Poem

In this aqueous arena of lust and desire,

Where the soft whispers of passion do conspire,

Two warrior goddesses of love did meet,

Their eyes locked in a dance, both fierce and sweet.

With breasts like marble sculpture so fair,

Their pussies, the weapons none could compare.

Clothed in the armor of midnight's embrace,

They circled each other with a knowing grace.

Clits standing proud, like warrior's swords drawn,

They clashed and collided, in a fiery dawn.

Their battleground wet with the nectar of lust,

Each touch a declaration, each move a thrust.

Round and round they went, in a frenzy of delight,

Their lust for each other, a glorious fight.

Their bodies entwined in a tapestry of need,

Their pussies clashed, as the rhythm did proceed.

With teeth bared and eyes flashing, like stars in the sky,

They strived to conquer, to reach that high.

They took turns to dominate, to yield,

In a dance as ancient as love itself they wield.

The air thick with the scent of desire,

Their moans grew louder, their libido rose higher.

They grinded and rubbed, in a rhythm so wild,

Their battle of sex, like a storm unmiled.

Until finally, in a crescendo of bliss,

They reached the peak, with scream and hiss.

Their orgasms crashed, like waves on the shore,

Their rivalry settled, forevermore?

Their pussies, once locked in fierce rivalry's dance,

Now rested, their clash reduced to mere prance.

For in this match, no woman could be best,

But they went toe-to-toe, in the ultimate test.

A Lesson in Tribadic Humility

"What a rush! That was...absolutely exhilarating! I can't believe this bitch actually tried to outdo me in a sexfight. The look on her face when she realized she couldn't match my moves...priceless. She strutted into the club tonight with that smug smile, thinking she had the upper hand just because she's been bragging about her so-called "skills" in bed. But I've seen her dance before, and I knew she was all talk.

The way our bodies moved against each other, the heat, the passion...it was like we were in a dance battle, but with a much more intimate prize. She was good, no doubt about it. The way she teased and taunted me with her eyes, the way she used her pussy on mine, trying to throw me off balance - it was a nice performance. But I had my own moves up my sleeve, and I wasn't about to let her win without a fight.

I could feel her energy, her confidence, as she slammed her clit against mine, but I remained unfazed. I knew that in a trib, it's all about stamina and creativity. So, I waited for my moment, my heart racing, my skin slick with sweat, our legs entangled in a dance of dominance. And when she least expected it, I switched up the rhythm, took the lead, and didn't let go.

Her eyes grew wide as I pushed back, my thighs pressing into hers with a newfound force. She tried to regain control, but I was relentless. I watched her face as she began to lose her composure, her breaths turning to gasps, her eyes glazed over with passion. That's when I knew I had her. With a final, powerful grind, she buckled under the pressure, her body quivering with pleasure. And there it was - the sweet sound of her submission, the ultimate proof that I was the better woman in every sense.

As she lay there, panting and spent, I couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph. But it wasn't just about winning; it was about proving to myself that I'm not just good at dancing - I'm untouchable. I can't wipe the smug smile off my own face. She had her chance to prove herself, and she fell short. I showed her tonight that she shouldn't mess with me lightly, in the most intimate dance-off we've ever had."

Hüttenschlampen - Ski lodge sluts

Tension reigned in the remote but luxurious ski lodge in Ischgl. Luna and Stella, the two lesbian prostitutes in the resort hotel, stood on the gallery above their break room amid velvet and silk cushions scattered across the floor. Both wore sheer negligees that only vaguely covered their breasts and the curves of their hips. Their lips were glittered with sensual gloss, and their gaze held a defiant challenge.

"I'm telling you, I'm the best!" whispered Luna with a slight Southeast Asian accent.

"No, Luna, it's me!" replied Stella firmly.

