Girl Fight (Rough Lesbian Fight Sex)

Of course I'm going. You'd think these bitches would know better than to ask me such stupid questions. I don't reply with that, though. I have to keep up appearances.

Of course babe ;)

Jack is a bit of an interesting topic of discussion, since he's pretty much everyone's dream boy. Tall, deep tan, wonderful hair, and a manly face that still seems to be expressive and thoughtful. I think about him now and then while I touch myself. And what's more: his parents are out of town. I smile to myself. Tonight is his graduation party, and that's where I'll make my move. He'll resist, maybe, but I'll win out in the end. I always do.

The alarm on my phone goes off. I don't know what I would do without it; it seems to hold my life together. Hopping into my Mustang, I drive to the school and enjoy just being in the moment. She's really pretty, deep blue like Jack's eyes and you can hear her purr like a spoiled kitten when you start her up. 'I do something similar,' I think. 'I should remember that one.' Giggling at my own wit, I turn onto the street next to my school. I'm always thinking of funny stuff to say like that. I'd say it's one of my best traits.

The seats are almost full when I get there. The last few people are finding theirs, but I know exactly where I belong. I'm near the front—not because I'm some kind of honors dweeb, but I do have good grades. It's just that with a last name like Aaron you get to go first for most things.

The valedictorian bitch gets up and makes her speech. It's about loving your friends and never forgetting what we learned here. Please. I'm 18 years old and I desperately need to get away from these people. One last conquest, one last high school boy, and I am gone. The Principal, then some other old man and an old woman each make a speech. Each one is longer than the last and way longer than they need to be.

I simply peck at the screen of my phone until they start calling the names. I slip the phone into my gown's pocket, happy to have been able to bring it. Why would the gowns have pockets if they aren't meant to be used, right?

I get called. I walk across the stage and get my diploma. It feels good, even though my parents are off in some European country getting drunk rather than congratulating me on my success. Having all the strangers in the audience watching me as I walk across the stage. I don't know if there is anyone there without any friends, who nobody knows—I was nobody's friend, but at least everyone knows me. They're afraid of me, jealous of my looks or fearful of my anger. I smile down at them and think about how Jack will feel inside me.

Then I'm down the stairs and sitting down and back to texting Kathy.

The ceremony takes a thousand years and by the end of it my ass is hurting. You'd think an expensive private school would be able to afford something better than dollar store lawn chairs, but it's run by a bunch of old cheap men. Everyone throws their hats even though they told us not to. 80S movie cliches die hard.

I throw mine, too, just because. It lands across the lawn and I don't bother to pick it back up. Instead of hugging friends goodbye, or looking for any family members that I know aren't here, I decide to just leave.

Driving home is a buzzkill. Traffic is too thick from students and parents all leaving at the same time. I should have just left as soon as they gave me my diploma. That probably would have been the cooler thing to do anyway.

The hardest part of going out is always getting dressed. Oh, sure. The makeup takes time, and the hair might need an appointment. None of that quite measures up to the soul-rending confusion of getting dressed to go out. Should I go formal and risk being overdressed? Or maybe casual, and risk looking like a slob? Should I wear a skirt to give that special someone ideas of what he could do with what's under it, or shorts so the other boys don't?

Then it dawns on me. Sometimes you just have to take risks, and I decided to take a risk. What do guys like the most?

Hot little sluts. So I put on my tightest jeans and lowest shirt. My bra pushes my tits up so high that it's almost uncomfortable, but as I look at myself in the mirror I know that it's exactly what I needed. Time to go steal the hottest boy in school.

The party is already booming as I pull up. I have never been early a day in my life and I have no intention of anyone ever seeing me be awkward all by myself. The beer is sitting in big steel kegs on the counter. There's already an empty one that's been tossed in the corner. I grab a cup and stand at the end of the beer line. No reason to cause a scene just yet, not when things with Jack are still on the line. Jack is one of those special boys with rich parents, but he's not an asshole.

The beer is cheap stuff and tastes like it's been watered down, but I keep sipping on it anyway. After half the cup is gone I can't even taste it. Jack is surrounded by girls as usual, and I need to scare them off eventually. But a smart girl waits for her chances. I pretend I'm planning for a war, like I'm a great general. I know my way is going to get me on his arm sooner rather than later. Only a matter of time.

“... looked great up there.” This blonde bitch's lips are moving and her eyes are on my man. I'm no slouch, I learned how to fight from my degenerate big brother, and he's a golden gloves champ. I could just hit her and she'd be down on the ground crying or blacked out. But again—better to wait for the right moment.

“Yeah, no doubt!” I put on my best friendly smile and let all the girls see me flash it at Jack.

The music is loud and even though I'm standing close by and listening carefully for one of them to slip up and say something stupid enough for me to jump on—without seeming like I was picking a fight, of course—I couldn't hear most of what they said. I got the gist of it, though.

The usual bullshit girls say when they're going off to college, about how the world is a big open place for them, and so inspiration. I know where most of them will be every night, at parties like this one spreading their legs for any guy who happened to give them the right look when they were the right amount of hammered.

Jack says nothing. He plays it cool, like he always does. Finally I just get sick of listening to them and pull Jack out onto the dance floor. The ignorant bitches follow us, each of them grinding on him, on me, on whoever they could find to look sexier. One of them touched my breasts and that's where I made my move.

“Don't touch me, you slut!”

The redhead who was quiet the whole time, almost like she had been waiting for something too, gets in my face. She's so tall that she has to lean down to yell over the music.

“It was an accident, dumb-shit! Who the hell would want to touch you?”

“What did you say to me?” I shout, pushing her. She pushes me back.

“You fucking heard me, cunt. You heard me!”

