Can Do Ep 06

This episode is longer than the previous ones. Fear not, I think your patience and persistence will be rewarded.

*****

"When were you going to tell me?" Trinity was furious, more than she'd ever been with Melanie, which was saying a lot. She didn't really know why she was mad. She just was.

"Today."

"Liar."

"It is true." Zenova protested. "Grand-mère spoke before me this morning. You made me forget about the fight until I woke up and realized what day it is."

"It's my fault? Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"You should be happy. You will see me beat a strong opponent on Saturday. What is wrong?"

"Wrong? I just got told we can't have sex for a week, after which you are going to fight and fuck a total stranger. While I watch? What could possibly be wrong with that?"

"She is not a stranger. We fought once before. I won, of course, both the fight and afterward when we... it is not important."

"Ah, so you're fighting and fucking an old girlfriend?" There it was, out in the open. It didn't help the blonde's attitude that she'd just confessed she was jealous to a woman for whom she might have strong feelings.

Might?

her conscience scolded her,

What were those dreams about last night? The one where you let her pin and fuck you from behind or the one where you...

Trinity stifled the inner voice, not wanting Zenova to see she was getting another erection. They stood in the center of the ring, pavilion walls pushed back. Each woman wore shorts and a tank top, which did little to hide bulging cocks and hard nipples in the growing August heat.

"She is not an old girlfriend. Unlike your Melanie, a woman who lives in your house and who fucks your sister. A woman you will go back to when you leave--and fuck again, likely as your sister watches. While I remain here."

"Yeah, you stay here, the darling of the Consortium, who can find you all the fuck buddies you want when you get bored. You'll be dipping your wick a day after I go. All in the name of 'training,' I'm sure."

Zenova worked through the unfamiliar English phrase until she figured out what it meant. She raised her hand, palm open. "I do not 'dip my wick,' bitch. You will go back to your home to brag how you bested me this month and have flocks of American bimbos with big tits and small brains begging you to show your dick and put it in whatever gaping hole they have open. You are wrong, I have been the better woman."

Trinity's right hand balled into a fist then relaxed. She wasn't going to give the cunt the satisfaction of claiming she got hit first. She watched the open hand waver, waiting for the slap. It never came. Zenova lowered her hand. Something like a smile flickered around her mouth.

"You are jealous."

"In your dreams. What have I got to be jealous of?" Trinity pressed forward against the brunette. Zenova pushed back. Both women grinned. The contact felt good.

"Everything," the brunette answered. "Mostly my cock, which is bigger than yours and for which you will yearn after you leave. All the bimbos with all the cocks in the world will not satisfy you like me."

"Your cock isn't bigger than mine. They're the same size. We're nearly a perfect match." Trinity was beginning to have a good time, now that is was obvious neither of them planned violence. The chance to rub her cock against Zenova's excited her enormously. The swelling in the brunette's shorts said she was eager, too.

"Ha. See for yourself. I know you have been putting it in your mouth instead of admiring it, but it is definitely bigger than yours." Zenova pulled her shorts down let her cock wave in the air.

Trinity did the same, laying her hard shaft against the brunette's. "Same size, root to head," she said, forcing herself to look her partner in the eyes instead of drooling over their dueling cocks. "Don't stand on your toes, bitch. It's not fair."

"Mine is longer," the brunette insisted.

"Is not."

"Is."

"Is n...."

"Faire taire." Amélie-Francois' voice was soft but demanded obedience. Trinity wondered how long she'd been listening to them.

"Mais..." Zenova began.

"I said I will have silence," the older woman interrupted. "Perhaps you have forgotten the lessons of paying attention."

The brunette closed her mouth, looking down. Her cock drooped. Trinity had a pretty good idea what 'lessons of paying attention' had involved. She decided to stay silent and out of trouble. It didn't work.

"You," Amélie-Francois pointed between the two women in the ring, "which includes you, Trinity Stone, are acting like fourteen year-old girls. Have you nothing better to do? If it is so important who's cock is longer, then we must find the truth, n'est-ce pas? Remember when I am done that you began this farce."

The older woman climbed through the ropes with what looked to be practiced agility. From a pocket of her flowered apron, she withdrew a bright pink tailor's tape measure, which she hung around her neck.

