The queen of the industry

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Marking Dominance

Naomi, a single woman in her early 30s, took in a young woman who was in dire financial straits. Lilu works as a stripper, so Naomi felt obligated to help, as she herself once worked in this profession before going to college and pursuing a successful career.

Coming home from work one afternoon, Naomi watched from the kitchen window as Lilu trained on a pole in the garden. Until now, the two women had largely avoided each other, as they had different daily routines. Lilu worked at night and slept during the day, while for Naomi, it was the other way around. But today, Lilu had her day off, which she spent in the garden. Lilu noticed she was being watched, but made no attempt to interrupt her exercises. Instead, Naomi registered a challenging glint in Lilu's eyes and provocative nuances in her movements.

"Amateur," Naomi thought to herself, as she critically examined her pole exercises. After several minutes, which Lilu and Naomi spent gazing more and more deeply into each other's eyes, Naomi left the kitchen window and went into the bathroom to treat herself to a relaxing, hot bath.

But lying naked in the tub, she could think of nothing but Lilu's erotic performance. Inevitably, she began to touch herself, caressing her clit with her fingers while letting the steamy fantasies in her head run wild. In her mind, Naomi dug her clit deep between Lilu's labia until, squealing and shaking all over, Lilu climaxed - and thus she marked the dominance in her own home.

But suddenly, Naomi was torn from her daydream when Lilu strutted into the bathroom stark naked. She sat on the edge of the tub and gazed hungrily at Naomi's swollen labia and hard clit.

"I see you enjoyed my show. I'm glad that you're already open for me, you horny slut. What do you think? You used to be a stripper, just like me. You've probably been with countless women. You're fucking hot! I wanna know what your pussy can do - what she's got. And I'm going to prove to you that you can't hold a candle to me," Lilu commented.

Naomi knew it. It was obvious Lilu was up to something. It was as if her fantasy had suddenly manifested from her mind into reality. She couldn't help but accept her seductive challenge. With a flick of her finger, Naomi signaled Lilu to join her in the tub.

"I'm going to conquer you in your own home," Lilu whispered confidently, before the two women shared a long, passionate kiss, thus beginning their contest.

They spread their legs and brought their vulvas together vigorously, causing the water to splash between their thighs like spray from a rocky cliff. Their clits quickly found the perfect angle, so that pleasure spiraled uncontrollably from the very first moment. The two experienced Sapphic lovemakers gave it their all to trib an orgasm out of their opponents. And they did. Again and again, late into the night. From the bathtub, across the couch and the carpet, to Naomi's bed, where the final, knock-out climaxes were finally delivered.

It was a fight that couldn't have been more fierce. Spent and satisfied like never before, they declared themselves equals and the battle over. But the desire wasn't yet completely exhausted. They sat opposite each other with their legs wide apart and began to watch one another masturbate, squeezing every last drop of arousal out of themselves thanks to the images of their sexfight in their heads and the sight of each other here and now...

Aqueous Challenge

"The fading light glows orange on the water's surface while my shift is coming to an end and I'm preparing to go home.

My gaze drifted toward the pool – empty, or so I thought. Movement flickered near the shallow end. Two figures, barely visible through the gathering dusk and palm fronds. Guests weren't supposed to swim after sunset. Safety protocols. I should announce myself.

The words died in my throat. They weren't swimming.

Their thighs just below the turquoise water surface, two women facing each other naked, legs crossed, their bikinis lying discarded on the pool steps like battle flags left behind.

My breath hitches. I duck slightly behind a potted palm, pulse thudding in my ears. It’s the brunettes from Room 214 – the ones who arrived this morning giggling, arms linked, smelling like coconut sunscreen. Now? Now they’re locked together like fighters in some wet, forbidden arena.

Their pussies grinding together, a fierce mixing of sensuous fluids, accompanied by the splashing of water, aroused moans and mutual insults.

