The Woman a cockfight story Part 2
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The Woman (a Cockfight Story) Part #1 free porn video
The Woman (a cockfight story)…
The three of us found ourselves in the hot-tub late in the party. The other guests were s**ttered around the grounds - some in the pool, some in the sauna. Everyone nude - it was that kind of party. Couples paired off (sometimes threes, sometimes more) and went indoors. A few took to the bushes. Moans of pleasure rose like dark vines in the moonlight. Sex hung in the air, there for the taking. But we three were joined in a triangle of tension that had been developing nicely since dinner, when we found ourselves sitting together: me, this other man and The Woman. A triangle, one skilfully drawn out and engineered by The Woman - and one relished by my Rival and me.
She was lovely: blonde, willowy with large brown eyes that She took care to accent with a dark mascara. The curve of Her profile was sharp and her smile rose to her gleaming eyes whenever it appeared. And it had often during dinner. We gave Her much cause to smile. For the three of us had been seated at a far table – apart, alone, and away from the main stream of conversation and The Game had begun. There was much banter between me and the other man to begin with. As the hours wore on though, our mutual dialogue became more strained, more point-scoring and combative - this as we both strove to outdo each other in Her eyes. We jockeyed keenly for position, verbally parrying and thrusting, in a charged conversational attempt to impress and amuse Her and gain Her favour. But eventually we gradually grew silent as by mutual consent. It was obvious to The Woman that both we men wanted her and were not willing to share. She had sat back and languorously appraised us both, Her beautiful, but alert eyes traveling from one to the other. A sly smile as She regarded us. A crossing of arms, and a very seductive crossing of legs –‘ let's see’.
My rival and I locked eyes.
He was my height, my build. Handsome. Unlike pale skinned me, he was dark, and sporting a small moustache. A magnificent Negro. From a culture that emphasized honour and nobility of nature. Our eyes met and he nodded to me: take Her if you can. I nodded back. And The Game began.
During the silence that followed, we strove to remain cool as we each worked to distract Her attention from our rival. By smiles. Slight touchings. Some She welcomed, others She rebuffed. It was maddening! And delicious. The Woman appeared to favour one of us ... then would place this favour with the other, seemingly at whim. Just when I thought I had Her, She would tantalisingly switch her attention to my Rival and I would watch, aroused, as he moved to supplant me in her regard. Once, he took Her wrist, brought Her hand to his mouth for a brief kiss. This I countered by brushing my hand softly along Her back. Capturing Her eyes with a smile when She turned. Caressing her shoulder. Drawing my hand down her arm toward her hand. Then She pulled away from us both. She sat back. Arms crossed. Watching; evaluating us; planning.
A true ‘cat with the cream’. Let's see.
By wordless consent, we moved outdoors. We found the hot-tub. She slipped from her dress effortlessly and into the water, affording us a brief glimpse of her supremely feminine body. She sat back and watched as my Rival and I undressed. I appreciated the shape, the firmness of his body. I could tell he was a force to be reckoned with. When our trousers fell, our mutual arousal was obvious. Her approving, expectant sigh and throaty chuckle greeted the silhouettes of our straining erections under the moon.
We both entered the tub, but on opposite sides (She between us) by measured steps, neither one taking our eyes from either Her or our Rival. We entered the water and took seats either side of Her. And then we waited. Her eyes travelled searchingly from one to the other of us. Then She nodded.
We moved closer. As She had at the dinner table, she moved her eyes from one to the other of us. We wooed The Woman with smiles; contended for Her with light caresses - but only of Her hands, Her arms. Never more than this. For we knew to go closer to her intimate regions without Her invite, before She deemed the time right, might lessen us in her favour, and perhaps provoke a premature retaliation - a direct challenge - from our Rival. And this we would avoid, drawing it out until the final possible moment. For inasmuch as this was foreplay and a dance for the opinion of The Woman, it was also a foreplay, a skirmish, a dark dance with each other - in preparation for the battle that we both knew must come. The Woman would decide when it was time.
He whispered something. And She chuckled, her hand rising to his shoulder. He used this opening to wrap an arm around Her shoulders. She relaxed luxuriously into his embrace. They turned to me, Her eyes teasing me, taunting me, provoking me.
