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Homewrecker
Trahison, diamants et vengeance s'entrechoquent lorsqu'une vendeuse prospère surprend son mari avec une autre femme.
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Trahison, diamants et vengeance s'entrechoquent lorsqu'une vendeuse prospère surprend son mari avec une autre femme.
Wendy Matthews hummed happily along with the car stereo as she drove along the road. Life had turned out better than she could have expected. She had topped the list of salespeople for the year, and had just been presented a generous bonus at the annual sales meeting. Instead of staying around and getting drunk on the company's dime, she had decided to surprise her husband and treat him to lunch. Perhaps, she thought, she'd treat him to a little more as well. The shiny satin of her green dress glinted in the bright sunlight, mimicking the diamonds she wore about her neck, wrists and fingers. Success such as she had enjoyed involved hard work, both mentally and physically. Wendy's body was proof of the efforts she put in at the gym each morning. Her long legs were lean and strong, and her ample chest swelled up from a firm, flat stomach. Her short blond hair was being tossed by the wind coming in through the open car window, but Wendy didn't care. Her favorite song was filling the air, and all her cares and concerns were a distant memory.
Her red Miata purred as it turned into the parking lot where Hank worked. The place was full, as usual. Wendy picked a spot off to the side some distance from the building. As she did, she noticed statuesque young woman standing near the front door. She had long blond hair, and was wearing a bright red dress with thin shoulder straps and a plunging neckline. Even from far away, it was obvious that the woman's cleavage was considerable. Unconsciously, Wendy found herself comparing her figure to that of the other blond. She snorted as she shut off the ignition.
"Probably bought those big boobs," she thought to herself. Those who knew of her wealth and beauty often assumed the same of Wendy, but they were wrong. She pulled a small jar of makeup out of her purse and angled the rear-view mirror so she could touch up her face. After twisting the mirror, Wendy found that the young woman appeared in one corner of it, as did the building's entrance. Her eyes glanced down to her hands as they opened up the jar and dabbed some powder on a cosmetic puff. When they returned to the mirror, the distant blond wasn't alone.
Hank was walking out of the front door with a wide-open smile on his face. The other woman strode up to him and placed her hands upon his lapel. Wendy froze. There had to be an explanation for this. She knew of an obvious one, but dismissed it. After a few moments, however, it was apparent that her fears were true. There was no mistaking the body language that the two had. The blond in the red dress tugged on Hank's tie and led him into the parking lot. Wendy got out of her car and stood up. The pair walked away from her and slipped into Hank's truck. Dumbfounded, Wendy watched as it backed up and headed for the main road.
Emotions washed through her mind like waves in a chaotic sea. Disbelief, betrayal, anger, sadness, loss, and fury all had their way with her thoughts. When the others had left, only fury remained. Wendy had fought to gain and keep the things that she owned and enjoyed. Hell itself would have to put up a good struggle to take any of that away. Wendy jumped back in her Miata, fired up the engine, and ran it quickly through the gears as she sped out after her wayward husband.
She soon caught sight of his truck, but remained two blocks behind it. She had discarded her first impulse -- ramming his big blue Ford F150 with her tiny sports car -- as both suicidal and ineffective. They had to be going somewhere, she reasoned. She would confront him when they got there. She could see the silhouette of the floozy in the truck's cab, leaning over onto Hank's shoulder. Wendy's heart burned, and tinted her vision a hazy crimson.
Only a few miles later, the truck hung a right into an apartment complex. Unknown to its occupants, the Miata followed seconds behind. Wendy trailed the Ford to the back of the complex, where it pulled into a parking space. Hank and the blond quickly left the truck and dashed into a nearby apartment. Wendy pulled over to the side of the street and pondered her next move. The amorous couple had gone in too fast for her to stop them and demand an explanation. Her immediate impulse was to stomp in after them, but one part of her mind spoke up and warned her of possible danger. It made good sense, Wendy thought, but she had come this far. Leaving now and letting Hank get away with whatever the two had planned struck her as giving up. That was one thing she never did.
One slammed car door and a few dozen purposeful, high-heeled strides later, she was staring at the apartment door her husband had entered. Wendy affixed her bravest face and pounded on the door with her fist. She heard muffled giggling approaching, and then the door opened. The blond stood right at Wendy's height, and was in the process of lifting one of her dress straps back up onto her shoulder.
"We don't want any. Go away," she blurted, and swung the door shut. Wendy caught it with her hand and banged it back open with her left shoulder. The blond looked shocked, then opened her mouth to speak. Wendy cut her off.
"Step aside, slut. I'm here for my husband." The blond's jaw dropped. "Hank! Get the fuck out here!" Wendy continued.
From the hallway leading to the bedroom, Hank emerged. His belt was unhooked, and his shirt was halfway off. Wendy savored the look on his face. He knew he'd been caught, and that no amount of excuses were going to set him free.
"Who the hell are you?," replied the mistress haughtily, who hadn't seen her lover appear behind her. "I don't know what the fuck you're t--".
"Melissa," Hank began to say, but Melissa couldn't answer him. Wendy had cut off her attempt at bluffing by grabbing her hair with one hand and driving a punch into her belly with the other. With the wind completely knocked out of her lungs, Melissa doubled over and fell to the floor.
"Hank, get your ass back into your truck. We're going to have a long talk about this as soon as you get home." Wendy's face was a twisted mask of anger. Hank knew better than to say anything. He shuffled past his wife and slunk out of the apartment. Melissa held on to her injured stomach and moaned. Wendy gazed down at her in disgust.
