On The Court Pt 04

~~~~ To the Finish ~~~~

A hard swallow and we walk back on the court towards the ball. Out of the blue Monique gives me a strong shove on the shoulder, in a hostile posture. I shove right back with more force, making her stumble back. Inches from one another we both tense as if we want to attack one another and just forgo the entire game. Our amazing bodies are swelling with muscle from all the exertion; Powerful, naked and I can't believe we are doing this. Are we really going to just fight it out? Right now! We glance at one another and recognize that we are at our prime, we are both playing our absolute best and we will match one another move-for-move, muscle-against-muscle. The ball is only a few feet away. What is the decision?

We both lunge for the ball to finish the game.

Before we even make it to the ball our bodies collide, I knew the impact would be horrific, and it is. We come together with a terrific crash, our sopping wet bodies slapping together like the way a wet towel slaps against tile wall. Splat! Pure-brute-force effort on both our parts, the right side of my body driving into left side of Moniques body, trying to occupy the same space and our muscles fighting it out for domination over the other. The ball now seems a secondary concern. This is more of a power struggle against each, rather than for some ball as our arms and legs tangle with one another. Simple brutal determination to dominate the other, locked in battle, my arms trembling, muscles straining as we try to force and control the other. The seconds ticking away. Damn her! Damn this bitch! She has dragged me down to her level, needling me to engage her in this degrading form of competition. I feel panicked and scared. Knowing this is now at some primitive level, I have lost all control and my body is shaking with fear, I just want to survive this, which seems hard to do against this tall black powerhouse of a woman.

Our breathing becomes labored as we keep battling, driving into one another, my right arm has wrapped around her broad powerful shoulders, her left arm over my back squeezing, as if in some kind of intimate huddle. But it is nothing of the sort. We stood like that, side by side, twisting, turning and leaning into one another. My left leg braced against the floor, pushing against her, my muscles up and down my left leg bulging with effort, glutes flexing. Her right leg also braced in the opposite direction. From hip to ankle the outside of my right leg grinds against her left, and quickly our long, muscular legs begin to snake around one another, coiling and flexing for control. My thigh and calf muscles bulging and rubbing against hers.

Sometimes it felt like we only kept our balance via our outstretched legs planted against the floor. My free left arm reaches under to try and grab something for balance but ends up finding her right arm trying to do the same. Shoulders, triceps, and biceps pushing against one another, it is a war for being fought wherever our bodies meet. Even my right breast felt like it is fighting against Monique's left breast, firmness trying to win out, battling for space, trying to force the other out of the way. Under our hunched bodies the air has become thick and hot as we pant, groan and squeal. Sweat is dripping from where our foreheads press tight, the air disturbed by the hissing through our clenched teeth. My hands have locked fingers with Monique's and suddenly my arm was being forced back, but I stop her and recover, and then force her back. I took a deep breath, and really pour it on.

In that moment, everywhere it seems, our bodies have become intertwined, turning into this perfect swirl of dark-chocolate and vanilla skin, flexing muscles, power oozing from head to toe as we fought one another for supremacy. How long have we been at this? Five minutes into this stalemate? Or only a minute? Time is deceptive.

I feel it in our body language, this was to be a pivotal battle, even our breathing changes as we pour everything we have into it. Up-top, our bodies twist to keep from falling too far forward or too far back. But now the slipperiness of our skin is making it almost impossible to get a good grip, at times we cling to one another for balance just as much for domination. This can not last much longer, the room starts spinning around me. Monique's contorted face pressing against my own raging efforts, I am sure we make a perfect mirror image of clenched teeth and jaws, straining, quivering naked bodies struggling to overthrow and overpower each other. But my body, I feel it starting to shake all over because I just don't think I can hold out much longer! I focus every bit of energy I have left into my right leg coiling around her left; My thigh and calve muscles ripple with desperate power and I break the stalemate! Miracles do happen. I feel her body falter, and adjust to how my leg forced her's aside, it was enough for me to then twist my hips into hers, something akin to a judo toss. Although I have never taken Judo, so it was more of a sweaty, slippery, pure muscle toss.

"Fuck!" Monique curses as she crashes to the floor. Once free I immediately go for the ball. Lord almighty, am I glad that is over.

