11-01-2023, 08:11 PM
Shriya came to Priyanka House knock the door, priyanka was waiting for shriya the knock came at her door. When it did, when that coveted sound echoed through her wood-rich lower floor, priyanka moved. And though slow she had planned on taking it. Cool and uninterested though she had intended on acting. Within what seemed like only a second or two, her will had broken — her own excitement leading her to yank the door open.
Priyanka Chopra in her weakness and need for confrontation, thereafter reaching through the doorway and grabbing shriya by her shoulders. A grasp priyanka then used to pull and then push her expected guest into the wall between coats on her rack. The door shutting under its own weight, as the flurry of movement gave way to the stillness of priyanka sudden placement.
Priyanka might assume that shriya would be intimidated or shocked by such a quick and emphatic pull and pressing, but instead, she just sneered as priyanka’s hands retracted.
Each of the two rivals, one in red and one in green, lingering only centimeters apart, their eyes fused in a glare.
“You’re leaking….” shriya commented cruelly through gritted teeth, as she shifted her eyes down in a guiding glance downward. She pointing out that priyanka’s nipples had already begun to drip milk, in the excitement of the moment.
For a moment, brief though it was, priyanka felt shame. Feeling as if her leakage was some sign of difference between the two, but then she saw it, even as her rival’s eyes moved. She was not the only one leaking. The same telltale spots being visible on her enemy’s dress-covered breasts.
“You are too….” priyanka, responded, as she turned away from shriya. Not waiting, but instead moving with speed to to the nearby staircase. She having already taken the first two steps, before turning back to her still stationary guest.
“Are you c….” priyanka began, confidently, but before she had even finished asking, shriya responded.I’m coming, bitch.” With no more words spoken, shriya followed as priyanka chopra leading her past an all-pink nursery room, and deeper into her home. A trip which came to conclusion when hallway ended and master bedroom began. One decorated with art by the same artist that adorned shriya’s walls, though pieces in a different hue and design. Decorations that surrounded a large bed with a wood and wicker bed frame. The comforter atop it black, and double-filled for comfort.
The room was immaculate, and large enough to house whatever it was the two planned on doing to each other. The carpet of the stairs and hall having given way to ruddy-brown-wood flooring.
A surface on which the walking pair’s matching black heels announced their advance in loud, echoing clicks. Sounds which made them both feel powerful, sexy, and ready to engage in a war like only women can have.
At least until, after an intentionally delayed and dramatic pause, priyanka turned back to face her rival from the furthest corner of her room. But as she spun, priyanka found shriya’s bodycon not only removed but thrown.
Not to the floor or the bed, but into priyanka face. A sudden stripping and tossing that angered she who received it, so much that in a rage she barked. “BITCH!”
“Shut up, and take yours off,” shriya demanded, as she stood glaring in her black panties and bra. The overly excited shriya not having even a moment’s patience with priyanka’s little show as dominant hostess.
A hostess that wanted to reply, to seize back the control she felt had been taken from her, but instead, she reached down, grabbed the bottom of her dress, and pulled up. The white panties and bra wearing priyanka peeling it from her body before tossing it at shriya.
Heated and quick as all of the last few moments had been, suddenly, with dresses removed, the two rivals paused. Each studying the other’s new body. Comparing, if only in theory, what they saw of the other. And though their eyes did scan hips and thighs — asses and figure, it was the other’s breasts they began to focus on.
The pairs of each having swelled since their last fight. An increase in size and potency that threatened their once deadlocked contest of bodies. A menace that pushed each of the two to on instinct alone, lift the straps of their bra and squeeze their breasts together with angled elbows. Each wanting to make their own set look bigger. Fuller. And filled to the point of bursting with milk for their own daughter.
And though they flaunted their own bosom, within only a few moments, they found themselves consumed with jealousy. With anger. With a nearly irresistible desire to wound the breasts of their rival.Each, after kicking off their heels, stepping closer to one another as they began to circle. Their hate-filled eyes not locked together in some fused glare, but on each other’s breasts and body. Neither speaking. Neither communicating with the other, until finally, priyanka broke.Show them to me….” priyanka said, her voice quivering with a desire that she could not control.
For her own part, shriya wanted to both refuse and comply, at the same time. Her own thoughts and intentions seeming to blur and blend as her pulse raced and heart pounded. Then, to her mind, came all the words she wanted to say.
The insults.The wounding jabs about everything and everything her rival held dear. But before she could utter even a single such comment, she found herself already reaching. Already unclasping. Already baring her tits for shriya.
Shriya who had to close eyes, after only a glimpse, to stop her own heart from exploding. Not because she was intimidated, but because she could not breathe. She wanted to hurt them. To gouge them. To claw at them. But instead, at least at that moment, she had to wait. Wait and remove her own black bra, letting it softly drop to the floor between their now near-naked bodies.
How weak priyanka was, for having to close her eyes. How easy a prey she would be, if she could not even look, shriya thought to herself. Until that same need gripped her. Until, she too had to let lower her lids, just to survive and endure a moment unlike any she had ever experienced before.Panties…. Shriya finally spoke as her eyes again opened, her voice no more firm than priyanka’s — it taking everything in her not to lunge.
The word, trembling though it was when delivered, hit priyanka like a blow from a sledgehammer. More delay? More to remove? Why!? She thought in a despair she shared not. Pained though it did, both she and her rival, together they reached down and began to remove their final pieces of clothing for each other.At the very moment, their panties dropped to ankle, one would assume, after all that waiting and wanting, they would have attacked. Lept for each other. Claws first. Hatefully spewing their words of derision like venom.
But instead, they found themselves frozen. Afraid of beginning. Of unleashing all that they felt for the other. And so they searched. For something to comment on. For anything to delay the need for their feud to finally become real.And yet, even there — even when all of their clothing had been removed, they again found only similarity. Their bushes, the guardians of their womanhoods, being of the same hue and the same length. Obvious though that was, neither let it stay their tongues.
“Even your bush looks weak.” The comment was childish. Cruel. And ridiculous on its face, and yet still, priyanka made it. And with it spoken, they each found it. The fire that had always driven them. Their moment of timidity fading, as they once again began to speak.Yours looks weak, bitch!” Suddenly, as shriya responded, the two rivals once again neared. Each reaching out to each other. Not to push or slap, but to inflict small pinches, aimed for the other’s pubic hair.
In what looked like a dance, the pair pulled back from each other’s reach again and again, until finally, their fingers caught. Not on air or skin, but fine hairs. Hairs each pulled on, causing their rival not to pull away, but to step forward. Their nude bodies finally came together in a clap.
A meeting of flesh made not in part, but fully, a contact that stole their breath and left them holding. Not only each other but the small tufts of pubic hair each had claimed on the other’s mound.
“Weak…. Fucking…. Bush….” priyanka began before she felt it. The dripping. Not from her rival’s breasts, or her own, but from them both. Each pair beginning to leak as they pressed together. The pressure and excitement of the moment loosing their flows for each other.
Something about that feeling. That moment. Of their perfectly aligned, and rock-hard nipples dripping together softened them. Each letting out the smallest little whimpers at the sensation of it.And though for a moment, that softness threatened to take them, to quell their war and make it something else, shriya suddenly rebelled. Doing so by yanking at the tuft of pubic hair she held hard, so hard that it pulled from priyanka’s mound. A sudden retraction and reduction in bush that caused priyanka to scream out in a flash of pain.
“OwwWWwWeeeee, biIiIiIititttccchhh!!!” It was then that it all began, as priyanka retaliated, by tugging her own little finger-held clump of hair. An action that caused shriya to let go of her own, painful howl.
“FuuUuuUccckk, CUUUUUNT!!” Words shriya saran uttered, as each of the two rivals retracted their hands, and then buried them in the hair atop the other’s head. Then, as their fingers laced, and then tightened, they each began to yank the other, and as a consequence, themselves, back and forth. Violently. Painfully. From side to side, as each sought to punish the other, for everything she was — everything she had ever done or said.
Attempts at punishment which came along with a steady drip of breastmilk from their stabbing nipples, and compressed breasts. Drips which coalesced and then traveled down their writhing bodies, and down their flexing thighs or into their quickly tangling pubic hair.Neha yelled slut bitch driven mad by the conflict.
whore!” Holly retorted, she willing to say anything at that moment to hurt her rival.
As the two women tugged on each other’s hair, their nude bodies struggling for control, they stumbled together. Their foreheads flattened and pushing for control. Their aching breasts smashed and slamming forward whenever either of the two planted their feet. A collision mirrored by their lips which brushed together with every insult and caught and then peeled from each other with challenge.And though the moment, in many ways, was everything they had ever wanted, it suddenly came to an end. As the back of shriya’s calves ran into a small, backless seat in front of priyanka’s makeup table. A collision which sent shriya into a fall onto, and then back over the wicker seating. She, with her grips on hair, pulling priyanka not just with her, but on top of her. Priyanka chopra landing in a perfect straddle of shriya’s midsection. One she was able to deftly twist into a tight, borrowing leg scissor before they together landed on the hard wood floor with a slam. Priyanka shifting to the side of her rival as she straightened her legs, looking to apply as much pressure as she could.
A leg scissor which immediately drew a cry of pain from shriya’s lips. A cry that brought a wicked smile to Priyanka’s face. “Yes! SUFFER, cunt….” Words of utter jubilation that came from those same smiling lips, just as their owner began to pour her every ounce of muscle and effort into that scissor.
“OOOOOuuuugggHGHGHGGGGH!!! FUUUuuUUUUUUuUCUcCcCCCCKKK!” shriya saran moaned as she pressed her palms to priyanka’s thick, flexing thighs. The two women looking like a T, as they laid at intersection — shriya’s legs still propped up on the wicker stool she had fallen over.
“Bitch! BITCH!” shriya saran muttered and then shouted, she being absolutely enraged that it was she who had found herself caught deep between her rival’s thighs.Mmmmmnnnm, SCREAM FOR M-oowwwweeee!” As priyanka spoke, she once again flexed her legs with all her might. Priyanka chopra wanting to hear her longtime enemy’s voice pitch up and let loose in anguish. But just as her taunting demand neared its conclusion, she felt it. Shriya’s hands, at the end of a long, desperate reach, latching on and squeezing breasts.
Such an attack would have hurt regardless, but with the sensitivity of her baby-chaffed nipples and the pressure of each of her breasts being filled to the point of bursting with milk, it was agony. An agony that led priyanka to, on instinct alone, abandon her body scissor, and as she rolled to her back, reach for shriya’s wrists.
“Fuck… No…. GOD!” priyanka exclaimed as she squirmed in pain, her legs kicking, even as her rival rolled out from between them. A taken freedom that shriya saran used to crawl atop her enemy in a straddle. Shriya hands never releasing the swollen tits of she that laid beneath.
“Huh!? You like that, BITCH?!” In a sudden celebration of rebounding momentum, shriya asked, her face still contorted with hatred.AAaaAAAAaHhHHhhhhh!” But to the question came no answer other than a scream, one priyanka freed as she laid beneath her rival with eyes tightly closed.
“LOOK WHO’S SCREAMING NOW, priyanka!!!!!” A call back. A curse, in the form of a suggestion. And it would have wounded, had the grounded coordinator been able to think about anything other than the pain she felt.
A pain that she could not end by pulling or prying. And so, with no other options at her disposal or in her mind, priyanka reached up and grabbed shriya own, hanging, milk-stiffened tits.
A counter, desperate and late though it was, that made she who suffered it skip from one cry to another in rapid, broken succession. “AAaaahhhhh, nooo-shiii-aaahhh!!!”A lamentation that shriya offered as she, at the pain and without plan, collapsed. Falling from her straddle of priyanka, off and to the side of her.