"Don't EVER let me catch you within sight of my husband again, you... you... homewrecker!" she spat. As she did so, she reached over and flung a small table near the door onto its side. A lamp and several magazines fell onto the prone woman, who was in too much pain to respond. Wendy left the apartment and stormed back to her car.
She fumed all the way back to her house. She wasn't in the mood to be seen by anyone at her workplace or Hank's. Blind to everything else, she raced through the streets of her subdivision. Tires screeched as the little red sports car halted abruptly in the driveway. Hank's truck wasn't there. Wendy grabbed her purse, and stomped up the walkway to the ornate oak door that guarded the entrance to her home. Upon entering, she closed the door but didn't lock it. Hank, she figured, had gone back to work to beg time off. Wendy knew he'd be home soon enough.
The house she shared with her husband of two years was a single-story, open floor plan dwelling. The architect and interior decorator had done a magnificent job on it, and Wendy was rightly proud of it. The entryway was just off of the living room, which flowed naturally into both the kitchen and the dining room. The master bedroom suite was located off to one side of the house, and the couple's entertainment room and garage lay on the opposite side. It was set back on a half- acre of partially-wooded land and gave them the privacy they both enjoyed.
In the master bedroom, Wendy kicked off her heels and started tearing off her jewelry. A hiccup coursed unbidden through her chest. She stifled it, only to have a tear well up in her right eye. She gripped the dresser to steady herself. "I can't lose it now," Wendy thought, but the feeling of sadness grew stronger in her heart. She took a deep breath, and let it out. The front door opened, and then shut itself noisily. "Just in time," Wendy murmured. She steeled herself for the bitter task ahead, and marched to the living room.
Standing in the foyer was none other than Melissa, wearing a thoroughly pissed-off expression. Before Wendy could demand what she was doing, the blond jammed her hands onto her hips and spoke.
"Hey, bitch!" Melissa said. "I didn't appreciate what you did back there."
"Excuse me?? I didn't invite you into my house! Get the fuck out!"
"No, YOU don't come barging into MY apartment and start something you don't wanna finish!"
"I was in your ugly cave of an apartment to pry your filthy claws out of my husband, you sleaze!"
"Oh! As if I was forcing him to sleep with me? Perhaps if you didn't spend so much time away at your stupid job, you'd notice that Hank needed a lot more satisfaction than you were giving him."
"I've heard enough out of you! I'm gonna kick your ass out of the door so hard you'll never think of coming back." At this, Wendy marched toward Melissa and reached out to push her back the way she came. Melissa dodged out of the way and into the living room.
"Get out of this house right now!"
"No, I'm not," said Melissa. "Not until you apologize." Wendy made another grab for her, and Melissa dodged further into the living room.
"You whore!" spat Wendy.
"Hmmm... that's not what you called me back there. What was it again?" Melissa teased. Wendy's hands balled into tight fists.
"A fucking slut!"
"No, I think it was... homewrecker." concluded Melissa. She reached down a picked up a stack of magazines off of the coffee table, brought them up to shoulder height, and tossed them backwards over her head. Wendy advanced, but Melissa quickly stepped to the opposite side of the table. She picked up a pile of over-sized books off of that end and held them, threatening to throw them.
"Put those down," orded Wendy. An evil smirk grew on Melissa's lips. "Now." Furious at the blond's lack of compliance, Wendy charged around the table. Melissa flung the books right in Wendy's face, and grabbed more magazines from the floor. As Wendy continued towards her, she threw them one after the other, backing up. Upon running out of periodicals, Melissa grabbed the pole lamp next to the couch and yanked its cord out of the wall.
Wendy's face was now completely red. That was the last straw. She was determined to take this destructive, thieving bitch to the cleaners.
Melissa swung the lamp, but Wendy avoided it. Eager to get her hands on Melissa, Wendy ran at her and knocked the lamp out of her grasp. The force of the impact sent both women falling onto the love seat. The two dug their claws into each other, and their bodies writhed like snakes. Melissa eventually worked one foot in between herself and Wendy, and kicked her off. Wendy stumbled back to the middle of the room before regaining her balance, giving Melissa time to get to her feet. Noticing how awkward trying to battle in heels felt, Melissa kicked off her pumps. Wendy began approaching Melissa, who countered by launching the two love seat cushions at Wendy. The first one missed, but the second one was a direct hit. Melissa then picked up two small throw pillows and charged.
The blonds met in the center of the living room. Wendy received a disorienting buffeting from the pillows before she managed to reach in and grab a good hold of Melissa. The women swung around in a circle wildly for several seconds. Melissa, desperate to break free, leaped backwards. Wendy yanked in response, but misjudged Melissa's momentum. The pair toppled over onto the coffee table, buckling two of its legs and cracking it in half. Wendy, finding herself beneath her husband's mistress, flailed and kicked in a berserk rage. Melissa caught a harsh kick to her midsection, and clambered away.
