A Friendly Rivalry SeXStoRY

It was a competition between them. Always had been. Kathryn and Shelley had known each other since school, and rivalry had been as common an activity to them as homework and sneaking cigarettes behind the boiler house. Their friendship had weathered petty jealousies, puberty and conflicts over the opposite the sex, but the endless one-upmanship had never gone away. It was a game to them, a constant game of friendly dominance. To study them on a strictly physical basis was to see opposites; Kathryn was tall and svelte, straight through the hips, long-legged with only the faint hint of breasts, whereas Shelley barely touched five feet tall and was amply curved in all the places one could desire, a pair of huge breasts looking as if they could topple her tiny stature at a moment’s notice. Kathryn was pale skinned and fair haired; Shelley’s hair jet-black and worn in long curls, her skin a dark brown hue, the product of mixed-race parents. Kathryn had age over Shelley, her birthday falling a full week before her friend; but now that Shelley had turned eighteen two days previous, both were satisfied to be the same age for another year. It would be another matter that would cause their playful enmity tonight, one that had been the cause so many times before, and would continue for as long as they would know each other: boys. No. They were eighteen now. Men. “I bet I can get off with more men than you tonight,” Kathryn wagered as they prepared for the evening’s celebrations. She was standing in front of her full-length bedroom mirror, still wrapped in her blue dressing gown, straightening her hair. Shelley was sitting at the vanity table behind, in a black lace bra and panties, hair already done into her usual thick, curl-accentuating style, applying her eye makeup between sips from her wine glass. Her dark ruby lips left delicate stains on the glass. “I’ll take that bet,” she said. “What does the winner get?” “Pride,” Kathryn explained. “And more blokes than the other one.” Kathryn finished her hair and dropped the robe, running hands across her slender body, knowing that Shelley had the advantage when it came to breasts and behind; it never affected her chances too harshly, but she would love, for one evening, to have a pair of tits guaranteed to draw more looks. She looked at Shelley’s reflection in the mirror as the girl applied mascara, running her eyes over every curve, the huge swell of her breasts and the chasm of cleavage the tight bra gave her. Her skin was perfect, a shade perfectly balanced between ebony and ivory that men loved; they thought she was exotic. Everything about her oozed sexuality. Kathryn poured herself a glass of wine and turned to her wardrobe to select her final outfit. Unbeknownst to her, Shelley was looking at her in the reflection of her own table mirror. Shelley knew her body was appealing to men but she hated being so short; she saw the way men looked at Kathryn as soon as she walked into places, towering over others, perfectly thin and elegant. There wasn’t a spare ounce of fat on Kathryn, whereas Shelley had to work hard to keep her curves on the right side of chubby. She envied Kathryn’s stature, watching now as her friend sat on the bed amidst the mess of already-discarded clothes and reached into a nearby drawer, selecting a pair of rolled up stockings and dipping her pointed toes into them, rolling the fine black material up those perfect, endless legs. Kathryn pulled on her dress now, a short, simple black number with a high neckline that was rimmed with sparkling costume-gems. She turned her back to Shelley. “Zip me up.” Shelley did so, encasing her friend in the material for the night’s festivities. She smacked Kathryn’s right ass cheek in mischief. “You look gorgeous. I’m still going to win though.” “Oh yeah?” “Oh, definitely yeah.” Kathryn sipped her wine as Shelley finished her makeup and put on her own outfit, a figure hugging blue mini-dress that accentuated and exaggerated every plentiful curve, making her look like a petite, curvy shrink-wrapped present that any man would be desperate to unwrap. She admired herself in the mirror, pushing her breasts into position, her plunging neckline showing off the gargantuan cleavage. “We’ll see, bitch,” Kathryn said, draining the last of her wine. “We’ll see.” * The first club they went into was heaving, packed with bodies, drinking and dancing, and as they made their way across the threshold, their outfits and attitudes had the