A final appeal

Before you can enjoy this week's post, we first HAVE TO deal with a more serious topic. With the upcoming presidential election in the US, we would like to address a few words of warning to our American followers. For us as Europeans, it is painful to have to watch helplessly as the possibility of Donald Trump being elected president again seems imminent. After all his contemptuous statements, after all his anti-democratic behavior, after it's known which policies he plans to implement in his second term, it is an absolute mystery to us how anyone who is still sane could seriously consider giving this man their vote. And we're particularly worried that many Americans don't seem to realize that an election of Donald Trump would not only have an impact on their own country, but on the entire world. The fight against climate change, support for Ukraine and Taiwan, transatlantic relations and many other important positions would be called into question and upset the current world order, with unforeseeable consequences.

We love the USA! We've both been there several times, have some of the best memories of this country and have always considered it a model nation in terms of progress and personal freedoms. But Donald Trump wants to transform the US into a state where only his word and the doctrine of his followers count. Any dissent would make you a potential enemy of the state. Anyone who sees this as an exemplary democracy must have slept through history class. And no one should fool themselves. Trump has been very open about his plans for victory, but also for defeat. This is supported by dozens of former members of his administration who are sounding the alarm and telling you: "For God's sake, don't do this again.". They are governors, generals, who are openly opposing the leader of the party in which they've had their political home for decades. Because they know what matters now and what is at stake.

Kamala Harris is no saint. She has her faults and she's just a politician at the end of the day. But she will defend your right to disagree with her and move forward. The other guy demands unconditional loyalty. He says he wants revenge. So in the name of reason, we ask you to exercise your democratic right, vote, convince friends and family to vote, defend your time-honored republic and prevent this old, narcissistic man's dream of total power from coming true.

Thank you.

Perfect Discord

In the lesbian arena of desire, where the female clitoris reigns supreme, these mystical pleasure pearls engage in a symphony of ecstasy that transcends the boundaries of the physical realm. Their duels are fueled by womanly competition as well as the primal urge to conquer the peaks of sensual satisfaction. Their union is a dance as ancient as the rhythms of the earth, each pulsing and stroking in an intricate mania of passion. The air thickens with the sweet aroma of arousal, as the two clitorises lock in a disharmonious embrace, their delicate hoods unfurling like the petals of an exotic bloom. The tender flesh around them swells with excitement, the labia parting like the curtains of a stage where fighters meet for their match, revealing the jewels that are the rivals in this display of sexual power.

The battle begins with a gentle touch, a mere whisper of curiosity that quickly escalates into a fiery storm. They glide and graze, their sensitivity heightened to the electric currents that pass between them. Each caress is a declaration of war, a silent challenge that the other accepts with a shiver of delight. Their dance becomes more frenzied, the tempo increasing as they strive to outdo each other in their quest for conquest. They swirl and twirl, each movement calculated to elicit gasps of joy from their opponent. As the crescendo approaches, the clitorises move with the precision of warriors, each stroke and rub an evidence of their instinctive knowledge of the other's most sensitive spots. The tribadic battleground is wet with the essence of their mistresses needs.

Their clash is a perfect testament to the power that two clitorises in discord can unfold when their mistresses decide to let them loose on each other. An act of female self-respect and dignity, trusting one's own sexual prowess to match it with another woman's in the ultimate contest.

An age-old feud

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Girls Like Us

Steph had been planning to go out for a drink with her new red-haired co-worker from the gym for a while. This bombshell had turned her head. She couldn't think of anything else at work but April when she walked past her in skin-tight leggings and a sports bra from which her perfect breasts seemed to want to pop out. They met after work in a Puerto Rican bar on the outskirts of town. As they sipped their colorful cocktails, they suddenly realized they had never exchanged more than a few words with each other before. But this awkward moment didn't last long and over time they became more relaxed and engaged in intense conversations. The later the evening, the more uninhibited and arousing the topics of conversation became, just as both women had intended, even if they didn't want to reveal it to each other yet.

Steph leaned in close to April and argued, "You know, I've always believed that women who have sexfights against each other lead way more exciting lives."

April raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by sexfights?"

