Donna gets carried away with her legs.
Bill came home early from work, hoping to catch a nap before Donna, his wife got home from her job. She wasn’t having a great time at her new job and often took it out on him, so he figured if he was sleeping peacefully, she’d burn off her energy by hitting the weights in the basement.
He figured wrong. He had just laid down when Donna stormed into the bedroom, her curly brown hair bouncing this way and that as she paced around the room angrily.
“Motherfuckers!” she screamed, her 5-6, 150 pound muscular body tensed as she bounded from wall to wall, punching her fist into her hands. “They fucking FIRED me, Bill, they fucking FIRED ME! Said I was too angry all the time, always on edge!”
“Well, hon, you do get a little keyed up sometimes,” he said warily, trying not to goad her into anything he’d be sorry for.
“Oh, is that right?” she barked at him, stripping out of her clothes to stand before him in black bra and panties, every inch of her rugged body flexed and ready.
“Donna, please, I didn’t mean….”
She flew at him growling and threw him to the bed, clamping her insanely thick thighs around his tiny 28-inch waist for a brutal bodyscissors. She was laying on her side, her gigantic upper limbs swelled so huge with muscle they covered practically his entire torso. Bill screamed in agony and then screamed no more as his determined wife scissored the air from his lungs.
“A little keyed up am I?” she screamed at him, punching her legs down harder, throbbing her angry thighs into his crushed midsection. “How’s THIS Billy boy, is this bodyscissors a little too keyed up for ya, ya FUCKER?!!!”
She leaned her upper body up off the bed on her arms as she rippled her titanic thighs harder into his midsection, nearly knocking him out until he hung like a rag doll in her scissors. Freeing him briefly, she quickly sat behind him on the bed and clamped her gargantuan thighs on his skull for a blinding headscissors, bridging up off the bed on her hands and snapping her hips into the hold. She leaned back, her curly hair brushing the bed frame, eyes shut in concentration, teeth clenched and emitting a low, animalistic growl. Donna’s 30-inch thighs seemed to be double their size now in full scissoring fury as she pumped her hips up and down, the quads bubbling up in merciless muscle around Bill’s frightened face. He howled in agony and begged for release but Donna just squeezed harder.
“It’s scissor frenzy time, you know how I get, how it helps me fucking relax, so shut the FUCK up and take it!” she screamed.
She worked the crushing headscissors until he was nearly out then whipped a 20-inch, impossibly thick calf into his throat for a bruising figure four, reefing back on her hooked foot and digging her powerful lower leg into his windpipe, crushing the air from it and making his screams come out in a tortured cackle. She snapped the scissor back and then let up, then snapped it on again, jerking his head around like a puppet on a string. He feared she’d decapitate him, that big calf just shearing his head from his shoulders. She pulled back especially hard now and it felt like his head would pop loose.
She was in constant scissoring motion, freeing him from one scissor only to take a millisecond to put him in others. From the figure four she snaked her giant thighs around his neck for a punishing side neckscissors, her massive upper thigh pushing not only into his throat, but against his chest with the back of it, and up against his chin with the quad. His neckbones stretched to the max as he screamed in absolute agony, pulling vainly at the massive thigh filling his neck area. Letting go that hold, she spun him into a reverse headscissors, 69 style, her muscular upper body over his midsection as her massive thighs engulfed his moaning head, his face pointed toward the chiseled halves of her sculpted ass.
“Yeah, take it, take my scissor frenzy, you FUCK!” she screamed over a brawny shoulder, delighting in watching her husband’s frightened face pucker into a mask of agony in the vicious clench of her powerful thighs.
She throbbed the scissor now, quivering and quaking her tremendous thighs until the meat of them shook and gyrated like a hard sea of steely muscle against his face and ears. She was killing him, crushing his skull, or so it felt, and all he could hear was the hairs on his head grinding into his cranium. Then she added a new torture: Arching her back, she practically sat up on his face, engulfing it deep inside her muscular ass cheeks while still maintaining the scissor clamp on his skull with her thighs. She bounced mercilessly, her massive quads crushing against his tiny chest and then back, scooping his face deeper into her huge butt mounds, over and over, scissoring, squeezing, smothering, until he passed out cold in her dominating grip of agony.
She finally let go and climbed off his face, standing beside the bed and shaking her huge thighs, the meat of them quivering as she did, looking down in admiration at the legs that did her husband in.
“Thanks for letting me unwind, Bill,” she growled, pulling her clothes back on. “Now I’m going back to that fucking place and do something about getting my job back, now that I’m all warmed up.”
Bill got the nap he wanted. By the time he woke up, Donna was back – with her job reinstated, thanks to her powerful legs and wimpy boss who couldn’t take them …
The End
