When Perfuma and Catra happened upon the scene, the fur along Catra’s tail frizzed out to a frightening degree. Her stomach swept low and hotter than the sands that surrounded them in this sea of fine-grained oranges. Huntara and Adora, stripped down to just their wraps and boy shorts, were locked in a full body grapple. Their skin was slick and shiny, coated with the slippery oil. Each woman grunted in frustration as they tried to overpower the other, neither seceding an inch. It was the most senseless and basely erotic image Catra had ever seen in her life, all rippling muscles, sweat and oil mixing as two indomitable personalities sought to dominate the other.
“I know,” Perfuma sighed dreamily, “Huntara doesn’t wrestle just anyone, but when she does…”
Catra snorted, easily catching Perfuma’s keen, personal interest. “You and her, ever, y’know…?”
“Love has no bounds, Catra.” Came the woman’s serene reply, “Huntara and I are quite friendly with one another. I think of her as a most trusted companion.”
“Trusted companion, uhuh. I’m sure those rock-hard biceps don’t hurt your ‘friendship’ either.”
“Only when I ask her to use them.” An informative wink ended that particular conversation.