You want her? His eyes asked. Take Her if you can.
The Woman’s was thinking: Let's see.
I greeted his advance to Her with a throaty chuckle and a hard stare into the eyes of my Rival. Showing confidence, I actually increased the erotic tension by remaining apart and calm. She, it seemed, felt disappointed, deflated at my apparent reserve. My hands played across the surface of the water. His eyes shone, believing he had won. We’ll see.
I awaited my moment. And then chose it well.
As he turned to kiss Her, I ran my hand down The Woman's thigh, silky beneath the water, robbing him of her attention and drawing a husky gasp from her throat. She turned and I moved in, sliding an arm around Her waist and burying my face in Her neck. Her free arm encircled my shoulders. As I licked Her neck, She moaned softly, but my Rival's presence was there, lingering, just on the other side of Her yielding softness. I could feel the hardness of his body on the back of my forearm. And when my face came from her neck, he was waiting, ready to steal Her with a counter-move.
Gently but firmly, he took Her chin in his fingertips and turned Her face to his own. Gave Her a long and skilful French kiss. She moaned again deliciously. His arm encircled Her waist, touching mine. I felt the muscles of his forearm flexing aggressively...
Each of us wrapped a leg around one of Hers. Some style of tug-of-war perhaps - a tug of lust, with Her provoking quim presiding and holding court between us
We were a writhing triad of flesh and desire. As my Rival and She kissed again, I suckled her breast, drawing another gasp from Her. Her hand rose to cup the back of my head and Her face turned toward mine. I met Her mouth for a kiss. I saw with satisfaction, from the corner of my eye, my Rival's face darken and harden into a jealous frown. My delight surged. Her lips parted, Her mouth as soft as a bell flower. Oh! I gloried in Her mouth, in the intimate contact that was MINE! My Rival's hand slipped down her stomach under the water toward her waiting and expectant sex.
My hand met his briefly and forcefully deflected it.
Mine, all mine! Sensing this conflict, this opening of hostilities, The Woman tensed quickly with pleasure and a subtle, knowing grin briefly flashed across Her face.
Our kiss ended and Her eyes went searchingly from one to the other of us. Her unspoken question ‘who?’ hung in the air, teasing and inciting us. My Rival and I locked eyes. He nodded to me. And I to him. There could be only one. We knew. And She knew.
His hand cupped Her breast. Under my touch also, She quivered with the expectation of what She knew must come.
My face to Her neck.
And again, his hand. Traveling downwards under the warm water. I felt Her thighs parting, and sensed Her eagerness, Her wanton anticipation of pleasure ...
My hand met and deflected his again even more firmly perhaps than the last time. There was a slight groan of disappointment from Her and my Rival reacted with a low growl. With fists clenched we broke from The Woman and stood, facing each other waist deep in the water, nude, eyes locked, our erections livid and straining, our blood boiling with anger, with lust.
The Woman visibly started, her hands quickly clutching and caressing both her breasts and also her sex. She watched us animatedly, and Her body writhed in a frantic delight that She was unwilling and completely unable to conceal…
"Yes," She whispered. "Yes." “Do it!”
My Rival and I locked eyes.
I was more aroused than I had ever been my entire life. It was as if some powerful circuit of electricity emanated from me, through The Woman, to him, and back out to pulse through my loins. The power and strength of my erection was unbelievable - I hadn't had one this strong since I was a young man – the veins stood out plainly and angrily as my blood coursed through my fully engorged shaft. My heart raced and my breath came in deep heaves. A power had overtaken me - like demonic possession, something more intoxicating than anything I'd ever experienced before. My stomach boiled and my nerves were a contradictory mass of fear - yes anxious fear, and uncertainty too - and all tempered by a need, a desire filled excitement to best a sexual Rival, an antagoniser of my pride, my very prowess. But more than anything …
Lust. I was filled with a pure and furious savage lust.
My Rival and I both seemed to have a battle fever, a need for combat so strong it was like an erotic drive. The Woman was of course all too aware of this. It was what She had wanted, indeed, what She had intentionally cultivated within us all day. Her face beamed, Her excited and cruel eyes eagerly flitting from the cock of one would be partner to the other. My erection was as much for my Rival as for Her. I longed to get my hands on him and ... not KILL him, (though I felt I could), but to DOMINATE him. In front of Her. In front of Her very eyes. To SHOW The Woman, make Her see, beyond the shadow of a doubt, who was to be Master. I was determined it would be me.
