Podcast Pleasure

This week's episode of a podcast hosted by a major lesbian erotic film production studio is "Clit-vs-Clit – Sexfighting Girls in the Ring." Holly (brunette), a retired legend of lesbian sexfighting, and Jamie Lynn (red-haired), one of today's top sexfighters, are invited to the event. They both lean into the microphones, eager to share their insights, experiences and, above all, why they love sexfighting so much.

Holly begins by reminiscing about her early days in the sport, "Back when I first started, it was all about the clit-on-clit action. Nothing got the viewers going quite like two women, equally matched in skill and desire, going at it, rubbing their most sensitive spots together until one couldn't take it anymore and submitted." Her voice is smoky and filled with the kind of passion that only comes from years of intense, competitive pleasure.

Jamie Lynn nods in agreement. "It's like a dance," she says, "A dance of desire and dominance. You have to read your opponent's moves, anticipate their next thrust, all while keeping your own arousal in check. It's a delicate balance, but oh so satisfying when you make them scream in pleasure and defeat."

The conversation turns to their favorite tactics. Each description is met with a knowing look and a hint of competitive fire in their eyes. The sexual tension builds as they continue to discuss the art of tribadic fighting. The listeners can almost feel the heat radiating from their words as they delve into the nuances of each move, the importance of timing, and the thrill of victory.

But it's when they start talking about the raw, primal nature of the sport that things begin to get intense. "There's just something about the power, the intimacy of it all," says Jamie Lynn, her voice growing huskier. "It's not just about sex, it's about conquering, about proving who's the better lover." Holly's eyes sparkle with lustful challenge. "Exactly," she purrs, "It's about making your partner cum so hard that they can't fight back anymore. That moment of surrender is pure bliss."

Their words are like a siren's call to each other's desires. The air in the studio crackles with lust as they lean closer, biting their lips, and begin to undress each other with their eyes. "Let me show you," Holly whispers, her eyes dark with pleasure. And with that, the podcast takes an unexpected turn as the two champions of the sexfighting world begin to demonstrate their moves live on air.

Their bodies intertwine, grinding together in a passionate battle of wills. The podcast audience is treated to the sounds of their wet, hungry kisses and the slap of flesh on flesh. Holly surprises Jamie Lynn with a swift move, pushing her onto her back and straddling her. "I've been waiting for this," she says, her voice thick with arousal.

Holly smirks down at her, her eyes never leaving Jamie Lynn's. "You think you can beat me?"

"I know I can," Jamie Lynn says. Both laugh with joy and disbelief that they can finally test each other’s skills.

Their hips begin to rock, their pussies sliding together in a slick, sensual battle. They moan into the microphones, their breathing growing ragged as they each try to outlast the other. The podcast turns into an auditory feast of sexual sounds: wet, rhythmic grinding, gasps of pleasure, dirty-talking, and the occasional whimper of defeat.

Flaming red inferno of wet lust

It was a sultry summer evening on a sun-kissed Greek island, and the beach bar was bustling with life. Two fiery redheaded backpackers, Rachel and Laura, had stumbled upon the same little paradise by chance, both seeking a break from their solo travels. Their chemistry was palpable as they shared tales of their adventures over sweet cocktails, their laughter mingling with the salty sea breeze.

As the night darkened, the flickering torches made their red manes shimmer in a beautiful scarlet. At first, their conversations were playful, a dance of flirtatious jibes and shared laughter. But as the drinks flowed, their conversation became heated, and the playfulness gave way to a combative tone. They discussed everything from the most beautiful beaches they'd visited to the best selfie spots.

The argument began innocently – a debate about the authenticity of the local cuisine – but soon escalated into a heated exchange. Each insult became more personal, each remark sharper than the last. Their voices rose, attracting the attention of the other guests, including two elegantly dressed British women seated at a neighboring table. Victoria and Penelope were seasoned travelers themselves with a taste for the unconventional. Something about the pure passion in Rachel and Laura's argument fascinated them. They leaned closer, sipping their wine as the tension between the two redheads grew thicker than the humid sea air.

