Can Do Ep. 02
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
The morning silence was broken by the sound of someone punching a heavy bag. To even the casual listener, it was obvious the person doing the punching had issues they were working out. Unsuccessfully, if the random growls and groans were any indication.
Trinity Stone tried to keep her concentration as she worked the bag. Low leg kicks, high leg kicks, jabs, left hooks… Then she’d think about Melanie and begin hitting the bag randomly as hard and as fast as she could, venting her anger and frustration on the thick leather surface with her weighted gloves. She’d regain control, panting from the exertion and begin once more, calmly, deliberately, until she thought of Mel and…
After ten minutes she gave up, still furious. She and Melanie had had another fight, as bad as any over the last six months. The old ways were returning just when Trinity thought the two of them had finally gotten over their mutual grievances. She ran a towel across her blonde cornrows and trailing braids, settling the thick cotton over her shoulders to control the latent sweat. Her sports bra and shorts weren’t completely soaked, but the heat of the early summer morning had given her body a glistening sheen. Too bad she was mad at Melanie. A good sweaty fuck would go a long way toward making her feel better.
The blonde walked slowly to the nearly empty house she shared with her manager and part-time lover–heavy emphasis on part-time–in the short intervals between when they hissed and spat like feral cats. Melanie and her husband had owned the house until Rick did a runner with all the money and a twenty year-old woman. He was now doing life in Costa Rica for selling drugs after the woman cleaned him out and split. As a result, Melanie got a divorce, the house, and all the debt.
After Trinity’s first victory in a sexfight six months prior, life looked better, and she moved into the big house so the two could share expenses. They sold most of the furnishings, keeping only a couple of large beds, something to sit on in the living room, and the 80-inch TV with the home theater in the ‘media room,’ where they watched high definition porn videos from bean bags. Within three months they’d cleared most of the house debt at the cost of having to live hand to mouth for all the time they were together. There was also a cost to Trinity, who had fights every two to three weeks, most of which she won, but on all of which Melanie made money, shrewdly betting for or against her. That was the source of many of the arguments, when the blonde objected to her manager betting against her. Mel told her to stop whining and be grateful she had a place to live.
Mostly, the five-bedroom, three-and-a-half bath house was silent on both levels. Unless, of course, Melanie and Trinity were fighting, and then the whole subdivision rang with the noise. Life was tense, the sex rough, with each woman often sporting bruises and bloody noses in the morning. Neighbors had called the police twice in the last six months.
The women were hermaphrodites of different kinds and temperaments. Trinity was muscular and trim, with a nice cock in front of her pussy, balls tucked in tight around the base of the shaft. Her breasts were full but not large, giving her a boyish appearance. Melanie had a smaller cock, about four inches when fully erect, with a moderate scrotum that hid her pussy. Her breasts were larger, rounder, with bigger nipples than the blonde. A narrow waist and pleasingly wide hips gave her a curvaceous appearance that made both men and women drool. For a while Trinity drooled, too. Until the brunette betrayed her–twice in the last week alone.
The first reason for their most recent fight sat on the couch in the living room in a lotus position, eyes closed, breathing deep and slow. Her face showed the family resemblance with Trinity, with a little more bulk and small lines forming at the eyes and mouth. Her blonde hair was worn long and loose down her back with the exception of randomly placed braids decorated with wood or glass beads. Her body was indeterminate, hiding inside an oversize shirt and a pair of balloon leg pants in delicate rainbow colors.
Melanie sat in the only chair, nursing a cup of coffee. She looked up when Trinity walked in and then looked back to her cup, face sour and turning more sullen by the second. She said nothing. The young blonde plopped onto the couch, causing the older blonde to rouse from her meditation and look around.
“Why is she still here?” Trinity asked with as much scorn as she could stuff into a normal voice.
“I’m here because you need me, dear,” the older blonde answered without any indication she knew her sister was angry. Melanie rose and stalked out, leaving the two women to argue in private.
“I don’t need anything, least of all from you, Wendy.”
“Willow, my name is Willow now, has been for about a year. And you do need help. I left the ashram as soon as I sensed it. Came straight here when Melanie sent me the money.” The older blonde flashed an irritatingly ısparta seks hikayeleri winsome smile.
