The Best Day Ever

Faheema didn't resist the gentle push toward the nicer clothing, stepping in the direction Mariah desired as the woman steered her towards them. If she didn't mind the expense, then the Nubian wouldn't make an unnecessary stink by questioning it.

“Shopping back home was never this serene,” Faheema made small talk with Mariah while she searched, her arms crossed over her chest as she surveyed the pristine rows of shirts, dresses, and other assorted tops. “Markets were dirty, noisy, and chaotic. Sometimes dangerous. Had to be aware of your surroundings at all times, or a pickpocket would be the least of your worries.”

Just for a bit of fun, Faheema reached over her shoulder and took one of Mariah's hands in her own, guiding it down over her ribs and her stomach to press it to her hips, near one of her pockets. They were empty, of course, but that wouldn't stop her from trying to draw Mariah into some intimate public roleplay, offering her the role of some unscrupulous deviant out to molest the Nubian girl as she looked for clothing. Wondering if she would be bold enough to play this game in a public, if sparsely populated setting, and how Bubbles might react if she did.

Even when she was actively looking for nice clothes instead of trying to hurry this shopping spree to its conclusion, she didn't need long to settle on something. A tan blouse with short sleeves hung from one of the hooks running along the wall. It looked plain, but calling it that sold the material it was made from a little short. The cotton seemed to shimmer in the bright light of the store, and taking it down from the rack to feel it brought a smile to Faheema's face. Nice and soft.

“How about it?” Faheema turned to face Mariah, holding the blouse up to her chest to let her fashion consultants get a look.

Talking about her home and upbringing seemed to bring some calm to Faheema - she did it often and with little prodding, Mariah noticed. She didn’t mind it in the least, naturally. If anything, she found it part of the woman’s charm. For someone who could rip an opponent apart, who was so dangerous and lustful and animalistic, she was coming to be so sweet around them. They’d known each other for less than 24 hours, but it felt like they could’ve been long friends, going out for a fun day of shopping and relentless fucking, if Bubbles had her way.

Which she would. Oh, she would. As much as Mariah wanted to put clothes on Faheema, she’d enjoy taking them all back off even more.

It was pretty clear that Faheema had similar feelings on the matter, and if there were any doubts, they’d be dispelled when Mariah felt that sly finger trailing into her pocket. She gasped, a scandalous, shocked little noise, before she saw what the Nubian was doing and encouraged it, pushing against the hand that had invaded her pocket. She put her own deft fingers to use, sliding along the curve of Faheema’s luscious ass. She leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on the back of her neck, just a taste of her skin to tide her over.

All while Bubbles looked on and nibbled her lips. ”Yeah, keep that up.” She whistled and looked over a nearby rack. ”Don’t think I won’t take you both in a changing room.”

”Promises, promises.” Mariah bounced her eyebrow and turned her attention back to Faheema, looking over her selection. It was definitely a step up from what she settled on before - cool color, complimented her skin, and the materia appealed.

”Ooooooo.” Mariah hummed and ran a few fingers down the blouse’s front, feeling Faheema’s breasts up in the process. ”Off to a good start. A very good start. Maybe something a little darker to complement it? Pants? Or we could show those legs of yours off with a skirt. Not too practical, though, I know that’s important…”

Faheema warmed up inside the heavily air conditioned store when Mariah planted a kiss on her neck from behind. She was restless, anticipating the violent fucking that she was hoping to get from both women when they hit the gym toward the day's evening, and her excitement shined through as she and Mariah looked for clothes. Bubbles was insatiable too, it seemed, and Faheema turned to blow her a kiss when she called out to the two.

“Hmm,” Faheema cooed as Mariah stroked her breasts through the blouse's fabric. “Glad you appreciate my taste – what little taste I have. Pants would be lovely. Tokyo is much colder than other cities I've lived in, and these pretty legs are not for just anyone to behold,” the Nubian said with a coy smirk. She was no prude, but Faheema really wanted some street clothes that would let her project a little authority, and a good pair of pants sounded more like what she needed for strangers to realize that she meant business.