Without the slightest pause, both women stood and set at each other. Wendy got a good running start, and her strong legs propelled her foe back into the wall. Her hands gripped tightly on Melissa's shoulders, pinning the blond. Melissa's head bumped against the large, framed picture of a seascape. In an instant, she had reached up and lifted it off the wall. Wendy let go and jumped back, but it was too late. The center of the painting hit the crown of her head, and the canvas tore away from the wooden frame. Not willing to be cornered any more, Melissa dodged away from the wall. The frame was still around Wendy, one edge dug into her neck. A struggle ensued, with Wendy thrashing to get the frame off of her, and Melissa tugging on it to wrangle the other blond. They stumbled several steps before the nails that held the frame together could no longer hold. The wooden pieces separated, and Melissa almost lost her balance.
Wendy turned to face the other woman, who was standing in the entrance to the hallway that led to the master bedroom. She shrieked and ran at her. The scowl on Wendy's face temporarily scared Melissa. In her hurry to escape, she ducked into the first door she could find. It was a bathroom, complete with a large mirror, a sink, a toilet, and a bathtub. Melissa slammed the door into Wendy's face, but the angry wife flung herself into it, knocking Melissa against the sink. Not thinking clearly, Wendy continued her assault, only to receive a foot to the stomach. That stopped her short, but only for a moment. Melissa felt trapped, and stepped sideways in order to have more room to maneuver. As she did so, she placed her right arm behind the forest of bottles on the sink and launched them at her foe. The hail of cosmetics cascaded against Wendy, but didn't phase her at all. She swung her right arm in a wide arc, catching Melissa dead in the face with her knuckles. The blow knocked Melissa into the nearby wall, where she lost her balance and fell. She grabbed the shower curtain, but it failed to slow her fall. Instead, a jagged rip opened up in it with a loud rending noise. Wendy was on top of her before she could lift her legs to defend herself.
Pinning the blond's wrists to the floor, Wendy screamed, "When I get through with you, you're gonna clean up every single thing you wrecked, you fucking whore!"
"Clean it up yourself, cunt!"
"How about I clean YOU up?" Wendy picked the toilet brush off of its hook and brandished it at Melissa. With one of her arms free now, Melissa waved her hand back and forth in an effort to block the imminent attack. It was no use. Wendy began bashing her mercilessly with the long-handled brush.
"Open wide, honey! I don't wanna miss a spot!" Wendy taunted.
Melissa suddenly rolled to one side, tossing Wendy against the toilet. The plastic brush clattered away on the floor and Melissa saw her chance. She worked her other arm free and sunk both hands into Wendy's blond hair. With a howl of pain, Wendy counterattacked, clawing at Melissa's hair and red dress. They landed side-by-side on the cold tile and erupted into a fierce catfight. Their legs entwined like muscular vines, drawing their bodies close together.
The tangle of female fury churned about the floor for some time, with neither woman gaining an advantage. One of the thin straps on Melissa's dress broke, and the seams of Wendy's outfit split under the strain. Both soon realized that they were equally strong, and equally determined not to give up. Still, each harbored a heated desire to defeat her opponent soundly and force her to admit defeat, and that drove them on like an endless source of fuel.
Frustrated that twisting and yanking Wendy's hair seemed to be having no effect, Melissa shot one of her hands out in an effort to grab the toilet brush that the other blond had used. Instead, it came upon a tube of toothpaste. Flipping the top open, Melissa squeezed a long strand of minty gel into Wendy's tousled blond mane.
"Augh, you bitch!" she wailed when she realized what was happening. She tried to take the tube away from Melissa, but the blond merely tossed it aside. Wendy sat up, and found a large glass jar of makeup remover to bash Melissa with. When she turned back to hit her with it, she discovered that Melissa had pulled the stopper off of a vial of cologne. Both women's arms moved simultaneously. The cologne hit first, giving Wendy a face full of the strong-smelling liquid. Some of it splashed into her eyes, where it started to sting horribly. The heavy jar slid out of Wendy's grasp at high speed and bounced off of Melissa's forehead with an audible thud.
Wendy stood up, temporarily blinded, and leaned against the bathroom door. Melissa curled up in a ball with her hands cradling her head and moaned. She saw Wendy standing near her, and lashed out with her feet. Seeking to avoid getting kicked in the shins, Wendy retreated across the hall to the bedroom. She stumbled into the dresser before she found the bed and used the comforter to wipe off her face. The overly powerful musky odor didn't go away so easily, however, and made her want to gag.
As soon as she regained her vision, she heard plodding footsteps in the hallway. She looked up to see Melissa stride through the door wearing a completely pissed-off look. Her determination to kick the crap out of Wendy had risen to a new level, and Wendy was ready to do the same to her. Without a word, Wendy went into a defensive stance and prepared for the other blond's attack. Unexpectedly, Melissa ducked her head down under Wendy's outstretched hands and rammed it into her belly. Wendy doubled over, allowing Melissa to push her backwards into the wall next to the window. Regaining her composure, Wendy began raining blows down on her foe's back. Melissa rose up and tried to latch onto Wendy's flailing arms. Missing, she grabbed the drapes instead, and shoved them at Wendy's face, trying to wrap them around her neck. Wendy responded with a knee to Melissa's side, causing her opponent to lose her balance. The blond tightened her grip on both the curtains and Wendy's green dress as she fell. Wendy was spun halfway around, and she, too lost her balance. The warring pair hit the carpet hard and began pummeling each other with half-closed fists. Just then, the curtain rod detached from the wall. The long pole caught on the top of the venetian blinds, tearing them from the wall, too. A shower of drapery and vinyl slats collapsed onto the women, who continued their ferocious battle oblivious to the destruction.
