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Forum Saradas  |  Female Muscle Art - Female Muscle Fiction  |  Muscular Women Fantasies & Dreams  |  Neighborhood Crime Crush
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Author Topic: Neighborhood Crime Crush  (Read 3512 times)

Offline dimitar73

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Neighborhood Crime Crush
« on: December 03, 2011, 08:51:23 am »
Leggy single woman takes matters into her own legs when dealing with would-be criminals.

Betsy looked out her bay window, down the street of her quiet suburban neighborhood. It was midday, when most people were working, their houses left alone and little activity taking place. She worked out of her house which came in handy for her role as a neighborhood crime watch volunteer.
Or in her case, a neighborhood crime crush volunteer. The 44-year-old divorced woman was stone-cold built, a workout freak, her 5-6, 130 pound body rock hard from running, aerobics, tennis, swimming and any and all other physical activity - including crushing. She had long, tanned and lean, sinewy legs that came in very handy in her quest to thwart crime in her neighborhood.
As she looked out, a beat-up sedan slowly drove by, the sole occupant looking at one house, then the other. She backed away a bit to not be seen and watched him slowly roll up the street, pulling into the McMahon's driveway in front of a huge Colonial. They had money, most on the street did, and this thug was clearly looking for an easy score. If he set off an alarm, he'd just screw before the cops came. If not, the TVs, computers and other gear inside would net him some quick drug money back in his own shitty neighborhood.
Betsy smiled and slipped into her jogging clothes. She pulled on a tight dark t-shirt that clung to her slender, muscular upper body, her long arms tanned and tight, and her favorite crime-fighting shorts, sinfully tight and indecently short satin red short-shorts that barely contained the swell of her firm, muscular ass. On her slender but strong calves, she tugged on short white socks and over those, red sneakers. She looked in the mirror, pulling her short blonde hair up under a red baseball cap.
"Ready, girls?" she laughed, patting her long and sleekly muscled thighs, standing on tiptoes to look at her calves ripple in the mirror. "Let's go to work squeezing crime!"
She jogged out of her house and up the street and sure enough, the thug had made his way into the McMahon house, jimmying open the front door. She headed up the drive to the door and peered in. The kid was all of 19, scrawny and in shitty clothes, and was looking around for stuff to steal.
"Something I can help you with?" she asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.
The kid's eyes flashed as he turned to face her, clearly all fucked up on drugs. Perfect, Betsy thought, make my job easier.
"You live here?" he growled.
"No, I'm a neighbor," she said calmly. "And you?"
"Uh, just here to do some work they hired me for," he said nervously, eyes darting side to side.
"Yeah? What's their name, the owners?"
"Uh, dunno, a friend told me about it, or some shit…look, I got work to do," he stammered.
"Hmm, interesting," Betsy said, sitting on a big couch and crossing her legs, one shiny shin over the other, calves flared above her socks. "So do we."
"We?" the kid said, looking around. "Who's we?"
"C'mere and find out," she cooed, patting the sofa cushion next to her. "C'mon, have a seat and we can talk about it, big boy."
The kid may have been stoned but he knew a hot babe when he saw one, even one twice his age, so he shambled over and sat next to her. Betsy sat back against the corner, arms above her head, bouncing her top crossed leg casually.
"Me," she hissed, snapping her legs up straight, her sneakers kicking him flush in the face. "AND MY GIRLS!!!"
Before he could react, Betsy sliced her muscular calves around his throat and neck, scissoring him tightly in her coiled lower leg flesh, savagely squeezing and twisting her sneakers together on the other side. The kid screamed at first, then couldn't as she squeezed the voice from him. His hands shot to the leg around his throat and tugged, unable to budge it an inch. Betsy's green eyes flashed as she glared at him, still sitting back, hands above her head in an almost casual pose despite the fact her legs were crushing his throat.
"You fucked in the wrong neighborhood, pal," she growled darkly, snap-scissoring her calves on him for effect. "Nobody breaks into houses while me and THESE LEGS are on watch!!!"
She crushed him a moment longer, stifling any fight he may have had in him. Letting him go, she stood up and walked slowly before him as he slumped back to the couch, rubbing his sore neck and throat, eyes rolling in his head. She stood before him now, hands on her hips, legs slightly spread, her already short shorts riding high to expose even more of her long, rugged thighs.