Fall though she did, neither woman released their squeezing grasps on each other’s breasts. Each clinging to the grip as they laid there, side-by-side, on priyanka’s master bedroom floor.
“Let. Go. Of. Me!!” priyanka demanded through gritted teeth.YOU let go! Shriya responded with no more composure, and in every bit as much pain.
Suffer though they did, neither relented.Neither let go.Each of the angry woman digging their claws in, as deep as they would go. Not to scratch or gouge, but to squeeze and compress.
A mutual tactic of destruction that brought to each a sudden sensation. Warmth and wetness in the palms of their hands.A coming that was slow at first. A mere drip, followed by a few more. But with every passing second and every hateful squeeze, the flow of milk each extracted from the other continued and grew.
A substance of sustinance that they stole from one another, along with moans of pain and groans of despair.Stop! Shriya demanded.Fuck you! You stop!” priyanka cried.
And though each asked and argued for their mutual suffering to end, neither listened or obeyed. Each committing more and more to their battle of breasts and milking.So much so that as they tortured, they gripped tighter and tighter, their legs extending, intertwining, and then hooking at the back of their knees.
With such anchors, the two warring women pulled themselves closer. Nearer, though only with their bottom-halves.
Bottom-halves which in a mutual and sudden need to intertwine themselves further pulled, bringing both shriya and priyanka the rest of the way. Their bushy mounds meeting once again in a muted collision of tight tangles and sweat-moistened hair.
“Bitch….priyanka muttered in a gasp.Fuck…. shriya replied with no more air.Short though their reactions were to the quick and intimate impact of their fur-covered mounds, far more was communicated. For with those few syllables came an abrupt pause.
Not from their legs, which continued to coil and clutch. Nor their hips, which began in opposing and off-kilter rhythms to forcefully and maliciously drag. No, instead it was their hands and fingers which ebbed their assault.Not in whole or in half, but instead in a reduction from violent squeezes to a slow, steady milking. One which saw their fingers move from the base off the other’s breasts, to their tip, only to move back up to make the same journey again. And then again. All as a puddle of warm milk began to form below them. A puddle over which each glared at each other.
“I’m going to take every last drop of your milk before we’re through here, cunt.” Once more priyanka’s tone turned into a confident hiss.
“You’re the one who’s gonna be drained, bitch.” Like her favorite hoodie and a pair of thick wool socks, shriya too sank into the voice she reserved just for priyanka.Venomous and spiteful — endlessly self-assured and vehemently hateful.
“You won’t have the guts to leave your house for another year, after I break you.” priyanka almost whispered. As though they laid there together, pulling closer and closer in a puddle of their own mixing milks, they still spoke. Still challenged. Still promised each other the fate that awaited them.
“I’d say the same, bu-but you’re gonna be heading back to the store to buy milk for your little spawnling. I’m not leeee-aaaving you with a single drop.” Focused though shriya was, she could still feel it. The dragging. The grinding. Of matching pubic hair meeting, catching, tugging, and then pulling loose as the pair of rivals continued to drive their mounds together and then apart.
“Don’t talk abooouuttt my daaaaauuuuggghhhtteer.” priyanka demanded, as her rage at the comment trying to surface in a welling sea of sweat and desire.Dooooonnn’ttt….” shriya went to reply — to fire back, but as she did, a sudden wave of pleasure and pain washed through she and her rival. Each pulling a tangled clump of each other’s pubic hair free and loose, as they together surged, pressing their foreheads together, their eyes closed and mouths opened in a mutual gasp.
A gasp they lingered on, as again and again they brought their quickly wetting pubic mounds together.Neither repentant or ashamed of what they were feeling or what they were doing.
Neither willing or even wanting to resist the urges and desires that had gripped them both for so long. Both shriya saran and Priyanka Chopra Their feud and Their obsession with each other. Their need to compete and compare with their bodies and lives exciting them, despite its darkness. And in that truth, as their sweat-matted pubic hairs caught, trussed, and then in silent snaps pulled free, they writhed together.
Undulating, with wrapped lower-halves. Their once asymmetrical thrusting coming to a synch, as a lust-driven, deprivation-intensified state of madness overwhelmed them.They were rivals. They were enemies. They were women locked in a loathing they coveted, and yet still … at that moment … all they could think about was the next thrust. The next hip-centered joust.
A state that worsened as their eyes opened and their returning glares locked. Each cursing breathlessly at the other in pleasure-brought stutters.Stuuu-upid, whiiiite sluuut.” shriya hissed as her fingers slipped from priyanka’s breasts, and after a lifting of arms, laced into the hair of the same.
“Faaa-at, shriya bitch.” priyanka muttered hatefully with lips only centimeters away from shriya.NOoOOOo wonder your maAaAan left yOoOOoouuUUU. You don’t knooOoOowww hOw to fuUuUuck….” Cruel though it reads, shriya words came out almost in a coo. Her firing hips picking up speed with every word spoken.LoOoOOk whooOOooOoo’s taaaa-AAaAaalking, sluUuUut.” priyanka gave it back. Said it back. Returning the verbal volley, though she too failed feigning the requisite tone. The women being no less lost in her quickly escalating fuck-fight with her chief rival.
And with every word they spoke and comment they shared in loathsome whispers, they leaned closer. Their eyelashes brushing, and intermixing, as their lips began to brush once more. Barely. Softly.
A nearness that called to them. Begged them. Kiss her. Please!!! But with every ounce of composure and will they had left they resisted. They fought. Not each other, but to keep their longing lips and craving tongues from engaging.Even as each could feel a tsunami of pleasure building within them.
A storm that grew with every spent second and offered thrust. A tempest that sent shivers through their bodies and sparks up their spine, until the very moment it exploded in a wild, vicious orgasm that consumed each of the two rivals like a fire.
One lit at exactly the same moment. One that made them stiffen and quake, as their lips met. Not in a kiss, but as their mouths opened. Each letting loose broken breaths, skipping whimpers, and agonizingly soulful moans. Not into the room, but into each other’s mouths as they squirmed together in a white puddle of their own making. Their bodies speckled and streaked with expelled milk and dripped sweat.
Minutes passed in untold number, and in them neither woman moved or even spoke. The pair of warring mothers just remaining, with hands buried deep in each other’s hair as they peeled forehead from forehead and lip away from lip.
Their legs still intertwined, and bushes still hopelessly tangled.Their hips still slowly driving forward and in — forward and in. Matted and milk-splattered pubic hair padding every interval, as each used the other as a tool for their own after-release satisfaction.
That is until finally their orgasms and the stilling-memories of the same had passed.Leaving just the silence.Just the eyes of their rival staring deeply into their ownDon’t think that this chang–” priyanka began in warning, before her stay-at-home enemy interrupted.
“Fuck you….” shriya spit back in words and then with saliva — her lips pursing thereafter to shoot a collection of the substance in priyanka’s face.BITCH!” priyanka reacted in a rage, one she tried to manifest by making her soft hold on shriya’s hair hard and yanking. But before she could seize and keep, the would-be shriya set herself to roll back and away from her enemy.
A decision that in a blinding flash of pain, forcibly ripped their essence-glued and entangled pubic mats apart. An unexpected ripping that caused each woman to scream — one rolling away and the other remaining, though in a state of pain-sparked shock.
“Get up! Shriya demanded, as she made her way back to her feet.Fine by me, cunt!” priyanka said as she followed. She too rolling out of the puddle both had drawn from each other’s breasts and then fucked in. Not briefly. Not quickly. But for as long as they needed to purge the demons that had for so long plagued them.I knew you wanted me….” Came an accusal from the shriya, as priyanka made it back to her feet.Shut up! You’re the one who started humping me.” Retorted the glaring, and half-wet onyx.
“Yeah, you’re the one who came….” As the Indian mother spoke, she began to circle her rival once more.Fuck you…. We both did.” It should have sounded odd to priyanka as she said it. Not just odd, but abhorrent discussing that both she and the woman she hated had driven each other to orgasm. But in her state of complete inhibition and unchecked desire, she said it without a second thought.You came first.” With no less reserve, and mired in the same soul-wrenching dichotomy of hate and lust — desire and deprivation, shriya dug for whatever advantage she could push priyanka to believe she had.LYING BITCH!! YOU DID!” Just the suggestion — just the spoken thought that their mutual moment of weakness had been a contest won by her rival, sent priyanka storming forward as she resisted in words.
“Mmm hmm, don’t even pretend!” With a confidence feigned just to make priyanka mad, shriya continued as she too marched forward.
“I milked your flabby tits shriya!” priyanka, beset by the searing heat of her enemy’s brazen claims of advantage, fired back in the first way she could think of.
“I still have plenty milk left, cunt.” Only inches away from the woman across from her, shriya defended the state of her own motherly merits.
And from an even shorter distance, priyanka replied. “You won’t after I’m through with you!!!” Words spoken as each of the two milk-splattered matrons grabbed once more for each other’s hair.Grrr, we’ll seeEEEEEeEEe about that!” Spinning and stumbling though they were, still did the hot beauty reply to her rival.
“Eerrrr, UGH!” And though priyanka planned to reply, if only to stop her enemy from having the last word, she decided instead to turn her words into action. The jealousy-beset coordinator doing so by pulling away from their tightening body-to-body clinch, and then returning to it. Not with tits pressing against tits, but with a knee slamming forward and into shriya’s stomach. A blow that bent shriya over at the waist as her hands fell from priyanka’s hair.
“Huh!?” A question of dominance asked in a single, grunted syllable. One that came from priyanka, as she too let her hands drop from hair and down to shriya’s back. A placement she used to grab and then yank forward — shriya pulling her rival into another, hard-driving and cruelly-delivered knee and upper-thigh. One not to the stomach as before, but instead right into and across shriya ’s breasts.
“Ungh!” Cried out shriya, as she felt a spray of milk exit her already wounded and now-worsened chest.You won’t have ‘plenty left’ for long, you curry-loving cunt!” priyanka’s words, hateful as they were, seemed almost soft compared to another, brutal knee she hurled up and into shriya’s leaking tits. A knee that upon landing once more found itself coated with a violence-bought spray of shriya-flavored protein.
At the impact and the loosing of liquids, once more shriya saran groaned. A groan that lingered as priyanka began to drag her. Pulling her from one side of the master bedroom to the other. A journey that only ended when finally they had reached priyanka’s dark-wood dresser.
“No more milk for your brat-to-be, shriya.” Though she spoke to her rival, priyanka’s eyes were averted. As were her hands, which moved from shriya’s body to the dresser’s top drawer. A drawer that priyanka pulled open, as she stood on shriya’s right — each facing the opening chiffonier.
Despite the walking and placing — opening and positioning, shriya still wobbled, she trying to regain the air and stability priyanka’s knee lifts had taken out of her. A state that lingered as the latter pressed the former forward, hanging shriya tits over and into the dresser drawer’s outward-facing lip.
She could do it. She could slam the drawer closed, but first priyanka wanted to gloat. And so she leaned over and in, pressing her lips to shriya’s right ear before whispering in a hateful hiss. “Ready…?
No! Shriya replied in a loud and defiant tone. A strength-affected voice that came just as priyanka felt a firm grab of her still-damp pubic hair.