Their eyes are locked. No playful smiles now. Just raw, primal challenge. The one brunette surges forward again, harder, her clit wrestling with the other one’s. The water swirls around their joined thighs. Their pussies slap together wetly with each forceful grind, a slick, rhythmic sound.

It’s a fight. A desperate, beautiful contest where the only victory is the opponent’s ecstasy. I shouldn’t be watching. My cheeks burn. But my feet won’t move. It’s utterly captivating…"

Why women should sexfight

A key question for many who've not yet had any contact with woman-to-woman sexfighting is: what's the point of it? Why fight against orgasm when it's what you strive for in every other consensual sexual situation you can think of?

One major appeal lies in the tension between reaching shared, lustful heights and simultaneous competition for sexual control. In a sexfight, it's not about denying yourself or your opponent pleasure but weaponizing it. The goal is to make the other woman unravel first, to force her into that helpless, trembling climax while you remain as steadfast as you possibly can.

It's that very special feeling of success after a victorious duel, knowing that you were not only able to satisfy the other woman first, but that you were also able to keep your own libido in check – especially when your rival proved to be on par and you fucked bitterly for the decisive cum until the very last second.

In a contest of physical strength, it is not complicated to emerge victorious. But the raw intimacy of a sexfight and the cocktail of different emotions – arousal, anger, affection, aversion, self-confidence, self-doubt – require a high degree of self-control, seduction skills, and practiced handling of a woman's erogenous zones.

Another special feature of this martial art is that two women can practice it, regardless of their relationship to each other: rivals can continue to hate one another despite having made each other cum; lovers can vent any emotions non-violently and lie in each other's arms again after settling their disagreement; friends can explore the depths of their bond while exuberantly engaging in a fun test of strength. Whether you are girlfriends, colleagues, yoga partners, or want to explore your lesbian fantasies for the first time – anyone can sexfight each other if the chemistry is right.

You know she won’t stop until you’re wrecked – until you both lie next to each other sweat-slicked, and she basks in her triumph at your expense. But not today!  Her orgasm will be your trophy. Proof you made her lose control before you did. There is absolutely nothing wrong with burying the hatchet afterwards and continuing your togetherness in a much tender manner. But not before you've proven something to her and yourself.

Secret Desire

Living out lesbian sexuality is not welcomed everywhere in the world. But that shouldn't stop any woman from giving free rein to her desires. Dewi (red-haired) and Jaya (brunette) have known each other for years. Their relationship can be described as rocky. From friendship to ultimately enmity, they have had almost every possible relationship so far. But for some time now, there has been a sexual tension in their verbal exchanges that they hadn't felt in a long time.

Their picture-perfect rivalry suddenly became steamy whenever they met. And as is always the case with sexually charged hostilities, it had to boil over at some point. A sexfight was now inevitable.

To escape curious or judgmental eyes and ears, they retreated to the normally locked roof of the apartment complex where they lived. It was hot and wet that evening, just like Jaya and Dewi. The setting sun bathed their feminine, naked bodies in a pleasant light. As they opened their thighs to each other and let their vulvas and clits meet, Dewi and Jaya felt this slippery interplay begin to unleash their lust. This wasn't the first time they had been so intimate with each other. Even as teenagers, they had experimented with what two women could do together in bed. But today it was no longer a game, but pure, sensual seriousness.

They tried not to be too loud so as not to attract unnecessary attention, but they couldn't and didn't want to suppress their moans. It simply aroused them too much to perceive with all their senses how they were doing it hard to each other, as only two lesbians in competition could. They explored corners of their desire that could only be penetrated with the ferocity of a sexfight. Clinching like two exhausted boxers, they tried to show each other that only one could be the better – and both claimed this title for themselves...

Olympic Village

Los Angeles, Summer 2028 – The Olympic Village during the Games is notorious for hosting intimate encounters between athletes from all over the world. This is not surprising when you consider that many athletic, attractive people live in one place for several weeks and sometimes a lot of time passes between individual competitions.