"We will measure. Then there will be no dispute. Stand still, become erect." Amélie-Francois stepped back, hands on her hips, lips pursed in disappointment. "That is not erect. That is pathetic. Think of last night. Ah. Much better. Trinity is first."

The tape measure was placed expertly from the base of the blonde's erection--the upper side, where it emerged above the crotch--to the now glistening tip. The older woman whispered to herself, measuring again. She did the same to Zenova, who was nearly frantic with anticipation. Amélie-Francois stopped when the brunette clenched her groin muscles, attempting to increase the length of her cock. She measured only when satisfied her granddaughter wasn't trying to cheat.

A small note pad and stubby pencil appeared from another apron pocket. She wrote 'T' and 'Z' at the top of the pad, then 'la bitte' below the letters. Before adding the numbers, she painstakingly sharpened the pencil with a pen knife. Unsatisfied, she sharpened the stub again. Trinity felt the hot flush of frustrated anticipation spread across her body. The only satisfaction was Zenova reddened as well.

Finally content, Amélie-Francois wrote carefully on the pad. "Fifteen and a quarter centimeters for Trinity. Fifteen and three quarters centimeters for Zenova.

Six inches and a bit

, the blonde told herself. The brunette began to celebrate, but her grandmother put a hand on her shoulder.

"We are not finished. There is more to la bitte than length. Stand still."

Amélie-Francois measured around both now very stiff cocks. She wrote carefully on the pad. "Ah. For Zenova, twenty-four centimeters around; for Trinity, twenty-five and a half centimeters."

"No matter," the brunette said, eyes sparkling with victory. "I am longer. I am bigger."

"Uh, no," Trinity said while the older woman watched with ill concealed amusement. "Your cock is longer, but mine is bigger around. Which means," her face screwed up as she tried to do the math in her head, "that, overall, mine is bigger because there's more of it." She turned to Amélie-Francois. "That's right, isn't it?"

"C'est vrai," the older woman agreed. "Zenova, ma chaton, you are longer, but Trinity is bigger."

"And," Trinity thrust out her crotch, "it ain't the meat, it's motion. I got the bulk and the style, 'cuz you moaned all night long." She went quiet with the thought that she'd been seriously crude in front of her lover's grandmother.

There's that word again

.

"My breasts are bigger," the brunette puffed out her chest in defiance. Zenova didn't seem to have the same worry.

"We will see," Amélie-Francois answered, taking up the tape measure again. If she'd taken any notice of the younger women acting like adolescent boys, she didn't show it.

With exquisite slowness, the older woman put the tape to their breasts, biceps, thighs, and waists. She recorded each measurement on the note pad without letting either woman see the results. It wasn't necessary to measure height. As the blonde had noticed, they were equal in height, as long as neither one raised her heels.

The wait grated on the younger women. Trinity remained calm only by reminding herself that Amélie-Francois was deliberately taking her time to show them how immature they had been. It didn't help. Task completed, she put the pencil and tape into her apron. She studied the note pad intently for far longer that was necessary. At one point, she retrieved the pencil to consider erasing a number. Eventually, she did nothing, returning the pencil to its pocket.

Zenova began shifting her weight, her frustration obvious. Trinity was more restrained. She knew they were being taught a lesson. Yet it was hard to reman still. She found herself flexing her calves and buttocks in anticipation, even as she continued to tell herself she didn't care.

"This is very interesting," Amélie-Francois began, waving the note pad. "I did not expect these results. She put the pad in her apron, reaching the edge of the ring before Zenova pulled at her arm.

"Grand-mere." The brunette's voice was shocked and plaintive.

"Ah, you want to know? I thought you were more interested in bragging than fact. Eh, bien, I will tell you. Remember, Zenova, chère, you begged to know."

The older woman opened her note pad. "For les biceps, les cuisses, et la taille--for you, Trinity, the arms, the thighs, and the waist--there is no difference. The same as your height. But, for les poitrines, it is very odd. You both have a chest of between eighty-six and eighty-seven centimeters. No difference. Zenova, when you wear a bra, it is 90D, n'est-ce pas?" The brunette nodded, a smile on her face. "Good. That would mean Trinity will wear 90C."

"My bra at home is 34B. So our breasts are the same size, too?"

"No. Mine are bigger. D instead of C." Zenova beamed. "My cock is longer and my breasts are more full."

