Supervixen Challenge - The Birthday Treat 1

Supervixen Challenge – The Birthday Treat

The office was going through a quiet period and the girls had been tasked with reorganizing the store room. Skinny Liz had to go pee, leaving Cara and Sandra alone in the narrow room. Despite being cat-fighting partners, the girls couldn't help seeing themselves as rivals, both were exceptionally proud of their large breasts and exquisite derrières. The rivals had always got along fine, but the bone of contention between them hinged around the fact that both thought themself hotter than the other, and both knew what the other was thinking in this regard. Although there was no lack of mutual admiration for one another’s figures, each babe was indignant at the thought of the other considering herself sexier.

Sandra was slightly the taller of the two, with long, straight, fair hair that was almost blonde. Cara was dusky-skinned and brunette, her facial features hinting at some Afro-Caribbean ancestry. She had long raven hair, the lustre of which made Sandra envious. Perhaps, a general consensus of opinion would lead to the conclusion that Sandra was marginally better-looking, while Cara was a little cuter. Cara was slightly more curvaceous, although Sandra’s figure had even better definition.

Space within the storeroom was restricted by the aluminium shelves, leaving only a narrow walkway in between. As the vixens moved to slide past each other, backs to the shelves, their breasts were unable to avoid contact. They paused, breasts squashing together, noses almost touching, breathing each others moist breath and eying one another like mating serpents. Each could feel the excited palpitation of the other's pounding heart. Neither vixen wished to break off the gaze and appear to be backing down, so they stood there frozen in a half embrace, aware of the synchronization as their breasts rose and fell together, each feeling the swollen hardness of the other's nipples.

The standoff was brought to an end by the sound of Liz returning, humming some jingoistic pop tune. The antagonists slid apart and went about their chores as though nothing untoward had occurred. Still, Liz sensed the sexual tension pervading the atmosphere and was fascinated by what might have passed between her buxom co-workers; she'd always wanted to see the two of them going at it full on, tit-to-tit. She tried to make small talk about the weekend ahead, looking forward to the regional cat-fighting championship, but found that her colleagues seemed preoccupied, lost in their own thoughts.

Ten minutes later it was time to knock off for the week and the girls went to fetch their bags and coats. Liz rushed on ahead giving Sandra a chance to address Cara in private. “Fancy a drink then, Cara?”

“Yeah, sure.” She replied. “Have you asked Liz?”

“No…” said Sandra cautiously. “Truth is I need to talk to you about something. I thought we might go back to my place and have a few glasses of Chardonnay.”

“Fine,” replied Cara decisively, sensing a challenge.

The vixens left the building, Sandra walking over to a silver, convertible E-type Jaguar with wire-spoke wheels, top down. Cara got into her Mini Cooper S with Union Jack roof. The engines were soon running and they drove out of the car park, Cara following Sandra.

Five minutes later, the cars pulled into the car park of a Co-operative supermarket. Sandra went inside to get what she needed, while Cara got out to admire the Jag.

The building next to the car park was under renovation and covered in scaffolding, along with builders showing the cracks of their arses above the waistlines of their jeans. The inspection of the car was interrupted by a chorus of wolf-whistles. Cara obliged the Neanderthals by lifting up the hem of her dress and giving them a glimpse of her perfect rear-end.

An elegantly dressed, buxom brunette in her mid-forties came sauntering across the car park, heels clicking rhythmically on the tarmac. She gave the Cara a dirty look as she walked past. Cara eyeballed her back. The mature Amazon got into her Mercedes A.M.G. Black and gunned the engine. As she drove past Cara, she wound down the window and paused. “I could have you,” she declared unashamedly.

She set off with a wheel-spin, Cara shouting after her: “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is, bitch?”

The minx thrust an arm out of the window and gave her the finger as she drove away. The builders gave out a resounding cheer. Just then, Sandra returned, carrying a couple of carrier bags.

One of the more confident Jack the lads on the scaffolding shouted, “Hey, girls, which strip club do you work at?”

“The one that turned down your bird,” Sandra returned instantly. Jack’s mates all turned on him jeering. He lost his grip on a bucket of rubble and it fell crashing to the ground.

Out on the main road, the vixens had to pause in the inside lane at a set of traffic lights. A white Transit van pulled up in the outside lane, next to Cara’s Mini. A smooth-looking wide-boy leaned out of the window to shout, “Now then, darling, fancy a shag?”