“How much do you need?” Trinity said, looking at the empty fireplace. “How far do you need to go this time to get away from whoever is chasing you?”
“No one is chasing me,” Willow said expanding the peaceful twinkle in her eyes to her mouth, which only made her sister more angry. “When I told Yogi Maharesh of my vision he insisted I leave immediately, with his blessing. I called Melanie and she offered to pay for the flight.”
At this point Melanie walked back in the room, heard Willow confirm her as a co-conspirator, and sat down in the chair with a fresh cup of coffee, a rueful expression on her face. She seemed to be sorry. Not that it made any difference to Trinity. After the last time her sister visited four years earlier, when the police let them go for lack of evidence, they’d promised each other that they’d never get involved with Wendy–Willow–again.
“Why do you think she can help? I don’t need any help. Especially not from Satan’s spawn over there.” Trinity barely controlled her voice as she spoke to Melanie, pointing at her sister.
“Those days are behind me, Trinity. I’ve learned to reach my inner self and achieve a semblance of peace on this plane of existence. You, now, are desperately in need of some deep meditation and breathing exercises.”
“I am perfectly fine,” Trinity said, her voice rising in volume and pitch. “There’s nothing wrong with me–that a good fuck won’t cure. You know where I can get one of those?”
She looked accusingly at Melanie, who rose and handed her coffee cup to Wendy. There was no table in the large room, only the couch and chair.
I am not calling her Willow.
The brunette and the blonde stood nose to nose, eyes fierce, fists clenched, equal in height as well as anger. Melanie wasn’t trained as a fighter, but she’d never backed down from a confrontation in all the years that Trinity had known her. A sense of impeding violence descended.
“You ungrateful blonde bimbo,” Melanie snarled. “I fucked you whenever you asked in the last six months. And sometimes when you didn’t ask. You’d just poke that big schlong of yours between my legs and expect me to roll over and beg for more. I am not your fuck toy, bitch When did you ever think to ask what I wanted?”
“You never complained, cunt face. I took pity on your small dick and pretended I enjoyed having a stubby pencil wallow around in my pussy. Most of the time I couldn’t tell if it was in or out. Wouldn’t have made any difference. I don’t think you ever managed to get it hard enough to come.”
The two women pushed against each other, nipples and cocks mashed together.
“Am I not making enough you enough money from my fights, Mel?” the blonde growled. “Is that it? So desperate to be the ‘manager supreme’ that you bring here the one person in the world we both know is poison, because she had a vision that I was in trouble? Why not just kick me in the balls?”
“I would if I could find them!” Melanie’s fist rose to her waist.
Willow slid gently between the two women, handing the cup back to the brunette. “Violence solves nothing, girls. Melanie, why don’t you have a nice long soak in bubbles and come back in an hour or so? Trinity, you stay with me. We need to talk. Your aura is a mess.”
The tension in the room evaporated into an embarrassed silence as both Melanie and Trinity realized what had nearly happened. And who had stopped it. The brunette walked from the room, swaying her hips just enough to make sure Trinity noticed and watched.
When Melanie was gone, Wendy motioned her sister to sit on the floor in front of the fireplace. She sat opposite, legs in the lotus position, which she insisted Trinity do as well. Their knees touched. The older blonde stared at her younger sister for a few minutes, eyes seeming to unfocus. Her face screwed up into a combination of confusion and concern.
“Well! I never expected that. Your aura is largely brown and gray with significant splotches of red. And I mean splotches in a bad way. How do you sleep at night? Oh, never mind, Trinity, I think I can help, but you have to let me. Will you do that?”
“Yeah. I guess,” Trinity mumbled. If it’ll get you out of my life quicker, I’ll kiss Mel’s ass. I won’t like it, but I’ll kiss it.
Wendy unwrapped a necklace looped around her neck; some of it was withdrawn from inside her oversize shirt. The cord was very long and appeared to be woven hair. A nodule of amber hung from the cord. Willow adjusted the necklace, gave it a twist, and looped one end over Trinity’s head, so it made a figure eight between them, with the amber in the middle. Three small amber beads pressed gently into the neck of each woman. Trinity felt incredibly stupid, allowing her sister to get her into this position.
Trinity started to speak, but Wendy put a finger gently against her lips. “Silence helps the concentration. Take my hands and close your eyes. Think of blue and purple.”