After a couple minutes of this, Wendy got in a trio of hard hits to Melissa's cheek, causing her to yelp in anguish. Sensing an opportunity, Wendy got up on one knee and cocked her arm back for a fierce blow. Before she could land it, Melissa swung her hand swiftly and felt her knuckles mash into the blond's nose. Pain shot through Wendy's head, and she saw stars before her eyes. Backing off, she tossed the fallen window treatments to one side. Melissa massaged her cheek and leaned against the nightstand next to the bed to help herself to her feet.
"Goddamn fucking cunt!" shouted Wendy, one hand on her aching nose, and the other pointing at the pile on the floor. "Look what you fucking did."
"Don't you get it?" Melissa shot back. "You said it yourself. I'm a homewrecker!" With that, she knocked the lamp off the nightstand, causing it to crash on the floor.
"Stop it!"
"Make me!" Melissa said, opening the drawer on the nightstand, and then yanking it completely out. She raised it up, intending to dump the contents onto Wendy's head. Her prey dodged around to the foot of the bed, however, and she was forced to lob the odds and ends inside the drawer like a catapult. Wendy lifted the comforter up and blocked most of what came at her. Some pens and two paperbacks bounced off and landed on the floor. A small statuette that Wendy had forgotten was in the drawer flew over her head and smashed into the mirror above the dresser, shattering both into countless pieces. Stunned, Wendy stared at the broken shards for a few seconds. Not wanting Wendy to get away, Melissa climbed onto the bed to grab her. To Melissa's surprise, instead of leaping aside Wendy turned back around and she, too, mounted the king-sized bed.
With a horrendous groan, the enraged females collided together and wrapped their arms around each other. They rocked from side to side on their knees for a few seconds, then collapsed in a wild heap, grunting and scratching. Nails tore at thin clothing that provided little armor against such attacks. Their dresses ripped and shredded, and in a moment, were hanging loosely from their bodies. Wendy got in a painful scratch across Melissa's now bare upper back, eliciting an angry howl. The long haired blond had one arm pinned beneath Wendy, and the other was doing its best to prevent Wendy from rising up and straddling her. Fearing that the tide of battle was going against her, she kicked and kneed Wendy, eventually separating the two warring hellcats. Wendy lashed out with her claws, but Melissa had dodged away off of the bed. The escaping blond's red dress fell from her as she streaked out the door, leaving her in a skimpy pair of underwear.
"You're not getting away, you bitch!" yelled Wendy, and took off after her.
Melissa ran down the hallway, searching for a weapon to threaten Wendy with. Hearing her opponent stumble out of the bedroom, Melissa jumped into the first room she came to. It was the dining room, with a long wooden table flanked by six ornate chairs taking up its center. Above the table hung a crystal chandelier. Sensing Wendy hot on her heels, Melissa ran around the dining table to the large, windowed display case on the opposite side from the entryway. Wendy appeared, panting heavily, with ragged strips of green satin being the only remains of her designer dress still clinging to her.
Melissa prepared to run around the table to the opposite side of whichever way Wendy decided to go. Noticing this, Wendy stopped and huffed, "Oh, we're Little Miss 'Fraidy Cat now, are we? Bit off more than you could chew, didn't ya?"
"Hardly," retorted Melissa, as a devious idea entered her mind.
She opened up the glass doors of the hutch, exposing the shelves inside of it that held Wendy's carefully stacked fine china. Grabbing a tea cup, and bringing it back over her head, she heard Wendy exclaim, "Oh, God, no." With an evil grin, Melissa hurled it. Wendy ducked, but she didn't need to. Melissa's aim was off, and the cup shattered against the wall behind Wendy. Upset at missing, Melissa picked up more pieces of dinnerware and commenced lobbing them across the table at Wendy. Plates, saucers, soup bowls, and even the gravy boat all went sailing through the air as Wendy guarded her head with her hands. Some of the pieces smashed against the wall. Others flew into the living room, adding to the mess the women had already made there. Still others struck the chandelier, breaking pieces off of it, or landed short, carving long gouges in the table's finish.
Midway through the barrage, Wendy began searching for a way to counterattack. She leaped over to the marble-topped buffet, and pulled open the center drawer. Shards of a salad plate rained down on her as she reached in an grabbed her own ammunition. With a fearsome shriek, she flung several knives down the table at her tormentor. Melissa yelped in surprise, and ducked. Emboldened, Wendy hurriedly began launching the rest of the silverware drawer in her direction. In between salvos, Melissa reached into the display cabinet and returned fire, but she was running out of place settings.
The two enraged women continued flinging whatever they could get their hands on. Forks stuck at odd angles into the walls. Broken and cracked pieces of china littered the floor. Finally, Melissa sent the last giant serving platter skipping along the table, knocking over one of the chairs, and Wendy replied with her last bit of ammo, two tiny demitasse spoons.
The blonds were still filled with hatred, and more than eager to continue their destructive brawl. Their ample breasts heaved and fell as they stared at each other from opposite sides of the room they had just trashed. Not wanting to risk stepping through the minefield of sharp and pointy objects that littered the hardwood floor, they soon realized that crossing the table was their only option for getting at each other.