“Sorry,” Cara replied through the open window. “I’m not into hairy, sweaty arses.”

The lights turned amber, and as the Mini pulled away, the wide-boy shouted after it: “Fucking rug-muncher.”

Sandra pulled the Jag onto the drive of a semi-detached house and parked in front of the garage doors. Cara pulled onto the gravel patch in front of the bay window.

Cara followed Sandra into the house,imitating the exaggerated sway of her hips. The ground floor was open plan. Cara settled on the sofa, Sandra prepared a snack and opened the wine. They got into a conversation about how the size and firmness of their breasts varied, according to changes in weight and the time of the month.

Cara could tell Sandra had something serious to get off her impressive chest but guessed it would take a few glasses of vino before she worked up the courage. Nevertheless, she was intrigued and struggled to maintain her patience. Cara patronized Sandra as she indulged in small-talk, bitching about their bosses, talking about clothes and makeup.

Talk turned to the women’s cat-fighting club they were both members of. it was Sandra who had introduced Cara to the scene, yet although they were also work colleagues; they were hardly close friends, preferring to keep company with women who were not their equals. They loved fighting each other but, so far, neither of them had been able to prevail over the other. A typical fight between the two vixens would finish 2-1 with the loser evening the score in the next fight. Cara was stronger, but Sandra more skilful in cat-fighting techniques. Skirts and blouses were worn in the fights but both women fantasized constantly about dominating the other in a nude cat fight. The further the level of the wine bottle went down, the closer they gravitated towards each other, sliding along the leather sofa.

When the bottle was almost empty, Cara sensed that Sandra was preparing to get to the point.

“Come on, then, Sandra, spit it out.”

Sandra felt a little embarrassed and was finding it difficult to meet Cara's gaze. She drained her glass and took a deep breath before looking Cara boldly in the eyes. “It's Lee's thirtieth birthday tomorrow and I'd like to treat him to something special. It's always been his fantasy to have a threesome with two big-titted women. So, I was wondering if you fancied it?”

The coy expression returned to Sandra's face, accompanied by a shy smile. She forced herself to maintain eye contact.

Cara didn't bat an eyelid. A wicked grin formed on her full lips, “Why me?

“Because he saw you at the Christmas party and said he'd love to compare our bodies and see us getting it on together.” Cara remained silent for what seemed like an eternity to Sandra, she simply eye-balled her with that wicked grin on her face. Sandra raised her right hand to her forehead and shook her head slightly. “Oh God,” she let out a nervous giggle. “I know it's a mad thing to ask someone, just forget I mentioned it. You won't say anything, will you?”

Cara's grin broadened into a full smile. “All right, I'll do it, if you're sure that's what you want.”

“You will?” Sandra was both surprised and delighted.

“There's one condition, though,” Cara purred with a mischievous expression playing across her girlish face. “I wanna see what you've got, now!”
Inevitably, when two women agree to sleep with a man, they want to check each other out before he does.

Sandra returned the wicked smile and began unbuttoning her blouse, keen to show off the breasts she was so proud of. She removed the blouse and placed it across the back of the sofa, then reached behind her back to unhook the lacy black bra. The bra joined the blouse. Sandra sucked in her stomach and stuck out her chest for best effect, savouring the moment.

Cara placed her hands on Sandra's ribcage, just below her pale, heavy breasts. She stared at them in fascination. They were broad at the base but tapered into conical peaks, pert and well-defined for their size. The areolae were medium-sized and neatly symmetrical, a bubblegum-pink in hue and crowned with thimble-thick nipples the centre’s of which were slightly inverted. Cara guessed they were around a centimetre and half long and was impressed. No wonder Sandra was so keen to get them out. Slowly, she slid her hands beneath the soft undersides of Sandra's breasts and cupped them, methodically weighing them against one another.

'They're not identical twins,’ Cara said with satisfaction. “The right is considerably heavier than the left. Mine are better balanced.' When she brushed her thumbs across the thick nipples, the areolae puffed up into swollen cones. She pinched the nipples which hardly reacted and didn't seem that hard. Sandra let out a long drawn-out groan and sucked in air. “What size are you, now?” Cara was eager to know.

“34EE,” Sandra replied with pride.

Cara took Sandra's bra and checked the label, as though not believing her.