The young blonde did as asked; her sister’s touch was disturbingly reassuring. This was, after all, the woman who had once convinced her stealing a car was OK if you returned it after a three-day joyride with a full tank of gas. Still, if this made Wendy/Willow leave, she’d play along.
For what seemed an eternity, nothing happened except her life spun about her at a dizzying pace. Workouts, fight schedules, keeping Melanie happy, managing the money and the lack of it, worries about getting hurt, fucking her opponents after a fight (which made Melanie unhappy), fucking Melanie (which made them both unhappy); all demanded her attention. She began to wonder why it was so complicated and so hard.
Trinity found herself listening to her breathing, wondering if she should be doing it fast or slow, deep or shallow. While she tried to decide her neck began to tingle, not unpleasantly, but as if someone were running their fingers along the join with her shoulders. It was warm and friendly and not unlike the way Melanie stroked her back when they…
She tensed at the thought, anger at the brunette returning like a hot coal in her chest. A calm voice said, “Concentrate.” She went back to thinking about her breathing. Soon the anger was gone and the tingling returned. This time when she thought about Melanie, it was just a pleasant memory of the last time they’d fucked without fighting–and a regret that they hadn’t done it lately. Though she was still angry, it was distant, like a thunderstorm on the horizon.
As she breathed, her life slowed down, surrounded by a comforting fog that not only hid her from everything but also hid all the parts of her life that she didn’t want to think about just now.
— What do you want?
The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Trinity didn’t recognize it, but it had a relaxed conversational tone. Unlike the constant accusing shrill that came from…
— It doesn’t help, you know. All the anger only pulls the knots tighter. Try again. What do you want?
“I want people to stop wanting things from me. Things I can’t give them.” Trinity was surprised that she accepted the voice as real. It was likely some drug Wendy soaked the necklace in and now she was hallucinating.
— I can always leave if you really feel that way. But I sense you need help. So… what things do people want? The things you can’t give them?
“More. Always more. Melanie wants more fights so she can get more money and more prestige. And Wendy, don’t get me started on her. She wants something, too. I don’t know what it is, I never do until it’s too late and then I’m screwed. They all want more. If I lose fights or get hurt then…”
— What do you want?
She thought about that for a while. It surprised her when she said, “I want to find the perfect fight, the one contest against an unbeatable opponent that will make people look at me and not think I’m still just a can.”
— A good fight. And if you lose this good fight?
“I want people to stop thinking I’m lucky or I’m only a little better than a lot of average fighters. If that happens, if people think of me as a smart, really good fighter, then even if I lose, well…” She thought for a moment and added, “I would like to win, though. Are you going to help me?”
— No. You are going to help you. All you ask for is within your power to give yourself. You just have to decide.
Trinity stood in a long hall lined with doors, all of which were cracked open. She realized she could go through any one of them, but only one, and she could never come back. At the end of the hall was another door, closed and locked. An enormous dial was mounted on the surface, white with black tick marks in a semicircle around the outside edge. It reminded her of something that measured pressure or the charge in a battery. On the left side was the word ‘No.’ On the right side was the word ‘Yes.’ A needle hovered at the top of the dial, on the ‘No’ side of halfway. The face of the dial was a swirl of brown and gray.
There were no knobs or buttons near the dial, not even a knob on the needle. Trinity knew, how she wasn’t sure, that she needed to move the needle. She grabbed the needle to pull it to the right, towards ‘Yes’ but let go almost immediately; the edges were sharp.
— You didn’t think it was going to be easy, did you?
The blonde bit off a snarky reply, it was no good arguing with a disembodied voice, and thought for a moment. She took off her sports bra and wrapped her hands in the material. She was able to move the needle to the ‘Yes’ side by several ticks until the sharp edges started cutting into her hands again. The voice was silent, apparently content to let her work things out. She looked around the hall; nothing to help her. With a determined sigh she slipped off her shorts and the athletic supporter, wrapping all the cloth around her hands. Naked, she pulled at the needle again. It moved slowly. As she pulled, ignoring the pain in her hands, she worked herself outward along the needle, gaining more leverage with each tug. The face of the dial began to change color; first yellow, then green, then blue, and then a mix of green and blue, with an occasional flash of red.