The argument now turned to their looks and then to their skills in bed. Each claimed to be the better lover, capable of bringing any woman to her knees. Victoria and Penelope, amused by the spectacle, decided to add substance to the war of words.

"Ladies, it's clear that you two have a considerable disagreement. Now, we don't want to further bother the other guests and risk glasses being thrown next. Therefore, we have an offer for you."

"We have some experience with disputes like yours. Sure, in the heat of an argument, you sometimes say things you don't mean and may even regret later. But there's a fire burning inside you, as red as your hair, that needs to be nurtured. You want to prove who's truly the better one in bed? Fine. Then you should do just that."

Laura and Rachel, their fingernails almost digging into the wooden table in anger, looked irritated, their urge to pounce on each other and start a sand fight having been abruptly interrupted.

"Listen, if you're interested in competing your womanhoods in a civilized manner, like real women, then come to our sailing yacht in the marina tomorrow morning. We offer you the chance to indulge that tickling sensation you feel inside, in a wet and boisterous way."

"Or you can fight right here and now like two schoolgirls, at the expense of your dignity. It's your decision."

The two elegant ladies emptied their wine glasses and strutted off into the darkness, holding hands, their summer dresses fluttering in the warm breeze. Rachel and Laura watched their barefoot trail in the sand before turning their attention back to each other.

"So, do we settle this now or tomorrow, stupid cunt?"

"You know what, I'm curious. I can wait until tomorrow to put you in your place, bitch."

"Oh, I'm so scared. See you at the marina, if you dare."

"Don't think I won't be there. You'll go down!"

On the morning in question, Laura and Rachel were already standing at the entrance to the marina, arms crossed, not even looking at each other. Penelope and Victoria strolled up a little later, cheerfully greeting their new acquaintances from the previous evening.

"I'm glad you could make it."

"Apparently, our offer was too tempting to refuse, am I right?"

"We assume you're aware of the kind of fight we're offering you."

"If not, take a good look now..."

Victoria and Penelope shared a long, very long French kiss, grabbing each other's breasts, the nipples of which peeked out briefly from behind their bikini tops. They seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely and almost fell over. But they recovered and adjusted their bikinis.

"So, that's what it's all about. You two fuck. Whoever lasts longer without cumming wins and can call herself the better lover."

"You still have the opportunity to turn back if that's too hot for you. We'll have fun without you."

Rachel and Laura already knew that the invitation from the previous evening wasn't intended to be a mere brawl. Penelope and Victoria's words had made that abundantly clear. Despite their argument, the two red-haired beauties couldn't deny their sexual attraction. Their bodies were fit, their breasts perky, and their lips – both those around their mouths and those between their legs - were full. So they were anything but averse to having sex with each other. If they could escalate their rivalry in the same breath – what were they waiting for?

They steered their small yacht, the "Wildcat," into a bay on an uninhabited, remote rocky island. No other boat was visible on the horizon. Obviously, this wasn't Victoria and Penelope's first time here.

"So, ladies. For the next hour, consider the Wildcat your property and us your guests. Anything you like can be your battlefield. Have fun and let it rip!"

Laura and Rachel wasted no time. They went to the bow of the Wildcat, removed their bikinis, and sat facing each other with their legs spread. They began to gently play with themselves, caressing their labia and stirring their clits. When their fingers were sticky with the flowing nectar, which they reinforced with willing and determined looks, they moved closer, crossed their legs, and pressed their dripping vulvas and swollen clits together before they began to rub them together.

Loud moans echoed off the rocks. Rachel and Laura tribbed like two nymphs in heat. Their wet pussies slapped together, causing their arousal to rise immeasurably. Equally full of desire, Penelope and Victoria quickly lost their composure and began masturbating, so that soon all four women were moaning in unison. So it went on, orgasm after orgasm, until Laura and Rachel, sweating and completely at their physical and sexual limits, finally fell onto their backs, panting for composure.

Who had won? In their frenzy, no one had even paid attention. But ultimately, everyone was a winner, because it was crystal clear that this had only been the beginning – the beginning of a sexual rivalry that hadn't even come close to reaching its full potential.