“Come on, then!” Sandra exclaimed enthusiastically. “Let's see what you've got.”

As Cara slowly unbuttoned her blouse, Sandra watched her face intently, searching for any sign that her competitor was intimidated by how well-titted ‘she’ was. But Cara's expression gave nothing away. The blouse was soon draped next to Sandra's, revealing a silvery-gray bra with a blue ribbon interwoven through the upper edge of the cups. Sandra was wishing she'd worn a fancier bra. Cara's deep cleavage looked awesome.

'They look awesome strapped up,” said Sandra. “That doesn't mean they'll be so impressive in the flesh.'

Cara stared confidently at Sandra as she removed the bra and pushed out her chest. They weren't quite as pert or well-defined and shapely as Sandra's, but they were broader and rounder, with a slightly conical shape at the ends. The coffee-coloured areolae had a larger diameter and were tipped with nipples that were a little shorter and not quite as thick, in comparison. Sandra cupped them and took the weight in her palms. Cara was gratified by the awed expression on her opponent's face.

“Wow!” Gasped Sandra, “They’re even bigger than I thought they'd be.”

Smiling, Cara cupped Sandra's tits again, smugly replying, “Actually, yours are smaller than I expected.”

“There's not that much difference,” Sandra returned, wrinkling her nose in irritation. She left Cara's breasts alone and checked the label in her fancy bra. “36F, that's only one size difference.”

Cara had always been proud of her large nipples and felt a little irked that Sandra had not only matched but bettered her in that department. The thick, pink stubs looked intimidating, yet Cara couldn't resist needing to find out whose were harder. She went for her guns, cupping her breasts and poking her nipples at Sandra's.
The dark nipples seemed rock-hard to Sandra as they picked on her pale-pink door stoppers. She cupped her own breasts and fought back desperately.

After a hyperactive explosion of duelling they calmed down and set about the task more methodically, poking the tips together. As the ends of Cara's nipples slotted into the inverted ends of her opponents, Sandra's suddenly swelled even larger and harder, the tips becoming convex rather than concave. Cara pinched her areolae with the tips of her fingers to compensate. Sandra followed suit and battle was joined in earnest. The vixenss were completely lost in concentration, nothing in the world mattered except conquering one another.

Eventually, Cara's nipples lost their blood pressure and became spent, buckling and being crushed into a concertina shape. She desperately avoided Sandra's jabs and concentrated on side swipes, hoping to get hard again. Mercilessly, Sandra kept poking away, determined to finish off her opponent.

Cara let out a grasp of frustration and began to slam the sides of her breasts into Sandra's, turning the duel into a tit fight. The sound of breasts slapping against breasts excited them both further, spurring them on to greater effort. They groaned loudly as though engaged in heavy manual labour, shimmying wildly until breaking off the fight as though through mutual consent.

They stared at each other defiantly, their magnificent breasts heaving from the effort. Cara's nipples had swollen once more during the tit-on-tit exchange, but Sandra's areolae had puffed up so much it was difficult to distinguish them from her nipples. The effect wasn't lost on Cara, who glanced in awe at what seemed like the giant nipples of her competitor. They began to massage each others tit flesh, in mutual admiration, but without admitting it.

“Your Lee must really love big tits and nipples,” gasped Cara, regaining her composure.

“He really loves 'my' big tits and nipples,” Sandra retorted proudly. “He worships them. He calls me his big-titted babe”

“What if he likes my tits better than yours?”

“I don't think so; he loves my tits too much. Anyway, I'm better-titted than you.”

“Yeah, but...” Cara grinned slyly. “I'm bigger-titted than you, most women would worry that they're boyfriend might prefer the bigger tits.”

Sandra smiled confidently. “I don't think you could take a man off me, Cara. No chance!”

The challenge excited Cara and caused her to smile back. “I honestly don't think your tits are big enough to beat mine, Sandra.”

“We'll see, chick. We'll see whose tits turn him on the most.”

Cara began to squeeze Sandra's tits, kneading the opulent flesh with clawed hands. Sandra gasped out her surprise and returned the favour. The tit squeezing ended in a draw as both vixens simultaneously released their grip and rubbed their injured breasts.

“Come on!” demanded Sandra, “Let’s take this upstairs.”

In the bedroom, they stripped off their skirts and skimpy panties. As Cara bent to remove the knickers around her ankles, Sandra gave her a hard slap on the arse.