Taking Mariah's hand in hers and curling a finger toward Bubbles to let her know they were moving, Faheema tried to lead them toward where some women's pants were stocked. A long, sleek, black pair caught her eyes quickly. Thin, smooth material. Not ugly by any means, but perhaps a little plain – just the sort of attire a very practically minded woman might select. Taking the pants off the rack, Faheema showed them to her companion.

“What do you think? Too formal?”

Bubbles puckered her lips and eagerly accepted the blown kiss, growing hungrier and hungrier for the real thing with each passing second. Moments like this, she had to wonder just how aware Faheema was of her own hotness, reflect on just how close their match had actually been. She’d fought bigger women, she’d fought stronger women, but she couldn’t remember fighting anyone tougher, and damn sure not anyone who blended all those traits together in such a sensual fashion. She was already contemplating their rematch, which was a thing that had to happen. After a year of training and experience, how deadly could a woman like Faheema became?

Mariah’s thoughts were along similar lines, though she was keeping them in check for now - she’d propose the rematch idea later, see what Faheema, though, give her some suggestions, float something fun for the next bout. She kept her thoughts locked for now, however, as she followed Faheema and nodded at a pair of pants their ‘prisoner’ picked out.

It was a good choice. The black was a great contrast for her top, and while she’d have to see her with them on to be sure, it would work well with her legs - not baggy enough to hide every curve, but enough to give the average onlooker an enticing preview of what laid underneath.

”Nice, nice, very nice.” Mariah bobbed from side to side, inspecting it from a couple of different angles. ”I’d go with something that had a little bit of flair on the side, maybe something embroidered, but you’ve got a style going on, I understand.”

She tapped her chin, thoughtful, then turned toward a rack of belts off to the side. Some fancy, some glittering, some simpler, some plain, some studded, some metal. She gave Faheema a playful nudge on the shoulder, urging her towards them. ”Little suggestion - you don’t need it, but a belt might be a good way to give you some added spice. Just a touch of flair, nothing too fancy.”

Faheema regarded her set of attire with a growing smile on her face. It was such a change in fortune for her that the first women she had met in Japan would be kind enough to spend their own money helping the scruffy wanderer that had kicked off their relationship by verbally and physically assaulting them. Were they always this generous with former opponents, or was it just the ones that managed to impress them in bed?

Whatever the case was, Faheema wouldn't let these clothes fall into disrepair like her old tank top. That piece of clothing had been a reminder of her life back home, but at least this new outfit could take its place, to remind her that she had friends in her new home as well.

As Mariah turned Faheema's attention from the pants to a selection of belts nearby, the Nubian shrugged and reached out to take one. The “flair” in her appearance still wasn't important to her, but keeping her new pants from falling down to her ankles certainly was. Reaching toward the rack, Faheema pulled one of the more humble belts – black leather with a gleaming silver buckle. It wasn't gaudy, but it would serve her well.

Slinging the belt over her shoulder, Faheema collected the rest of the clothes that they had selected together and turned toward Mariah with a glint of avarice in her eyes. It wouldn't seem especially greedy by Mariah's standards, but the Nubian was growing eager to conclude this shopping trip with the one article of clothing that a perpetual wanderer desired more than any other.

“Shoes, please,” Faheema said, looking up to start scanning the sales floor for what she needed. Halfway across the room, the Nubian's gaze fell on a wall embroidered with images of women running and jumping in more footwear varieties than she knew existed. Giving Bubbles a wave, she tried to lead the both of them along. The sooner she found some footwear, the sooner the three of them could move on to satisfy their baser desires.

Mariah looked on with approving eyes as Faheema moved to the belts, taking her suggestion to heart. She was perfectly willing to let the Nubian make her own decision - after all, while she hoped their new friend would come to her with fashion advice at any time, she had to learn to spread her own wings in this regard. It was good to see that she was already developing her own tastes and preferences. Now that she was a wrestler, she’d have a steady income to work with, and Mariah was all too eager to see what she’d do with it.

But she wasn’t about to forget the other thing they’d planned to do with their time together. And, if that hungry spark in Faheema’s eye was any indication, neither had she. ”Patience, dear.” She gave that fine, ebony ass a little spank as she followed behind. ”The day is young.”

The trio moved on soon enough, and found themselves at the final place of Faheema’s ensemble - and the most important part, judging by Faheema’s well-worn feet. Mariah let her take the time to get acclimated, then took a quick stroll over to a nearby section with a few interesting items.