“UuuuuuuuUUuUU….” Not a scream, a whimper, or a groan, but instead something else. A vibrating, volume-shifting, announcement of worry. One that priyanka offered, knowing that at any moment, shriya might do worse.Plea….” priyanka began, readying her plea of ‘please’, as her hands moved from drawer to the wrist of her enemy. Not wanting to feel the pain that her rival threatened to inflict.Fine.” shriya replied, unexpectedly. Shockingly. She sounding an acceptance of priyanka’s prayers for mercy. And though for a second the response filled priyanka chopra with relief, in a flash and with shriya’s next comment, such relief disappeared.We’ll do it your way.” Is what shriya saran said as she reached over with her free left hand, grabbed priyanka’s hair, and then drug her forward. Not just her head, but her chest. A chest which, just as shriya’s had before, slipped over and then hung on the forward-facing front of the dresser-door. A door which an instant later slammed closed, or at least as far as it could, with a pair of swollen breasts bracing it open.
“AAAaaAaarRRrRrRhGggggGGGGGGGgggGGgGHHHhhhhH!” priyanka cried out like a dying banshee, as her breasts compressed within the three-quarter shut drawer.
In agony though she was, not a single moment after it did priyanka move her hands — one to the dresser’s frame and the other to the dresser drawer. A movement intended to allow for a freeing of her breasts from the newly milk-doused hell they were caught in.
But as she moved, so did shriya. Who, after releasing her rival’s pubic hair, slid behind the body of the same. Shriya Saran pressing her breasts and body against the back of priyanka, to ensure she could not yet free her trapped tits.Mmmm, I can almost hear your breasts emptying.” Not in a hiss, but a hushed, sensual whisper, shriya mocked her dresser-stuck prey.
“But you can feel mine, can’t you…? So full and swollen with milk….” With every word spoken, shriya dragged her breasts across priyanka’s back. Each nipple leaving a small trail of white as they traveled.
“BiiIIIiiIIittttccCchHHh, I sweeeeaaaaar, I’l-I’llll destroy you when I geeEeEEEEeeEt free….” Her voice quaking, and body doing to better, priyanka threatened.And when she did, her rival went to respond. “That’s the plan, cunt. Body-to-body until one of us is drrrrryyyyyyy-aaAaRrrrRgggHHhHhH!” From acceptance and threat to a sudden pained scream, shriya stumbled backward after priyanka with all the force she could find, slammed her head back and into priyanka’s forehead.Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Finally without her rival pressing against her, and as she exclaimed in both pain and desperately-found relief, priyanka Pulled the dresser door open. Her poor, half-milked breasts aching worse than they ever had before.
“Come here!” The chest-fallen bitch screamed, as she turned back to face her rival with raised fists.Ohhh, what…?” shriya, asked in part, as she shook her head from side-to-side, trying to recover from priyanka’s headbutt. “You want to fight? Fighting like a woman was too hard for you, I guess….SHUT UP!” Yelled priyanka as she charged and threw a wild, aimless haymaker at shriya. Imperfect though the punch was, the mocking woman who it was thrown at only barely dodged it.both of the two having lots experience throwing fists.
Barely though it was, shriya still avoided the strike. And when she did, she threw one of her own. A quick, oddly angled strike into priyanka’s exposed kidneys.
“Unnghh!” priyanka chopra groaned as she spun back around, and then through the pain punched again. That attempt landing hard against her rival’s left breast.Aaarrrgghhh! OWE!” Came shriya’s complaint, as she grabbed for her struck breast.
“More coming, cum shriya….” Mid-taunt and mid-punch, priyanka found shriya’s fist bury deep in her tummy. A blow that knocked whatever breath she had in her lungs out and into the warm, sweat-scented air of the master bedroom they warred in.
With every punch came a sudden spray and then slow, air-carried drift of liquids. Not just of that same sweat that stained the air, but the milk each had forced out of the other’s body.
“This is how you wanted to fight, huuu-uuunnnnggghhh.” Each being addicted to the feeling of mocking and talking to their rival as they fought, shriya too tried to speak as they circled, strafed, and struck. But she too found her words interrupted by a tummy-seaking fist. One that landed hard, causing shriya to wobble as she took sloppy steps backward.
Back though she went, priyanka gave chase. Each of the two desperate, loathing-filled women firing punches at each other without regard to defense. Their fists landing hard on stomachs and breasts — cheeks and lips.
Again and again.Without regard to what their fists were doing to each other or what the cost of each strike might be.
That is until it seized them hard. Like the sudden effect of a rattlesnake bite. Exhaustion. Confusion. Aches and pains, wherever the other’s fists had landed.Pain that came with bruises and blood — discoloration and extreme sensitivity to any follow-up blow.
And yet still, despite all of those costs, they each continued to punch at each other. Even as their movements slowed and punches came without speed.The pair just standing. Just striking out with quaking arms and red-knuckled fists. Neither speaking. Neither taunting. Their only thoughts spent on continuing to batter one another.
Until, after a series of half-fought-off stumbles and a seemingly shared groan, they each collapsed into each other. Both shriya and priyanka milk-covered breasts slamming together with a wet clap and even wetter spray. One that coated their bruised and bloody cheeks, just as they sealed together. The broken and blistered nemeses bringing their heads down for a rest on each other’s shoulder as they together fought the fatigue that had taken them.
Get…. Off…. Me….. Bitch….. priyanka muttered as together they stumbled.You…. you, get off meeeEEeeEe, slUuuUut….” shriya replied, from swollen lips that rested not an eyelash’s length from her enemy’s ear.
Both having demanded only to be denied, the two women, even in their clinch began to drive, slow and yet forceful punches into each other’s sides.
“I thought … you didn’t want … to fight … bitch…?” Broken and beleaguered, priyanka mused in an exhausted mutter.I’ll fight you … anyway you … want to fight … cuUuUUnnntttt.” shriya replied in a weakened but resolute deriding.
Standing though they appeared to be, in truth each simply laid. Not against a wall or on the floor, but against one another. The force of the other’s collapsing body against their own being the only thing that kept either of them upright.
Spent and bruised though they were, the mothers tried to right themselves. Tried to pull their heads back from the other’s shoulder so they could look into each other’s eyes as they challenged and dared each other.
Invitations for more that slipped through lips that at their corners began to meet. A meeting that threatened them both with another awakening of the lusts that had overwhelmed them so completely when they fought on priyanka’s floor.
Still, through that threat, they pushed literally and figuratively. The pair shoving each other away, before they raised their blood-and-milk-splattered fists once more.
Ready though they pretended to be, neither could stand straight or even step forward without nearly collapsing. And yet in that state they began to throw weak, ineffectual punches at, or perhaps the better word is near each other.
But as they say about clocks and monkeys with typewriters, eventually they each landed punches. Not apart or in turns, but simultaneously, with their fists smashing into each other’s noses hard. Blows that caused each to collapse once more into each other’s arms and against each other in a cream-clap splash.Together they felt it. The pain of smashed noses, that each believed to be broken. Though somehow the force applied stopped just short of that face-altering injury. Unbroken though their noses were, blood still trickled from them, as once more they laid cheek-to-cheek.
I…. Hate…. You….” shriya muttered weakly.Not…. As much…. As I hate you….” priyanka replied, though through dizziness and trembling.Even their loathing was a competition. And though it was, the two competitors could do naught but lean into each other. Their bodies frail and desperate to collapse. Their arms moving to and then around each other’s waists for extra support, as their foreheads came together once more.
A support that let them focus once again on the one thing that mattered, each other’s breasts and the milk within them.Not so swollen now, are they…? priyanka hissed as their breast to breast contact made it clear — in their battle of fists, she had won. Not ultimately by breaking shriya, or by points, by landing more punches. But instead by focusing her strikes on shriya saran’s breasts. Which, as they sat pressed into and against priyanka’s, felt no more full. Their score of drainage having been equaled out.
“Shut up….” shriya replied with a sneer as the pair glared deeply into each other’s eyes.Make me….” Dared priyanka.A dare that shriya saran accepted as she grabbed a tight grip of her rival’s hair, and then with it, bent the same back at the neck. A bend priyanka too inflicted, by wrapping her hands in shriya’s hair and pulling down. Leaving the two women standing body-to-body, and chin-tip-to-chin-tip.
“Ready…?” priyanka asked once more, knowing that their brief moment of rest was coming to an end.Are you…?” Responded shriya, though she waited for no response. She instead using the grip on her enemy’s hair to pull, and with the force of the tug, send her careening backward one step and then another.
Once apart again, and as each tried to gather their strength and balance, shriya saran spoke. “Like women again…?”To the question shriya expected an answer in words, but instead got one in a nod. Not up and down, but instead side to side, as priyanka shook off the request as she stepped forward. Stepped forward and then threw her left leg out and into her rival’s shins with a thud.
“Owe! You bitch!” shriya shouted in anger and pain.What are we going to do next, arm wrestle?Despite the dig, priyanka continued to kick. Shooting her legs out in sloppy, untrained kicks, which landed, but did little but irritate shriya.Fucking fine!” The shin-bit shriya exclaimed before she too began to throw kicks. No higher. No harder. But with each thrown, the two continued to exhaust themselves. Driving their bodies deeper and deeper into the clutches of an already hungry and body-ravaging fatigue.
And as that fierce and relentless weakening took to them, they began to stumble once more. Apart, as they circled each other — throwing whatever kicks they could muster. And then, after a sudden trip by priyanka, together hard. Their colliding bodies crashing through the still open door to the bedroom and then into the hallway. Their hands lacing once more into the locks of their rival.
Grips they took as they fought for control and leverage. A battle they waged even as they careened from the master bedroom, into the hallway, and then across into priyanka’s daughter’s bright pink nursery.
But even when they had reached that room of brandished and brazen femininity, they still fought. Still wrestled with each other. Neither kicking or punching, instead only struggling with their naked and battered bodies to overtake and overpower their enemy.
A war that escalated and intensified, even in their exhaustion, until finally, in a simultaneous throw and collapse they fell to the hard-planked floor in a heap of tangled and naked bodies. Their legs intertwined and thighs crossed as they together pulled one another into a mirrored, and yet barely-kept seated position.
One in which both dangled off of each other in the hottest of messes. Groaning and whimpering, both in exhaustion and pain. Hanging off the other, each with a single hand gripping the others shoulder. Their upper bodies leaning back as far as they might, without such a grasp being released.
And though there, they lingered for a moment or two, breathing and moaning softly from the pain that still lingered, eventually priyanka spoke.This…. This isn’t … over, bitch….. Till one of us is dry, remember….” Reminded priyanka, who began to pull herself back up and towards shriya .
Till one of us…. Is…. Dry….” shriya mumbled back in words. But unlike her rival, words that came with no action. No sitting back up from her weak hang or pulling herself forward from her pathetic dangle. No, for she was too tired. Too spent at that moment to move, let alone fight.It was a window priyanka took, by continuing her lean. Not only to the point when she was sitting straight up, but then past that and further. She, in fact, leaning all the way down until she could seal her lips around the nipple of shriya’s left breast.
Then, with them so applied, she began to suck.Oooohhh, god…. Nooooo” Shivering, despite the heat of the house and their war, did shriya saran respond. Her flow of milk starting in an instant, as priyanka abandoned the hope of continuing to pain on her rival through blows and battering.
Get…. Get off me….” With those words came a push, a weak one at priyanka’s shoulders. Shriya Saran seeking to free herself from her enemy’s sudden and spiteful siphoning.
But it was too late, and they were too deep. Their stores of energy having been spent. And their ability to battle in more taxing ways having been lost in the wildfire of their violent sojourns into fisticuffs and kicking.
Leaving them one option. One ending towards which to rush. The draining of their rival’s still milk-filled tits.Mutual though that goal was, as in a sweaty mess they sat at an angle, only priyanka could chase it. As shriya, in her weariness, began to falter and drift into allowance.
