. Zenova pointedly ignored her. But others noticed and began talking among themselves, gesturing with their chins. At one store window, Trinity felt an itch crawl across her back, intense, alerting, alarming. Without thinking, she whirled, hand up, to catch a small rock in her palm. The woman, still with her hand raised, reacted in shock. Many others gasped in surprise. One man applauded softly. "Bravo. Il est bien fait," he murmured to the man next to him.

Trinity stared at the rock, amazed at her reflexes. It took several seconds for her brain to understand she'd stopped a moderately heavy piece of stone. "Oww. Fuck, that hurt," she grimaced.

Zenova rounded on the woman, closing the distance in long, determined strides. They began screaming at each other in French. Trinity didn't understand a word, but knew the tone. The words 'garce' and 'con' and 'pute' filled the air. She and Melanie called each other bitch, cunt, and slut when they argued. Zenova's right fist clenched, drawing back slowly.

A policeman intervened before there was more than verbal assault. Trinity thought he was brave--stupid, but brave. A policewoman joined him, each taking the woman by the arm, separating them as they continued to hurl insults. The shopkeeper came out stand on his stoop. He looked at the rock in Trinity's hand. She gave it to him. His eyes widened at the heft.

"Très bien merci beaucoup," he said. "Vous avez protégé ma fenêtre."

"Uh, jen nay parly paz, uh, french," Trinity mumbled.

"Évidemment," the man answered with a huge grin. "Thank you," he said slowly in English. "My window thanks you. Please do not try to speak en français again."

While the policewoman stood between Zenova and the angry woman, speaking into a radio microphone, the policeman talked with the shopkeeper. Trinity didn't understand a word. But, when the shopkeeper pointed directly at the angry woman, the rock held in the other hand for the policeman to see, she understood perfectly.

A squad car pulled up, lights flashing. Two more policemen got out. The four police huddled between Zenova and the woman, the first policeman gesturing at the shopkeeper--he didn't point--showing the rock to the rest. At that, the other two policemen took the angry woman by the arms and put her, mostly gently, into the car, driving away in a blaze of blue strobes and cacophonous warbles. The remaining policeman continued to talk to Zenova. It was a one-sided conversation; the brunette was quiet, nodding her head as the man spoke. When the lecture was over, the policeman offered her his hand, which Zenova took reluctantly. With a last waggle of his finger, he and the policewoman walked off. The street returned to normal.

"It is time to go home," was all Zenova said. They strolled silently along the street. This time it was Trinity who took her partner's hand.

------

The walk was quiet. Zenova stared blankly at the landscape, fingers tapping lightly on her thigh. Trinity, for once, was content to say nothing. Only when they were inside the house did the brunette begin to shake, whether from anger or shame or fear, Trinity didn't know. She took Zenova by the shoulders and held her steady until the trembling passed.

"You going to tell me about that woman?" Trinity cocked her head. "And why she got arrested, but you got a lecture? Which you took without arguing."

"Video," Zenova answered instead. "I am becoming horny." She led them to the dark theatre, where they stripped to their shirts,--Trinity's unbuttoned--before sitting thigh to thigh on the soft leather couch, Zenova's right leg over Trinity's left.

"I will talk later," the brunette said as she pressed virtual buttons on the tablet. "Now we watch something arousing."

The screen showed two women with fists and feet taped, each about five feet five inches tall, tautly muscled, slim-hipped, small-breasted. One was obviously Asian; the other was dark-skinned, but didn't look either American or African. They were naked except for short gladiator skirts. The slats did nothing to hide their erect cocks. "I have seen these two fight before," Zenova murmured. "They are intense, physically and sexually. I think the score stands at three to two for the Jamaican, though the Japanese has better skill. Perhaps she will win and even things."

While Trinity and Zenova slowly stroked each other's cock, the fighters circled, throwing and blocking punches as they waited for an opening. When it came, it was swift and brutal. The women traded blows in flurries, alternating between face and core, stepping back to catch their breaths before wading into another exchange. Despite their obvious skill, neither woman was concerned with serious defense, other than to parry a fist in order to deliver one of her own. They seemed to enjoy the clinches, trading punches as their cocks slid together, beads of cum becoming spidery streamers briefly connecting the erect shafts as the women danced apart. The occasional kick to the head or liver added to the excitement.

Within five minutes, the fucking began in earnest. On the ground, one or the other slid a sweaty, cum-slick cock into an equally slick pussy. The fight alternated between boxing on their feet and fucking while wrestling on the ground. Their balls hung down in compact scrotums that neither woman punched, though they did grab each other by the nuts several times as a sort of challenge.

After twenty minutes, the fighters took a break, drinking water, getting attention from their all-female teams. The gladiator skirts hung on their hips, the slats twisted and pulled apart from the battle. Both women sported angry red welts on their bodies, including breasts and thighs. Their faces were puffy, at least one eye swollen, dried blood smeared around nose and mouth. Their cocks were partially deflated until the start of the next round, when the shafts rose again, cum dripping from the slits.

