Born to War

Too many friends, co-workers, and even romantic interests had made comments about the similarity of your bodies.

Too many times had men at the bar had flirted with you, and then she — she and then you.

Too many insults and digs had been whispered and mouthed, only to be relayed back to or caught by each of you.

Too many bumps and brushes in the hallways and tight spaces of the office had occurred to have been accidental.

For those reasons, and so many more you cannot even put them to words, you are now fused, pussy-to-pussy with her. Thrusting. Pushing. Pulling back, when you feel the pleasure of it all-surpassing your ability to resist.

You see it on her face, in her toes as they curl, in the way the muscles of her stomach spasm, just like yours, when either of you get closer to release than you would ever admit.
And even though you have both come to this place – this bed, crossing thighs, and locking clits with one another to prove how you and she are different – to earn some semblance of distance and separation from each other, you have never been so alike. Never been so well matched in passion, in purpose, and in sexual prowess.

Such thoughts drive you and she harder – pushing you both to fuck each other like you have never fucked before. Such fervent desires, however, and the resulting fire with which you both thrust into one another, do not but send you deeper into the mirror. Every meeting of your sexs bringing you closer and closer to the painful and unwanted conclusion, that you and she are equal. That you and your rival were made – were born to war with one another, from this first incredible meeting, until you are both too old to compete with anything other than the memories of each conflict you share.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.