He raised his arms from the water, fingers clawed, and held them over his head, fists opening and closing. Challenging, threatening. I did the same and our hands reached out for those of our opponent. The Woman gasped and purred with excitement as we came together in a test of strength. We braced our legs beneath the water, set our shoulders and struggled silently, grappling to subdue each other as She looked on, giggling and encouraging us, clapping Her hands with growing glee.
He was strong.
I felt a pleasant burn develop in the muscles of my shoulders and forearms as our hands and grappled together. Neither of us was able to break the grip of the other - or force him back. We shifted positions. Began again. Bore down on each other. My Rival's erection was a presence – an angry dark scimitar, just below the water, a foot in front of my own, and his breath came in a hiss from his clenched teeth. Our gazes were locked only inches away. As he forced my hands down and back an inch or so, I felt an erotic surge of power through me which met and resisted his force. I pressed him back to neutral position and then further. Two inches. Then three. He braced his legs, moved, and suddenly we were chest to chest, hands still locked, our blood filled erections touching, jostling, striving against each other in a battle all their own.
The Woman saw all, smiled, and rapturously moaned.
That sound from Her - a breathless, pleasure filled, taunting, mating call - energized both of us. We struggled ever harder. Knowing the test of strength would never be enough. We had to change to something more conclusive. Slowly, we drew back as if by mutual consent. Eyes still locked, we began nodding to one another as the understanding grew between us. Yes. Yes. We had met and tasted the strength of the other. Now our battle had to move, escalate, to a new level. A higher and greater new level.
We unclasped our straining hands and, panting heavily, drew apart. Still nodding, our eyes never leaving each other’s'. We climbed from the hot-tub, the water drip, dripping from the ends of our cocks, and went purposefully to the sandy strip of ground nearby, our wet bodies, heaving, and gleaming in the moonlight.
"Wait."
The Woman hurriedly slid from the water and over to a towel on which someone had left a bottle of body oil. Guided by some instinct - ancient, unspoken - She moved between us, separating us until we stood half a dozen feet apart. Magnificent in Her nakedness, with Her heaving breasts and swollen sex, She looked from one to the other of us with the eyes of a Goddess. If there had ever been any doubt, now there was none. She was perfectly in control of this – it was Her spectacle. She was The Mistress of our struggle. And it would be She only who decided how the contest would proceed from here. She wanted it to be how She wanted it to be.
Oiling up Her hands, She took position, stood between us like a Hind between two Stags, and then beckoned us toward Her.
My Rival and I stepped to within a few feet of each other. The Woman allowed Her hands to fall, one to each of our still erect phalluses. Under her teasing caresses, my Rival gasped in an effort of control. I hid my struggle better, but felt the same. Life, cum, blood, sex, thundered through my veins, pulsing through my cock, eager to be loose. Suddenly, a new understanding rose within me. This was no longer just about sex. There was something more here. This was a mating, a selection. This was power. This was the thread of life, continuing. Two men contend, but only one can prevail.
I met The Woman's eyes. Nodded my understanding. Then She turned to my Rival, who, to Her obvious satisfaction, did the same. Then he turned to meet my glare with his own. And we knew.
The Woman would accept the winner.
Accept him, and his essence. His spunk.
We maintained the glare as She moved from one to the other of us, slathering our bodies with the oil that would lubricate our wrestle. The friction and struggle would require an effort on both our parts not to climax, with the rub of body on body, not to come - but that was fine. We understood the power of endurance, of control, was part of Her measure of our strength, our worth. I found it difficult not to intervene, not, in my jealousy, to suddenly fall savagely upon him, as I watched Her oil up Her own body and seductively rub against his – Her preliminary before our main contest. To prepare him both with oil and incite his passions. She wrapped her arms around his waist and began to work his back and sides with her oiled crests, Her hands feathering back now and then to touch his stiffened member. My Rival glowed under Her hands, Her rosebud nippled breasts. He taunted me with his eyes as She pampered and provoked him. I growled, jealous, enraged. Just as I could maintain it no longer She broke from him...