“Ouch, you bitch!”

Cara tried moving behind her rival to get a clear slap at her buttocks, but Sandra turned with her, staying face to face. Cara surprised Sandra by slapping her exposed left breast instead. Sandra winced and cried out before setting her jaw, determined on revenge. As Sandra moved to return the slap, Cara caught her wrists and they struggled with raised arms, the conical tips of their breasts brushing together inadvertently, causing the nipples to become engorged once more. Frustrated with having her hands neutralized, Sandra slammed her tits against Cara's, almost knocking the wind out of her. Cara stumbled backwards but maintained her grip and pulled Sandra with her. They almost tumbled onto the bed but Cara braced her calves against the edge of the mattress and steadied herself, so she was able to push back. In concert, they both pulled back and then slammed their weapons of mass destruction together. The sound of the collision resounded through the room. Both girls felt the pain equally and groaned in unison. Sandra seized the opportunity to pull her wrists free and gave Cara's right breast a resounding slap. Now, they were both temporarily branded with the mark of the others hand. Off balance, Cara was unable to avoid a second stinging slap, but before Sandra could get in a third blow, Cara closed with her, forcing a bear hug tit fight. They locked their arms behind one another's backs, each gripping a forearm and flexing as tightly as possible. Each time the vixens breathed out, the embrace tightened. They squeezed like pythons, moaning and groaning as one, as both pairs of breasts and nipples attempted to occupy the same space.

“All right!” gasped Cara, “I can't breathe. I give.”

But the red mist of battle was upon Sandra and she wasn't inclined towards leniency. Cara had no choice but to use her weight to topple them both onto the bed.

They rolled across the mattress, one way then the other; fingers locked together, each struggling desperately to come out on top. At first it seemed that Cara would pin her adversary to the bed, till Sandra made an enormous effort and rolled her onto her back, pinning her hands and locking her feet around her ankles. The combatants paused to catch their breath, breasts heaving together.

Sandra's green eyes bored into Cara's hazel eyes.

“Do you give bitch?”

“No, never!” Cara declared. “It's not over yet. There's still tomorrow night. You can't beat me competing for a man.”

Sandra attempted to instigate a tongue fight but Cara avoided it by turning her head one way then the other. In vain, Sandra's mouth tried to follow Cara's, so she released her grip on the others hands in order to hold her head still. As Sandra attempted to force the tongue fight, Cara lightly bit her lower lip. Sandra yelped before biting Cara back, making her whimper. Cara yielded, opening her mouth to accommodate Sandra's eager tongue. As a prelude to the tongue-wrestling, they flickered the tips of their tongues at each others, before pressing them flat together, each trying to overpower the other. Cara didn't like being dominated by another woman, but she found herself incredibly excited by the experience. Sandra received enormous gratification from hearing the simpering whimpers of pleasure her opponent couldn’t suppress. Cara's tongue was longer but thinner and Sandra had the advantage of being on top, her broad tongue forced Cara's back as they both tasted the sweet metallic flavour of their mingling blood. Gamely, Cara refused to stop struggling, her tongue squirming furiously against her assailants. Still, before long, Cara began to feel suffocated and whimpered till Sandra relented, allowing her to gasp in air. As they gazed into each others eyes, something deeply primal passed between the two vixens, something which could not possibly be formed into words.

“Is this what you were thinking about?” Asked Sandra. “When we were tit-to-tit in the store room.”

“Not exactly,” Cara answered in a girlish voice. “But...”

“Something like it.” Sandra finished the sentence. “Ever since we met I've wondered if I could beat you. I know you were thinking the same.”

“Well... I suppose I knew it had to happen sometime.”

“You really love it don't you? I knew you'd love it.” Sandra's tone was almost resentful. “Don't forget though, bitch – I love it more than you do.”

“All right, then,” Cara’s eyes flashed the challenge. “We’ll get the match over tomorrow, and then sort it out, once and for all.”
Sandra began to grind her pubic bone on Cara's, producing a rustling sound as their pubes rubbed together. They soon synchronized their movements, Sandra's hips circling one way, Cara's the other, groaning as their magic buttons rubbed together and the love juice flowed freely. Sandra was simultaneously intimidated and aroused by the greater thickness and length of Cara's hardened clit.

“I can't wait for tomorrow night,” said Sandra.