”Suggestion.” She came over with a pair sandals, white ones inlaid with some fake - but sparkling - diamonds. ”Sandals would be great for you. Not these, probably, but just in general.”

”Feet are sexy.” Bubbles chimed in, as she looked on from over a nearby shelf.

”Incredibly sexy. Underrated, in my opinion. So the sandals let you show off that fine feature, give your toes some fresh air, and give some padding.”

Strutting across the smooth tiles of the mall's walkway to reach the footwear, Faheema's eyes were drawn to a row of brown and black boots arrayed in one aisle, until Mariah swept over with another suggestion. It was a good one, too. Sandals had made good footwear back in the arid plains that she'd been forced to walk across so many times. Light and comfortable, if you didn't need to move too quickly.

Free from the chaos of Egypt's dirty cities, the Nubian was actually free to wear shoes that she wouldn't have to sprint in to outrun aggressors, and sandals seemed great. Taking the rather gaudy selection that Mariah was holding, Faheema returned them to their proper resting place in one of the aisles and bent over to select from the different shades of tan leather that made up the more understated sandals on offer. The whole time, she swiveled her broad hips from side to side, happy to keep teasing the Burstes while they were in public.

Once she found a pair of sandals that she considered satisfying, Faheema took them over to the two women and started eyeing the changing rooms with an insidious grin. Were either of them insatiable enough to risk pulling some naughty behavior in the changing rooms? The women seemed to have indulged themselves at every other step of this Saturday together, and Faheema had some creative ideas of her own on how to liven up those sterile spaces.

“Hmm, well, I guess I'd better go see how these fit...” Faheema uttered softly, playing sweet and innocent for the moment, sashaying toward the white arch that led into the changing rooms with all the clothes bundled together in her arms. Would either lady be willing to join her?

And now came the fun part of the day. Or, rather, one of the more fun parts.

Bubbles had been honestly dividing her attention while Mariah did her thinking, letting her mind wander, dividing her focus into three parts. The barest part of it went to thinking about what Faheema was wearing - as much as she was glad their new friend was getting something to wear, as happy as it made her to see the Nubian happy, her requirements for clothing started and stopped at ‘skimpy’. All other considerations were secondary.

The other third of her focus was just on Faheema and her fashionista of a wife, obviously. Watching the way they interacted, rubbed and flirted and mingled, it would’ve been hard to believe they were nearly at each other's’ throats less than a day ago. It was amazing how good sex could change things.

But what had been creeping into her mind for the past few minutes was the inevitable last stop on this grand tour: the dressing rooms.

From what Bubbles had surmised from a quick glance as they passed by, the dressing room weren’t too big. Designed for two people, and not three when one of them was a hulking giantess. That being said, she had a few ideas on how to make the space work, and she was eager to try them out. So was Faheema, from the look of it.

Bubbles and Mariah exchanged lewd, knowing glances, then followed their compatriot into the dressing room, earning a curious glance from the attendant - until she got a good look at Bubbles’ size and decided it was better not to question things. Smart woman.

The two of them came along with Faheema into a stall near the back of the hall, getting as much privacy as one could ever hope for in a room with no ceiling. Bubbles slid in first, only to look about the room with a pout. ”Not very spacious, is it?” She tapped her chin and took a seat on the stall’s bench, making it creak its protests under her weight. She spread her legs wide and kept them open, giving a lap that was practically begging to be sat on.”I suppose we’ll just have to make do, won’t we?”

A concerned frown dawned on Faheema's face when she saw an attendant standing near the dressing rooms. No matter how intimidating Bubbles was, Faheema suspected that the employee wouldn't take kindly to the store's changing room being used for such sinful purposes. There was nothing inherently suspicious about a trio of friends walking into the same booth together, but how long would that last? Three powerful women trying to get intimate in a small space was bound to make noise – the bumping, the grinding, the moans of ecstasy. If it got too loud in their stall, would the attendant confront them? Maybe summon security?

The Nubian had a lot more to fear than either of her friends when it came to running afoul of any local laws...but maybe she could turn these concerns into an opportunity. A game with some rules to match the restrictions imposed by the public setting.