I turn, ball in hand now and make the shot, although I was shaking all over from the struggle seconds ago, and I wasn't sure I could even stand properly. My shot sailed into the net, swish! '46'! So close now...so close to the end.

My celebration of overpowering her and sinking the shot was short lived however. A screaming pain. Me, screaming in agony. There is a stabbing pain starting in the lower, left side of my back, right above my hips. It staggers me forward, my left hand instinctively reaches behind to asses the damage. Who? What? Why? That is all I can manage for now. The next instant Monique was on me from behind, her left hand gets a grip on my left wrist, which is still behind my back, and shoves my hand up between my shoulder blades. I cry out again as she applies a brutal hammerlock. She then throws her right arm around my neck in a standing rear-naked choke. Naked being a truly proper word, since we are both naked. By the smallest of miracles, my right hand instinctively reaches up and manages to sneak a few fingers in-between her arm and my throat, or it would have been instant lights out. Even with my hand intervening her arm made it under my chin, combine that with our sweat and her phenomenal strength she is very close to shutting off the blood and air to my head. I am doomed. Instantly I did everything I could; Sputtering, twisting and kicking for freedom, but I felt at her mercy. I am big powerful girl, so for Monique to hold me trapped that should give another example of just how strong and big she is.

"You are going to beg me, or I am going to hurt your arm and choke the shit out of you! Do you understand!" Monique hisses in my ear.

"Please..." I gurgle. Panic is starting to seep into every part of my mind and body, and what the fuck is happening? Has she abandoned the game? My God does she want to kill me?!

"...Please."

"Please what?" She gleefully asks in my ear.

My fingers never stop digging for more purchase on her arm, but her sweat soaked skin and my sweaty body makes that almost impossible. She wrenches on my trapped arm, folding my left arm tight up behind my back even further, twisting my shoulder and wrist painfully. My cheeks blew out, spit flying off my lips, as I struggle in her grasp. Intent on infecting as much misery on me as possible, she then leans back to her full height, pulling me with her. My whimpering is the only indication I am still conscious. I can feel her magnificent breasts crushing against my trapped arm and my back. Her crotch thrusting against my quivering buns. She is making it clear she has total control over me and is dominating me now. All I could do was stand on my toes, although it does almost nothing to alleviate the pressure, she has the height advantage. I felt like I am flopping around like some piece of meat she has just spent that last 90 minutes tenderizing. It is humiliating and demoralizing, never have I felt so helpless, and it is all happening in the arms of this powerful black woman, my rival.

"Stop! Why are you doing this to me?" I plead some more, but that wasn't the words she wants to hear.

"Admit I am the better woman between us, and beg me for mercy. Or I will snap something in your arm!"

"No!" I scream when she wrenches my arm up behind my back tighter until I felt my tendons on fire with pain. Never would I though I would scream like this. With a hold like this sunk in tight, all my arm and shoulder muscles feel useless!

"Say it!" She lips snap against the side of my face, her voice full of so much hostility it makes me shiver. How did I ever think of her as some sexy, beautiful woman? When she is nothing more than a monster! Intent on forever tormenting me!

"No!" I cry defiantly as the tears run down my cheeks. Fuck her, instead of pleading for mercy, which I almost did, my mind and body cash-all-in to fight it out. Oh God, can any of this be real? Every muscle in my body starts flexing, twisting, my bare chest thrust out desperately to alleviate the pain. I must have been thrashing hard, the way my breasts shook back and forth almost violently from my efforts to escape. My head, rolling back and further on her strong arm as I whimper, feeling pathetic. My right forearm and bicep muscles bulging to pull her arm away from my neck, but to no avail. She was degrading me, she knew it and is loving every second of it, keeping me in this hold. My powerful body, and all of my muscles at her mercy.

Closing my eyes, I attempt one last desperate escape (and say a prayer); Flexing my left and right arms, pouring everything I had into it. Maybe somewhere, someplace a small reservoir of untapped energy still remains? My crying is much louder now, probably to her great satisfaction I am sure.