Wrestling dominated the next twenty minutes, the fighters reversing often, tangling on the mat in entwined legs and mutual headlocks. Cocks penetrated cunts, got stroked or sucked, then bent sideways as one woman struggled for dominance. Trinity counted at least two orgasms for each woman, mostly vaginal, with dicks remaining at least at half staff the entire time. Zenova stopped the action often to let herself and Trinity suck on a cock, probe a pussy with damp fingers, or slide a hard shaft into waiting hole.

As the fight neared the end of an hour, the brunette sat in the blonde's lap, impaled from behind. Trinity had dragged the pullover off one shoulder to expose a sweaty breast. She kneaded the stiff nipple, feeling her own exposed nubs scraping against the weave of Zenova's shirt. Neither woman had actually come, though they'd learned their lesson from the previous day and allowed themselves partial orgasms that left their cocks and pussies and pubic hair coated in steady flows of cum and vaginal fluids, even if there was little actual semen.

With Zenova's fingers stroking Trinity's pussy from the front, they watched the match enter a new stage of the third round. Both fighters were tired, they spent a lot of time rolling on the mat, throwing desultory punches to whatever was exposed. The black woman was on top, cock buried to the root in the asian woman's pussy, wrapped in a mutual headlock. The asian was exhausted. Her eyes rolled back often as she pushed futilely at the weight holding her down. The black's ass flexed and pumped as she fucked her opponent. It was a matter of minutes before the fight was over.

The black woman shifted her hips to get even more penetration, partly exposing her right side. The asian slammed a surprisingly hard punch to the woman's liver, causing her to release the clinch. Both staggered to their feet, swaying on the edge of collapse. They traded sloppy haymakers that did little but rearrange the sweat and blood on their faces. The black woman dropped her hands, as if she was resetting her position. The asian woman hit her with an uppercut that caused Zenova to flinch, tightening her Kegel muscles.

Trinity came a bit, feeling cum leak from her cock. She let go of the brunette's breast, stroking the erect cock in one hand, sticking a finger of the other hand into the damp pussy along her still-hard shaft, continuing the slow fuck that was robbing Zenova of her resistance. The brunette moaned, flexing her interior muscles again.

On the screen, the black woman sagged against the chain link of the cage, awake but limp. The asian woman hit her again, then shoved a mostly hard dick into the dark pussy, fucking her unconscious opponent until she pulled out to ejaculate a spectacular stream of cum from ebon face to flaccid ebon cock. She stood, quivering, holding her arms up, flexing her biceps with difficulty in a victory pose. Another spurt of cum drooled from her now-soft cock to pool on the dark thigh. The video ended as the fighters were helped from the cage. A banner scrolled across the screen.

Reiko Takeuchi def. Layla Meynell at 18:36 of Round 3 by KO with Domination Cum-Shot. Series stands at three wins for each woman.

Zenova arched her back, putting a fist in her mouth to muffle her scream as she came. The orgasmic ripples of her pussy sent Trinity over the edge, finally releasing what was left of her cum into the brunette. They sat, spooned, for a minute, regaining their wind. Zenova rolled to the floor, leaking cum. She knelt between Trinity's splayed thighs, sticking her rapidly deflating cock in the blonde's cunt. Five hard thrusts brought her to climax again, filling Trinity's pussy.

It was long minutes before either could move. They used their clothes to mop up the sweat and cum from the couch and floor. "Grand-mère is going to make us clean this to her satisfaction. She hates a mess." Zenova ran her finger through and errant splotch of cum, licking it from her finger before offering the rest to Trinity.

Again, it was a slow trip up the stairs, this time from fatigue instead of fucking. Clothes went into the heap on the floor as they crawled into bed. They tried unsuccessfully to get their cocks hard, before giving up and falling asleep, Trinity on top of the sweaty, musk-laden pair.

In mid-afternoon Amélie-Francois found them still entwined, completely unconscious. She put away the food for dinner and left the house, humming contentedly to herself.

------

Morning found Trinity refreshed and eager. Through the late night and early morning--Wednesday, she reminded herself--Zenova recovered her stamina and libido. Near midnight, she'd licked Trinity slowly from cock to anus, while the blonde chewed her pillow to stifle the screams and moans. In the sweaty darkness before morning twilight, Trinity tied them into a tight knot where she could both fuck Zenova in the pussy and suck her cock and nipples. The brunette didn't bother with a pillow. Her grunts and shouts shook the walls for half an hour. Trinity wondered that she wasn't stiff or sore afterward. She felt relaxed, fulfilled, well fucked when they curled together to wait for dawn.

Another shower, more sex, a brief wrestling match before they dressed in shorts and sports bras, then a controlled descent of the stairs, following the spiced air to the kitchen. Amélie-Francois greeted them cheerily; seemed in very good spirits.

"I watched the video of the two women in the wrestling, that you saw on Monday. It was most satisfying. Much more so than the violent parody with the black and yellow women. When the black won the final march of the series by choking her opponent in the midst of sex, I became offended." She noticed Zenova glaring at her. "What, ma chaton? The video you watch constantly is more than three months old. Surely you know there is a new one, that is on the library. You should not be upset if you continue to refuse to believe the outcome."