“Me neither,” Cara assured her. “I still don't think your tits are big enough to beat mine, though.”

*

The Supervixens walked into the ex-church hall serving as the White Rose Vixens club. The centre of the carpeted hall was covered with blue wrestling mats. Around the periphery of the building, stackable chairs were arranged four rows deep. Already, most of the seats were taken. The club was organized exclusively by women, the only men to be admitted being invited by members. Most of the men sat furtively in the back rows, looking slightly uncomfortable and fidgeting in anticipation.

A murmur rippled through the audience as the Amazons sauntered in, Sandra wearing thigh-length, black leather boots, a leopard print mini skirt and a tight, pastel orange blouse with a frilled front, enough buttons undone to display her awesome cleavage. Cara wore knee-length, fawn-coloured, suede boots with a matching mini skirt and a plain white silk blouse hugging her breasts. They both carried Nike sports bags.

The babes swaggered across the length of the hall, rolling their hips, and passed through a narrow corridor between chairs to enter some double doors. Their opponents were already undressing in the changing room. One vixen was a tall redhead, a couple of inches taller than Sandra, with lean arms and a small waist, but broad shoulders and powerful looking thighs. She had the most stunning, wolf-like grey eyes. Like her partner she was stripped down to skimpy, white silk panties with a white sports bra struggling to contain her assets. She looked to be even more buxom than Cara. The other wildcat was a cute-looking, blue-eyed blonde, slightly shorter than Cara and not quite as buxom as Sandra. The visitors gave the home team an icy stare before continuing to don their fighting regalia, short, loose black skirts, black stockings and suspenders, and white blouses.

Sandra and Cara ignored the dirty looks and peeled down to their pearl coloured sports bras and French knickers. They had opted for a kind of St. Trinian’s schoolgirl look, pale-blue shirts and short, pleated hockey skirts in navy-blue, with white stockings and suspenders.

“If I’d known we were only fighting schoolgirls, I wouldn’t have bothered driving all the way over here,” Red informed Blondie sarcastically.

“I know,” said the cute one. “I thought we’d be taking on real women.”

Sandra turned towards their antagonists, fists clenched, but Cara grabbed her arm whispering, “Save it for the mat, chick.”

Just then, the changing room door burst open, slamming against the wall. In walked Artemisia, 42GG’s preceding her. She was dressed in a tweed pencil skirt and magnolia blouse, with a Victorian cameo broach pinned to her jutting bosom. Her chestnut-brown hair was gathered up and pinned on top of her crown, a loose strand dangling over her broad forehead. She blew at the strand in irritation to remove it from her vision. Artemisia was the White Rose’s senior referee because, at fifty-five years of age, she was the most experienced cat fighter in the club. Although she had grown plump over the years, her figure still curved in all the right places. Legend had it she'd never lost a tit fight in her life.

The matriarch stood before the opposing teams, hands on hips, thrusting out her bosom. She possessed all the authority of an intimidating headmistress. “Now, girls,” she spoke in a posh English accent. “I want a good clean fight with no petulant shenanigans, do I make myself clear?”

Even the Lancastrian hellions were humbled in Artemisia’s presence and demurred along with Sandra and Cara.

The Amazons followed the matriarch out to the arena. Their entrance was greeted with a round of enthusiastic applause. This was the biggest event the White Rose had staged in years. The fighting pairs took their place in the centre of the mat, either side of the matriarch. Silence fell over the hall as Artemisia prepared to speak.

“Ladies… and gentlemen. It is my great pleasure to preside over this inter-regional bout to decide the Northern Area Tag Team Championship. The first team to secure three submissions wins. She moved between the visitors to introduce them, raising an arm of each vixen. “From the Oldham Wildcats Club, we have the Lancashire tag team champions, Kelly (the redhead) and Petra (the blonde).” The crowd clapped their hands enthusiastically. Moving over to the home team, Artemisia repeated the ritual. “And from our very own White Rose Vixens, we have the Yorkshire champions, Sandra and Cara.” The applause was accompanied with whistles and cheers.

Artemisia, Cara and Kelly, moved to the edge of the mat leaving Sandra and Petra facing off. “Come on Sandra!” a girlish voice called out from the crowd. Skinny Liz had turned up at the last minute and was about to take a seat. She blushed self-consciously as the other members of the audience all turned to look at her.

“Let’s get ready to tumble!” shouted Artemisia.