What about purple, she thought? Wendy said to think of blue and purple.
— Purple is hard to achieve. You might be here for years.
“You’re not helping,” she said to the voice, no longer caring that she was likely arguing with herself. “If you don’t have anything constructive to say, let me work.”
She took the silence for agreement and began pulling on the needle again. Her hands hurt but the cloth wrapping kept them from being sliced open. The needle was about halfway between the middle and ‘Yes’ and she was able to grab the end of it for maximum leverage. But the closer it got to ‘Yes’ the harder it was to move. She was beginning to sweat and her shoulders ached. The dial flickered red, yellow, green, blue as she struggled. Eventually she let go with the needle at more than 75%; nearly to Yes. As the needle moved, Trinity felt things move within her. The knots in her stomach, the ones she hadn’t noticed before, loosened. Her head stopped hurting. A comfortable itch settled in her crotch, making her nestled balls tingle and a small spot behind her eyes flickered–blue.
She was exhausted and her hands hurt; her clothes were shredded from the effort. She took deep breaths and hugged herself to ease the ache in her arms.
“I suppose I’ve failed,” she said to the air.
— Actually you did better than I expected. There’s a lot of blue. Now you need to learn how to keep the needle from moving back.
The voice and the hall were gone; she was seated in her empty living room, clothed, eyes closed, mostly relaxed. Only two things hovered around her now and the sudden realization of the simplicity of it all shocked her. If she worked out properly, she’d stay healthy and get a steady schedule of fights, which would take care of the money for Melanie. Suddenly she had more than enough time to keep Melanie happy, which meant she could fuck her opponents–even invite her manager into the mix. Now there was a thought. The tingle across her neck settled steadily down through her chest into her crotch, which gave her an enormous erection. It was all strangely calm; she felt energized, enlivened. She opened her eyes. She was alone.
The big room didn’t seem quite so empty when she got up, wondering how Wendy had removed the necklace and gone without her noticing. No matter. She felt wonderful; a workout was what she needed.
The muk yan jong rocked as Trinity practiced her precision, form, and power, starting her third thousand-rep set of hitting and blocking the three wooden arms and the single wooden leg. The calm she’d felt earlier stayed, focusing her attention. She was moving with more consistency, seeing each combination of hand, arm, and leg move as part of a larger dance. She’d taken up Wing Chun four months before as a way to protect against the more physical fighters she faced rather than as a means to attack or hurt. She was a sexfighter after all, not a brawler. Not anymore.
Even the minimal training she’d done had paid a huge dividend in her last fight. The opponent, female, not hermaphrodite, larger and more stoutly muscled, was expected to win and the odds were heavily in the woman’s favor. After fifteen minutes of energetic but pedestrian wrestling and only a couple of penetrations by cock or fingers, the woman launched a forearm at Trinity’s head, intending to stun her and win by riding Trinity’s cock until the blonde orgasmed or passed out. Either one was a victory.
Trinity blocked the arm instinctively, thanking her dedication and practice as the woman recoiled in shock and pain when she struck the blonde’s hardened hand. The advantage turned swiftly, with the woman flipped heels over head onto her back and then stretched out, legs splayed by Trinity’s strong thighs. The blonde’s cock slid into the damp pussy from behind, taking a few dark pubic hairs with it; then she enjoyed herself with a slow fuck, keeping one hand on the woman’s engorged clit and the other hand under the sweaty chin. The woman climaxed several times before sliding into passive acceptance. Trinity ejaculated in the limp cunt, pulling out to face her opponent, rub her semi-erect cock on the slack face, and, amazing herself and the small crowd, came again.
After the fight, she’d prepared for Melanie’s onslaught. No doubt her manager had secretly bet on her opponent to make a bit more than their fee–and lost it all. But the brunette was ecstatic; she’d decided her fighter was stronger and smarter and had bet all their winnings at huge odds. The evening had been raucous and sweaty as the women fucked at their hotel, staying an extra day so Trinity could show Melanie how she and her opponent had gotten into and out of several clinches. Purely to make sure her manager knew how well she was trained because a manager and her fighter didn’t fuck like that. Temporary sparring partners, now, they fucked like that all the time–and all day. A day later they were arguing again.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32