"Yet," Amélie-Francois continued as if the other women hadn't spoken, "I made very careful measurements. Yes, Zenova, your breasts are more full. Unless you include the nipples, which are very much a part of a breast and a sexfight, are they not? With her stiff nubs, Trinity adds another half centimeter." She tucked the note pad away and left for the kitchen.

"The two of you enjoy yourselves," she said over her shoulder.

Trinity and Zenova looked at each other, shorts still pulled down to expose mostly flaccid cocks.

"I am not sure if I am to be happy or sad." Zenova said.

"We got scolded big time," Trinity told her. "Your grandmother is a devious woman. I think she made her point. And she stuck the point in both of us."

"We are basically equal, no?" The brunette's face was blank, no hint of her real feelings.

"Yeah. A half centimeter is like this big, right?" Trinity held thumb and forefinger close together.

"So. I will fight another woman on Saturday." Zenova's eyes crinkled. "There will be sex. If I am fortunate, there will be a lot of it. Will you be angry?"

"Yes. I will grind my teeth while the other woman paws you. When I go home, I will probably fuck Melanie. And some other women I fight. Will you be angry?" Trinity's mouth twitched up.

"Yes. I will visit the Caribbean woman who tells fortunes and have dolls made of all your opponents, including your manager."

"Not one of me?"

"No. I need you fit and aroused so I can fight and fuck you. And beat you."

"I see." Trinity stepped out of her shorts. Her thick cock swayed with the motion. "It means we need more practice, doesn't it? Except your grandmother told us no sex," the blonde pointed out, though she was near to explode with the urge to wrap herself around her partner.

"We will ask forgiveness," the brunette said with a face-wide grin. "Afterward."

Zenova pulled her top over her head, letting her full breasts with small nipples sway in the air. "We will see if a longer cock is better than a fatter cock. When I make you come, try not to cry."

"In your dreams, babe. In your dreams."

------

Wednesday morning brought exhaustion. Amélie-Francois had relented after finding Trinity and Zenova wrapped around each other on Monday afternoon. She agreed to let them 'train' until Wednesday morning, when the brunette had an appointment and the older woman was taking Trinity out 'for a consultation.' Now, as the post-dawn light streamed through the curtains, the blonde stroked the brunette's cock.

Zenova lay with hands behind her head, watching fingers trace delicate patterns along the partly erect shaft. Both women had come three times during the night's sweaty coupling, not counting the multiple orgasms from Monday and Tuesday. They had had tried to come as the sun rose, but they were spent: balls, cocks, and desires deflated.

"Ça ne fonctionne pas," Zenova sighed, lapsing into French. "Your fingers do not arouse me. Where is the irresistible touch you promised?"

"Gone with your last orgasm, babe," Trinity purred. "My cock isn't in any better shape. Does yours hurt on the inside like mine?"

"Yes. We were very strenuous the last two days. Much better than the first week, I think. I lost control several times. At first, I was angry you could make me so weak. Then I saw you were the same as me. It was arousing to know that we can do this to each other. I let the sex happen, without worry for the result, who came first or best. Have you gotten stronger?"

"Not that I know. Maybe we figured each other out. Maybe neither of us can win anymore. Aren't we supposed to be stronger? With your grandmother's magic spice? How come we can't fuck each other forever?"

"That is not the purpose of the powder," Zenova sighed, "though now I wish it was. I want to fuck you again, but my cock aches too fiercely. It is a supplement to give us strength and the ability to maintain an erection for a long time, but what essence we have is limited. When the cum is gone we may still be hard, but we will, eh, shoot blanks until even that becomes impossible. Which, as you know, ma chérie, happens soon after."

"So we can't be like those fighters on the video, the Japanese and the Jamaican? That sucks." Trinity pouted even as she was grateful she couldn't get hard. It hurt too much.

"No. I told you, Takeuchi and Meynell are enhanced, which is much different from Grand-mère's powder. Those women pay a great price for being able to act as if they are indestructible for a few hours. We do not want that."

"Yeah," Trinity lay back. "All we can do is make each other come until our balls give out. I like it, but it won't do us much good in December."

"True," Zenova admitted. "I must find a new hold, one you do not expect, which I can use to win." She rolled onto her side, batting her eyes. "Tell me, Trinity, where else on your body can I make you melt into a puddle of sweat and cum? That I do not already know."