Both knew what the evening would bring. They had often received praise from clients, but in reality, everyone clamored for the best. So Stella, with blonde hair and cat-like eyes, decided to take the initiative. She gently but firmly pushed Luna into the soft pillows. Luna smiled wickedly, enjoying Stella's dominance and waiting to see what would happen next. Stella leaned over her, kissing Luna passionately. Her hands moved up from Luna's waist, tenderly caressing her bare breast. Luna moaned softly, feeling the warmth emanating from Stella's fingers. With every touch, the desire seemed to grow within her, and she knew she had to show what she was capable of.

Luna gently pushed Stella away and reversed the roles. Now she was the one calling the shots. She kissed Stella's neck, loosened the lace of her negligee, and revealed her full breasts. Stella moaned and Luna knew she was good. But so was Stella. They rolled around midst the soft pillows, body to body, nipples to nipples, struggling for the upper hand as their tongues danced in their mouths. The parquet flooring creaked softly, as the room filled with the sounds of desire and both girls were breathing heavily, their breasts trembling to the rhythm of pleasure.

Now all the horniness was released as their smooth, slippery pussies slid over each other with quick movements. They grabbed their own breasts while the pleasant tingling sensation from their fencing clits grew more and more intense. The contrast of Stella's light skin on Luna's darker skin, while the mixing moisture between their legs created an erotic slapping sound, was a feast for all the senses. The moans turned into screams as their lust reached heights they had never experienced before and were overwhelmed by the fierceness of their arousal.

They collapsed under their simultaneous orgasm. A hard-fought draw that gave the fight a deserved, fair result. Neither Luna nor Stella could claim victory, but neither of them had ever been so satisfied. They sat up next to each other, legs wide open to cool off their overstimulated pussies. They sipped the ice-cold champagne they had prepared and shared a quick kiss as a sign of gratitude for this fantastic match. Now all that was missing was a shared shower to clean their sweaty bodies after this exhausting duel and to round off this evening full of Sapphic extremes.

Pièce de résistance

In the city's competitive real estate market, two realtors named Camila and Elena were the crème de la crème. Both were sharply dressed in power suits that whispered ambition with every step they took. Their high-heels clicked rhythmically on the gleaming floors of their office. The two women were at the top of their game, but they had one thing in common: a lack of affection for each other. Their rivalry was as palpable as the humidity that clung to the city's skyline.

Their boss, a business-oriented woman named Charlize, knew this all too well. She had a knack for pitting her agents against each other to drive up sales. One fateful afternoon, she called them into her office and announced that they would be co-listing the pièce de résistance of their careers: a multimillion-dollar penthouse apartment. The prize was not just the hefty commission but also the title of the office's number one agent.

The day before the viewing, they inspected the property together. Armed with clipboards and pens, they jotted down notes without even looking at each other. They were dressed even more provocatively than usual, with their skirts barely reaching their hips. After a few minutes, Camila and Elena bumped into each other in the middle of the living room and exchanged contemptuous glances. Their eyes met and never left each other. They stood with their legs wide apart, their arms on their hips to symbolize territorial dominance. The conflict was now irreversible.

Not a word was spoken. Elena began to unbutton her blouse. Camila followed suit without hesitation. An invisible force seemed to have taken control of the situation, for they undressed to the point of complete nakedness, as if this had been their intention from the beginning. With pleasure and visibly aroused, they pressed their ample breasts against each other. But the nectar began to flow impatiently between their legs, so they went out onto the balcony together. There, their thighs opened, and above the city's rooftops, the two busty, curvy brunettes vigorously wrestled with their clits. Camila and Elena's screams and moans echoed through the urban canyon as they took their professional rivalry to a new, steamy, wet level.

We published a book

 

We're delighted to announce that after more than half a year of writing, our first book is now available for purchase in both English and German.

The Amazon's Bliss, or Amazonenwonne, is the world's first handbook that deals with lesbian sexfighting in detail and seriously - written from the knowledgeable perspective of practicing sexfighters.

The book contains descriptions of various types of sexfighting, tips and tricks for newcomers, personal experiences, and a review of the history of sexual (or sexualized) competition between women. While it's primarily aimed at curious women, anyone interested in the subject should enjoy reading it.