Mounting the scarred surface and brushing away fallen pieces of the chandelier, the two women crawled on their hands and knees towards the center of the table. Their eyes shot daggers at each other as they approached and reared up. They threw punches one after another in a wild flurry of fists before burying their fingers in each other's blond hair. Yanking viciously, they teetered from side to side on the once polished tabletop, each trying to wrangle the other down. They toppled over as one and, in a flash, had wrapped their legs around each other and drawn their bodies into a tight knot. Back and forth from one end to the other they rolled, clawing and biting in a tangled mass of limbs. They shouted grunts of exertion and groans of frustration and pain into each other's ears as they went. The last tatters of Wendy's green dress were ripped from her body, leaving her in just her expensive bra and panty ensemble.
So bent were they on the destruction of the other that they completely ignored how close they had come to the edge of the table. With a sudden scream, the pair tumbled off the table and hit the hard floor below. This didn't seem to slow them down in the least. They immediately resumed grappling fiercely, and the ball of entwined female fury soon rolled over and over into the kitchen. It stopped at the refrigerator with Melissa on the bottom. Unable to work her way free, she instead reached for the nearby cat bowl and swung it towards Wendy. A slimy glob of pet food splattered against Wendy's cheek, causing her to involuntarily let go of Melissa and wipe it off. Melissa managed to get Wendy off of her by grabbing a hold of Wendy's tits and pushing. She slithered her legs out from under Wendy's, stood up, and retreated to the other side of the kitchen.
Seeing the set of knives hanging on the wall, Melissa leaned over to pick one up in order to keep her opponent at bay. Something heavy struck her arm, preventing her from getting near it. A loud thud resounded on the laminated floor as the blender that Wendy had thrown bounced off of Melissa's arm and fell, striking her bare toes. Yelping in agony, Melissa backed up, and avoided being hit by the food processor that Wendy hurled soon afterwards. Having run out of appliances within easy reach, Wendy stormed at Melissa. The mistress picked up an empty tea kettle from the stove and swung it in front of her. This made Wendy jump back, and Melissa went on the attack, desperately trying to land a solid hit to Wendy's skull.
Wendy soon found her rear end against the sink and nowhere to go. She searched behind her and latched onto two pots from the drying rack. Now suitably armed, she batted Melissa's kettle out of the way and beat her over the head with the pot in her right hand. With the kettle knocked from her grasp, Melissa hurriedly glanced around and got hold of a pair of skillets. A cacophony of clanging ensued as the aluminum cookware was put into service for an altogether different use. The force of the blows dented and bent them beyond repair, and it wasn't long before their plastic handles could take no more. Their hands aching from the vibrations that their makeshift weapons had made in them, the battling women dropped them in a clatter onto the ground.
Wendy advanced with such a hideous scowl on her face that Melissa took a step backward without realizing it. Coming to the end of the counter, Melissa began picking up jars from the spice rack and flinging them at the approaching woman in an effort to slow her down. One struck the short-haired blond's forehead, making her wince. The delay was short-lived, however, and soon Melissa was out of things to throw. She dropped into a defensive stance and balled her hands into fists.
Wendy charged, tackling Melissa and driving the two half-clothed women on top of the small, round kitchen table. The contents of the table -- newspapers, salt and pepper shakers, and place mats -- went flying. Melissa rained punches onto Wendy's back, as her attacker struggled to pin her arms down. The table tipped and collapsed to the floor, pouring the two of them onto the cool linoleum. The warring females laced their legs together and began rocking back and forth, wrestling and hitting each other. They slowly worked their way towards one wall, and bumped into the tall plastic garbage can. It wobbled, then fell over, dumping its contents upon the writhing combatants. The stench hit their noses simultaneously, and their sudden disgust temporarily overwhelmed their desire to fight. They broke apart and stood up, trying as best they could to wipe off the smelly mess.
"Fucking hell," cursed Wendy.
"What?" teased Melissa. "I thought this was your natural habitat."
"Why you..." Wendy growled, but stopped short when she saw Melissa raise the garbage can above her head. She brought her arms up, but it was too late. Melissa dumped the rest of the trash out in her direction. Wendy leaped out of the way into the small pantry closet, and the heap of refuse crashed and rattled to the floor. Stepping over it, Melissa grabbed the edge of the door to prevent Wendy from closing it. Wrenching it open, the two women faced each other once again. Their hair was tousled and dirty, their skin was bruised and marked up with scratches, and what remained of their clothing was losing its ability to remain on their bodies.
Melissa pounced, knocking Wendy back against the shelves. The equally-matched pair fought a see-saw battle in the tight space. Wendy found herself unable to escape, but Melissa couldn't seem to do anything other than keep Wendy trapped. Wendy, in an effort to break the stalemate, hauled a five pound bag of sugar off the shelf next to her and rammed it into Melissa's head. The injured blond redoubled her attempt to pin Wendy, and succeeded in forcing her roughly against the shelves. Their breasts mashed together, and they grappled ferociously nose to nose, panting and grunting. Wendy's hands searched futilely for something with which to bash Melissa with. Melissa, for her part, was straining one arm to its limit, trying to grab the metal dustpan that hung from a rack on one wall.
Her fingers reached and probed, and were just about to achieve their goal when Melissa felt a soft plastic jug hit her, and sticky fluid dribble into her hair. Crying in alarm, she turned her head and saw Wendy gleefully pouring out the contents of a gallon container of cooking oil, the top of which had popped off when it had hit her. The two women fought for control of the plastic bottle, and soon both were being doused with the slick liquid. Their wild hair became matted down, and their bare skin took on a bright sheen as the container spilled every last drop upon the crazed duo.