Her hands moving back and to the hardwood floor as she struggled to keep even a semblance of sitting. All as the woman she had pitted her body against leaned down and in, to continue sucking at her nipple. Not with a bite to inflict, but to coax and then empty.
At first, the taste of shriya’s milk, and the thought of imbibing it gave priyanka pause. But as her rival’s milk began to flow, not only quickly but in a veritable torrent, the aspirating mother committed herself.
She would take it.She would drink it.Every last drop of shriya’s remaining cream, if need be.
A venture priyanka took to, as the woman who she drained began to beg. “No, we can’t…. Please, I need….” From one plea to another, shriya saran jumped. She knowing full-well that she had wanted this when she was strong. That she would do the same to priyanka, if it were she who had the energy and position.
And yet as shriya implored softly — weakly, priyanka began to push. Not forcefully or harshly, but gently — as she eased the defenseless shriya to her back on the floor.
At the suggestion of touch, shriya began to lean back and then collapse down. And when she did, priyanka advanced — crawling forward and on top. She never letting her lips pull away from nipple, or the flow that came from as much end.
She was winning.She could sense it.She could feel it.She could taste it.But that truth was not her’s alone to understand. For shriya too felt her own defeat’s approach. Despite that knowledge, however, she was too weak to push priyanka away and too exhausted to re-engage her the same in some kind of violent affair.
And so, the grounded woman simply remained. Beneath priyanka, as the same suckled at her quickly emptying right teat.Shriya had wanted victory. Dominance. And to feel the indescribable excitement of owning the woman who she had pitted her body, soul, and even life against.
And yet as priyanka hovered above her, pulling the milk from her breast like her sweet baby girl had done so many nights before, the fading woman did not feel frustration or regret. Sadness or anger.Instead shriya felt turned on. Her fatigue-broken body and combat-shattered mind finding a pleasure and an excitement in giving up control to her enemy. She had fought so bravely and ruthlessly, and yet now — at the end of all of it, she could do naught but lay. Naught but whimper and moan pathetically as priyanka stole the life-giving milk from her breasts. priyanka chopra enjoying the milk off shriya saran.
Feelings of debility-born submissiveness that pushed the back-laid shriya to reach out and up, and to then to cup each of priyanka’s breasts with one of her hands. Hands which did not then squeeze or scratch, but instead massaged.
Sensually.Tenderly.As one might do to their lover.And priyanka was willing to take it. As a sign of submission and allowance. Once again, shriya was lost in lust and desire, just as they both had been when their fur-obscured clits met again and again on priyanka’s bedroom floor.
Yes, at the sensation and manipulation, milk began to drip from priyanka’s breasts. But the pitter-patter droplets landing on shriya’s tummy, inner thighs, and pubic hair came slowly. And so the all-fours and finish-focused vixen above continued her good work.
Shriya’s right breast expelling its last few drops of milk, before priyanka, without a word spoken, lifted her head and moved to her next target: her rival’s left tit.At the switching, the half-bested matron of a threatened-to-be-starved baby girl moaned out loudly, both from the pain of her tit running dry and the intoxicating and expectation-defying pleasure of submitting to an enemy so completely.
A dichotomy of mixture that shriya still spoke through, though her voice quaked and mind skipped in the effort. Priyanka, pleEeeaaAase…stoooOoop. M-my daughter, sheeeEeeeEe….”
The sound of her nemesis moaning and begging was music to priyanka’s ears. A music that played as she remained lifted just above shriya, her two hands flattened with splayed fingers atop the nursery’s darkwood floor.
And though priyanka’s palms were anchored, she wanted to use them. Wanted to run them, up and down the body of her seemingly defeated enemy. To feel her. To take her. To ravish her.
Yes, priyanka hated the woman beneath her entirely, and yet there was something about that moment that began to affect her, just as it had already affected shriya.
Their’s was a heated, malicious, and nasty feud. And yet priyanka was drinking the milk of her rival. Imbibing her motherly gift. As if shriya was her mother, and she her baby girl.
Shriya still begged. Still pleaded for her to stop. But priyanka could see when her eyes opened and feel it in the massaging hands and softly squirming body of the woman who had for so long transfixed her.
Shriya was giving in to her gentle, exhaustion-drenched dominance. But even more enthralling than that unspoken submission, was the fact that her rival seemed to be enjoying it.The chance to be weak.The chance to be vulnerable and in that vulnerability controlled.
To most, the draining mother’s thoughts and desires would make no sense, but to her — they were crystalline.Crystalline and compelling, to not only drink. To not only take and in that way subjugate. But to scoot priyanka lower-half forward, and once more go bush-to-bush with shriya.
Each of the two warring mothers moaning with a quiver, as their blood, sweat, and milk-wet carpets met once more. Not in violence or lost control, but in acceptance and agreement.
An agreement that though the end was near. With shriya flat on her back as her enemy milked her last filled tit; pulling from it all the milk left therein. There was more to their struggle. More to their feud.Not love or friendship — kinship or sisterhood, for they still hated one another to the very depths of their souls. But in those depths lurked more than loathing and grievance.
No, for there was also swirling passion and hate-earned lust — an endless thirst and a boundless hunger.Their jealousy, after its churning and boiling, having turned into a desperate need to experience and consume.
Their competition, so wildly out of control, that they had no choice but to salve each other’s wounding pruriency, even as they chased each other’s destruction.
Shifts in the hue of their rapturess flames that led them each to connect womanhoods once more and then writhe. Without comment or accusation — protest or hesitation. It being the price of their combat. The cost of their contest.
A contest priyanka saw as one-sided as she thrust and verging done as she shuddered. The confident onyx taking her time as she suckled and fucked — counting her lead in the emptying of breasts as insurmountable. And her role as imminent victor as unassailable.
But as she above continued on in such surety, letting her mind drift deeper into she and her rival’s mutual meetings of heavily furred mounds, she missed it. The deepening. The intensifying. The increasing force of shriya’s massaging hands.
Hands which at first moved gently and without threat, having begun to slide up and then stroke down. Once and then again. Without inflicted pain, but still with steady intention. They having moved from an instinctual and passion-born caress to a true milking. Like a farmer and her cow.
A cow whose teats dripped at first and then soon after began to flow. The substance gained, or perhaps more accurately stolen, collecting in a pool on shriya saran’s tummy and the floor below her.
A pool priyanka knew not of, when she lifted lips from a nipple that still offered its cream freely, and began in a breathlessly cruel mutter. “I’m going to….uuunnnggghhh….” She stuttered and then moaned, as their bouncing kittens met to greater effect. Not more quickly, but in river-deep drags and focus-shattering bindings of one rival’s clit with its counterpart.
A hardening of contact and extending of collision that the strong woman fought through to finish her thought, malicious as it was. “I’mmmm gonna take every last droppp of your milk, shriyaAaA. Your baby girl is going to starve, because I’m the better mooooottthhheeerrrr-0h-gawd. Oh shiiiiIiiit. Whhaaatt…? Nooo….From the height of overconfidence to the low terror that sets in when victory begins to slip away, priyanka’s heartless comment descended. A rapid and harrowing crash that came when finally on-all-fours matron could feel it. Through the pleasure of their tribbing. Through the excitement of their battle. Her breasts were nearly empty. Not one of them, but both of them.
Her plan was to pull away! To Lean back and escape her tricky rival and with deftly milking hands. But before she could, shriya leaned up, over, and then without removing her hands she rolled them both. Priyanka to her back, with their mover just above her.
A mover who then in a flash of action, moved both hands to the left breast of the newly back-laid beauty, and with them expelled hard. Shriya Saran pumping every last drop of milk from its priyanka’s tit in a sudden and sputtering spray. One that tapered off to a slow drizzle and then an audible puff of protein-scented air. A scent let loose as priyanka groaned out in pain and desperation.
“No, shriya! Please! Priyanka begged, though she had been certain she would always remain strong. Her mind in an instant fixating on her poor baby girl and the nourishment she would lack if the fate shriya above her threatened became real.
But as if it were a nightmare that she could not be woken from, priyanka, as she reached to push shriya away, found her wrists caught, and then after a slam, pinned to the hardwood floor.I’m sorry…. Look…. Don’t…. We can….” Before the grounded mother’s plaintive words could be spoken or even heard, her rival had already lowered her head and applied her lips to priyanka’s nipple.
Shriya wanting to end her enemy’s supplies, just as that same enemy had threatened to do to her. In a slow, craven drinking.Ohhhhh noOoo, noooOoo, I need….” As if she was lost in a fever dream, priyanka whimpered and protested weakly, as she squirmed beneath her pinning rival.
A rival who never stopped fucking her. Bust-to-bush and clit to clit, even as she mirrored the position the two had been in only a moment and a roll before.
“God! Fuck! FuuuUUcckkk!!” The panic of her emptied and now emptying tit fed the orgasm that began to take priyanka. She letting her hate and passion — excitement and despair stir within her like a growing and uncontrollable storm.
Until finally that storm turned to maelstrom and maelstrom typhoon. One that washed over priyanka as she suddenly seized. Her eyes closed and toes curling. Her lips parting in a loud and animalistic scream of bliss and agony as the last few drops of milk were pulled from her right breast.
Drops, which like those before it, shriya swallowed as she lifted her head and claimed victory. “You’re dry–” shriya began as she withdrew her sex from priyanka’s with a snapping of hairs and displacing of droplets. “Now to make sure you stay that way, cunt….”
The words were haunting, merciless, and wicked in their own right. But they paled in comparison to shriya’s actions. Actions which saw her leaning down once more to reapply her mouth to priyanka’s nipple.
Not in another suckle or in a heavy chomp or a piercing bite, but instead in a sustained and cold-hearted chew. One she used to seal off priyanka’s nipples. Rendering them inert and unusable. By pump or baby — device or dependant daughter.
“You bitch! Stop it! No! GOD! GET OFF ME!” priyanka raged as she fought with every ounce of energy she had left. But in their mad struggle and after her most recent orgasm, priyanka had given away too much. Leaving her too weak to break shriya’s pinning of wrists, or to wriggle free from the same.
And so, shriya continued her silent, methodical, chewing. She using just the right amount of pressure to cause priyanka’s nipples to swell shut, with only a few droplets of blood finding their way into the mouth of she who fought to close off.A making real of threat and promise — feud and finality that played out as priyanka cursed and begged — struggled to reason and in tears implore. Not only with one breast but both.
The merciless shriya saran only ending her assault when she knew her bested enemy’s tits were not only empty, but worthless to her baby girl. Not just one but both.
“I hate you….” priyanka muttered as she sobbed. Her tear-filled eyes still glaring, as she put every ounce of her loathing into a gaze of true contempt.But as priyanka conveyed that hate, shriya did so with her own. She collecting the blood, milk, and saliva that coated her mouth before spitting it in the broken and yet beautiful bitch that laid beneath her.
As that collection of battle-drawn liquid splattered and dripped down priyanka’s tear-stained and battered face, shriya stood.Mmmm, I know…. I’d hate me too, if I were as worthless a mother as you are.” The words were cutting, and yet priyanka did not respond. Not until, shriya added.
“No milk in your tits, or even in the fridge….” It was those words that drew a reaction from priyanka who was too tired and too physically spent to move. Those words that truly struck fear into her heart, even as her rival made her way out of the room.YOU BITCH! No! Please! PLEASE!! Shriya!!!” shriya could hear priyanka’s cries as she walked down the hall to the bedroom to collect her things.
As she dressed herself in front of her broken enemy’s own mirror.And even still, as she walked down the stairs with her heels on once more. She making her way to the kitchen. A kitchen with a fridge that shriya emptied of priyanka’s stored frozen breast milk. She knowing all too well that any mother worth her salt puts their excess expulsions away for a day when they might be needed.Then shriya saran left victorious.