You can purchase your copy from various online shops, e.g. here:

In English:

https://publishuk.bookmundo.com/shop/index.php/catalog/product/view/id/864129/s/the-amazons-bliss-when-women-love-women-and-seek-pleasure-in-fighting-a-handbook-on-the-art-of-tribadic-competition-424008-publishuk-bookmundo-com/

It should also be available on Amazon and other websites soon.

Auf Deutsch:

- https://www.amazon.de/-/en/Julia-Morgenstern/dp/3819072101

- https://www.epubli.com/shop/amazonenwonne-wenn-frauen-frauen-lieben-und-die-lust-im-zweikampf-suchen-9783819072109

- https://www.thalia.de/shop/home/artikeldetails/A1074952547

- https://www.hugendubel.de/de/buch_kartoniert/julia_morgenstern-amazonenwonne_wenn_frauen_frauen_lieben_und_die_lust_im_zweikampf_suchen-50345879-produkt-details.html

We would like to point out that the book will not be available as an e-book for the time being, and that one should not expect erotic reading full of fantasies, as it is a non-fiction book.

When mermaids clash

Some rivalries in sports achieve legendary status. In particular, two female athletes who are not connected by any friendship, but rather by a rivalry over who is superior in their discipline, generate a stir and interest. Last but not least, the enmity can sometimes take on a very personal dimension, so that not only the athletic ability becomes the target of verbal attacks.

This is what happened to two Nordic swimming stars, Maren from Denmark and Sylvi from Norway. During their active careers, they vied for major titles at the Olympic Games, World Championships, and European Championships, dominating the swimming lanes unchallenged for many years. In addition, they were each considered the most beautiful women in swimming and were photographed several times for various erotic magazines, such as the Playboy. In the included interviews, it became common practice for them to rant about each other and portray themselves as the one true swimming queen.

By then, both had retired from their careers, and things had quieted down. But the very first joint interview, hosted by Playboy TV, brought the public's attention back to Sylvi and Maren. The atmosphere between them seemed surprisingly relaxed and easygoing as they sat by a pool, answering the interviewer's questions - as if their rivalry had never existed.

But sooner or later the question about their personal relationship had to come up. Maren, wearing a blue bikini, answered first. "It's true, we despised each other in the water. We did anything to beat one another for that gold," she said, her eyes locked on her Norwegian counterpart. Sylvi, wearing a red swimsuit, smirked in response. "But when we were not racing, when we were just two naked bodies in the locker room..." she trailed off, a mischievous grin appearing on her face.

Maren leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs, revealing a hint of her inner thigh. "Sometimes, I caught her looking," she admitted, a hint of challenge in her voice. "And I couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking."

Sylvi's smirk grew wider, and she bit her lip. "Oh, you know what I was thinking," she purred. "I was thinking about how much I'd love to show you what I'm really made of."

The interviewer, caught off guard by this unexpected turn of conversation, stuttered for a moment before regaining her composure. "Ladies, this is quite...revealing. But tell me, have you ever acted on these, uh, feelings?"

Without missing a beat, Sylvi leaned forward, her breasts straining against the fabric of her swimsuit. "Never during the games. But I'll tell you what," she said, looking her rival up and down. "How about we settle this once and for all? Right here, right now! A sexfight! Pussy-to-Pussy! First to cum loses."

Maren's eyes flashed with excitement. "You're on," she said.

The shocked interviewer watched as the two athletes stood up and letting their swimwear fall to the floor. Their perfectly shaped bodies shimmered under the sunlight, every muscle and curve on full display.

They faced each other, the pool reflecting their naked forms, and without another word, they collided. The sound of wet flesh slapping together echoed through the backyard as they began to trib, each trying to outdo the other.

The interviewer had to contain her excitement. These two had seemingly been waiting forever for an opportunity to let their clits collide, to release the sexual tension between them. They clearly enjoyed rubbing their wet crotches together wildly and fiercely.

