Sadly though, Monique's eyes speak of only bad intentions. She is coming for me again and I couldn't believe it! I didn't want to continue. I just sat there staring at her in disbelief, my eyes pleading for her to stop. For us to stop this now! Haven't we done enough damage to one another!? How bad she must want to win. To defeat me and prove she can dominate me. Another war must be taking place, some private war inside of Monique, that hinges on what? Defeating me? But I will not be dominated by her. So does that reveal something in me as well?
No verbal conversations take place as we both try to get back to our feet, for what reason I do not know because it is a struggle. On more time, to prove to one another that we can stand, women-to-woman, and confront one another from up on our feet. I am barely upright when my legs start to tremble, my knees buckle a couple of times, but somehow I manage. Swaying back and forth while favoring my injured left leg. Feeling about ready to fall over.
Monique manages to rise as well, but stumbles almost into a nearby wall, her left hand reaches out to brace herself. She remains leaning there, taking deep breaths before testing her weight on her injured right leg. I am sure she will never forgive me for hurting her leg. Would I ever forgive her for hurting mine? Would that matter? We probably will never see one another again after this.
Our eyes meet and we are wary of one another, anger-and-strength replaced by fear-and-desperation. Neither of us have been keeping time, but most of the day seems to have slipped into the late afternoon. And no score keeping, we have inflicted horrible damage and submissions on each other, so who really has the advantage? Limping forward, we come within two feet and our sweat soaked bodies simply fall against each other. No fancy maneuvers, or tricks.
When we latch on to one another I know it is for the very last time.
I have almost no more left to give. This black amazon I am battling is an epic warrior. Me? I am justing fighting to survive and come out in one piece. I have no idea what she thinks of me, outside of the fact she wants to kick my ass.
Monique presses against me with a level of energy I didn't think she had left. And that familiar intimacy is back, breast pressing against breast, nipple against nipple. But the exhaustion is settling in, true muscle failure, not just signs of fatigue creeping into all my joints and muscles. Our heads slowly come closer, passing off to the side and it feels like we are suffering as one person, cheek to cheek. And then the inevitable happens, we topple back to the ground, each of us crying out in pain when the jarring thud ripples through our injured bodies. Deftness is not to be found as we move in slow, lumbering efforts. On our sides, me on my right, we rest while embracing, but then our chests and bodies begin that slow grind. The sweat and lotion are still there, just a little, lubricating our actions, my erect nipples tormenting me by the slow and erotic rubbing against Monique's skin. She tries to roll me over onto my back but fails. I try to roll her over but unable. So we simply we remain on our sides, stretching out the full length of our bodies. Our hips keep pressing and our legs slither against one another, still seeking some kind of advantage.
When we are like this, are we more akin to lovers? Do we even look like lovers? I wouldn't know. I have never made love to anyone. I wonder, what does Monique know about love? How my mind drifts as I lay in her arms, panting for air.
No plan, no strategy, at times we seem to be groping one another aimlessly. My hands, just begin roaming all over Monique's body for some new leverage. But the sweat hinders everything. My hands find and squeeze Monique's perfect ass, she moans against my cheek. Monique's hands are on my back, then my shoulders, then down to my ass and legs. The pressure of our touches get rougher and rougher until we are squeezing the other's body with our fingers, even clawing at one another. My nostrils flare and the smell of her body robs me of all my senses. Again, everything about her draws me in, her touch...her smell, even the taste of her sweat that slips past my lips when I press my face against her skin. And I feel her own face buried against my skin as well, her mouth open, she must know what I taste like.
We keep hugging for that ultimate intimacy, but the struggle to dominate continues.
As bad as my left leg hurts I must have more contact with this woman, she brings out the best and worst in me. I keep trying to engage Monique's legs with mine, keeping her tight against me. She must have felt that her own injured leg, her right, could engage because she hooks her knee behind my left knee. Now our injured legs match up against one another. Our other legs also coil around each other, so whose would emerge victorious? However it happens, we will be locked in each others arms to the very end. And we squeeze, sharing a long moan of pain, but there is more than just pain in our sounds. Something else, and I am so scared now.
Our bodies continue to slide against one another in every way possible; hands and arms holding onto one another, breasts rubbing, nipples aching, muscular bellies pressing tight, and legs grinding. Perhaps this is the best of all possible endings? Head-to-Toe we are latched onto one another and when that final admission of defeat happens, it will be face to face. Woman-to-woman. I nuzzle my face up close against hers, panting and moaning, pain or pleasure? Yes, it is both. Her breath is right against my cheek, moving quick and hot over my ear canal. It is more than just air, it is also the person breathing that air, and those sounds coming from her, it is affecting me.
Maybe I have always wanted something like this to happen between us? And now it has. I shut my eyes and feel the hot tears, because I know I can never admit this secret pleasure to anyone, not even her. And so I just hold onto this moment for dear life, because every second the present slips away and you can never get it back. And with those fleeting thoughts, I hug my rival even tighter, and she squeezes back. Does she feel it too? Tight as we can, as if we both are trying to achieve some epic consummation to this struggle. Naked, sweaty body pressing against body, arms still pulling, our legs tangling and intertwining.
This new form of intimacy in our final struggle unlocks some latent energy in me as we begin moving against one another with increased effort. The heat of our mounds between our legs is driving me crazy, Monique pushes her crotch against mine and I press back. What is she doing? Is she trying to distract me? One of us has to emerge the winner in our struggle for the battle of control, dominance and supremacy. So I can not lose focus now!
My legs keep interlocking with hers, trying to weave a tapestry of knees and ankles, searching for some hold that seems ever elusive. With my eyes still closed I can only feel and imagine my way around her body. Up-top and down-below. I envision our limbs as slow moving pythons, arms and legs slithering in and out, all around one another. Each of us searching for a squeeze of submission, but our limbs now lack their once powerful potential, unless one of us finds just enough of something to push the other over the edge. It feels like we might forever be locked in each other's arms and legs, that is such a powerful thought, our embrace is that intense. It may not look like much from the outside, but to me it feels like a titanic struggle for dominance. Straining in slow-motion, there is only the ripple of muscle and the panting of breath to give evidence to the efforts being put forth. Our arms stretch-out above our heads and I grab her right wrist with my right hand, I feel some potential there. I then weave my left hand around to grab my own right wrist. Not exactly sure what I will find waiting for me, if anything, but it was close enough to an armlock/kimura, so I continue. I am still feeling-for-it and not sure if I have achieved anything at all.
Monique stops breathing for a moment, then gasps lungfuls of air, and with one final lurch this long bodied girl starts fighting back. Maybe she knows I am onto something? Perhaps I am. We writhe together with greater intensity, our slippery bodies feel melded together. Monique's whole body stretches, quivering, her warm pulsating flesh against mine as we strive for bodily supremacy. My left leg wraps around her legs, behind her knees, and I manage to trap both her legs between mine. My right knee feels my left foot and then hooks my left ankle, I draw my legs up tight, my rival moans wildly. Now I have something akin to a figure-four leg lock on her legs, as well as her right arm trapped. Now I really bare-down, stretching her body with mine!
Monique gasps are coming continuously, so sensual in many ways, as I force her body to bend. Our sinews rippling under a sheen of sweat that covers both of us. And then she starts doing something with her body that is different, challenging mine, undulating her chest, her hips crush against mine and now I am the one moaning, feeling very uncomfortable. As long as I have her trapped, she also has me trapped, and she begins tormenting me with parts of her body. Oh God, have I just doomed myself in some way? What is she trying to do to me? Am I the one that has fallen into her trap?