(contd.)
The three of us found ourselves in the hot-tub late in the party. The other guests were s**ttered around the grounds - some in the pool, some in the sauna. Everyone nude - it was that kind of party. Couples paired off (sometimes threes, sometimes more) and went indoors. A few took to the bushes. Moans of pleasure rose like dark vines in the moonlight. Sex hung in the air, there for the taking. But we three were joined in a triangle of tension that had been developing nicely since dinner, when we found ourselves sitting together: me, this other man and The Woman. A triangle, one skilfully drawn out and engineered by The Woman - and one relished by my Rival and me.
She was lovely: blonde, willowy with large brown eyes that She took care to accent with a dark mascara. The curve of Her profile was sharp and her smile rose to her gleaming eyes whenever it appeared. And it had often during dinner. We gave Her much cause to smile. For the three of us had been seated at a far table – apart, alone, and away from the main stream of conversation and The Game had begun. There was much banter between me and the other man to begin with. As the hours wore on though, our mutual dialogue became more strained, more point-scoring and combative - this as we both strove to outdo each other in Her eyes. We jockeyed keenly for position, verbally parrying and thrusting, in a charged conversational attempt to impress and amuse Her and gain Her favour. But eventually we gradually grew silent as by mutual consent. It was obvious to The Woman that both we men wanted her and were not willing to share. She had sat back and languorously appraised us both, Her beautiful, but alert eyes traveling from one to the other. A sly smile as She regarded us. A crossing of arms, and a very seductive crossing of legs –‘ let's see’.
My rival and I locked eyes.
He was my height, my build. Handsome. Unlike pale skinned me, he was dark, and sporting a small moustache. A magnificent Negro. From a culture that emphasized honour and nobility of nature. Our eyes met and he nodded to me: take Her if you can. I nodded back. And The Game began.
During the silence that followed, we strove to remain cool as we each worked to distract Her attention from our rival. By smiles. Slight touchings. Some She welcomed, others She rebuffed. It was maddening! And delicious. The Woman appeared to favour one of us ... then would place this favour with the other, seemingly at whim. Just when I thought I had Her, She would tantalisingly switch her attention to my Rival and I would watch, aroused, as he moved to supplant me in her regard. Once, he took Her wrist, brought Her hand to his mouth for a brief kiss. This I countered by brushing my hand softly along Her back. Capturing Her eyes with a smile when She turned. Caressing her shoulder. Drawing my hand down her arm toward her hand. Then She pulled away from us both. She sat back. Arms crossed. Watching; evaluating us; planning.
A true ‘cat with the cream’. Let's see.
By wordless consent, we moved outdoors. We found the hot-tub. She slipped from her dress effortlessly and into the water, affording us a brief glimpse of her supremely feminine body. She sat back and watched as my Rival and I undressed. I appreciated the shape, the firmness of his body. I could tell he was a force to be reckoned with. When our trousers fell, our mutual arousal was obvious. Her approving, expectant sigh and throaty chuckle greeted the silhouettes of our straining erections under the moon.
We both entered the tub, but on opposite sides (She between us) by measured steps, neither one taking our eyes from either Her or our Rival. We entered the water and took seats either side of Her. And then we waited. Her eyes travelled searchingly from one to the other of us. Then She nodded.
We moved closer. As She had at the dinner table, she moved her eyes from one to the other of us. We wooed The Woman with smiles; contended for Her with light caresses - but only of Her hands, Her arms. Never more than this. For we knew to go closer to her intimate regions without Her invite, before She deemed the time right, might lessen us in her favour, and perhaps provoke a premature retaliation - a direct challenge - from our Rival. And this we would avoid, drawing it out until the final possible moment. For inasmuch as this was foreplay and a dance for the opinion of The Woman, it was also a foreplay, a skirmish, a dark dance with each other - in preparation for the battle that we both knew must come. The Woman would decide when it was time.
He whispered something. And She chuckled, her hand rising to his shoulder. He used this opening to wrap an arm around Her shoulders. She relaxed luxuriously into his embrace. They turned to me, Her eyes teasing me, taunting me, provoking me.
You want her? His eyes asked. Take Her if you can.