It turned out to be a contest in which orgasm would simultaneously mean defeat and release from years of pent-up lust. A sexfight in which desire and hate mingled into an explosive cocktail. The ultimate end to a feminine rivalry that was always meant to be settled this way.

Scenes of primal traditions

The year is 94 BC, on the eastern Black Sea coast. Two Amazon tribes had been locked in a bitter land dispute for decades. The coveted territory, perfect for cultivating lush vineyards, was the heart of their conflict. To prevent further bloodshed, it was decided that the two priestesses of Aisore, the goddess of love and war, powerful and valued advisors to their respective tribes, should compete against each other in a sexual, tribadic competition. The goddess would undoubtedly favor the one in the duel who she considered more worthy of letting her sisters settle here.

The two women, well versed in the act of sexual satisfaction, retreated to a secluded beach to decide this war with a climax. Together they walked naked through the forest to announce their contest to the female spirits of nature. They sang a prayer to ask for energy for a long and passionate test of strength so that they could truly prove themselves before the eyes of their goddess. Finally, they reached the coast, where the sound of the waves and the air filled with salt water created an intimate yet primal atmosphere. The priestesses faced each other, their eyes locked in a silent promise of what was to come. Orithia took the first step, her gaze dipping down to Kallista's lips before returning to her eyes. "May the goddess guide our hands and hearts," she said, her voice a low rumble. Kallista responded with a nod, her lips curling into a subtle smile. "Let us honor her with our passion."

The setting sun made their skin shimmer in a golden light, just as their hands explored each other's bodies, lips and tongues moistened hard nipples, as if two marble statues had come to life. Seemingly, the goddess enjoyed their sensual duel, for their lust began to burn hot. She gifted her warring priestesses with plenty of moisture between their thighs so that the fight could begin. Which of her two servants, well acquainted with their mistress's art, would be able to withstand the libido sent out by Aisore for longer?

As their clits touched and began to wrestle, their moans and screams echoed to the heavens and opened the gates to their mistress's sensual treasure of knowledge. They let their vulvas collide, let their labia dance with each other, unite and separate again with sticky threads of pleasure. The forces of nature took over their actions and their will to win this battle was more unbroken than ever. Nevertheless, the constant stimulation took its toll, and both felt the peak of their orgasmic endurance approaching after what felt like an endless give and take.

With one last push they dared to force the decision, but when their breasts began to tremble simultaneously and they cried out after gasping for breath, it was clear that they were evenly matched. But in this competition no draw was tolerated, neither by the worldly nor by the divine. So, after a short break, Kallista fell onto her back so that Orithia could mount her and their still slippery vulvas could resume the battle…

Wet Business

Maja's (red-haired) living room had been transformed into a makeshift pottery studio, the scent of fresh clay and glaze filling the air. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow on the meticulously arranged vases, bowls, and figurines that lined the shelves and tables. A local florist, a sharp-tongued woman named Elena (brunette), stepped in with a critical eye, her arms crossed over her chest.

"These are all so...plain," Elena said with a sniff. "They're not going to stand out in my store. I need something with more...flair."

Maja's face grew hot. She had spent countless hours perfecting her craft, and this woman was dismissing it so easily. "My style is elegant and timeless," she retorted. "Maybe your taste is just too garish to appreciate it."

"Elegant?" Elena scoffed. "These could've been made by a one-handed pensioner!"

Maja's hands clenched into fists. "You wouldn't know elegance if it slapped you across your over-glossed lips!"

The tension in the room was palpable. Then, Elena leaned in closer, her eyes narrowing. "And I bet you couldn't even throw a pot without getting your hands all sticky with your own juices, you fucking amateur."

Maja's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

Elena stepped closer, a smug smirk playing on her lips. "You heard me. I bet you couldn't handle a real challenge, especially not between the legs."

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap, and the two women stared at each other, the heat of the moment making their breaths shallow. Then, with an angry hiss, Maja grabbed Elena by the arm, dragged her into the bedroom and pushed her onto the bed.