"You bitch!" Monique spat as she is now struggling to keep me imprisoned as I keep fighting back. Fraction of an inch, by fraction of an inch I was twisting my left arm free, and pulling her chokehold from around my neck. 'Please God, Please.' I just kept praying silently as my lungs burn. For a moment, maybe only seconds, we seem to be perfectly still, but that is deception. A desperate, terrifying struggle was taking place between our bodies, specifically our muscles. Me trying to overcome an unbreakable hold, against the woman trying to keep me imprisoned in that hold. Upon closer inspection you might notice our powerful bodies slowly writhing against one another, and you would certainly hear the whimpers and gasps from our combined exertions.

Maybe, just maybe, I could have fought my way free, maybe I could have overpowered her from such a severe disadvantage. But I felt leverage was on Moniques side, and something else is happening as well. A part of me snaps, the agony in my lower back reminds me of how she drove her fist, or elbow, or what-the-fuck-ever into me from behind. Delivering that crippling blow into my back motivates my next choice, and now all I want to do is even the score. Besides, I was blowing all my energy reserves in this titanic struggle for freedom. Sure, I would love to power out of this trap, but the temptation to 'go elsewhere' was too great. With only a split second to act, I let my right hand go releasing her arm from my grip. Immediately of course she sinks it in deep and all I had is seconds remaining. Raising my right arm I drive my elbow into her right side; once, twice and the third time is the charm. Her entire body sags and she stumbles away from me.

Spinning around, gasping for air, and massaging my wounded left arm, I pause to get my bearings. Rotating my shoulder checking for damage in as subtle a manner as possible so as to not let-on she hurt the hell out of me. I let it hang limp by my side for a few seconds to let the blood flow again. Whatever I did sent Monique down to one knee, clutching at the right side of her torso where I plowed my elbow strikes. I waste no more time with observations or inquires, this has become a fight to the finish so I stumble over, pick up the ball and swish...

"47 bitch!" I yell triumphantly.

Back on her feet she looks me over, our eyes conveying pain and malice. The ball, ironically lightly bouncing between us. I'm not sure what to do next and don't have the mental wherewithal to question why she attacked me like that minutes ago. 'Just focus on finishing the game.' Everything is operating on a pure physical level. Our bodies bespoke 90 minutes of a excruciating intense rivalry, every one of those minutes dripping form our bodies. Has it really been that long? We have taken plenty of water breaks, so that would account for some of the time. It only takes a few glances, but my body bore the injuries of a war on this court. Monique was more fortunate, her ebony skin helps camouflage her wounds, but my fair skin revels every bruise, scratch, and rash all up and down my body. Posture wise? Gone is any form of even trying to standup straight. We either stood shoulders hunched over, or hands placed on our knees. My lungs burning with desperation, there was not enough air in the whole state to help replenish them.

But God have mercy, we also looked like two powerful bitches. Our muscles swollen from almost 90 minutes of throttling one another, like we are dipped in oil from head to toe.

Moniques eyes start dancing, glancing up and down over me and I knew what she was doing and thinking. The same thing I was, admiring her powerful shoulders heaving, chest swelling for air, breasts and nipples swollen from a battering. As much as I want to, I can't bring myself to hate this girl. I don't like her, but I don't hate her. What is wrong with me?

"We finish this how?" Someone has to say it, so I did. Forcing myself to stand up straight, wincing from the pain all over, primarily from my lower back. Placing my hands on my hips. My question is just as much a challenge as an inquiry. Do we straight up fight? Or keep playing ball? In some aspects we have been waging a private physical war while playing ball, but the last few minutes turned into an ugly struggle beyond basketball.

"Lets finish the game." Her voice sounding a little hoarse, and looking weary that I was turning out to be more of challenge then she had ever given me credit for. We both moved for the ball. Regardless of our exhaustion, we attacked one another, and the ball. Grunting we sounded more like battered, wounded animals, than two woman playing ball. We continued to push and slap our way around one another, even trying to trip each other. All aspects of playing basketball abandoned, maybe that happened long ago. If we had been more rested, I think this would have turned into a straight-up fight.

