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Old 04-Feb-15, 18:32
smirnoff smirnoff is offline
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Default Scissorlympian thighs

Frank loved the Olympics for the legs. He was a leg man, there was no doubt, always was from when he was a pubescent little shit ogling his older sister’s friends’ legs when they’d come to his house to hang out, especially when they’d hang at the pool in their bikinis. He’d hang back out of sight, watching from afar, and better yet, from upstairs, lurking in the dark and pulling his pud endlessly to the sight of all those firm, supple thighs and calves and asses in tiny suits, glistening in the sun, sweaty, sexy muscle on display. His sister and her friends were all athletes, so his introduction into loving legs was further focused in loving muscular legs.
So the Olympics were his time, more in the summer when legs were visible, but even in winter. Speed skaters struck his fancy, especially the tiny Chinese ones, like Sang Hwa Lee, a fireplug of about 130 pounds on a 5-4 body, her massive thighs tight in her clingy suit. But he loved ‘em tall and muscular like Lindsay Vonn, all 5-10, 165 power-packed pounds of her, also in a tight suit that showed off her abundance, succulent butt as well.
Michelle had just started dating Frank, both were in their 40s, divorced, dating here and there in a seemingly futile search to find lasting love. He was at her place one night watching the Olympics, and was getting a little annoyed at his drooling over the babes on the screen, as he’d slap her thigh – pretty thick and muscular themselves, as she loved to bike – and point to the TV, practically panting.
“Oh, Christ, look at Lindsay’s legs, Jesus, what a pair of pipes!” he howled. “Ever seen legs like that Michelle, have you ever?”
She was not pleased. She was pretty athletic, a spry, lean 45 year old blonde, quite pretty, a star runner in school and still in great shape by dint of being an avid cyclist, thighs solid, fleshy, muscular. She was 5-5, 145 pounds, with short, solid legs. They’d just started having sex and the first night, Frank was ga-ga over her legs, which pleased her, but tonight he was just pissing her off no end.
“Man, those thighs, love the slow motion clips, you can see every sexy ripple through the fabric, huh, lookit that, nice!” he drooled as an Asian speedskater’s powerful thighs filled the giant screen of the HDTV.
“I’ll be right back, Frank, I have something I want to show you,” she said calmly, lifting off the couch, sashaying out of the room wiggling her abundant, powerful ass in her tight jeans.
She got out her biking outfit, smiling as she slithered into it, a tight black Spandex top and matching bottom, skin tight and clinging to every inch of her compact, powerful thighs and calves. She tucked the bottoms into white socks and slipped on sneakers. She carried her helmet under her arm and walked to the living room where Frank was beside himself watching Vonn’s thighs ripple downhill.
“Damn, Lindsay, what legs, what…” he said, then looked sidelong at Michelle, stopping midsentence. “Whoa, babe…oh, you KNOW what I like, doncha!”
She laughed and flipped him the helmet. “And I know what you need – that helmet!”
He looked at it, then up and her with a quizzical look.
“You like Olympic thighs, Frankie?” she cooed, sitting astride his lap, strong legs around him and then slipping to her back, taking him atop her and ramming her legs together in a crushing grip, making him wince in agony. “Then you’ll love my Scissorlympian THIGHS!”
“OWWWWWWWWWWW!!!” Frank howled, arching his back in agony as Michelle’s thighs bit brutally hard into his ribs.
She laughed darkly at his agony, laying back, hands behind her pretty head, just using her mammoth thighs to easily control and dominate him, her thick adductors knifing painfully into his ribs, taking them to the breaking point. Though it was winter, he broke a sweat now, his shaking hands pulling at the spandex covered thighs bending his middle. He looked down at her, begging for mercy.
“Honey..I’m sorry…didn’t mean to get carried away…by those…those legs on TV!” he cried.