Shriya Saran win.
Priyanka Chopra in her weakness and need for confrontation, thereafter reaching through the doorway and grabbing shriya by her shoulders. A grasp priyanka then used to pull and then push her expected guest into the wall between coats on her rack. The door shutting under its own weight, as the flurry of movement gave way to the stillness of priyanka sudden placement.
Priyanka might assume that shriya would be intimidated or shocked by such a quick and emphatic pull and pressing, but instead, she just sneered as priyanka’s hands retracted.
Each of the two rivals, one in red and one in green, lingering only centimeters apart, their eyes fused in a glare.
“You’re leaking….” shriya commented cruelly through gritted teeth, as she shifted her eyes down in a guiding glance downward. She pointing out that priyanka’s nipples had already begun to drip milk, in the excitement of the moment.
For a moment, brief though it was, priyanka felt shame. Feeling as if her leakage was some sign of difference between the two, but then she saw it, even as her rival’s eyes moved. She was not the only one leaking. The same telltale spots being visible on her enemy’s dress-covered breasts.
“You are too….” priyanka, responded, as she turned away from shriya. Not waiting, but instead moving with speed to to the nearby staircase. She having already taken the first two steps, before turning back to her still stationary guest.
“Are you c….” priyanka began, confidently, but before she had even finished asking, shriya responded.I’m coming, bitch.” With no more words spoken, shriya followed as priyanka chopra leading her past an all-pink nursery room, and deeper into her home. A trip which came to conclusion when hallway ended and master bedroom began. One decorated with art by the same artist that adorned shriya’s walls, though pieces in a different hue and design. Decorations that surrounded a large bed with a wood and wicker bed frame. The comforter atop it black, and double-filled for comfort.
The room was immaculate, and large enough to house whatever it was the two planned on doing to each other. The carpet of the stairs and hall having given way to ruddy-brown-wood flooring.
A surface on which the walking pair’s matching black heels announced their advance in loud, echoing clicks. Sounds which made them both feel powerful, sexy, and ready to engage in a war like only women can have.
At least until, after an intentionally delayed and dramatic pause, priyanka turned back to face her rival from the furthest corner of her room. But as she spun, priyanka found shriya’s bodycon not only removed but thrown.
Not to the floor or the bed, but into priyanka face. A sudden stripping and tossing that angered she who received it, so much that in a rage she barked. “BITCH!”
“Shut up, and take yours off,” shriya demanded, as she stood glaring in her black panties and bra. The overly excited shriya not having even a moment’s patience with priyanka’s little show as dominant hostess.
A hostess that wanted to reply, to seize back the control she felt had been taken from her, but instead, she reached down, grabbed the bottom of her dress, and pulled up. The white panties and bra wearing priyanka peeling it from her body before tossing it at shriya.
Heated and quick as all of the last few moments had been, suddenly, with dresses removed, the two rivals paused. Each studying the other’s new body. Comparing, if only in theory, what they saw of the other. And though their eyes did scan hips and thighs — asses and figure, it was the other’s breasts they began to focus on.
The pairs of each having swelled since their last fight. An increase in size and potency that threatened their once deadlocked contest of bodies. A menace that pushed each of the two to on instinct alone, lift the straps of their bra and squeeze their breasts together with angled elbows. Each wanting to make their own set look bigger. Fuller. And filled to the point of bursting with milk for their own daughter.
And though they flaunted their own bosom, within only a few moments, they found themselves consumed with jealousy. With anger. With a nearly irresistible desire to wound the breasts of their rival.Each, after kicking off their heels, stepping closer to one another as they began to circle. Their hate-filled eyes not locked together in some fused glare, but on each other’s breasts and body. Neither speaking. Neither communicating with the other, until finally, priyanka broke.Show them to me….” priyanka said, her voice quivering with a desire that she could not control.
For her own part, shriya wanted to both refuse and comply, at the same time. Her own thoughts and intentions seeming to blur and blend as her pulse raced and heart pounded. Then, to her mind, came all the words she wanted to say.
The insults.The wounding jabs about everything and everything her rival held dear. But before she could utter even a single such comment, she found herself already reaching. Already unclasping. Already baring her tits for shriya.
Shriya who had to close eyes, after only a glimpse, to stop her own heart from exploding. Not because she was intimidated, but because she could not breathe. She wanted to hurt them. To gouge them. To claw at them. But instead, at least at that moment, she had to wait. Wait and remove her own black bra, letting it softly drop to the floor between their now near-naked bodies.
How weak priyanka was, for having to close her eyes. How easy a prey she would be, if she could not even look, shriya thought to herself. Until that same need gripped her. Until, she too had to let lower her lids, just to survive and endure a moment unlike any she had ever experienced before.Panties…. Shriya finally spoke as her eyes again opened, her voice no more firm than priyanka’s — it taking everything in her not to lunge.
The word, trembling though it was when delivered, hit priyanka like a blow from a sledgehammer. More delay? More to remove? Why!? She thought in a despair she shared not. Pained though it did, both she and her rival, together they reached down and began to remove their final pieces of clothing for each other.At the very moment, their panties dropped to ankle, one would assume, after all that waiting and wanting, they would have attacked. Lept for each other. Claws first. Hatefully spewing their words of derision like venom.
But instead, they found themselves frozen. Afraid of beginning. Of unleashing all that they felt for the other. And so they searched. For something to comment on. For anything to delay the need for their feud to finally become real.And yet, even there — even when all of their clothing had been removed, they again found only similarity. Their bushes, the guardians of their womanhoods, being of the same hue and the same length. Obvious though that was, neither let it stay their tongues.
“Even your bush looks weak.” The comment was childish. Cruel. And ridiculous on its face, and yet still, priyanka made it. And with it spoken, they each found it. The fire that had always driven them. Their moment of timidity fading, as they once again began to speak.Yours looks weak, bitch!” Suddenly, as shriya responded, the two rivals once again neared. Each reaching out to each other. Not to push or slap, but to inflict small pinches, aimed for the other’s pubic hair.
In what looked like a dance, the pair pulled back from each other’s reach again and again, until finally, their fingers caught. Not on air or skin, but fine hairs. Hairs each pulled on, causing their rival not to pull away, but to step forward. Their nude bodies finally came together in a clap.
A meeting of flesh made not in part, but fully, a contact that stole their breath and left them holding. Not only each other but the small tufts of pubic hair each had claimed on the other’s mound.
“Weak…. Fucking…. Bush….” priyanka began before she felt it. The dripping. Not from her rival’s breasts, or her own, but from them both. Each pair beginning to leak as they pressed together. The pressure and excitement of the moment loosing their flows for each other.
Something about that feeling. That moment. Of their perfectly aligned, and rock-hard nipples dripping together softened them. Each letting out the smallest little whimpers at the sensation of it.And though for a moment, that softness threatened to take them, to quell their war and make it something else, shriya suddenly rebelled. Doing so by yanking at the tuft of pubic hair she held hard, so hard that it pulled from priyanka’s mound. A sudden retraction and reduction in bush that caused priyanka to scream out in a flash of pain.
“OwwWWwWeeeee, biIiIiIititttccchhh!!!” It was then that it all began, as priyanka retaliated, by tugging her own little finger-held clump of hair. An action that caused shriya to let go of her own, painful howl.
“FuuUuuUccckk, CUUUUUNT!!” Words shriya saran uttered, as each of the two rivals retracted their hands, and then buried them in the hair atop the other’s head. Then, as their fingers laced, and then tightened, they each began to yank the other, and as a consequence, themselves, back and forth. Violently. Painfully. From side to side, as each sought to punish the other, for everything she was — everything she had ever done or said.
Attempts at punishment which came along with a steady drip of breastmilk from their stabbing nipples, and compressed breasts. Drips which coalesced and then traveled down their writhing bodies, and down their flexing thighs or into their quickly tangling pubic hair.Neha yelled slut bitch driven mad by the conflict.
whore!” Holly retorted, she willing to say anything at that moment to hurt her rival.
As the two women tugged on each other’s hair, their nude bodies struggling for control, they stumbled together. Their foreheads flattened and pushing for control. Their aching breasts smashed and slamming forward whenever either of the two planted their feet. A collision mirrored by their lips which brushed together with every insult and caught and then peeled from each other with challenge.And though the moment, in many ways, was everything they had ever wanted, it suddenly came to an end. As the back of shriya’s calves ran into a small, backless seat in front of priyanka’s makeup table. A collision which sent shriya into a fall onto, and then back over the wicker seating. She, with her grips on hair, pulling priyanka not just with her, but on top of her. Priyanka chopra landing in a perfect straddle of shriya’s midsection. One she was able to deftly twist into a tight, borrowing leg scissor before they together landed on the hard wood floor with a slam. Priyanka shifting to the side of her rival as she straightened her legs, looking to apply as much pressure as she could.
A leg scissor which immediately drew a cry of pain from shriya’s lips. A cry that brought a wicked smile to Priyanka’s face. “Yes! SUFFER, cunt….” Words of utter jubilation that came from those same smiling lips, just as their owner began to pour her every ounce of muscle and effort into that scissor.
“OOOOOuuuugggHGHGHGGGGH!!! FUUUuuUUUUUUuUCUcCcCCCCKKK!” shriya saran moaned as she pressed her palms to priyanka’s thick, flexing thighs. The two women looking like a T, as they laid at intersection — shriya’s legs still propped up on the wicker stool she had fallen over.
“Bitch! BITCH!” shriya saran muttered and then shouted, she being absolutely enraged that it was she who had found herself caught deep between her rival’s thighs.Mmmmmnnnm, SCREAM FOR M-oowwwweeee!” As priyanka spoke, she once again flexed her legs with all her might. Priyanka chopra wanting to hear her longtime enemy’s voice pitch up and let loose in anguish. But just as her taunting demand neared its conclusion, she felt it. Shriya’s hands, at the end of a long, desperate reach, latching on and squeezing breasts.
Such an attack would have hurt regardless, but with the sensitivity of her baby-chaffed nipples and the pressure of each of her breasts being filled to the point of bursting with milk, it was agony. An agony that led priyanka to, on instinct alone, abandon her body scissor, and as she rolled to her back, reach for shriya’s wrists.
“Fuck… No…. GOD!” priyanka exclaimed as she squirmed in pain, her legs kicking, even as her rival rolled out from between them. A taken freedom that shriya saran used to crawl atop her enemy in a straddle. Shriya hands never releasing the swollen tits of she that laid beneath.
“Huh!? You like that, BITCH?!” In a sudden celebration of rebounding momentum, shriya asked, her face still contorted with hatred.AAaaAAAAaHhHHhhhhh!” But to the question came no answer other than a scream, one priyanka freed as she laid beneath her rival with eyes tightly closed.
“LOOK WHO’S SCREAMING NOW, priyanka!!!!!” A call back. A curse, in the form of a suggestion. And it would have wounded, had the grounded coordinator been able to think about anything other than the pain she felt.
A pain that she could not end by pulling or prying. And so, with no other options at her disposal or in her mind, priyanka reached up and grabbed shriya own, hanging, milk-stiffened tits.
A counter, desperate and late though it was, that made she who suffered it skip from one cry to another in rapid, broken succession. “AAaaahhhhh, nooo-shiii-aaahhh!!!”A lamentation that shriya offered as she, at the pain and without plan, collapsed. Falling from her straddle of priyanka, off and to the side of her.