She is still trying to do more fighting, taking physical digs at me, while I was trying to do more playing. I think that gave me the edge, and I snatched the ball from her grasp, spun and just launched it in the direction of the net. "48 bitch." I groan with joy, although from my sluggish body language and tone, you would have thought I just said 'I quit.' Quickly as I can, I spin around just in case she decides to hit me from behind again. The look on Monique's face gave me pause, there was a hint of new emotion. Her facade was seriously cracking. She grabs the ball and made a shot but it bounces off the rim almost right into my hands. It has barely touched my hands when I launch it back up, but it also hit the rim, I was so tired at this point I don't even know how I got the ball into the air. For one split second I couldn't tell if it was sweat or tears streaking out of her eyes because my eyes are so blurry as well. Monique makes a desperate lunge for the ball, her normal grace gone, but she got to it before me and makes the shot.

Her turn. Spinning around in my face...

..."49! Bitch!" She screams and charges right into my face, our bodies collide, but I stand my ground letting our double-D breasts painfully take the brunt of the pressure, crushing against one another, once again. It hurts like hell. That feeling of being nude? No longer as shocking as it once was, but it was there all right. Simultaneously we push away from one another. How badly I want to reach up and massage my wounded breasts, better yet, I want to caress them with ice-packs.

'49'

This is what it all comes down to, and that reality sent us both off on a mad scramble for the ball. My muscles are cramping, my heart beating out of my chest as we reach our target at the same time. Our gasps for air coming in almost perfect harmony, on the verge of sobbing and in tears, I have reached the end of my reserves. I believe this to be true for Monique as well. Another tangle of our slippery limbs, naked bodies grinding against one another. Arms and legs wrestling for any kind of advantage with no shame in how we are openly crying now. Muscle fatigue eventually gives way to muscle failure if pushed too far. That is what I am feeling.

The tall, ebony beauty pivots away, just a little quicker than I can follow, taking control of the ball. Not to be denied I act like some wild animal, practically climbing on top of her, and for my efforts she gives me a right elbow into my gut but I really don't feel it. I am beyond feeling much at all, every part of my body was in equal-parts agony. Monique being an elite player, digs deep and finds something to push her over the edge, literally over me. All I can do witness her beautiful, sleek body going up toward the hoop, stretching like the amazing athlete she is. 'She is a Goddess!' I am stunned, my mind reeling. It is her moment of Victory over me. 'And why should I fight that? There is no shame in losing after having fought a long hard battle.'

My mind concedes. My fighting spirit decides differently, it wants one last chance. 'Desperate' is a word that does no justification in such moments. It takes a culmination of other emotions; agony, pain, maybe even athletic hubris? I launch myself upward, flailing in what feels like a clumsy effort at best, to-do-something...to-do-anything, to fight off the inevitable. 'To go down fighting.' My fingertips feebly scratch the underside of the ball as it leaves her hands, but its trajectory still seems steady. That one touch on my part sets off a ripple, that turns into a wobble, but the ball keeps going and then I hear it hit the rim...and I can't watch...I don't want to watch, besides, my focus is now fighting to keep myself from crashing to the floor in a heap. Monique came down right next to me.

Boy-oh-boy! I am so fucking angry that I drive my left shoulder, (You remember, the one she almost twisted to the point of dislocation.) I drive 'that shoulder' into her right side, the same side I wounded with my repeated elbows. Knocking the wind out from her (take that!), sending her sprawling to the floor, arm and legs splayed in all direction. A cheap shot for sure, but I want to give her some payback.

The ball. That fucking damn ball. It bounces right next to me and it took me a second to realize something...It never went in! Wait...did it?

Such a shocking possibility nearly causes me to collapse with relief, 'She did not make it!' Yes! It was just a fleeting glance, but it was real all the same. Teetering on the rim, only to fall away...maybe I have a chance after all! I wish I can say it is an epic moment, an epic display of effort on my part. But sadly no, I was on the verge of passing out, and moving like everything is some disconnected out-of-body experience. Some simple effort, such as grabbing for the ball and I felt like a fumbling novice, and then the struggle to perform a simple layup. 'Careful now.' Counseling myself as I push the ball up against the backboard and watch it slip into the net. Actually, I feel very little emotion in this moment, mostly relief it actually went in. Shocking that my body still has some motor coordination skills to even make the shot.