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See, that’s what the app is perfect for.

Sounds perfect Wahhhh, I don’t wanna
eroticbattle
sexfighters:
“ hardcorefemfights:
“ Annabelle Lewis. Champion. It had a nice ring to it. She had long imagined the day when it may be a name feared from the Southernmost tip of Chile at the bottom of the world up to the frozen lakes in North Russia....
hardcorefemfights

Annabelle Lewis. Champion. It had a nice ring to it. She had long imagined the day when it may be a name feared from the Southernmost tip of Chile at the bottom of the world up to the frozen lakes in North Russia. Every sexfighter would cower in fear at the very mention of her beauty. The long, seductive legs. The face of an angel. The cunt that could tame any woman on the planet, be they one of those Chilean Latina firebrands or a svelte temptress from Russia. 

For so long that had been her aim. World domination. Her egoistic, maniacal supervillain side had been unleashed. So many had crumbled between her thighs. Screams of ecstasy had been heard across the globe as she rose the ladder. The ladder that would take her to the top of the pile. Rung by rung, she had climbed, first had come the locals from her county, disposed of with consummate ease. Then the rest of her state. Louisiana had no clue what had hit it, this irresistible force swept aside all in its path. Next Hurricane Annabelle swept East. Alabama, Virginia, New York. All the way to Maine. Nothing and no one could even make her sweat. Crisscrossing the country, she obliterated the competition, making otherwise powerful women turn into her dribbling wrecks for just one night. 

She was not to stop at the borders of the good ol’ US of A. That was never her plan. North America didn’t take long. The Canadians were hot and charming but lacked the ruthlessness that Annabelle had in spades. The Mexican girls were ruthless but prone to losing control at unfortunate moments. They soon squirted their submission. And frankly who cares about the rest of North America. 

Suffice to say that Annabelle travelled the world and she beat the world. That combination of beauty, brains, brawn and skill was something none could replicate. She’d had some tougher battles on the road though, the Swedes, the Jordanians, the Australians had all put up good fights but it was ultimately futile.

It had all led her here. To Irina Rostislavovna. The final stop on her world tour. The Russian temptress. It had been the night before as she lay awake in the penthouse apartment of a cold Russian hotel that Annabelle had finally allowed herself that thought. Annabelle Lewis. Champion. While the way that she had gone about her tour may have seemed cold, Annabelle was anything but, a bubbly, bright girl just with a real desire and purpose in life. She got so much pleasure from watching every fighters eyes widen and accept defeat under her that she couldn’t imagine anything different. Not to mention the plenty of orgasms she had been blessed with herself from vanquished women’s tongues. She had a feeling that Irina would be a great pussylicker. She closed her eyes and imagined just that, the reluctant flicks of the defeated Russians tongue, she couldn’t help herself as her hand wandered down her body to her pussy. One last orgasm before the big day.

Annabelle was waiting in the lobby at 8:00 am sharp. Irina was there, punctual and looking determined. The fire in her eyes was one that Annabelle couldn’t wait to extinguish. “"Shall we?” She asked. Irina didn’t speak, she didn’t have to, simply following Annabelle up to her room.

Once they entered, both immediately stripped, baring their stupendous figures to the cool air of the royal suite. That same cool air had both girls nipples stiff and erect, just to further add to the excitement. They openly stared at each other, appraising the woman they were about to do battle with. Both were not disappointed. Annabelle bit her lip, trying not to grin too much as that would be unprofessional. Their steps were perfectly in sync as they approached, meeting in the middle of the room. Their warm bodies just inches apart. A final moment of quiet contemplation and then their bodies clashed.

5 minutes in and Annabelle was appreciative, it would have been such an anticlimax for her final battle to have been a blowout. That was not going to be the case, Irina was no amateur, she kissed like a goddess, that first collision had told her that, their writhing tongues had instantly sought out the others and began a dance of relentless passion. That boded well for later when she would have that tongue wrapped around Annabelle’s clit. Her pussy was strong to, they’d mashed together in a cacophony of moans at the start, labia pressed tight against labia, pounding together, no regrets would be had by either at the end. No slow teasing start, they were straight into the action.

25 minutes in and Annabelle was fairly sure that this would be her toughest opponent so far, Irina had no discernible weakness or fault. Just a smokin’ hot body that was almost perfectly matched to Annabelles. Their battle had led them all over the apartment, they’d rolled from the main room out into the kitchen, their breasts squished up against each other, breath warm on necks as they gasped with exertion. It was no longer just another match to Annabelle, now it was a fight for survival, a fight to hold back the waves of pleasure that were threatening to coalesce into a tsunami. A fight to show herself off as the greatest sexfighter on the planet.

3 whole hours in and still the battle raged. They’d climaxed several times each now, the first came at about the 45 minute mark but amazingly it wasn’t first blood for either. They’d actually came at the same time. Annabelle had never been, seen or heard of such a thing. Not only that but it was the greatest orgasm that Annabelle had ever had, it was like Irina had reached inside her brain and stimulated every pleasure center to the max. She had no idea how to cope with such a rush of adrenaline, she had so much excess sexual energy to release that she must have broken a window back in her home in Louisiana, her cry was that loud and shrill. Her body had literally shuddered, shivered and spasmed with glee. The one saving grace was that she had had much the same effect on Irina, whose mouth opened wide enough to drive a truck through as her hair flew back behind her as she screamed to the heavens, babbling away in her native Russian. Somehow they had recovered just moments later and still they were going. Their sweat covered bodies had slammed together with such vigour that Annabelle had bruise on her hip, Irina had a gash on her right breast where Annabelle’s teeth had near ripped it off in the heat of the moment. But still they were going.

4 and a ½ hours had passed and neither were capable of thinking in a coherent manner, if you had asked either why they were fighting, they would have been incapable of answering in words, this was more than that now, they knew nothing else except that victory was necessary, victory was the only thing that mattered. 

5 hours. 5 hours of constant sexual war. It was not going to last the 6th, something would have to give. Annabelle knew that it would not be her. Irina knew it was an impossibility that she would submit. One was wrong.

It came quickly and it came hard. They were laying flat on their backs, limply throwing their tired bodies at one another, pussy on pussy. No different than so many other occasions during the last hours. Only it was. One found that something else deep within, something that possessed their body with unhuman energy, the energy to sit up, to take control and to penetrate the others will, to thrust with strength that was unmatchable, to paralyse the other, turning them into a mannequin, a mannequin that was unable to find that something extra, a mannequin thats mind would explode in a blaze of colour, emotion and joy. Joy that would turn to dread and disappointment when they woke from their state of unconsciousness to realise that the impossible had happened. That they had been conquered. They would wake to the scent of the victor, their juices fresh in their nostrils, permeating every sense. Telling them an inescapable truth. 

The dream was over. World domination was gone. She was second best. Annabelle would cry herself to sleep that night. Irina had defeated her, the world was a world where she had lost, was a world where she wasn’t the winner a world worth living in? What was the point in it at all? 

Days went by and Annabelles depression worsened. She was on the brink of suicide. Then to the door of her small home back in Louisiana came a letter. Unmarked, she opened it. One word greeted her, elegantly engraved onto the page. One word to save her, that was all it took. She smiled for the first time since her final orgasm at the hands of her Russian rival as she read and reread that letter, its contents her saviour. The word, penned by the silken hands of the incomparable Irina.

Rematch?

sexfighters

What a great match!

Source: cutt.us