Trinity pulled the brunette on top of her. "I have three places," she purred. "You'll have to find them on your own. You can start by putting that almost hard cock in me one more time. Maybe you'll discover one as you try to come." The blonde spread her legs in invitation. Zenova wearily slid her partly flaccid shaft into the waiting pussy.

"Are you not sore?" the brunette asked, stifling a yawn. "I could not bear to have you touch my pussy now."

"Just shows that I'm tougher than you," Trinity grimaced. Her eyes drooped even as her partner fucked her one last time. "I can take it."

I hope

, the blonde thought.

She called me 'chérie

.'

Both women were asleep within a minute.

------

Breakfast was sedate, almost formal. Amélie-Francois made the pair sit on opposite sides of the table and eat from separate plates. The older woman fussed over her granddaughter's hair and makeup, more maternal than Trinity had ever seen her. Zenova looked completely different from the person she'd known for a week and a half. The lean, muscular woman who fought and fucked with equal ferocity was replaced by a striking, cool-eyed goddess. Dark brown cornrows gleamed in the morning light. Her makeup--Trinity had never seen Zenova wear so much as lipgloss--heightened her cheekbones, accentuated her sultry eyes, made her skin seem to glow from within. The blonde was torn between awe and lust. By the way her cock was rising, she decided it was lust.

Zenova wore a sheath dress and mid-heels to accentuate the svelte body, adding an inch to her height and salivating curves to the calves. Trinity was on her second set of clothes. The blonde had come to the table in jeans, cross trainers, and a tank top. Her cornrows had begun to unravel with their strenuous exercise. Amélie-Francois refused to feed her until she changed. As the clothes she wore were the best she'd packed--there'd been no expectation of any need for more formal wear--Zenova took her upstairs and found a slinky skirt and silk blouse, along with a pair of heels she could walk in without falling over. The clothes fit worryingly well. It was another sign that two women were equally matched.

Exercise

, she thought with an internal scoff. Why not call it what it really was: an extended, grueling sexfight with no winner. With none in sight. It made her feel much better. She risked a covert leer at the elegant woman across from her, seeing the same aroused gaze. Her cock rose further under the skirt. Amélie-Francois noticed. She cuffed both of them lightly on the back of their heads.

"I relented to let you have your way with each other until this morning. Now, until Saturday night, you will act like demur, civilized young women. I know it is hard for you, but Zenova has a reputation to maintain. Coming to a fight drained of stamina, disheveled, and unfocused courts disaster. Does it not, ma chaton?" She petted the brunette's head, whose cornrows had also begun to come apart.

"Oui, Grand-mère," Zenova sighed. She turned resigned eyes on Trinity. "I have an appointment this morning with the organizers of the fight. Rules. Expectations. Conduct."

"Is it fixed?" the blonde asked, feeling shock rise within her.

"No," the brunette laughed. The sound made Trinity's stomach flutter. "But important people are invited. The Consortium want to ensure there are no, eh, faux pas, to embarrass either the guests or the Consortium."

"We will meet after your rendez-vous," Amélie-Francois said. "I will bring Trinity with me. You should leave now, ma chaton. You do not want to be late."

Trinity walked Zenova to the car. They managed a lengthy kiss and grope out of sight of the older woman.

"What are we going to do after your meeting, babe?" the blonde asked.

"I can't say," the brunette answered. "Grand-mère made me promise not to tell you." With a sly smile, she got in the car and sped away.

Back in the kitchen, Trinity sat drinking coffee with Amélie-Francois. The silence became uncomfortable. The older woman sipped delicately from her cup, watching the blonde carefully over its rim. Trinity forced herself to keep her mouth closed, though she desperately wanted to know if the grandmother approved of her. That thought, surfacing suddenly, made her shiver.

"I wished time alone with you, Trinity." Amélie-Francois flashed an amused smile. "You think I am judging you. I am. But not in the way you expect. What I wish to know, young woman, is how deeply you care for my granddaughter. No, say nothing. The flush on you face tells me much. Zenova acts differently around you from the way she does with any other person, man or woman. It tells me she cares. What are your feelings?"

Trinity's stomach felt like it was wrapped around her heart. She tried to speak, failed, tried again, failed, and took a deep swallow of hot coffee. The unexpected heat loosened her tongue.

"I wish I knew," she confessed. "One day all I want is to be around her. The next day I want to put my hands on her throat. She makes me crazy."