desired effect. Men were looking at them, eyeing them up, appraising their bodies and faces in a way that should have offended and upset them, but it didn’t. This was what they wanted: to be stared at, to be worshipped, to be considered goddesses amongst mortal girls. Both knew how to achieve power over men, but now that they were women in the eyes of society they had nothing to fear about doing something about it. Not that it had ever stopped them in the past; both had lost their virginities to boys who were long out of the picture, and had pursued other boys in the intervening years and months and notched up a range of sexual partners. Some of the primmer girls at college had called them sluts because they weren’t afraid of sex; why deny themselves something they enjoyed for the sake of propriety? Still – before hitting the eighteen-year milestone there was always wariness, an exciting danger, but a danger they were thankful had now fallen away, never to be missed. Being a slut before eighteen, while never a real problem, was a badge you had to bear in the face of mockery and scornful glances from other girls; now, as women, being a slut was a badge of honour. Being girls was exciting, but they were women now, and that was truly thrilling. They could do anything, because the simple fact was, while boys and men will chase and pursue girls, it is women that they really want. They fought their way to the bar, pushing in front of a pair of men in their late twenties, smiling suggestively to deflect any tension. “What are you girls having?” the taller of the two asked, predictably. “You, hopefully,” Shelley told him. “But vodka and coke will do for the time being.” The men bought them drinks and they drank them quickly, moving their targets into the dance floor and grinding against them. The men, whose names they never cared to learn, couldn’t believe their luck, least of all when each of the girls tossed each other a wink and moved in on their targets with a kiss. When they finally pulled away, both of the girls said they needed to visit the facilities and walked off arm-in-arm; the men fully expected them to return but they never did, exiting the club and moving on to another one. That was how it went, hopping from club to club, using nothing more complicated than a batted eyelash or seductive word to obtain drinks and scores in their game. Sometimes they would abandon a venue after notching up one each; at others they would relocate to another area of the club, a secluded spot or another floor, and continue their tally. The evening’s events altered slightly somewhat when they met Paul and his friend Joe. Kathryn had shared some classes at college with Paul. He was as tall as she, built without being too large, and handsome enough without being overtly cocky. Though not shy, he was quiet and collected, rarely speaking unless it was necessary. Kathryn had had a crush on him during their time at college together, or at least desire to let him take her in the common room, but he had always been with his girlfriend, whose name she couldn’t remember now. She had been a loud brunette who never seemed particularly suited to Paul’s tastes, but they had been together nonetheless. Paul was standing with Joe and another girl, though those two barely seemed to notice Paul was there, flirting and giggling and kissing like two d***k fools in love or lust, whichever was most likely to get them laid that night. “Why are you staring at that bloke?” Shelley asked, looking around for potential targets. “What’s wrong with him?” Kathryn argued. “Nothing’s wrong with him. He’s not exactly a stud, though.” “I never found out.” “Look at those two over there by the bar, they’re fit,” Shelley noted, but Kathryn had already walked away, heading straight towards Paul. “Oh, right then,” Shelley said. “I’ll fly solo with this one, shall I?” Paul saw Kathryn coming and he smiled broadly, genuinely pleased to see her. They hugged. “Kathryn!” he said, as if to reassure himself that he really did remember her name. “How’s it going?” “Ah, you know, not bad.” “You look great,” he said, looking her up and down, and she caught his appraising glance and felt lifted. “Thanks, so do you.” “Guys this is Kathryn, I went to college with her. This is Joe and Sally.” Joe and Sally greeted her with the kind of curt smiles that you give someone who is interrupting your important business, and went back to kissing. “Ignore them, they haven’t been together long. So what are you doing with