At this point I look around the room and realize that now isn't the time. She's completely fucked up my mood and Jack has backed away. I throw her a dirty look before slinking through the crowd and grabbing myself another cup of beer. I walk out, angrier at having been shown up than over any lost chances with some fucking boy. How dare she?

I'm halfway to my car when I realize that I'm too drunk to drive, and my girl is too pretty to wreck. It's hardly much to pay and I don't want to worry about the car. Not like the redhead slut is going to touch it. What is her name? I know she was in one of my classes... was it Calculus?

Ah. She's Jessica.

No, she's too chicken to touch my car. I turn a corner, planning to wait in front of the hardware store for my ride. I feel a hand against my shoulder, strong and firm. It pulls me around.

“I wasn't fucking done with you, you piece of shit.”

I roll my eyes and flick my hair behind my shoulder. “Just let it go, it was just a stupid party anyway.” I turn back away and start walking. I can hear Jessica's voice behind me, deep and sharp, not slurred in the least. It's as if she hardly touched the beer.

“You better apologize for calling me a slut. Maybe I'll let it go if you sound sincere. Otherwise?” She takes a step closer to me, and I can practically feel the hate hitting me like a wave of heat. “I won't let it go, and I will make your life a fucking nightmare.”

I turn under the streetlight and shoot her my best angry look, but I know it doesn't compare to hers. “Or you'll what?” I hope I'm calling her bluff.

She comes at me low and fast, almost hitting me square in the chest with her shoulder. I try to move and it hits me on the arm, spinning me like a top. I drop into a fighting pose, though it's sloppy with my drunkenness. I'm ready to take her on, but she throws a wide punch that I wasn't expecting.

I put up my arms to block and throw a punch of my own, but it's lazy and weak. Too wide, too slow. I see her dodge it easily even in her high heel shoes. She moves almost in slow motion. I see every strand of fire-red hair moving as she ducks under, stepping inside my arms. I can see, clearly, that her hand is moving towards me. This must be what my brother means when he talks about being 'in the zone' or something. It's like being in one of those cheesy movies.

I dodge easily and try swinging back. Only, I can't move. I just watch as her fist travels slow but sure. My jaw explodes with pain. I'm falling, but it feels like my knees should have held me up. My skull cracked against the hard cement and the world around me goes wobbly. Jessica above me is now cloned three times and colored like a rainbow as she moves in a sickening way.

Clenching my eyes closed, I kick up and push her away. My hand fumbles around my head, looking for wet spots. Nothing. No red on my hands.

“You could have killed me, you bitch!” I lunge at her while the world recoils and dances around me. My hands wrap around her throat and pin her to the ground while she struggles beneath me. With my legs around her waist I let one of my hands pull back and ball into a fist. I hit her as hard as I can in my weakened state.

She screams against my punch and looks up to me with pure hate. She arches her back, trying to lift me off of her. When she realizes she cant, she spits into my face. Shrieking, I wipe the saliva away from my eyes and mouth.

She arches her back again. This time her belt nudges my clitoris. Even though I'm angry, I shudder and my eyes roll back a bit. I'm just distracted enough for her to flip me over and pin me to the ground on my stomach. She lays on top of me while holding my arms behind me. It's painful, but I can feel the heat of her cunt through our layers of clothes and the softness of her breasts pressing against my arm.

Jessica bends down until her mouth is just an inch from my ear. Her hot breath hits my face as she whispers, “I'll show you exactly what happens when you disrespect me, you whore.” Her knee slides up between my legs, resting exactly against my vagina. I wiggle, trying to escape, but it only manages to make my kitty cry out for more friction.

“Are you enjoying that?” Her knee presses harder against me. Jessica grabs my hair and pulls until my back is arched. “Answer me!”

“Ah, ow! Ow!” I cry, but she only tugs on my hair harder. “Yes! I like it!” I hump her knee more and let out a small, choked moan. She laughs one quick, angry laugh before throwing my head back down and letting my cheek hit the cement again. I'm no longer seeing the world in threes, but my head is killing me.

Jessica stands up. I try to get up too, thinking the fight is over now that she's asserted her dominance. Instead she stomps her stiletto boot heel against my back, forcing me back down with a gasp of pain. She uses the same foot to flip me over onto my back. “Stay on the ground, whore.”

“Please, Jess, I'm so sorry!” I cry, looking up at the cloudy sky.

“That doesn't matter. You still need to learn your lesson. Take off your shirt.”

I hesitate as an electric shock goes through my whole body. My teeth chatter. “What?” I ask, hoping I misheard.

“Take off your clothes, bitch!” The toe of her heel meets my ribs, bruising them badly.

Still laying on the ground, I unbutton my silk blouse and open it, revealing my bra. I look up and see that Jessica apparently approves. “You've got some nice tits for a little bitch. Take off your bra.”

I arch my back in order to reach my bra clasps while still on the ground. They come undone easily. My breasts, now under the influence of gravity, warp against my chest.

Jessica's shoe nudges my left breast, manipulating it painfully. “Such big tits. Stand up and let me see them better.”

Scrambling to my feet, I bashfully look at the floor. Jessica steps closer to me, and I instinctively step back until I'm pressed against the brick wall. My assailant grabs both of my breasts with her hands, squeezing them hard.

“That hurts...” I whine. Jessica's hand slaps my face, leaving a red and stinging mark against it.

“Don't you fucking whine to me. I'll do what I want. These are my tits right now!” Gripping them harder, she squeezes them until I'm whimpering in pain. She finally lets go and instead focuses on my nipples. She licks both of her thumbs, which then rub against my hard nubs.

I moan. The sound seems to soften her demeanor a bit. She presses me against the wall and dips her face into my neck. She kisses it as she pinches my nipples. Her lipstick makes her kisses wet and soft.

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