Steph smiled slyly. "I mean exactly what you think I mean. Two women, going head to head in a battle of passion and wills, using their pussies and clits as weapons."

April's eyes widened with excitement.

Steph leaned back, took another sip, crossed her legs seductively slowly and "accidentally" touched her cleavage. "Think about it. When you're in a sexfight, you're completely focused on the moment, on the pleasure and the war of womanhoods. You're not worried about anything else, you're not thinking about the past or the future. You're living in the present, and that's where the real excitement is."

April smiled, intrigued. "And what would that look like, exactly?"

Steph leaned in even closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Well, it usually starts with some sexy trash-talking. Both women are horny for each other, but they want to try to increase their opponent's lust through the targeted use of words in order to gain an advantage. If they are not already naked, they slowly strip so that they can gently rub their aroused nipples together, all while looking deep into each other's eyes to catch a spark of doubt about their sexual superiority."

April's breath hitched as she imagined the scene that Steph was painting. "And then what?"

Steph's eyes sparkled with mischief. "And then, once things have heated up and the liquids are flowing, pussies and clits begin their slippery duel, colliding and rubbing together. The sluts moan loudly as they try to outdo one another in this libido competition. They scissor fast or slow, hard or soft, while their juices mix, always hoping that their own clit can last longer in this lustful fencing match at eye level. And finally one will fuck the other to climax and claim victory or they will cum together and round 2 will be declared. And trust me, it's a rush like no other either way."

April was silent for a moment, her mind racing with the possibilities. "And you've…done this before?"

Both made no secret of the fact that they were getting wetter and wetter and wetter. They opened their legs and through the glass table they could spot that neither of them was wearing panties under their short dresses. Their slick pussies were yearning for each other and their clits were throbbing with desire.

Steph licked her finger, a sly smile playing at her lips. "More times than I can count."

April leaned over to her, gave her a long, wet French kiss and bit Steph's lower lip as she leaned back. "And what if I wanna try it?"

Steph was taken by surprise and her eyes were still closed. But as soon as she was able to pull herself together and realized what had just happened, she took a deep breath and answered, "Then we'll have war tonight, sweetheart. Woman-to-woman, clit-on-clit sex war!"

Rock the Boat

The Florida sun beat down on the deck of the yacht, shimmering off the azure waters that surrounded it. Cassandra "Cassie" Van Der Meer and Victoria "Vixen" Acosta, two of Miami's most successful and eccentric real estate agents, lounged naked on the plush cushions, their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. Their rivalry was legendary, a constant dance of one-upmanship that had spilled over into every aspect of their lives, including this impromptu yachting trip.

Cassie, with her strawberry blonde hair and emerald green eyes, was the first to break the silence. "You know, Vixen, they say that real estate is all about location, location, location. But I think it's more about who's on top, isn't it?" Her voice was as smooth as the champagne she sipped, but her eyes held a challenge.

Vixen, with her hazel hair and ice blue eyes, smirked. "Well, Cassie, I've always been more of a 'who's the best' kind of girl. And I do believe in testing that theory...in every way possible." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. "What do you say we make this trip a little more…interesting?"

Cassie took another sip of champagne and ran her hand seductively through her hair. "You're on, Vixen. But remember, I always get what I want."

Vixen chuckled and she also took another sip. "We'll see about that.". Her gaze dropped, focusing on Cassie's soft pussy, which was now visibly swollen with arousal. "Well, if we're going to fight, we should do it properly," she suggested, her voice poised. Cassie nodded, her eyes locked on Vixen's glistening womanhood. "Yes, I agree. Let's make this a real fight."

As the two women lunged at each other, their bodies collided with an unexpected intensity. Their breasts pressed together, and their nipples hardened from the contact. A powerful wave of arousal washed over them as their bodies molded together. After a few minutes of wrestling and rolling around, they spread their legs wide and let their hard, sticky clits collide.