When the deluge was over, Melissa stepped back into the kitchen and wiped the oil-drenched strands of hair out of her face. The sticky substance ran down her back and chest, and dripped from her swinging tits. "Oh, you're so going to get it now," she said, her voice husky with rage.
Wendy dropped the empty bottle, and started to walk out of the confines of the pantry. Her foot slid sideways on the slippery oil-covered linoleum, and she fell to one knee. Melissa saw her chance, and kicked out with one leg. Even though the part of the floor she was standing on had been dry, the oil dripping from her body had made a slick puddle. Melissa lost her balance, and went down hard on her bottom.
Crawling cautiously now, the two neared each other again, intent upon fighting until the bitter end. Wendy struck first, with a stinging smack across Melissa's cheek. Melissa slapped her in return, connecting with Wendy's shoulder. Wendy swung again, hitting Melissa's chest and sending her boobs swinging. Melissa counterattacked, and caused Wendy's sizable globes to wobble on her chest. Again and again the battlers slapped and hit at each other's sensitive flesh. The sounds of bare skin being smacked rang in the air, mixing with the moans and sharp exclamations of two women engaged in a heated slapping catfight. Several minutes passed, but the pace of the incredible beating each was giving the other failed to slow.
As they worked their way around the floor, Melissa eventually found her legs touching the rug that began at the entrance to the entertainment room. Eager to gain an advantage, she rolled onto the carpet and got to her feet. The pause was welcomed by both women. Their bodies were red from their stomachs to their faces from the incessant barrage of powerful slaps, and they were beginning to tire from the length of the strenuous combat they had been in. Their glistening skin reflected the afternoon sunlight coming in through the windows as their torsos heaved in time with their labored breathing. Melissa had lost a bra strap, and Wendy's were in danger of giving way.
"You had enough?" taunted Melissa.
"No. You?" asked Wendy, panting.
"Oh, I could go all day."
"Good." Wendy said, rising and taking a step into the room where Melissa was. "Then you'll have enough energy to clean my house after I'm through with you."
The two women raised their hands and closed. Wading into each other, they threw punch after punch, neither stopping to block or avoid the other's blows. The air filled with the concussive pounding of fists into flesh. On and on they fought, landing hits to each other's bellies, sides, and boobs. Their cries of anguish rose in pitch as the pain each was feeling spiraled out of control. Determined to win, they came together, rested their chins on their shoulders, and continued slugging. Grunting loudly, they wailed on each other for a few minutes, until the speed of their attacks finally slowed. They settled into a clinch, and began staggering around like inebriated dancers. Their bras hung loosely on their chests, allowing their oiled up breasts to slide and bump each other. Their flat stomachs met in a sticky embrace, and their legs rubbed together as they pushed and strained. Wendy tightened her grip, trying to squeeze the air from Melissa's lungs and flatten her foe's pendulous boobs. Melissa groaned, and pushed with all her might, trying to topple Wendy over backwards.
The pair stumbled around wildly until they ran into the back of Wendy's leather sofa. Their momentum carried them over the top and they fell in a heap on the luxurious couch. Their oil covered bodies coiled together like greased serpents, slipping about the smooth leather surface. Each strived to climb atop the other and straddle her, but found her opponent's body too difficult to get a good hold on. Their nearly naked bodies rubbed against each other, sending erotic thrills through their spines. The wrestling amazons let out more and more forceful breaths as unmistakable arousal started to rise in them. Recognizing what was happening, the slightly embarrassed women kicked away from each other and rose to their feet.
"You sleazy slut," accused Wendy.
"What?" Melissa answered, her face flush.
"Grinding your tits like that."
"Isn't THAT the pot calling the kettle black! You were enjoying every bit of it."
"Liar," Wendy retorted, thinking fast. "You were just overwhelmed by my superior sexuality. Those saline-filled boobs are no match for mine."
"Hah! Hardly. You think those saggy bags are better than mine, bring them over here." As Melissa said this, she unhitched her bra, which was beaten and torn anyway, and discarded it. She drew herself upright, hands on her hips, and thrust her chest out. Stiff pink nipples tipped each full, rounded breast. Not to be outdone, Wendy cast her own ruined brassiere aside. Her orbs equaled Melissa's, and her hardened nipples poked brazenly from the center of her light brown aureoles.
Without the slightest pause, the women crashed together tit first. They each applied pressure, attempting to crush the other's sexy mammaries flat. Their nipples stabbed deep into the opposing flesh, eliciting sudden gasps from the intense shock of such an intimate touch. Slick with oil and sweat, their breasts slid to one side, and the fighters reared back for another go round. Slapping and smacking, the two women rammed their tits together over and over again. Feminine flesh bulged, and sighs mixed with groans of exertion as the new battle raged on and on. The sexy, half-naked females joined in a light hug as they strained to control their bouncing, bashing boobs.
Backing up and colliding time after time, the pair eventually worked their way over to the shelves that held the stereo and video equipment. Wendy found herself backed up against them, and felt her breasts complain from the heavy weight of Melissa's torso bearing down on them. Grabbing the TV remote, she banging it on Melissa's head several times. Unable to take much more, Melissa broke off contact. Wendy advanced, brandishing the remote. Melissa stepped next to the fireplace, looking for something to arm herself with. The only things nearby were the porcelain figurines on the mantelpiece. With one sweeping motion of her left arm, she launched them off of their perches and sent them flying at the other blond. Shrieking in horror, Wendy ducked, and then threw the remote. Melissa dodged to one side, and let out a chuckle. The figurines hit the giant plasma TV, pockmarking its screen with cracks. Beside herself with fury, Wendy leaped at Melissa and forced her straight back into the bookcase she was standing in front of. Her body flattened out against Melissa's, and for a brief second, stayed like that.