yourself?” “Buy me a drink and I’ll tell you all about it.” “Thank you, you’ve saved me from being the third wheel.” They drank together while Shelley, somewhere across the bar, was busy boosting her tally by two. Kathryn listened to Paul as he told her what he was doing now, but none of the information really sunk in; he was nice, and polite, and gentlemanly, but the crush she had had at college had been purely physical, and that hadn’t changed. She didn’t want to be his friend, or his girlfriend, only his lover, and only once, or potentially on a few occasions, if he was good enough to warrant repeat sessions. “So, you’re single, Paul?” she asked. “At the moment. I broke up with Hannah a few months ago. You remember Hannah from college?” “Yeah, she was that mouthy bitch. You were so much better than her.” “I don’t know about that,” Paul said, wondering why Kathryn had now gripped the collar of his shirt. “I do,” she said, and kissed him. He was nervous, then relaxed into it, both of them tipsy now, their mouths tinged with the taste of alcohol. “Come with me,” Kathryn said, suddenly overcome. “Where are we going?” She led him through the crowd, blowing a quick kiss to Shelley as she danced with man who was the wrong side of forty; her friend looked back with a look of confusion that soon turned to realisation. Kathryn led Paul past a bouncer focused on a brewing argument between two young men, and pushed him through the door of the gents toilets. There was nobody currently inside and she dragged him quickly into a cubicle, dropping the toilet seat and making him sit down. “Kathryn, this is – ” Paul said breathlessly, brimming with nerves. She dropped her weight onto him, straddling him, feeling the bulge in his pants grow against her. “Paul, this is simple. Either you want this or you don’t. Do you want this?” “Well, yes, but – ” “Then shut your mouth.” He was taken aback by her bluntness. “I’m just not used to – ” She unbuckled his belt and plunged her hand into his trousers, straight to the strengthening rod within. He breathed harshly in response, his sentence forgotten. She slid his trousers and shorts down to his knees, releasing his caged member, standing proud, seven inches of sturdy meat awaiting her touch. She denied herself not a moment longer, bending at the hip. Her mouth sank around it, taking it as deep as it would go, almost to the root, where she gripped a firm hand and started to pump in a perfect rhythm with the movement of her mouth. Paul writhed at her technique. Her red lips slid up and down his length, tongue coating his dick with a film of saliva. He could feel something hard amidst the soft flesh of her tongue, and when she ran the tip of her tongue down his shaft he saw the glinting metal orb of her tongue piercing. Paul’s fingers clenched into fists and he gave an uncontrollable grunt. Kathryn knew too late what that signified, and felt the gush of his hot seed in her mouth, striking the back of her throat and causing her to swallow involuntarily. She pulled away and released the grip on his penis, further spurts of creamy white tonic dripping from his bulbous purple head and spattering onto his thighs. “Is that it?” she said, unable and unwilling to hide the disappointment in her voice. “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting that!” Kathryn wiped a trickle of semen from her lip and smeared it petulantly on his jeans. “That’s never happened to me before,” he explained. “I was just so turned on.” “Oh, don’t give me that,” Kathryn said. “It’s my fault for being so fucking sexy, is that it?” “I didn’t mean that, I just – ” Kathryn stopped listening to him, a fantasy unfulfilled, the only evidence of the encounter was the salty aftertaste on her tongue. “You,” she said, refusing to let this be the end, “get one more shot at this. I want to fuck you, and that’s that. If you’ve got a bit more warning, surely you can keep control over yourself a bit longer, right?” “I suppose,” he said, standing up and zipping up his trousers, trying in vain to wipe the soaked-in mess from his denim trousers. “Give me some time and – ” “Not tonight,” she said, pulling out her phone. “I don’t want you getting attached, or clingy, or broody. Give me your number and keep tomorrow night free, okay?” “Uh, okay,” he said, and he gave her his phone number. An awkward silence descended that he saw fit to break. “Should we go for a drink?” “I’ve d***k enough of what you have to offer tonight, I think,” she said, and strutted out, slamming