Their bodies moved in sync, their pussies thrusting against each other, seeking pleasure and dominance. The sun slowly dipped below the horizon, casting the yacht in a deep orange hue as the women continued their aggressive, sweaty tribfighting. Their moans filled the air, mingling with the gentle lapping of the waves against the boat. Vixen's fingers dug into Cassie's breasts, her nails leaving crescent-shaped marks on her rival's soft skin. Cassie, in turn, grabbed Vixen's ass, pulling their pussies even tighter together. Their bodies glistened with a thin layer of sweat, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. The pleasure built within them, their clits throbbing with every furious rub against each other. The sex war intensified, the two real estate agents reaching unknown heights of female ecstasy. But only one will come out on top at nightfall and put her opponent in her place in the most intimate way possible.

Last day of vacation

Coco, Tabitha, Josie, Aislin and Daphne had been on vacation together in Mexico for what seemed like an eternity. The tension between the girls had been steadily rising with each passing day. It was supposed to be a fun and carefree getaway that had quickly devolved into a series of arguments and near-fights.

On the evening before their departure, the situation had reached a boiling point. Voices were raised, insults were hurled, and it seemed like their entire friendship could unravel before their very eyes. The girls were exhausted from the never-ending bickering and the prospect of a long flight back home filled them with a sense of dread. They all knew that they needed to let off steam by themselves and find a way to release the pent-up frustration that had been building up inside of them.

Out of sheer boredom, Coco (violet lingerie) had taken matters into her own hands. She had ordered a busty prostitute to their hotel room, determined to settle her score with at least one bitch, since she had not yet achieved her goal of challenging a hot Mexican woman to a pussyfight at this point.

Meanwhile, Tabitha (bob haircut) had gotten into a heated argument with a blonde woman she had encountered in the hotel lobby. The confrontation had escalated into a full-blown trib duel in her room, with the two stripping down and engaging in a passionate and slippery battle of their cunts. Moans and groans echoed throughout the floors, as Tabitha was surprised how good this slut could fuck.

Josie (bottom), on the other hand, had met a girl the previous night at the beach bar. The chemistry between them had been undeniable and they had wasted no time retreating back to the hotel for a night of lesbian sex war. Josie lay tangled in the sheets with her newfound rival, their tribfight having been paused to be continued at daybreak. But now they had found new strength again to force each other to ecstatic orgasms, just as real women compete with one another.

And then there were Daphne (brunette) and Aislin (blonde), the two girls whose clitoral rivalry had repeatedly brought the vacation to the brink of implosion. On the very last day, the two squabblers had finally decided to let their pussies fight it out once and for all, to settle the matter that had been plaguing their vacation for far too long. Their impatience was written on their faces to finally let their wet cunts trib wrestle with each other. Their movements were accordingly skillful in order to demonstrate their respective sexual superiority.

Stripping Rivalry

The neon sign outside the strip club flickered in the night, casting an eerie glow on the wet pavement. Inside, the stage was dimly lit, and two figures moved sensuously in the shadows. They were rivals, these two strippers who had been competing for the attention of their patrons for months.

Tonight, they had been hired for a private show for their regular customers, a lesbian couple who loved to watch them perform. The strippers knew that they had to outdo each other tonight, to prove once and for all who was the better performer.

First up was Quinn, a leggy brunette with a body that just wouldn't quit. She moved to the center of the stage, her hips swaying to the beat of the music. As she danced, she could feel the heat of the couple's gaze on her. Across the stage, Domino watched with narrowed eyes. She was a self-confident blonde with curves in all the right places, and she knew that she could outshine Quinn any day of the week. She waited until Quinn had finished her routine before making her move, sauntering onto the stage with a hawkish smile on her face. The couple watched, entranced, as Domino danced. She was mesmerizing, and they couldn't take their eyes off of her. Quinn watched from the wings, her jaw clenched in frustration. She couldn't let Domino win this time.

And so, the two women began to compete, each trying to outdo the other with their seductive moves. They danced closer and closer, their bodies mere inches apart. The tension between them was palpable, and the couple could feel themselves getting wet just watching them provoking one another by dancing skin on skin and ripping their scanty schoolgirl costumes off until they were completely naked.