“Oh, that’s ok, I don’t mind, Frankie, cause it reminded me to remind YOU just how strong MY legs can be!” she hissed, snapping her legs out straight, and though they were short, they locked him so solidly between them he feared he’d be squeezed into two pieces. “But I should warn you: The last guy who I dated and paid too much attention to other women on TV? I busted his ribs, three of ‘em, in this very SCISSOR HOLD!”
“OWWWWWWWWW!!” he screamed again as she bore down. “NOOOOOOO!!!”
“And,” she continued, easing the squeeze just a bit. “When he paid too much attention in real life, I did THIS!”
She unlocked her brutal legs to push him down and smash his face into the warm embrace of her crotch, her giant thighs slamming in a meaty slap against it as she locked her sneakers high and hard behind him. She bucked up off the couch on her hands and thrust all her power into the nylon-clad tubes of muscle that were her bursting thighs. He screamed in agony into her crotch and she snapped him hard to pull his head up a bit now, so his chin rested on her pubic area, his neck a prisoner of her immense, muscular thighs.
“Feel dizzy, Frankie?” she hissed down at him. “You should, I got your arteries just where I want ‘em: In my SCISSORLYMPIAN THIGHS, you fucker! I’ll take you OUT!!!”
“No, pleesh,” Frankie slurred, his hands comically slapping at her abundant thighs in a limp attempt to pull them apart, his mind mush courtesy of her crushing limbs. “Sthtop…schqueezin…”
And then he was out cold. She laughed, let him go and pulled his head up over the arm of the couch, laying him on his back, straddling his face and devouring it up the suffocating buttocks encased in the tight, shiny material so when he came to, all he saw was her big, muscular ass absorbing his face. He screamed in agony as she slowly brought her massive thighs into play, crushing inward, standing on one leg, the other crossed behind it, putting unbelievable pressure into his scissored skull.
“Oh, look, Frankie, speed skaters!” she laughed, twisting to the side a bit to tilt his head so he could see, barely. “MALE speed skaters!Mmmm, they have great asses, that black dude, Shani Davis, wow, what a body on that beefy stud, betcha he’s got a big cock, a big BLACK cock! Dontcha think, Frankie? I mean WAY bigger than your pathetic white dick!”
He was stung by her words, from what he could hear with his entire head packed in her thighs and ass, but the pain of her thighs and ass was way worse and he begged for mercy again. She laughed and tightened the hold, taking him to the brink again – and then knocked him out cold. When he woke this time, he was on the floor, again a prisoner of her thighs, this time from behind, her massive legs locked tight, her sneakered feet locked before him.
“One last scissor, Frankie, then you’re leaving…for the night, and forever, you little punk!” she snarled. “Pull those pant legs up, pull ‘em up and lemme show you my calves!”
He obeyed, whimpering, slowly revealing the thick tubes of succulent muscle, creamy and smooth, alabaster in color, skin as silky as cotton, belying the crushing muscle just beneath the skin. She rippled the muscle for his benefit, hearing him whimper watching her calves bubble and roll behind her shins.
“Feel those calves, Frankie, FEEL ‘EM I say, feel ‘em!” she roared, squeezing hard and then laughing as his pitiful hands couldn’t encircle the big balls of flesh. “Here comes one right at ya!”
She figure foured him, tucking one mega-muscled calf to his throat, hooking that foot behind the other leg and reeling back on the couch, nearly shattering his windpipe and choking the air from him, while the rest of her legs crushed the blood from his brain. In seconds he was out cold, but she kept squeezing, squeezing even as his body convulsed and he snorted, the body trying to fight back to consciousness.
“Don’t worry, you won’t die,” she snarled. “Just a few more seconds of this and you’ll wake up with the worst fucking headache of your miserable life!”
She finally stopped a full 30 seconds later. When he came to a half hour after, she was watching the Women’s Channel, her big legs encased in Spandex, crossed at the knee, bouncing one meaty calf and flashing the muscle at him. She smiled and he raced out of her apartment – and her life.
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