Fall though she did, neither woman released their squeezing grasps on each other’s breasts. Each clinging to the grip as they laid there, side-by-side, on priyanka’s master bedroom floor.
“Let. Go. Of. Me!!” priyanka demanded through gritted teeth.YOU let go! Shriya responded with no more composure, and in every bit as much pain.
Suffer though they did, neither relented.Neither let go.Each of the angry woman digging their claws in, as deep as they would go. Not to scratch or gouge, but to squeeze and compress.
A mutual tactic of destruction that brought to each a sudden sensation. Warmth and wetness in the palms of their hands.A coming that was slow at first. A mere drip, followed by a few more. But with every passing second and every hateful squeeze, the flow of milk each extracted from the other continued and grew.
A substance of sustinance that they stole from one another, along with moans of pain and groans of despair.Stop! Shriya demanded.Fuck you! You stop!” priyanka cried.
And though each asked and argued for their mutual suffering to end, neither listened or obeyed. Each committing more and more to their battle of breasts and milking.So much so that as they tortured, they gripped tighter and tighter, their legs extending, intertwining, and then hooking at the back of their knees.
With such anchors, the two warring women pulled themselves closer. Nearer, though only with their bottom-halves.
Bottom-halves which in a mutual and sudden need to intertwine themselves further pulled, bringing both shriya and priyanka the rest of the way. Their bushy mounds meeting once again in a muted collision of tight tangles and sweat-moistened hair.
“Bitch….priyanka muttered in a gasp.Fuck…. shriya replied with no more air.Short though their reactions were to the quick and intimate impact of their fur-covered mounds, far more was communicated. For with those few syllables came an abrupt pause.
Not from their legs, which continued to coil and clutch. Nor their hips, which began in opposing and off-kilter rhythms to forcefully and maliciously drag. No, instead it was their hands and fingers which ebbed their assault.Not in whole or in half, but instead in a reduction from violent squeezes to a slow, steady milking. One which saw their fingers move from the base off the other’s breasts, to their tip, only to move back up to make the same journey again. And then again. All as a puddle of warm milk began to form below them. A puddle over which each glared at each other.
“I’m going to take every last drop of your milk before we’re through here, cunt.” Once more priyanka’s tone turned into a confident hiss.
“You’re the one who’s gonna be drained, bitch.” Like her favorite hoodie and a pair of thick wool socks, shriya too sank into the voice she reserved just for priyanka.Venomous and spiteful — endlessly self-assured and vehemently hateful.
“You won’t have the guts to leave your house for another year, after I break you.” priyanka almost whispered. As though they laid there together, pulling closer and closer in a puddle of their own mixing milks, they still spoke. Still challenged. Still promised each other the fate that awaited them.
“I’d say the same, bu-but you’re gonna be heading back to the store to buy milk for your little spawnling. I’m not leeee-aaaving you with a single drop.” Focused though shriya was, she could still feel it. The dragging. The grinding. Of matching pubic hair meeting, catching, tugging, and then pulling loose as the pair of rivals continued to drive their mounds together and then apart.
“Don’t talk abooouuttt my daaaaauuuuggghhhtteer.” priyanka demanded, as her rage at the comment trying to surface in a welling sea of sweat and desire.Dooooonnn’ttt….” shriya went to reply — to fire back, but as she did, a sudden wave of pleasure and pain washed through she and her rival. Each pulling a tangled clump of each other’s pubic hair free and loose, as they together surged, pressing their foreheads together, their eyes closed and mouths opened in a mutual gasp.
A gasp they lingered on, as again and again they brought their quickly wetting pubic mounds together.Neither repentant or ashamed of what they were feeling or what they were doing.
Neither willing or even wanting to resist the urges and desires that had gripped them both for so long. Both shriya saran and Priyanka Chopra Their feud and Their obsession with each other. Their need to compete and compare with their bodies and lives exciting them, despite its darkness. And in that truth, as their sweat-matted pubic hairs caught, trussed, and then in silent snaps pulled free, they writhed together.
Undulating, with wrapped lower-halves. Their once asymmetrical thrusting coming to a synch, as a lust-driven, deprivation-intensified state of madness overwhelmed them.They were rivals. They were enemies. They were women locked in a loathing they coveted, and yet still … at that moment … all they could think about was the next thrust. The next hip-centered joust.
A state that worsened as their eyes opened and their returning glares locked. Each cursing breathlessly at the other in pleasure-brought stutters.Stuuu-upid, whiiiite sluuut.” shriya hissed as her fingers slipped from priyanka’s breasts, and after a lifting of arms, laced into the hair of the same.
“Faaa-at, shriya bitch.” priyanka muttered hatefully with lips only centimeters away from shriya.NOoOOOo wonder your maAaAan left yOoOOoouuUUU. You don’t knooOoOowww hOw to fuUuUuck….” Cruel though it reads, shriya words came out almost in a coo. Her firing hips picking up speed with every word spoken.LoOoOOk whooOOooOoo’s taaaa-AAaAaalking, sluUuUut.” priyanka gave it back. Said it back. Returning the verbal volley, though she too failed feigning the requisite tone. The women being no less lost in her quickly escalating fuck-fight with her chief rival.
And with every word they spoke and comment they shared in loathsome whispers, they leaned closer. Their eyelashes brushing, and intermixing, as their lips began to brush once more. Barely. Softly.
A nearness that called to them. Begged them. Kiss her. Please!!! But with every ounce of composure and will they had left they resisted. They fought. Not each other, but to keep their longing lips and craving tongues from engaging.Even as each could feel a tsunami of pleasure building within them.
A storm that grew with every spent second and offered thrust. A tempest that sent shivers through their bodies and sparks up their spine, until the very moment it exploded in a wild, vicious orgasm that consumed each of the two rivals like a fire.
One lit at exactly the same moment. One that made them stiffen and quake, as their lips met. Not in a kiss, but as their mouths opened. Each letting loose broken breaths, skipping whimpers, and agonizingly soulful moans. Not into the room, but into each other’s mouths as they squirmed together in a white puddle of their own making. Their bodies speckled and streaked with expelled milk and dripped sweat.
Minutes passed in untold number, and in them neither woman moved or even spoke. The pair of warring mothers just remaining, with hands buried deep in each other’s hair as they peeled forehead from forehead and lip away from lip.
Their legs still intertwined, and bushes still hopelessly tangled.Their hips still slowly driving forward and in — forward and in. Matted and milk-splattered pubic hair padding every interval, as each used the other as a tool for their own after-release satisfaction.
That is until finally their orgasms and the stilling-memories of the same had passed.Leaving just the silence.Just the eyes of their rival staring deeply into their ownDon’t think that this chang–” priyanka began in warning, before her stay-at-home enemy interrupted.
“Fuck you….” shriya spit back in words and then with saliva — her lips pursing thereafter to shoot a collection of the substance in priyanka’s face.BITCH!” priyanka reacted in a rage, one she tried to manifest by making her soft hold on shriya’s hair hard and yanking. But before she could seize and keep, the would-be shriya set herself to roll back and away from her enemy.
A decision that in a blinding flash of pain, forcibly ripped their essence-glued and entangled pubic mats apart. An unexpected ripping that caused each woman to scream — one rolling away and the other remaining, though in a state of pain-sparked shock.
“Get up! Shriya demanded, as she made her way back to her feet.Fine by me, cunt!” priyanka said as she followed. She too rolling out of the puddle both had drawn from each other’s breasts and then fucked in. Not briefly. Not quickly. But for as long as they needed to purge the demons that had for so long plagued them.I knew you wanted me….” Came an accusal from the shriya, as priyanka made it back to her feet.Shut up! You’re the one who started humping me.” Retorted the glaring, and half-wet onyx.
“Yeah, you’re the one who came….” As the Indian mother spoke, she began to circle her rival once more.Fuck you…. We both did.” It should have sounded odd to priyanka as she said it. Not just odd, but abhorrent discussing that both she and the woman she hated had driven each other to orgasm. But in her state of complete inhibition and unchecked desire, she said it without a second thought.You came first.” With no less reserve, and mired in the same soul-wrenching dichotomy of hate and lust — desire and deprivation, shriya dug for whatever advantage she could push priyanka to believe she had.LYING BITCH!! YOU DID!” Just the suggestion — just the spoken thought that their mutual moment of weakness had been a contest won by her rival, sent priyanka storming forward as she resisted in words.
“Mmm hmm, don’t even pretend!” With a confidence feigned just to make priyanka mad, shriya continued as she too marched forward.
“I milked your flabby tits shriya!” priyanka, beset by the searing heat of her enemy’s brazen claims of advantage, fired back in the first way she could think of.
“I still have plenty milk left, cunt.” Only inches away from the woman across from her, shriya defended the state of her own motherly merits.
And from an even shorter distance, priyanka replied. “You won’t after I’m through with you!!!” Words spoken as each of the two milk-splattered matrons grabbed once more for each other’s hair.Grrr, we’ll seeEEEEEeEEe about that!” Spinning and stumbling though they were, still did the hot beauty reply to her rival.
“Eerrrr, UGH!” And though priyanka planned to reply, if only to stop her enemy from having the last word, she decided instead to turn her words into action. The jealousy-beset coordinator doing so by pulling away from their tightening body-to-body clinch, and then returning to it. Not with tits pressing against tits, but with a knee slamming forward and into shriya’s stomach. A blow that bent shriya over at the waist as her hands fell from priyanka’s hair.
“Huh!?” A question of dominance asked in a single, grunted syllable. One that came from priyanka, as she too let her hands drop from hair and down to shriya’s back. A placement she used to grab and then yank forward — shriya pulling her rival into another, hard-driving and cruelly-delivered knee and upper-thigh. One not to the stomach as before, but instead right into and across shriya ’s breasts.
“Ungh!” Cried out shriya, as she felt a spray of milk exit her already wounded and now-worsened chest.You won’t have ‘plenty left’ for long, you curry-loving cunt!” priyanka’s words, hateful as they were, seemed almost soft compared to another, brutal knee she hurled up and into shriya’s leaking tits. A knee that upon landing once more found itself coated with a violence-bought spray of shriya-flavored protein.
At the impact and the loosing of liquids, once more shriya saran groaned. A groan that lingered as priyanka began to drag her. Pulling her from one side of the master bedroom to the other. A journey that only ended when finally they had reached priyanka’s dark-wood dresser.
“No more milk for your brat-to-be, shriya.” Though she spoke to her rival, priyanka’s eyes were averted. As were her hands, which moved from shriya’s body to the dresser’s top drawer. A drawer that priyanka pulled open, as she stood on shriya’s right — each facing the opening chiffonier.
Despite the walking and placing — opening and positioning, shriya still wobbled, she trying to regain the air and stability priyanka’s knee lifts had taken out of her. A state that lingered as the latter pressed the former forward, hanging shriya tits over and into the dresser drawer’s outward-facing lip.
She could do it. She could slam the drawer closed, but first priyanka wanted to gloat. And so she leaned over and in, pressing her lips to shriya’s right ear before whispering in a hateful hiss. “Ready…?
No! Shriya replied in a loud and defiant tone. A strength-affected voice that came just as priyanka felt a firm grab of her still-damp pubic hair.
“UuuuuuuuUUuUU….” Not a scream, a whimper, or a groan, but instead something else. A vibrating, volume-shifting, announcement of worry. One that priyanka offered, knowing that at any moment, shriya might do worse.Plea….” priyanka began, readying her plea of ‘please’, as her hands moved from drawer to the wrist of her enemy. Not wanting to feel the pain that her rival threatened to inflict.Fine.” shriya replied, unexpectedly. Shockingly. She sounding an acceptance of priyanka’s prayers for mercy. And though for a second the response filled priyanka chopra with relief, in a flash and with shriya’s next comment, such relief disappeared.We’ll do it your way.” Is what shriya saran said as she reached over with her free left hand, grabbed priyanka’s hair, and then drug her forward. Not just her head, but her chest. A chest which, just as shriya’s had before, slipped over and then hung on the forward-facing front of the dresser-door. A door which an instant later slammed closed, or at least as far as it could, with a pair of swollen breasts bracing it open.