But the competition soon turned into something…more. Quinn and Domino found themselves getting caught up in the moment, their bodies moving in time with one another. They touched each other, their hands exploring each other's curves and contours. Before they knew it, they were kissing, their lips locked in a passionate embrace. The couple watched in amazement as the two rivals broke apart, their chests heaving with exertion. Domino and Quinn looked at each other, their eyes filled with anger and lust. They knew what they had to do next. Their bodies pressed together. Their breasts mashed against one another.

Domino pushed Quinn down onto the floor. She straddled Quinn, her pussy hovering just above Quinn's. Domino lowered herself, their wet pussies meeting to tribfuck, their hips moving in time with one another. In what seemed like an endless moment for all four women, the two strippers let their slippery pussies and swollen clits slide gently over each other or collide violently again and again. The moans made all the women's desire almost boil over. Orgasms came constantly in duet with the climaxes of their spectators, but the duel of tribadic arts continued undeterred. Surrender was not an option.

But eventually the exhaustion became too great and their cunts couldn't continue fighting. At some point the orgasms stopped being counted and a clear championesse couldn't be declared. Spent, with their panties down, satisfied and breathing heavily, the couple sat on the audience couch and, in their excitement, had emptied all their wallets onto the stage. When Quinn and Domino realized this, their enmity was forgotten. Their spontaneous sex war had, after all, earned them a small fortune. They collected the bills and were extremely pleased. It had been a profitable and fun night.

One veiled night

The moon hung low in the night sky, bathing the grounds of the girls boarding school in a soft, argent light. It was a warm July evening, the students were on school holidays and the campus was almost deserted. But the stillness of the summer night was soon to be interrupted by the passionate encounter of two rival and vying teachers – the wrestling coach, Jody (left), and the cheerleader's coach, Trish (right).

Trish wore only a silk robe, tied loosely at the waist, barely hiding her voluptuous bosom. Her fit body was toned from hours spent in the gym, her muscles defined and tempting. She stood by the open window of her room as she anticipated the arrival of her adversary. Soon enough, naked footsteps could be heard in the hallway, and Jody appeared at the door. She, too, was dressed in a silk robe, hers a deep burgundy that contrasted with her pale skin. The fabric barely contained her curvy figure, hinting at the lush breasts and soft curves that lay beneath.

"Trish," Jody purred, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. "You look like a slut who's ready to be fucked."

Trish smirked, her confidence matching Jody's. "As do you, darling. Come here, let me make you my bitch."

With hungry steps, they closed the distance between them. Trish's hands reached out, sliding through Jody's robe, grabbing her tightly around the waist. Jody followed suit. Their lips met, soft and warm, their tongues tangling slowly and gently.

"I'm so glad we finally have the campus to ourselves. I was so tired of this cat and mouse game. Now we can compete again in the way that suits us best.", Trish whispered, almost exploding with desire.

"You can't imagine how my impatience was eating me up inside. Every time we bumped into each other in the gym, I wanted to push you down onto one of the mats and outfuck you.", Jody hissed back.

This night was theirs. They hastily took off each other’s robes but broke apart momentarily, taking in the sight of each other's naked bodies, before Trish led Jody over to the bed. Their sweet juices began to flow as they sat down amidst the tangled sheets. Jody positioned her legs between Trish's thighs, spreading them wide to reveal the glistening pink folds of her pussy.

With slow, deliberate tribs, Trish's and Jody's nectars mingled, drawing moans from deep within their throats. Their clits collided and teased each other, circling one another lasciviously. Jody's hips bucked off the bed, grinding her pussy against Trish's as pleasure coiled tightly within them. The room filled with the sounds of their passionate whispers, the wet smacking of their cunts clapping together and the intoxicating scent of desire. The silvery moonlight made their bodies, covered in subtle beads of sweat, shine in an ethereal shimmer, while their aroused clits and their soft labia indulged in a rhythmic martial dance.

As time passed, their movements became faster and their moans louder. In both women, uncontrollable lust had taken over and the orgasms were building up threateningly. With trembling bodies they finally came in a violence that matched the depth of their sexual rivalry. They each reached between their legs and tried to calm their overstimulated pussies, where they felt the wetness of their mixed juices with their slender fingers. Everything inside them was pulsing as the orgasm had knocked them out. Jody and Trish were panting with exhaustion as they lay on their backs staring at the ceiling. They had waited months for this opportunity to duel and it ended in a draw again...for the fifth time.