Off balance, Wendy fell backwards, carrying her blond foe with her. The two hit the carpet with a thud that knocked the wind out of both of them. Before they could catch their breath, they saw a shadow begin to cover them, and watched helplessly as the bookshelf and all of its bound volumes came crashing down upon them.
The tall piece of furniture completely covered the pair. A casual observer wouldn't have guessed that the overturned wooden rectangle on the floor contained two blond beauties hell-bent on destroying each other. That is, not until they noticed it jump and move chaotically, which it soon did. Ignoring the pile of books and shelving they now found themselves in, the fearsome females renewed their catfight. They wrestled in the small space beneath the bookcase for some time, clawing and pinching and kneeing and kicking. Their muffled moans and grunts sped up and grew louder and louder until suddenly the back of the bookcase broke open and the two women emerged, still locked together in a feverish struggle. Their hair stuck out in clumps and fresh scratches ran along their backs. They tripped nearly simultaneously, sliding out of control on pages made slippery from the oil that coated their skin.
Wendy fell onto her rear, but Melissa caught herself on the wall. She reached down to hit her opponent, but Wendy struck first, landing a foot right into the other blond's belly. Melissa doubled over in pain, and almost dropped to one knee. Wendy saw her chance, and sat up to grab at her injured rival. Melissa, who had not quite yet recovered, began to retreat. Wendy's fingers hooked on the waistband of Melissa's panties, and stripped them halfway down her thighs before their owner could do anything about it. Eager to escape, Melissa wiggled out of her underwear, and left them behind as she ran out the nearest door.
The room she entered was the house's double garage. Both doors to the outside were closed. One bay was empty, but the other contained the couple's Ford Expedition. At the back wall was Hank's workbench, fully stocked with tools. Melissa started heading for them as she heard Wendy step into the doorway behind her. Her feet slipped on the trio of stairs that led down to the concrete floor, and she knew she wasn't going to be able to get up before the other blond was on her. Rolling to one side, she grabbed at the collection of cleaning equipment that rested against the stair railing and got a hold of a long-handled broom. She leaped to her feet and confronted Wendy, who found herself at a sudden disadvantage.
"Two can play at that game," thought Wendy, and she picked up a nearby mop.
Wood clacked an irregular rhythm as the two dueled around the open space. Wendy's arms stung from the impact of the bristles, and Melissa caught a face full of awful-smelling sponge. With a strong, downward stroke, Wendy knocked the broom out of Melissa's hands. Unarmed, the long haired blond hightailed it to the back of the garage, and away from Wendy's vigorous swings.
Wendy dropped the mop and chased her, intent upon not letting her obtain anything sharp and deadly. The pair slid the last few feet, and Wendy slammed into her at full speed. Melissa picked up a screwdriver and spun around. Wendy grabbed her wrists, and prevented her from stabbing with it. The two grappled with wild abandon. Melissa jammed her free hand under Wendy's chin and pushed with all her might. Wendy wrangled Melissa roughly sideways. They toppled over, taking the workbench with them. Tools clattered to the ground, but neither woman noticed. Their shoulders hurt bad from hitting the concrete so hard and they paused, rocking in agony.
Melissa regained her senses first and saw a bright, shiny adjustable wrench a few feet away from her. She crawled to get it, but Wendy saw what her plan was. With a yell, Wendy got to her hands and feet and jumped on top of her nude opponent. The full weight of the other woman landing on her crushed Melissa's arm painfully. Even so, she was able to reach the wrench, and swung it quickly. The wrench hit the top of Wendy's head solidly, causing her to emit a long wail. She stood up, cradling her head, and staggered back away. Melissa remained prone, still recovering from the previous attack.
Wendy's body collided with the parked SUV. She stayed there, swaying and trying not to succumb to the pain she felt. Melissa wearily got to her feet and walked slowly towards her. Wendy knew she had to move, and fast, but her muscles were tiring and refused to obey her orders. Melissa let out an animal howl, brought the wrench high above her head and swung it downwards. Wendy rolled away at the last second and scooted around towards the front of the car. The wrench hit the driver's side window, cracking it beyond repair. Melissa whirled herself around, swinging the wrench in a wide arc at her retreating foe. Wendy dodged again, and the wrench put a sizable dent in the Ford's hood. Beginning to get scared, Wendy ran around the front of the vehicle with Melissa hot on her heels.
The two women ran around to the side of the SUV nearest the wall, speeding up as they went. Wendy slid a little and caught herself on the rear passenger door handle. Pulling it open, she used it like a shield between herself and the crazed female chasing her. Melissa was going too fast to stop and rammed full tilt into the open door. The wrench fell and rattled underneath the car.
The impact of Melissa's body pushed the door closed, pinning Wendy's legs painfully. Wendy shouldered it back open and climbed into the rear seat. Sitting up, she tried to grab the handle and shut the door, but Melissa pulled on it first and leaped around to get her. Still thinking that the other blond had a weapon, Wendy scrambled along the bench seat for the opposite door. As she reached it, she felt Melissa's fingers latch onto the back of her panties and rip them. Struggling desperately, she tried to escape, only to feel the last remaining shred of clothing be torn from her.
