A helping leg

[smirnoff]

I was raised right, always taught to help a woman who looks like she could use some. Open a door for her. Allow her to go ahead through an open door, holding it open. Help her with bags if they look heavy. No brainer shit, really, just one human being helping another.
Granted, I’m of another generation. I’m 50, raised at a time when those things were important and decidedly non-sexist. But as time went on and women became independent, and rightfully so, more and more women took a dim view of being helped by a man when they could do whatever they’re doing themselves.
Still, I acted out of proper manners and the desire to just help people. I mean hell, I do the same for men, it’s just being nice.
Then came that day in WalMart, the parking lot. I had just loaded up my car with stuff and right next to me was a super-hot looking young mom, brunette, short hair, maybe 25 or so, tops. I knew she was a mom; her big van had a couple baby seats in the last row of seats. She was humping some bags into the back of the van in the huge cargo area, and was struggling with a couple items. I walked over.
“Can I lend a hand, miss?” I said smiling.
She shot me daggers and continued to load, making it easy for me to eyeball her legs as she bent into the van. She was short, maybe 5-2 or so, but solid, and her tiny cutoffs revealed the full length of her remarkably fit, muscular thighs, big, solid hamstrings in the back, sweeping down to cut calves above her sandals.
“I don’t need a hand, pal,” she growled.
“OK, sorry, was just trying to be a nice guy..a nice person,” I said, inflecting the last word with emphasis. “Don’t go all femi-Nazi on me.”
I never saw her coming. I’d turned away and suddenly she had a handful of my hair and was pulling me back to the van, easily rolling me inside the big cargo area and jumping in to pull the hatch down closed behind her. She squatted before me, those big thighs looking bigger.
“No, I don’t need a hand, bitch, but you,” she hissed, suddenly springing off her hands and haunches and launching those thickly bunched thighs around my face. “You need a helping LEG!”
It was incredible, the pain, the humiliation, the suffering. Cramped into the cargo area, I knelt before her, my head absolutely devoured in the impossibly powerful thighs of a very determined young woman, she up on her hands, those thighs crushing my skull, her big calves locked behind me, resting on my back. I looked up over the fabric of her jeans, which rode high on those insanely thrusting thighs, into her very angry, very determined eyes.
“Fucking men, fucking OLD men,” she hissed, snapping her thighs meatily onto my head, chewing my face, inching me closer to her crotch until my face mashed into her pubic bone, bending my nose. “You think women can’t take care of themselves? Then check out how ‘helpless’ I am!”
She slumped to her butt and now whipped her right calf up to the back of my neck, hooking that foot under the opposite knee, compressing my head further and crushing my face to her crotch. She grunted and squeezed; the hot day made her thighs sweat instantly and my face popped clear of her thighs, but now that meant they latched tightly around the sides of my neck, my face free and feeling like it would explode. The young mom’s incredible quads rippled around me, squashing my face into a mask of sweaty, frightened agony.
“Please…please, miss…don’t..” I begged, my hands frantically tugging at her immense thighs to no effect.
“Fuck you,” she growled. “I could knock your sorry ass out in this figure-four scissors, you fuck, but I wanna let you stay awake to suffer!”
She humped up and down now, resting on her shoulders, thrusting and ramming her hips up and down, snapping her vise-grip scissors on me, jerking my head around and back and forth, making me dizzy and feel like my skull would just go flying off my shoulders. I don’t know how long she crushed me like this, but it seemed to last forever. When she finally stopped, it was only to flop to the side and extend her short legs, twisting my head to face up, making my throat easy prey for those non-stop thighs of destruction.
“Neckscissors, they’re the worst,” she grinned madly down at me, pinching tight her thighs around my neck to prove her point, my windpipe closing instantly and robbing me of air and voice, just a comic cackle coming from my pursed lips. “My fucking husband hates this hold, so naturally I do it all the time!”
She put on a horrendous squeeze of head-popping proportion now, my head surely feeling like it would be severed. This girl was going to kill me, I was sure of it. My feet thrashed into the plastic bags. She got angry at that.
“Don’t you fucking DARE break anything in there or I’ll break YOU in my …helping legs!” she screamed, squeezing harder now, if that were possible, until I forced myself to lie still and endure her scissoring abuse.
It got worse. She bent her locked legs up, slowly, purposefully, the meat of her inner thighs going slack for an instantly, letting me catch my breath in desperate gulps, and then she slammed them out straight again for a full-out squeeze of neck-wrenching power. Over and over she bombed my neck in this savage scissor thrusts until I went dizzy again and felt myself passing out.
She sensed my near unconsciousness and eased the squeeze only to lay the legs to me in short, almost playful bursts, laying on her right side, her left arm draped over her hip, her fingers tweaking my nose which had to be bright red as the rest of my face.
“Big mistake, offering me help, pal, but I’m sure you know that now,” she growled, twisting my nose harder, making me yelp from the frame of her clutching thighs.
“Yes…yes..I know, I know, I’m sorry,” I babbled.
“One more and then I gotta get my shit home,” she sighed in a tone that suggested this was something she did every day.
I don’t know how she contorted herself into this position, but she did; I found myself on my belly, my face absolutely buried up the exposed halves of her brutally solid ass, my nose buried in her crack and those tireless thighs slammed around my face, neck and head, all absorbed in legs and butt, all of it crushing me into screaming submission, my screams lost in the muffled meat of her thrusting ass.
She crushed me hard, arching her back, further entombing my face into the sweaty, well-toned orbs of her amazing ass, those thighs ribboning into steel cords around the sides of my neck, robbing my brain of blood and making me see stars. My hands helplessly pulled at the sweaty hamstrings pinched painfully around my face, tugging at the big mounds of muscled ass flesh surrounding my face, none of it doing anything except making her grunt in concentration and squeeze all that much harder. She had the scissor on full now, 100 percent hard, those big thighs quivering in an all-out effort to decapitate me, I was sure of it. Her ass cheeks folded in a muscular bowl around my trapped face, taking me so deep I felt the tips of my eyelashes brush the sweet, supple, soft flesh of her rump as they blinked madly against it. I couldn’t scream, I was so lost in ass and thigh and complete and utter humiliation and defeat in the powerful scissor grip of a very determined young lady.
I felt myself go out and when I came to, she was sitting up, cross legged, smiling down at me and patting her immense, well-worked thighs with two big red marks on the inside showing the damage zone. My head throbbed in white-hot agony and my neck felt like it had been twisted 360 degrees on its axis. She leaned over and popped open the van hatch, a welcoming wash of fresh air streaming over me and my super sweaty face.
“Get out,” she growled, kicking me with one muscled leg. “And be careful who you offer a helping hand to in the future, unless you want another dose of helping leg!”
I shambled away to her laughter and vowed never to help another woman – with great legs – again.

[bruce911187]

not bad

[dragoness' wrestling fan]

Pretty Good, I think!