After a few minutes of silence, Jody pressed her clit back onto Trish's and began slowly circling her hips, after which Trish thought, "Alright, round 2, bitch!".

Bitch Huntress

Ruby was no stranger to the world of romantic sabotage. As a professional "home-wrecker tracker", she made it her mission to hunt down and punish those girls who sought to destroy other women's relationships. Her weapon of choice? Sexual humiliation.

Ruby had never met a woman who could withstand her unique brand of retribution. She would visit her targets at home, where they would engage in intimate acts of sexual uninhibitedness, their bodies entwined in the most lascivious of ways. She would force them to climax, their wet pussies grinding together until they were left begging for mercy.

But Ruby's latest target, a confident woman named Lucille, was different. She was a skilled seductress, with fiery red hair, and she was not afraid of Ruby's reputation. The two women met on Lucille's porch. The homeowner seemed to be expecting Ruby and before they could even exchange a word, they circled each other and undressed one another with their eyes.

- "Ruby, I presume?" Lucille said, loosening her ponytail.

- "You guessed it. And you're Lucille. The cunt who tried to steal Charlotte's girlfriend. She wants me to give you her regards. I assume you know the reason I'm here?"

- "Of course. I can't wait. I've been expecting you for days. I'm craving to teach you a lesson and show you that you're not the best in town."

- "Really? Then get ready for the fight of your life! My clit will beat up yours."

As they undressed and revealed their well-endowed feminine bodies to each other, Ruby had to acknowledge that Lucille was not the helpless prey she usually faced. The woman was experienced, her body toned and strong. And she was not afraid to take control. They sat down on a nearby couch and initiated their womanly duel: Lucille's legs between Ruby's, swollen clits kissing and wrestling with one another, pussy juices mixing in circular and thrusting movements.

It was a tribadic war between two Amazons, a contest for lesbian dominance, a back and forth without regard for losses, the orgasmic humiliation of the opponent as the only goal. As their moans got louder and their movements became more hectic, out of sync and harder after non-stop pussy-pounding, they realized that this was just the beginning. Ruby had met her match and this was only the first skirmish of a long clit war.

Eccentric Artists

Estrid (brunette) was always more of an abstract painter. Her style was loose, flowing, and expressive. Tilda (blonde), on the other hand, preferred a more traditional, realistic approach. Their differing styles had led to this argument, each of them feeling that the other had failed to capture their true beauty.

- "Look, Tilda, I'm not trying to be mean or anything, but your painting just doesn't do me justice!" she says, gesturing at the canvas where her nude form was painted. "It's supposed to be about the essence of femininity, not some cheap imitation!"

- "And I'm not trying to be insensitive, Estrid, but your painting is just...messy! I spent hours trying to capture every curve and every detail, and this is what I get?" She tosses her brush down on the table, paint splattering on the floor.

- "Well, maybe if you'd spent less time obsessing over details and more time feeling the emotion behind it..." Estrid retorts, folding her arms across her chest.

- "Oh, so now I'm not an artist because I don't paint with enough 'emotion'?" Tilda snorts, rolling her eyes. "Well, maybe if you'd spent less time being so self-absorbed and actually focused on the subject in front of you, you'd have something worth looking at!"

The argument escalates as they both become more defensive of their work. Estrid feels a burning sensation in her cheeks as anger rises within her. She takes a step closer to Tilda, their faces mere inches apart. "You're just jealous because you'll never be able to paint like me!". "And you're just jealous because I'm prettier than you!" Tilda spits back, her own anger flaring. For a moment, they stand there, breathing heavily, eyes locked on each other. Then, without warning, they both lunge forward, their hands grappling for purchase on the other's body. Their breasts press together, nipples hardening as they grind against one another. Their hips roll, and suddenly, it becomes clear what this fight is really about: passion, desire, and the need to be seen.

Their bodies have gone from being objects of art to being weapons of an inter-female showdown. Now it's no longer about the art, but about the honor of which woman is able to prove her sexual and physical superiority.