“AAAaaAaarRRrRrRhGggggGGGGGGGgggGGgGHHHhhhhH!” priyanka cried out like a dying banshee, as her breasts compressed within the three-quarter shut drawer.
In agony though she was, not a single moment after it did priyanka move her hands — one to the dresser’s frame and the other to the dresser drawer. A movement intended to allow for a freeing of her breasts from the newly milk-doused hell they were caught in.
But as she moved, so did shriya. Who, after releasing her rival’s pubic hair, slid behind the body of the same. Shriya Saran pressing her breasts and body against the back of priyanka, to ensure she could not yet free her trapped tits.Mmmm, I can almost hear your breasts emptying.” Not in a hiss, but a hushed, sensual whisper, shriya mocked her dresser-stuck prey.
“But you can feel mine, can’t you…? So full and swollen with milk….” With every word spoken, shriya dragged her breasts across priyanka’s back. Each nipple leaving a small trail of white as they traveled.
“BiiIIIiiIIittttccCchHHh, I sweeeeaaaaar, I’l-I’llll destroy you when I geeEeEEEEeeEt free….” Her voice quaking, and body doing to better, priyanka threatened.And when she did, her rival went to respond. “That’s the plan, cunt. Body-to-body until one of us is drrrrryyyyyyy-aaAaRrrrRgggHHhHhH!” From acceptance and threat to a sudden pained scream, shriya stumbled backward after priyanka with all the force she could find, slammed her head back and into priyanka’s forehead.Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Finally without her rival pressing against her, and as she exclaimed in both pain and desperately-found relief, priyanka Pulled the dresser door open. Her poor, half-milked breasts aching worse than they ever had before.
“Come here!” The chest-fallen bitch screamed, as she turned back to face her rival with raised fists.Ohhh, what…?” shriya, asked in part, as she shook her head from side-to-side, trying to recover from priyanka’s headbutt. “You want to fight? Fighting like a woman was too hard for you, I guess….SHUT UP!” Yelled priyanka as she charged and threw a wild, aimless haymaker at shriya. Imperfect though the punch was, the mocking woman who it was thrown at only barely dodged it.both of the two having lots experience throwing fists.
Barely though it was, shriya still avoided the strike. And when she did, she threw one of her own. A quick, oddly angled strike into priyanka’s exposed kidneys.
“Unnghh!” priyanka chopra groaned as she spun back around, and then through the pain punched again. That attempt landing hard against her rival’s left breast.Aaarrrgghhh! OWE!” Came shriya’s complaint, as she grabbed for her struck breast.
“More coming, cum shriya….” Mid-taunt and mid-punch, priyanka found shriya’s fist bury deep in her tummy. A blow that knocked whatever breath she had in her lungs out and into the warm, sweat-scented air of the master bedroom they warred in.
With every punch came a sudden spray and then slow, air-carried drift of liquids. Not just of that same sweat that stained the air, but the milk each had forced out of the other’s body.
“This is how you wanted to fight, huuu-uuunnnnggghhh.” Each being addicted to the feeling of mocking and talking to their rival as they fought, shriya too tried to speak as they circled, strafed, and struck. But she too found her words interrupted by a tummy-seaking fist. One that landed hard, causing shriya to wobble as she took sloppy steps backward.
Back though she went, priyanka gave chase. Each of the two desperate, loathing-filled women firing punches at each other without regard to defense. Their fists landing hard on stomachs and breasts — cheeks and lips.
Again and again.Without regard to what their fists were doing to each other or what the cost of each strike might be.
That is until it seized them hard. Like the sudden effect of a rattlesnake bite. Exhaustion. Confusion. Aches and pains, wherever the other’s fists had landed.Pain that came with bruises and blood — discoloration and extreme sensitivity to any follow-up blow.
And yet still, despite all of those costs, they each continued to punch at each other. Even as their movements slowed and punches came without speed.The pair just standing. Just striking out with quaking arms and red-knuckled fists. Neither speaking. Neither taunting. Their only thoughts spent on continuing to batter one another.
Until, after a series of half-fought-off stumbles and a seemingly shared groan, they each collapsed into each other. Both shriya and priyanka milk-covered breasts slamming together with a wet clap and even wetter spray. One that coated their bruised and bloody cheeks, just as they sealed together. The broken and blistered nemeses bringing their heads down for a rest on each other’s shoulder as they together fought the fatigue that had taken them.
Get…. Off…. Me….. Bitch….. priyanka muttered as together they stumbled.You…. you, get off meeeEEeeEe, slUuuUut….” shriya replied, from swollen lips that rested not an eyelash’s length from her enemy’s ear.
Both having demanded only to be denied, the two women, even in their clinch began to drive, slow and yet forceful punches into each other’s sides.
“I thought … you didn’t want … to fight … bitch…?” Broken and beleaguered, priyanka mused in an exhausted mutter.I’ll fight you … anyway you … want to fight … cuUuUUnnntttt.” shriya replied in a weakened but resolute deriding.
Standing though they appeared to be, in truth each simply laid. Not against a wall or on the floor, but against one another. The force of the other’s collapsing body against their own being the only thing that kept either of them upright.
Spent and bruised though they were, the mothers tried to right themselves. Tried to pull their heads back from the other’s shoulder so they could look into each other’s eyes as they challenged and dared each other.
Invitations for more that slipped through lips that at their corners began to meet. A meeting that threatened them both with another awakening of the lusts that had overwhelmed them so completely when they fought on priyanka’s floor.
Still, through that threat, they pushed literally and figuratively. The pair shoving each other away, before they raised their blood-and-milk-splattered fists once more.
Ready though they pretended to be, neither could stand straight or even step forward without nearly collapsing. And yet in that state they began to throw weak, ineffectual punches at, or perhaps the better word is near each other.
But as they say about clocks and monkeys with typewriters, eventually they each landed punches. Not apart or in turns, but simultaneously, with their fists smashing into each other’s noses hard. Blows that caused each to collapse once more into each other’s arms and against each other in a cream-clap splash.Together they felt it. The pain of smashed noses, that each believed to be broken. Though somehow the force applied stopped just short of that face-altering injury. Unbroken though their noses were, blood still trickled from them, as once more they laid cheek-to-cheek.
I…. Hate…. You….” shriya muttered weakly.Not…. As much…. As I hate you….” priyanka replied, though through dizziness and trembling.Even their loathing was a competition. And though it was, the two competitors could do naught but lean into each other. Their bodies frail and desperate to collapse. Their arms moving to and then around each other’s waists for extra support, as their foreheads came together once more.
A support that let them focus once again on the one thing that mattered, each other’s breasts and the milk within them.Not so swollen now, are they…? priyanka hissed as their breast to breast contact made it clear — in their battle of fists, she had won. Not ultimately by breaking shriya, or by points, by landing more punches. But instead by focusing her strikes on shriya saran’s breasts. Which, as they sat pressed into and against priyanka’s, felt no more full. Their score of drainage having been equaled out.
“Shut up….” shriya replied with a sneer as the pair glared deeply into each other’s eyes.Make me….” Dared priyanka.A dare that shriya saran accepted as she grabbed a tight grip of her rival’s hair, and then with it, bent the same back at the neck. A bend priyanka too inflicted, by wrapping her hands in shriya’s hair and pulling down. Leaving the two women standing body-to-body, and chin-tip-to-chin-tip.
“Ready…?” priyanka asked once more, knowing that their brief moment of rest was coming to an end.Are you…?” Responded shriya, though she waited for no response. She instead using the grip on her enemy’s hair to pull, and with the force of the tug, send her careening backward one step and then another.
Once apart again, and as each tried to gather their strength and balance, shriya saran spoke. “Like women again…?”To the question shriya expected an answer in words, but instead got one in a nod. Not up and down, but instead side to side, as priyanka shook off the request as she stepped forward. Stepped forward and then threw her left leg out and into her rival’s shins with a thud.
“Owe! You bitch!” shriya shouted in anger and pain.What are we going to do next, arm wrestle?Despite the dig, priyanka continued to kick. Shooting her legs out in sloppy, untrained kicks, which landed, but did little but irritate shriya.Fucking fine!” The shin-bit shriya exclaimed before she too began to throw kicks. No higher. No harder. But with each thrown, the two continued to exhaust themselves. Driving their bodies deeper and deeper into the clutches of an already hungry and body-ravaging fatigue.
And as that fierce and relentless weakening took to them, they began to stumble once more. Apart, as they circled each other — throwing whatever kicks they could muster. And then, after a sudden trip by priyanka, together hard. Their colliding bodies crashing through the still open door to the bedroom and then into the hallway. Their hands lacing once more into the locks of their rival.
Grips they took as they fought for control and leverage. A battle they waged even as they careened from the master bedroom, into the hallway, and then across into priyanka’s daughter’s bright pink nursery.
But even when they had reached that room of brandished and brazen femininity, they still fought. Still wrestled with each other. Neither kicking or punching, instead only struggling with their naked and battered bodies to overtake and overpower their enemy.
A war that escalated and intensified, even in their exhaustion, until finally, in a simultaneous throw and collapse they fell to the hard-planked floor in a heap of tangled and naked bodies. Their legs intertwined and thighs crossed as they together pulled one another into a mirrored, and yet barely-kept seated position.
One in which both dangled off of each other in the hottest of messes. Groaning and whimpering, both in exhaustion and pain. Hanging off the other, each with a single hand gripping the others shoulder. Their upper bodies leaning back as far as they might, without such a grasp being released.
And though there, they lingered for a moment or two, breathing and moaning softly from the pain that still lingered, eventually priyanka spoke.This…. This isn’t … over, bitch….. Till one of us is dry, remember….” Reminded priyanka, who began to pull herself back up and towards shriya .
Till one of us…. Is…. Dry….” shriya mumbled back in words. But unlike her rival, words that came with no action. No sitting back up from her weak hang or pulling herself forward from her pathetic dangle. No, for she was too tired. Too spent at that moment to move, let alone fight.It was a window priyanka took, by continuing her lean. Not only to the point when she was sitting straight up, but then past that and further. She, in fact, leaning all the way down until she could seal her lips around the nipple of shriya’s left breast.
Then, with them so applied, she began to suck.Oooohhh, god…. Nooooo” Shivering, despite the heat of the house and their war, did shriya saran respond. Her flow of milk starting in an instant, as priyanka abandoned the hope of continuing to pain on her rival through blows and battering.
Get…. Get off me….” With those words came a push, a weak one at priyanka’s shoulders. Shriya Saran seeking to free herself from her enemy’s sudden and spiteful siphoning.
But it was too late, and they were too deep. Their stores of energy having been spent. And their ability to battle in more taxing ways having been lost in the wildfire of their violent sojourns into fisticuffs and kicking.
Leaving them one option. One ending towards which to rush. The draining of their rival’s still milk-filled tits.Mutual though that goal was, as in a sweaty mess they sat at an angle, only priyanka could chase it. As shriya, in her weariness, began to falter and drift into allowance.
Her hands moving back and to the hardwood floor as she struggled to keep even a semblance of sitting. All as the woman she had pitted her body against leaned down and in, to continue sucking at her nipple. Not with a bite to inflict, but to coax and then empty.