the cubicle door behind her. * Kathryn and Shelley fell through the front door and into Kathryn’s bedroom, heads still abuzz with the evening’s delights. Shelley turned up the music and flicked on the bedside lamp as Kathryn poured the remainders of their pre-night-out bottle of wine into their two lipstick-stained glasses, and they danced together with the wanton abandon of two d***k girlfriends having the time of their lives. When the final burst of adrenaline had worn off they settled onto the bed, kicking off their high heels, drinking their wine and discussing the night’s events. “I think it’s safe to say I’m the winner,” Shelley said. “How do you work that out?” Kathryn contested. “I think thirteen is higher than eleven, don’t you?” “I think what I did in the toilet is worth way more than what you did.” “Nah, a bloke’s a bloke, doesn’t matter what you did with him – and I think Mr. Thirty Seconds isn’t even worth a full one.” “That was such a gutter,” Kathryn said. “I wanted to fuck him since college and he goes and blows it in just a few seconds.” “There’s always tomorrow,” she argued. “He’d better be good.” “So, thirteen to eleven. Face it, I’m the winner. I’m just a better catch than you.” “Fuck off,” Kathryn laughed. “No chance. They only want you for your tits.” “Here comes the jealousy. I’m a better kisser, too.” “I doubt that very much,” Kathryn said, sticking out her tongue, the ball piercing glistening in the lamp light. Shelley giggled. “You remember when you first got that and I wanted to see what it felt like to kiss someone with a tongue piercing?” “Of course I remember. That’s how I know I’m a better kisser.” “You’re off your head,” Shelley stated. “Come here, prove it.” “Sounds like a challenge,” she said, and eased her head in without any hesitation, their foreheads bumping, noses glancing off one another as their lips met clumsily, jokingly. Their tongues darted out once and struck; Shelley’s rolled briefly against the warm metal ball nestled on that bed of moisture that escaped Kathryn’s mouth. “You gay slut,” Shelley said. “Straight in there, no messing.” “We should totally do the lesbian thing on a night out once, it’ll drive the blokes mental. I bet we can pull no problem with a gay routine.” “We can pull no problem without it. You just want to get me into bed, don’t you, you naughty lesbian.” There was no threat or repulsion in her voice; this was a joke, obviously, two long time friends laughing about fantasies that would never come to pass. Shelley felt a tickling at the hem of her skirt and looked down to see Kathryn’s fingers gently pulling at the material, her thumb idly stroking the flesh above her knee, her red-painted nails clicking at the material of Shelley’s stocking. When she looked back to Kathryn’s face her pale companion was watching her own dancing fingers with a gentle smile, then raised her deep brown eyes to meet Shelley’s. “Stop mucking about!” Shelley giggled with faux-nerves. “Stop giving me that look.” “Why, is it getting you going?” “You should be so lucky!” “I know I would,” she purred. Shelley pushed her away now with playful aggression, throwing her thigh over Kathryn’s groin and straddling her, the base of Shelley’s blue skirt hiking itself up slightly as her legs parted to trap her friend between powerful brown thighs, exposing the perfect curve of her buttocks and the black G-string she wore. Shelley snatched up a pillow and hit Kathryn across the face with it without much f***e. “You dirty dyke!” she laughed. “I knew it, I always knew it! I bet you’ve watched me for years. Did you watch me getting ready tonight?” Shelley remembered craftily viewing Kathryn in the mirror, watching her pull on her stockings, and felt a strange thrill to think that Kathryn may have watched her at some point too, admiring her body. “Did you, you slut? Did it get you wet?” Kathryn wrestled the pillow away from her and threw it across the room, then quickly snared her by the wrists with her thin but powerful arms. Shelley struggled a moment then fell still, looking down at her friend. “I’m no lesbian,” Kathryn assured her. “I like guys too much. But is there anything wrong with being a little curious?” Shelley thought, dark eyes glowing with mischievous, seductive interest. “I suppose not.” What happens next? Read the rest of A Friendly Rivalry below… http://www.amazon.com/A-Friendly-Rivalry-ebook/dp/B00824ARGS/ http://www.amazon.co.uk/A-Friendly-Rivalry-ebook/dp/B00824ARGS/ Copyright 2012 Cameron Lincoln.