"You want a challenge?" she growled. "Let's settle this the womanly way."

The fight was on. Maja's hands were already at her own pants, unbuttoning and unzipping with a feral hunger. With a surprised and expectant grin, Elena watched Maja uncovering her wet pussy, her clit swollen with desire. "Let's see if you can handle this kind of 'flair'," she taunted.

Elena's eyes widened with lust. She followed Maja's lead, her own hands moving swiftly to strip away her jeans and underwear. Her pussy was equally wet, her arousal evident as she lay naked on the blanket, spread her legs and let her fingers slide through her labia.

"You think you're so special with that?" Elena jeered, her voice thick with arousal. "I've seen better in a brothel."

Maja's eyes flashed. "We'll see who's better."

The room was silent except for their ragged breaths. Then, Maja sat down full of vigor between the open thighs of her challenger, slamming her pussy into Elena's. The collision resulted in a loud, wet smacking sound, which sent a pleasurable jolt through both of them. They began to grind against each other, their hips moving in a frenzied dance. Their pussies were hot, wet and slick. Elena and Maja moaned passionately, calling each other slut or whore and mixing their juices into a sweet nectar that covered their battling clits.

"You fuck great, bitch! But not as good as me. I will subdue you! Your climax is mine!"

"You are the best cunt I've had in a long time. But don’t fool yourself Your pussy will burn when mine is done with her."

"Oh, do you think so? Are you sure you don't want to kiss my 'over-glossed' lips?"

"Yeah! I wanna kiss you while our pussies fight and fight and fight, getting wetter, getting slipperier…"

"Fuck, it's so hot when you talk like that. Now trib me harder, faster, I want to see our juices splash!"

Love Triangle

"Oh wow, I can't believe this is actually happening. Well, of course I wanted them to fight over me, but I never expected them to fight that dirty, like cats in heat. Who knew they had such fiery personalities under those bikinis? As fiery as their red hair. The way they thrust into each other, how they moan and gasp, how their bodies shimmer in the sun like statues made of alabaster…it's so arousing, yet I feel a bit guilty for enjoying the show. Their competitive game is perfect, I can't take my eyes off them. Should I stop them? Or let it play out and see who wins? This vacation takes a steamy turn, who would have thought. Let me just...take some video evidence."

It starts with the eyes and ends between the legs

Ah, the timeless dance of seduction, that can often begin with the simplest of gestures - a flutter of the eyes, a lingering gaze, the promise of what lies beneath the surface. It is in this realm of non-verbal communication that a sexual duel between two women may commence, a silent yet potent battle of desire and dominance. Imagine two women, strangers perhaps, or rivals, lock eyes across the room. The first volley is fired - a look that speaks of challenge, curiosity, and the unspoken question, "Do you dare?". It is a silent declaration of intent that the other cannot help but notice.

The eyes, those windows to the soul, are the opening gambit in this intimate skirmish. They size each other up, seeking vulnerability, confidence, or perhaps a spark of reciprocity. A subtle arch of an eyebrow, the dilation of pupils, the slightest twitch of the lips - each microexpression is a clue to the other's thoughts and feelings. It is here, in the eye contact, that the initial connection is made, the first line drawn in the sand. But they do not merely reflect attraction; they are the instruments through which it is communicated, the silent whispers of "I see you," "I want you," and "I dare you". This visual interplay is a game of power and allure, where the intensity and duration of the gaze can speak volumes about ambition.

As the tension builds, the bodies of these two combatants may begin to move closer, drawn together by an invisible force, like magnets to metal. And so, it is between the legs where the decisive battle is waged, where the fire in the eyes meets the heat of the flesh. As their vulvas intertwine, as one woman's clit presses against the other one's, the duel reaches new heights. Whether the outcome is a passionate embrace or a parting of ways, the contest has been played out, the tension released in a burst of sensuality that began with a simple look, a silent challenge that grew into a womanly match for sexual power.