The Woman’s was thinking: Let's see.
I greeted his advance to Her with a throaty chuckle and a hard stare into the eyes of my Rival. Showing confidence, I actually increased the erotic tension by remaining apart and calm. She, it seemed, felt disappointed, deflated at my apparent reserve. My hands played across the surface of the water. His eyes shone, believing he had won. We’ll see.
I awaited my moment. And then chose it well.
As he turned to kiss Her, I ran my hand down The Woman's thigh, silky beneath the water, robbing him of her attention and drawing a husky gasp from her throat. She turned and I moved in, sliding an arm around Her waist and burying my face in Her neck. Her free arm encircled my shoulders. As I licked Her neck, She moaned softly, but my Rival's presence was there, lingering, just on the other side of Her yielding softness. I could feel the hardness of his body on the back of my forearm. And when my face came from her neck, he was waiting, ready to steal Her with a counter-move.
Gently but firmly, he took Her chin in his fingertips and turned Her face to his own. Gave Her a long and skilful French kiss. She moaned again deliciously. His arm encircled Her waist, touching mine. I felt the muscles of his forearm flexing aggressively...
Each of us wrapped a leg around one of Hers. Some style of tug-of-war perhaps - a tug of lust, with Her provoking quim presiding and holding court between us
We were a writhing triad of flesh and desire. As my Rival and She kissed again, I suckled her breast, drawing another gasp from Her. Her hand rose to cup the back of my head and Her face turned toward mine. I met Her mouth for a kiss. I saw with satisfaction, from the corner of my eye, my Rival's face darken and harden into a jealous frown. My delight surged. Her lips parted, Her mouth as soft as a bell flower. Oh! I gloried in Her mouth, in the intimate contact that was MINE! My Rival's hand slipped down her stomach under the water toward her waiting and expectant sex.
My hand met his briefly and forcefully deflected it.
Mine, all mine! Sensing this conflict, this opening of hostilities, The Woman tensed quickly with pleasure and a subtle, knowing grin briefly flashed across Her face.
Our kiss ended and Her eyes went searchingly from one to the other of us. Her unspoken question ‘who?’ hung in the air, teasing and inciting us. My Rival and I locked eyes. He nodded to me. And I to him. There could be only one. We knew. And She knew.
His hand cupped Her breast. Under my touch also, She quivered with the expectation of what She knew must come.
My face to Her neck.
And again, his hand. Traveling downwards under the warm water. I felt Her thighs parting, and sensed Her eagerness, Her wanton anticipation of pleasure ...
My hand met and deflected his again even more firmly perhaps than the last time. There was a slight groan of disappointment from Her and my Rival reacted with a low growl. With fists clenched we broke from The Woman and stood, facing each other waist deep in the water, nude, eyes locked, our erections livid and straining, our blood boiling with anger, with lust.
The Woman visibly started, her hands quickly clutching and caressing both her breasts and also her sex. She watched us animatedly, and Her body writhed in a frantic delight that She was unwilling and completely unable to conceal…
"Yes," She whispered. "Yes." “Do it!”
My Rival and I locked eyes.
I was more aroused than I had ever been my entire life. It was as if some powerful circuit of electricity emanated from me, through The Woman, to him, and back out to pulse through my loins. The power and strength of my erection was unbelievable - I hadn't had one this strong since I was a young man – the veins stood out plainly and angrily as my blood coursed through my fully engorged shaft. My heart raced and my breath came in deep heaves. A power had overtaken me - like demonic possession, something more intoxicating than anything I'd ever experienced before. My stomach boiled and my nerves were a contradictory mass of fear - yes anxious fear, and uncertainty too - and all tempered by a need, a desire filled excitement to best a sexual Rival, an antagoniser of my pride, my very prowess. But more than anything …
Lust. I was filled with a pure and furious savage lust.
My Rival and I both seemed to have a battle fever, a need for combat so strong it was like an erotic drive. The Woman was of course all too aware of this. It was what She had wanted, indeed, what She had intentionally cultivated within us all day. Her face beamed, Her excited and cruel eyes eagerly flitting from the cock of one would be partner to the other. My erection was as much for my Rival as for Her. I longed to get my hands on him and ... not KILL him, (though I felt I could), but to DOMINATE him. In front of Her. In front of Her very eyes. To SHOW The Woman, make Her see, beyond the shadow of a doubt, who was to be Master. I was determined it would be me.
