An accord between Missy and Lily

When Missy walked up to Glorious that night, the line outside was only about half a dozen women, either scantily clad or covered up with a long coat like herself. All were shivering slightly from the steady breeze. Approaching the entrance, she spotted an unwelcome, familiar face, her bald head covered with a black knit cap and bundled in a garishly bright-orange, faux-fur coat.

"Well, well, well." Lily smiled wolfishly as Missy walked up, her own raven locks pulled into a braid on either side of her head and rolled into earmuff buns similar to Princess Leia in the antique 'Star Wars' movies she saw when she was a little girl. "Back to steal some more loads from a prick you didn’t suck, love?"

Missy frowned but didn’t argue. "I know I jumped on it and I do want to apologize." The British punk girl looked dubious. "Listen. He likes both of us and seems horny enough that he's probably willing to shoot plenty of cum into us. More than likely several times in our pussies." Lily continued to stare at her noncommittally, but seemed willing to hear her out. "I don't want to just lie on my back with my legs spread while he pumps away. I'd be a dead lay and I think guys hate that. I plan on enjoying sex and making it fun for him and me. It's going to be hard for either of us to please him if we're constantly trying to cockblock eachother."

Lily for her part seemed to sober a bit and looked at the ground. Giving a heavy sigh, she looked back up to the amazon brunette and favored her with a sheepish smile. "Honestly, I'm a bit tired of the whole 'he's-mine-not-yours' thing we started out with. If we both stop being cunts to eachother, maybe we can have fun. And maybe even get right and proper knocked up, eh?"

The taller woman held out her hand. "Truce?"

Lily took it firmly with her own tattooed right arm. "I'd say so."