She loves to scissor so hard they wet themselves. And she’s got the legs for it.
Roxie was a mean machine, a thick, black squeezer. The Afro-American bodybuilder stood 5-3, weighed a stony 170 pounds, much of it in her insanely muscular thighs, huge, 32-inch slabs of ebony meat above 17-inch columns of crushing calves. Her legs ruled; the rest of her body was rock-solid too, but it was the legs people noticed, looked at, commented on and suffered in.
Roxie loved to scissor, put those meaty legs to a man’s head and squeeze until it cracked, or seemed to. Wasn’t a man alive who could take Roxie’s full out scissor squeeze for more than a few seconds before he submitted or passed out cold.
But what Roxie loved to do best was scissor the piss out of men, quite literally. Though her legs were short, she could bodyscissor most any man, and once those thighs locked on tight to a man’s guts, he either gave up, passed out or wet himself – usually all three, much to Roxie’s delight. She loved to dominate and nothing showed her domination more than getting a man to soil his pants.
Bob squirmed in her legs. He was her most recent victim, a guy she’d picked up at a bar who was ogling her mighty mahogany limbs exposed in her tiny cutoff jeans and mid-calf biker boots. Combined with a denim vest that barely contained her massive, muscular tits and totally revealed her chiseled arms, she was a walking muscle chart.
“Like what you see, honey?” Roxie had cooed as she sat with him at the bar. “Like these big nasty black legs?”
He bought her drinks, felt her legs and moments later they were in the back of his car, now with Roxie’s iron thighs braided around his skinny middle, crushing him flat. The planks of her legs flattened around his slender guts, boots locked and creaking, Roxie’s teeth flashing white in the dark as she clenched them.
“Damn,” Bob wheezed. “I thought..we were gonna have…some fun…”
“We are, or at least I am, bitch,” she barked at him as she leaned back on the seat and chewed his guts with her thighs. “S’matter, babes, don’t you like my big black legs now?”
“Nooooo,” he howled, and then went silent, his air squeezed from him, head back, eyes wide against the pain
“Can’t feel your legs right about now, am I right?” Roxie hissed, thumping her thighs harder on his collapsing middle her knees just about touching on the other side of his crushed belly, one thigh spreading wide across his belly the other feeling like it would snap his spine.
He shook his head desperately side to side because he indeed could not feel his legs, he was numb from the scissors down, yet he felt the need to piss, after all those beers at the bar. She smiled dominantly at him.
“Gonna squeeze the PISS outta you, slut!” she roared.
And then she did just that. Horrified, Bob felt his bladder empty, unable to stop it as Roxie’s scissored numbed his entire lower body, losing control and feeling an obscene warmth spread over his crotch. He looked down over the savage swell of Roxie’s muscle-popped thighs and saw his jeans soaked with piss, all the way down to his knees. He cried, sobbed like a baby as he went all rag doll in her legs now, Roxie snapping her legs, his body jerking involuntarily, all 120 pounds of him scissored tight in the black girl’s dominant thighs.
“YESSSSSSS!!!” she screamed, head back, squeezing hard, as she came in her tight jean cutoffs, a little wet spot of her own forming at the crotch as she orgasmed squeezing the piss out of her latest scissored victim.
She finally let go and Bob flopped to the floor, a mess of piss, tears and humiliation as Roxie straightened herself out and slipped out the door, laughing. Another night, another victim she squeezed the piss out of and she went home happy.