He raised his arms from the water, fingers clawed, and held them over his head, fists opening and closing. Challenging, threatening. I did the same and our hands reached out for those of our opponent. The Woman gasped and purred with excitement as we came together in a test of strength. We braced our legs beneath the water, set our shoulders and struggled silently, grappling to subdue each other as She looked on, giggling and encouraging us, clapping Her hands with growing glee.
He was strong.
I felt a pleasant burn develop in the muscles of my shoulders and forearms as our hands and grappled together. Neither of us was able to break the grip of the other - or force him back. We shifted positions. Began again. Bore down on each other. My Rival's erection was a presence – an angry dark scimitar, just below the water, a foot in front of my own, and his breath came in a hiss from his clenched teeth. Our gazes were locked only inches away. As he forced my hands down and back an inch or so, I felt an erotic surge of power through me which met and resisted his force. I pressed him back to neutral position and then further. Two inches. Then three. He braced his legs, moved, and suddenly we were chest to chest, hands still locked, our blood filled erections touching, jostling, striving against each other in a battle all their own.
The Woman saw all, smiled, and rapturously moaned.
That sound from Her - a breathless, pleasure filled, taunting, mating call - energized both of us. We struggled ever harder. Knowing the test of strength would never be enough. We had to change to something more conclusive. Slowly, we drew back as if by mutual consent. Eyes still locked, we began nodding to one another as the understanding grew between us. Yes. Yes. We had met and tasted the strength of the other. Now our battle had to move, escalate, to a new level. A higher and greater new level.
We unclasped our straining hands and, panting heavily, drew apart. Still nodding, our eyes never leaving each other’s'. We climbed from the hot-tub, the water drip, dripping from the ends of our cocks, and went purposefully to the sandy strip of ground nearby, our wet bodies, heaving, and gleaming in the moonlight.
"Wait."
The Woman hurriedly slid from the water and over to a towel on which someone had left a bottle of body oil. Guided by some instinct - ancient, unspoken - She moved between us, separating us until we stood half a dozen feet apart. Magnificent in Her nakedness, with Her heaving breasts and swollen sex, She looked from one to the other of us with the eyes of a Goddess. If there had ever been any doubt, now there was none. She was perfectly in control of this – it was Her spectacle. She was The Mistress of our struggle. And it would be She only who decided how the contest would proceed from here. She wanted it to be how She wanted it to be.
Oiling up Her hands, She took position, stood between us like a Hind between two Stags, and then beckoned us toward Her.
My Rival and I stepped to within a few feet of each other. The Woman allowed Her hands to fall, one to each of our still erect phalluses. Under her teasing caresses, my Rival gasped in an effort of control. I hid my struggle better, but felt the same. Life, cum, blood, sex, thundered through my veins, pulsing through my cock, eager to be loose. Suddenly, a new understanding rose within me. This was no longer just about sex. There was something more here. This was a mating, a selection. This was power. This was the thread of life, continuing. Two men contend, but only one can prevail.
I met The Woman's eyes. Nodded my understanding. Then She turned to my Rival, who, to Her obvious satisfaction, did the same. Then he turned to meet my glare with his own. And we knew.
The Woman would accept the winner.
Accept him, and his essence. His spunk.
We maintained the glare as She moved from one to the other of us, slathering our bodies with the oil that would lubricate our wrestle. The friction and struggle would require an effort on both our parts not to climax, with the rub of body on body, not to come - but that was fine. We understood the power of endurance, of control, was part of Her measure of our strength, our worth. I found it difficult not to intervene, not, in my jealousy, to suddenly fall savagely upon him, as I watched Her oil up Her own body and seductively rub against his – Her preliminary before our main contest. To prepare him both with oil and incite his passions. She wrapped her arms around his waist and began to work his back and sides with her oiled crests, Her hands feathering back now and then to touch his stiffened member. My Rival glowed under Her hands, Her rosebud nippled breasts. He taunted me with his eyes as She pampered and provoked him. I growled, jealous, enraged. Just as I could maintain it no longer She broke from him...
(contd.)
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