Melissa stood in the doorway, gloating. "Where do you think YOU'RE going?"
Wendy paused, and then turned around slowly. Grim determination showed in her face. "Come on in," she said coolly, "if you dare."
Melissa was more than willing. She stepped inside, and shut the passenger door behind her.
The car rocked wildly as the completely nude women resumed their tumultuous catfight with dizzying fervor. Trapped in the enclosed space, their slick, naked bodies writhed and slithered against each other. Screams and grunts echoed in the SUV's interior, mixed with the smacking sounds of flesh colliding with flesh. After several minutes of heated battle, exhaustion began to set in. The air inside the car reeked of the fury the evenly-matched rivals had poured on each other, and also contained the distinct odor of something altogether different.
Wendy found herself partially pinned, wedged down slightly into the back seat. She looked up at Melissa, who was panting quickly. Wendy watched how her long, matted hair cascaded down on either side of her face, and how her large breasts hung down heavily from her chest. Melissa shifted a little, maintaining her grip on one of Wendy's wrists. In doing so, both women noticed what their lower bodies had been doing. Wendy's legs were wrapped around Melissa's waist, and Melissa's blond patch of pubic hair was rubbing roughly against Wendy's unprotected pussy. The two groaned as one, and Melissa's tired arms gave way. Her tits landed on Wendy's and her stomach flattened against her blond opponent's. Face to face, the women looked into each other's eyes through half-open lids. The scent of sex wafted through the air.
Seeing the effect her unconscious maneuver had had, Melissa twisted her hips, grinding her crotch into Wendy's. Wendy closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and moaned.
"Fuck you," the trapped blond cursed.
Melissa laughed. "You only think you can."
Wendy squeezed her legs tighter. "I can and I will."
"Yeah, right," taunted Melissa, and she started rotating her pelvis back and forth, working her pussy lips into Wendy's womanhood. Wendy bucked and arched her body, but that only increased the intensity of the unbridled feelings coursing through her. Resolving to outdo the other female, she began moving her torso in circles, sliding her breasts around and around Melissa's. Melissa threw her head back and groaned in sudden pleasure. She soldiered on despite the powerful sensations building inside of her. Both women closed their eyes and concentrated to the utmost on forcing the other towards sexual surrender. Higher and higher the intimate struggle spiraled, taking the pair's erotic moaning with it.
Two minutes later, neither could take it any longer. With exultant shouts, they came at the same time, slamming their wet cunts together again and again in ecstasy. Melissa dropped her head onto Wendy's shoulder, and the two naked women lay in a gentle embrace for a moment.
Wendy suddenly jerked her body over and rolled Melissa underneath of her. "You think this is over?" she said in a husky voice.
"Only if you're giving up," came the defiant reply.
With renewed vigor, Wendy rode the other blond, pounding and grinding her pussy into her rival's. The SUV's suspension creaked and the car swayed in time with their sexual battle. Ten minutes passed, but still neither one was able to make the other give in. Sweat beaded on their bare skin and dripped from Wendy's face and breasts. Melissa reached up and drew Wendy's face down to hers. She wrapped her lips around Wendy's in sensual kiss, one the short-haired blond soon returned with equal passion. On and on the two went at it, driving each other crazy with lust.
Finally, after several long minutes of tantalizing dueling between their stiffened clitorises, Wendy and Melissa shuddered in mutual orgasm. Wendy collapsed atop the blond mistress, out of energy, but unwilling to admit defeat. They drifted, awash in the afterglow, for some time. Then Melissa sat up on the seat, which was slick with feminine juices.
"You're sorry now for hitting me?" she asked.
"I said nothing of the sort," Wendy shot back.
"Still bitchy, eh? I'm going to have to do something about that."
"I'm ready when you are..."
Twenty minutes later, a nearly drunk Hank Matthews returned home. He puzzled at the presence of two cars in his driveway. One was his wife's Miata, but it didn't register to him who owned the other one. Entering the house, his heart leaped into his throat when he saw the extensive damage strewn about the living room. Fearing the worst, he ran to the bedroom, expecting to find Wendy there being attacked by a rapist. Finding no one, he walked back down the hall, stopping in his tracks upon being assaulted by the sight of his entire set of fine china and silverware scattered about the dining room. Continuing his search, he surveyed the destruction in the kitchen and the entertainment room. Bewildered as to where his wife could be, he eventually noticed that the door to the garage was open.
He went down the steps and grimaced in anger at the disarray his workbench and tools were in. Initially, he thought that nobody was there, but his ears soon picked up noises from behind the fogged windows of the gently swaying Ford Explorer. They were the sounds of two women, and he recognized who they were from the distinctive orgasmic screams that they were each making. He approached the car as the joyous shouts peaked and then subsided. The occupants inside began talking.
"Oh, God, that was incredible!" one said.
"Unnnhhh, yes," moaned the other.
"I have never met another woman like you," the first said.
"The feeling is mutual," the other panted.
The passenger door burst open, letting out a cloud of steamy mist scented heavily with sex. Hank watched as two red-faced, bruised, and entirely naked women clambered out of the back seat. His jaw dropped open at the sight of his wife and his mistress. They had their arms around each other, and were smiling and laughing in spite of the frightening scratches their bodies wore.
"Hi, girls," he stammered. "Um, what did I miss?"
THE END