Brazilian beach volleyball player Fernanda (right) and Puerto Rican artistic gymnast Márcia (left) felt an instant attraction the first time they lay eyes on each other. Almost every evening they met for hot, wet lesbian sex that couldn't have been more orgasmic. But then Scottish sport climber Kirstin caught the attention of the two Sapphic Latinas. Both wanted her, neither was willing to share, and thus their sexual relationship fell apart. However, that didn't mean their thighs closed for each other.

Márcia and Fernanda spent one last passionate evening together, fucking each other like never before, but this time not to reach shared heights – instead, it was a fight. A tribadic duel, clit to clit, to assert the victor's right to claim Kirstin's lust for herself. Their slick, slippery vulvas slid over each other as if the outbreak of their dispute had multiplied their capacity for conceiving sexual pleasure. They almost forgot that they were competing against each other and reverted to their original behavior of mutual satisfaction. But when Kirstin entered the room and, knowing full well what was going on, sat down in a chair to watch Fernanda and Márcia's sexfight, they remembered the price at stake. They then rammed their pussies together even harder, wildly trying to force their rival to reach the zenith of pleasure first.

Incredibly aroused, Kirstin watched the steamy, sweaty spectacle, listened to the moist noises, and couldn't wait to have sex with both of them, no matter who won.

Hair gel and Scissors

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Nothing is more intense than when a deeply personal rivalry takes on sexual dimensions. Wet thrusts are acts of resentful aggression, the aroused moans of the enemy are auditory gratification, and orgasms are statements of one's own sensual superiority. The fight continues to absolute exhaustion, until the dominance of one woman is beyond question or both prove themselves to be equal to each other.

Oakland Orgy

The six beautiful and fiercely competitive women, each known for their unique tribbing tactics and seductive allure, gathered around the poolside loungers, their bodies glistening with sweat from the heat of the sun mixed with drops of water from the pool in which they had cooled off before initiating the duels. The sexual tension was palpable as they prepared for the grand finale of the Oakland Sexfight Championship. The rules were simple: no hands, no toys, just pure, unadulterated pussy-on-pussy combat. The last woman standing would claim the title of Oakland Sexfight Champion.

The contestants were a diverse group, hailing from various backgrounds. There was MacKenzie (blonde), a winemaker from Napa Valley known for her precisely timed, ruthless attacks on her opponents' weak points; Beth (brunette curls), a yoga instructor and former gymnast whose flexibility was both mesmerizing and intimidating; Roxy (blue-haired), a bartender with a flair for dirty-talking; Kira (Asian), a professional dancer with moves that could make any opponent quiver; Natasha (tattooed), a photographer who, thanks to her endurance, has already brought several title favorites to their knees; and finally, Isabella (sunglasses), a burlesque performer whose erotic prowess was stimulating beyond imagination.

With a nod from the organizer, the women began to move in, their eyes locked on their rivals. All of them were experienced enough to know that this was not about physical strength but about mental endurance and the ability to manipulate pleasure into a weapon. Each woman approached a lounger, spread their legs, and positioned themselves strategically for the clit-on-clit battle that was about to unfold.

Bodies collided, the wonderful sound of naked skin on naked skin and of wetness filled the air as six pussies touched, the slickness of their desire acting as lubricant for the fierce competition. The grunts and moans grew louder as they pushed and rubbed against each other, their hips moving in a symphony of sexual aggression. As the minutes ticked by, the competition grew more fierce. Sweat glistened on their skin as they fought against orgasm. Each woman brought her A-game, using every trick in the book to push the others over the edge.

The opponents were swapped after each round, whenever an orgasm had determined a loser in each duel. Kira had the fewest orgasms and was the winner. It was a close call, as MacKenzie and Kira almost tied and had to compete in a tiebreaker. But in the final round, MacKenzie's stamina failed her, and she came hard against Beth. Kira ultimately triumphed over her rivals, qualifying for the West Coast Grand Prix, where she'll face the best tribfighters from Los Angeles, San Francisco, San Diego, San José, and Sacramento. A wet spectacle that already fueled her anticipation.

An ecstasy without equal

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