Stepping into the small booth, Faheema hung the new set of clothing over a bar that ran overhead from one wall to another, regarding the fixture with a mischievous glare. Hanging her clothing over the bar was its entire purpose, but the resourceful Nubian was imagining Mariah hanging from it instead, her arms bound to it with the leather belt she herself had suggested. Just the thing to leave her body vulnerable to some teasing, with Bubbles watching or joining in at her leisure.

Maybe in a minute. Bubbles had taken a seat, and the spread of her legs made it clear that she wanted Faheema to straddle her. After taking a moment to shed her old clothes, Faheema ran a hand down her naked body, teasing the waiting Virgin Killer with the sight before she swiveled around and lowered her rear to sit on Bubbles' lap. She went as far as wrapping each of her legs around the exterior of Bubbles' thighs, giving her the authority to hold them open by keeping her own legs spread. It was plainly evident that the Nubian intended to let Mariah and Bubbles ravage her first.

“Let's play a game, Mariah,” Faheema spoke softly as Mariah stepped into the stall and closed the door behind her. “Do whatever you please with me...both of you. See how long I can stay silent before your touch forces me to cry out. Then let me do the same to either of you. Keep quiet as long as you can,” she suggested, leaving it to the married couple to decide which of them could resist Faheema's efforts longer.

“Any noise louder than a whisper, and you are done. Whoever lasts longer before crying out wins.” With an absolutely devilish grin, Faheema introduced an extra twist to the game she was suggesting, reaching down and removing a studded collar from the pocket of her discarded shorts. It was the collar Bubbles had placed around her neck last night. She'd slipped out of it in the early morning to shower without damaging it, but she appreciated its symbolic authority and had kept it with her.

“Whoever loses wears the collar for the rest of the day. Does that sound fun?” Faheema asked with a grin. It would be an uphill battle for the Nubian since she had purposefully left the door open for Bubbles to help Mariah break her opponent down, but she fully believed her willpower was unmatched by either Burste, and she was confident enough to try and prove it.

If there was anything on the planet more alluring than the vision of a woman stripping out of her clothes, Bubbles Burste didn’t have the imagination to picture it. It might’ve seemed silly, and she would concede, she could understand where that opinion would come from. After all, it wasn’t like Faheema could present anything that she hadn’t seen in exquisite detail beforehand. She’d seen this woman naked. Felt her body, inch by inch. Tasted her, heard her, smelled her. She’d experienced Faheema as much as one could do without being Faheema.

But to see her strip down, to watch those clothes slip away and reveal her blossoming body, so fit and firm and tanned and tough without sacrificing an inch of femininity…

It took a degree of serious restraint on Bubbles part to not simply take Faheema right then and there, privacy laws be damned. Lucky for her, their new friend was a creative as she was alluring.

Bubbles and Mariah listened as Faheema laid out her idea of a game, exchanging glances - lewd, wry glances - at the devilish fun of it. It was the last little wrinkle that intrigued Bubbles the most, though, as she gazed down at the collar that Faheema had brought along with her. In truth, she’d wanted Faheema to wear that all day, but she’d forgotten about it with the food and the sex and the excitement of the day looming large. Now the prop was back with an interesting role to play, raising the stakes. Even if Faheema came out on top with her challenge, it wouldn’t change anything tangible. She was a still a ‘Prisoner of War’, Bubbles had still beaten her the night before, she was the spoils that went to the victor.

But the challenge, the enticing way that Faheema laid it out, that fierce glint in her eyes…yes, please. Bubbles only had to exchange a quick glance with her wife to confirm what she knew. It was on.

Bubbles started the festivities, taking the collar and placing it on a nearby hanger, keeping the prize high and visible. With that out of the way, she went to work, beginning her assault on Faheema’s self control. One hand reached under her arm and found a nice breast to grab onto, holding it tight and stroking it, molding it with a kneading massage. The other went between Faheema’s legs and sought pleasure there, sliding over her pussy with gentle, curious fingers, as if she was curious about this strange, new area. And while all this went on, her lips worked away on Faheema’s neck, peppering it with licks and nibbles.

Mariah, for her part, took a page from Faheema’s own book. Off came her clothes, nice and slow, pulling her top and giving the meat of their sandwich plenty of time to realize what was coming her way.