At first, the taste of shriya’s milk, and the thought of imbibing it gave priyanka pause. But as her rival’s milk began to flow, not only quickly but in a veritable torrent, the aspirating mother committed herself.
She would take it.She would drink it.Every last drop of shriya’s remaining cream, if need be.
A venture priyanka took to, as the woman who she drained began to beg. “No, we can’t…. Please, I need….” From one plea to another, shriya saran jumped. She knowing full-well that she had wanted this when she was strong. That she would do the same to priyanka, if it were she who had the energy and position.
And yet as shriya implored softly — weakly, priyanka began to push. Not forcefully or harshly, but gently — as she eased the defenseless shriya to her back on the floor.
At the suggestion of touch, shriya began to lean back and then collapse down. And when she did, priyanka advanced — crawling forward and on top. She never letting her lips pull away from nipple, or the flow that came from as much end.
She was winning.She could sense it.She could feel it.She could taste it.But that truth was not her’s alone to understand. For shriya too felt her own defeat’s approach. Despite that knowledge, however, she was too weak to push priyanka away and too exhausted to re-engage her the same in some kind of violent affair.
And so, the grounded woman simply remained. Beneath priyanka, as the same suckled at her quickly emptying right teat.Shriya had wanted victory. Dominance. And to feel the indescribable excitement of owning the woman who she had pitted her body, soul, and even life against.
And yet as priyanka hovered above her, pulling the milk from her breast like her sweet baby girl had done so many nights before, the fading woman did not feel frustration or regret. Sadness or anger.Instead shriya felt turned on. Her fatigue-broken body and combat-shattered mind finding a pleasure and an excitement in giving up control to her enemy. She had fought so bravely and ruthlessly, and yet now — at the end of all of it, she could do naught but lay. Naught but whimper and moan pathetically as priyanka stole the life-giving milk from her breasts. priyanka chopra enjoying the milk off shriya saran.
Feelings of debility-born submissiveness that pushed the back-laid shriya to reach out and up, and to then to cup each of priyanka’s breasts with one of her hands. Hands which did not then squeeze or scratch, but instead massaged.
Sensually.Tenderly.As one might do to their lover.And priyanka was willing to take it. As a sign of submission and allowance. Once again, shriya was lost in lust and desire, just as they both had been when their fur-obscured clits met again and again on priyanka’s bedroom floor.
Yes, at the sensation and manipulation, milk began to drip from priyanka’s breasts. But the pitter-patter droplets landing on shriya’s tummy, inner thighs, and pubic hair came slowly. And so the all-fours and finish-focused vixen above continued her good work.
Shriya’s right breast expelling its last few drops of milk, before priyanka, without a word spoken, lifted her head and moved to her next target: her rival’s left tit.At the switching, the half-bested matron of a threatened-to-be-starved baby girl moaned out loudly, both from the pain of her tit running dry and the intoxicating and expectation-defying pleasure of submitting to an enemy so completely.
A dichotomy of mixture that shriya still spoke through, though her voice quaked and mind skipped in the effort. Priyanka, pleEeeaaAase…stoooOoop. M-my daughter, sheeeEeeeEe….”
The sound of her nemesis moaning and begging was music to priyanka’s ears. A music that played as she remained lifted just above shriya, her two hands flattened with splayed fingers atop the nursery’s darkwood floor.
And though priyanka’s palms were anchored, she wanted to use them. Wanted to run them, up and down the body of her seemingly defeated enemy. To feel her. To take her. To ravish her.
Yes, priyanka hated the woman beneath her entirely, and yet there was something about that moment that began to affect her, just as it had already affected shriya.
Their’s was a heated, malicious, and nasty feud. And yet priyanka was drinking the milk of her rival. Imbibing her motherly gift. As if shriya was her mother, and she her baby girl.
Shriya still begged. Still pleaded for her to stop. But priyanka could see when her eyes opened and feel it in the massaging hands and softly squirming body of the woman who had for so long transfixed her.
Shriya was giving in to her gentle, exhaustion-drenched dominance. But even more enthralling than that unspoken submission, was the fact that her rival seemed to be enjoying it.The chance to be weak.The chance to be vulnerable and in that vulnerability controlled.
To most, the draining mother’s thoughts and desires would make no sense, but to her — they were crystalline.Crystalline and compelling, to not only drink. To not only take and in that way subjugate. But to scoot priyanka lower-half forward, and once more go bush-to-bush with shriya.
Each of the two warring mothers moaning with a quiver, as their blood, sweat, and milk-wet carpets met once more. Not in violence or lost control, but in acceptance and agreement.
An agreement that though the end was near. With shriya flat on her back as her enemy milked her last filled tit; pulling from it all the milk left therein. There was more to their struggle. More to their feud.Not love or friendship — kinship or sisterhood, for they still hated one another to the very depths of their souls. But in those depths lurked more than loathing and grievance.
No, for there was also swirling passion and hate-earned lust — an endless thirst and a boundless hunger.Their jealousy, after its churning and boiling, having turned into a desperate need to experience and consume.
Their competition, so wildly out of control, that they had no choice but to salve each other’s wounding pruriency, even as they chased each other’s destruction.
Shifts in the hue of their rapturess flames that led them each to connect womanhoods once more and then writhe. Without comment or accusation — protest or hesitation. It being the price of their combat. The cost of their contest.
A contest priyanka saw as one-sided as she thrust and verging done as she shuddered. The confident onyx taking her time as she suckled and fucked — counting her lead in the emptying of breasts as insurmountable. And her role as imminent victor as unassailable.
But as she above continued on in such surety, letting her mind drift deeper into she and her rival’s mutual meetings of heavily furred mounds, she missed it. The deepening. The intensifying. The increasing force of shriya’s massaging hands.
Hands which at first moved gently and without threat, having begun to slide up and then stroke down. Once and then again. Without inflicted pain, but still with steady intention. They having moved from an instinctual and passion-born caress to a true milking. Like a farmer and her cow.
A cow whose teats dripped at first and then soon after began to flow. The substance gained, or perhaps more accurately stolen, collecting in a pool on shriya saran’s tummy and the floor below her.
A pool priyanka knew not of, when she lifted lips from a nipple that still offered its cream freely, and began in a breathlessly cruel mutter. “I’m going to….uuunnnggghhh….” She stuttered and then moaned, as their bouncing kittens met to greater effect. Not more quickly, but in river-deep drags and focus-shattering bindings of one rival’s clit with its counterpart.
A hardening of contact and extending of collision that the strong woman fought through to finish her thought, malicious as it was. “I’mmmm gonna take every last droppp of your milk, shriyaAaA. Your baby girl is going to starve, because I’m the better mooooottthhheeerrrr-0h-gawd. Oh shiiiiIiiit. Whhaaatt…? Nooo….From the height of overconfidence to the low terror that sets in when victory begins to slip away, priyanka’s heartless comment descended. A rapid and harrowing crash that came when finally on-all-fours matron could feel it. Through the pleasure of their tribbing. Through the excitement of their battle. Her breasts were nearly empty. Not one of them, but both of them.
Her plan was to pull away! To Lean back and escape her tricky rival and with deftly milking hands. But before she could, shriya leaned up, over, and then without removing her hands she rolled them both. Priyanka to her back, with their mover just above her.
A mover who then in a flash of action, moved both hands to the left breast of the newly back-laid beauty, and with them expelled hard. Shriya Saran pumping every last drop of milk from its priyanka’s tit in a sudden and sputtering spray. One that tapered off to a slow drizzle and then an audible puff of protein-scented air. A scent let loose as priyanka groaned out in pain and desperation.
“No, shriya! Please! Priyanka begged, though she had been certain she would always remain strong. Her mind in an instant fixating on her poor baby girl and the nourishment she would lack if the fate shriya above her threatened became real.
But as if it were a nightmare that she could not be woken from, priyanka, as she reached to push shriya away, found her wrists caught, and then after a slam, pinned to the hardwood floor.I’m sorry…. Look…. Don’t…. We can….” Before the grounded mother’s plaintive words could be spoken or even heard, her rival had already lowered her head and applied her lips to priyanka’s nipple.
Shriya wanting to end her enemy’s supplies, just as that same enemy had threatened to do to her. In a slow, craven drinking.Ohhhhh noOoo, noooOoo, I need….” As if she was lost in a fever dream, priyanka whimpered and protested weakly, as she squirmed beneath her pinning rival.
A rival who never stopped fucking her. Bust-to-bush and clit to clit, even as she mirrored the position the two had been in only a moment and a roll before.
“God! Fuck! FuuuUUcckkk!!” The panic of her emptied and now emptying tit fed the orgasm that began to take priyanka. She letting her hate and passion — excitement and despair stir within her like a growing and uncontrollable storm.
Until finally that storm turned to maelstrom and maelstrom typhoon. One that washed over priyanka as she suddenly seized. Her eyes closed and toes curling. Her lips parting in a loud and animalistic scream of bliss and agony as the last few drops of milk were pulled from her right breast.
Drops, which like those before it, shriya swallowed as she lifted her head and claimed victory. “You’re dry–” shriya began as she withdrew her sex from priyanka’s with a snapping of hairs and displacing of droplets. “Now to make sure you stay that way, cunt….”
The words were haunting, merciless, and wicked in their own right. But they paled in comparison to shriya’s actions. Actions which saw her leaning down once more to reapply her mouth to priyanka’s nipple.
Not in another suckle or in a heavy chomp or a piercing bite, but instead in a sustained and cold-hearted chew. One she used to seal off priyanka’s nipples. Rendering them inert and unusable. By pump or baby — device or dependant daughter.
“You bitch! Stop it! No! GOD! GET OFF ME!” priyanka raged as she fought with every ounce of energy she had left. But in their mad struggle and after her most recent orgasm, priyanka had given away too much. Leaving her too weak to break shriya’s pinning of wrists, or to wriggle free from the same.
And so, shriya continued her silent, methodical, chewing. She using just the right amount of pressure to cause priyanka’s nipples to swell shut, with only a few droplets of blood finding their way into the mouth of she who fought to close off.A making real of threat and promise — feud and finality that played out as priyanka cursed and begged — struggled to reason and in tears implore. Not only with one breast but both.
The merciless shriya saran only ending her assault when she knew her bested enemy’s tits were not only empty, but worthless to her baby girl. Not just one but both.
“I hate you….” priyanka muttered as she sobbed. Her tear-filled eyes still glaring, as she put every ounce of her loathing into a gaze of true contempt.But as priyanka conveyed that hate, shriya did so with her own. She collecting the blood, milk, and saliva that coated her mouth before spitting it in the broken and yet beautiful bitch that laid beneath her.
As that collection of battle-drawn liquid splattered and dripped down priyanka’s tear-stained and battered face, shriya stood.Mmmm, I know…. I’d hate me too, if I were as worthless a mother as you are.” The words were cutting, and yet priyanka did not respond. Not until, shriya added.
“No milk in your tits, or even in the fridge….” It was those words that drew a reaction from priyanka who was too tired and too physically spent to move. Those words that truly struck fear into her heart, even as her rival made her way out of the room.YOU BITCH! No! Please! PLEASE!! Shriya!!!” shriya could hear priyanka’s cries as she walked down the hall to the bedroom to collect her things.
As she dressed herself in front of her broken enemy’s own mirror.And even still, as she walked down the stairs with her heels on once more. She making her way to the kitchen. A kitchen with a fridge that shriya emptied of priyanka’s stored frozen breast milk. She knowing all too well that any mother worth her salt puts their excess expulsions away for a day when they might be needed.Then shriya saran left victorious.
Shriya Saran win.
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