"C'mon, big boy, come and get me, if you can, you useless drugged-up piece of shit!" she barked at him.
Clearing his scissor-addled head, the kid rushed her, lunging off the couch, making it easy for Betsy to thump his back as he did and direct his head between her spread legs. Closing her muscular thighs around his ears, she leaned down and encircled his waist with her strong, sinewy arms, lifting him off the floor. Now she had him in a standing reverse headscissors, head trapped in thighs, his legs high in the air as she bounced him painfully, punishing him in her legs.
"Where you think you're going, punk?" she growled at him, his crotch at her face giving her the opportunity to head butt him in the balls, adding to his suffering. "NO ONE escapes my Crime Watch CRUSH!!!"
She fell to her knees in a painful piledriver, smashing the top of his head to the floor. She stood up as he groveled at her feet. Quickly she sat behind him as he sat up, ensnaring his skinny waist with her brutally strong, long legs, snapping her ankles together and punching her locked feet into his nuts until he howled.
"Time to send you a message, boy," she hissed, leaning back on her arms and pushing in with her legs.
The kid howled in agony as Betsy's long legs scissored his ribs to the breaking point, finally snapping one, then two. He screamed and then stopped, the action of doing so causing him too much pain.
"please…lady…," he begged quietly. "Stop…I'll go…I swear…"
"Oh, you'll go, but not without taking a few reminders with you first, like two busted ribs and a dislocated neck," Betsy hissed behind him.
"N…neck?" he asked nervously.
Seconds later, she had pulled him back to the floor in her thighs, releasing the bodyscissors to yank his hair and slam him to her thighs, powdering his face with the tawny, tanned interiors of them and lacing her long calves together in a knot. Her adductors knifed fiercely into the sides of his neck, pulling his head away from his shoulders as she leaned up on both hands, putting everything she had into her crushing headscissors.
"There's an expression in aerobics, 'feel the burn!'," she growled, teeth clenched in furious concentration. "Feel it? Feel the burn in your neck, fucker? It's about to get WORSE!!!"
She now settled her ass on the floor and then savagely punched the scissors on tight, lifting up and then down, over and over and over, brutally wrenching his trapped neck and indeed dislocating several neck bones along the way. For two solid minutes she kept up the pummeling scissor lock, thrusting up and down, snapping his head around like a puppet on a string until she finally came to rest and squeezed so hard he passed out cold.
He awoke to see Betsy stripped down to a tiny black g-string, her muscular ass halves creamy and white and embracing the tiny strip of fabric between them. She was standing over him as he lay on his back, unable to move, head throbbing, ribs burning, neck aching.
"Please….no more….call the cops…I don't care…." He babbled incessantly.
"Oh, no, no cops, young man," she growled over her shoulder as she descended on his moaning face, capturing it in the sweaty warmth of her powerful ass, the cheeks slapping shut around his nose and mouth, taking his breath away. "I mete out justice my way!"
She ground down on him, his nose lost in the clamp of ass and smelling her sweaty efforts. She spread her cheeks wider to take him deeper and he soon thrashed from lack of oxygen.
"Don't worry, you won't go out this way," she laughed. "But you WILL go out THIS WAY!!"
She extended her legs back, scooping his head high in her thighs and slamming them shut around his sore neck and tender head, leaning out on her arms over his body. She twisted her feet together and squeezed, ass halves hollowed with the strain, sinewy thighs ripped with tendon and muscle as her inner thighs squeezed with intense fury, shutting off the blood to his brain and knocking him out in seconds. Still she squeezed, harder and with such intensity her long thighs quivered and quaked against his face. He snorted and convulsed beneath her as his body struggled to stay alive, and her thighs relentlessly scissored his head and neck. Finally, she let go and stood, panting from the exertion, as his body twitched on the floor. A full five minutes later, he finally awoke, every muscle and bone in his body aching from the leggy beating of the middle-aged Crime Watch scissor queen.
She had dressed and was waiting for him, sitting on the couch again.
"Time to go and when you get back to your asshole thugs and friends, tell them what happened here," she said sternly, wagging a long finger in his face as he struggled to stand up. "Or better yet, don't tell them. I rather like meeting you one at a time, me and my girls…"
She spread her legs, laughing, and patting the insides of her rugged thighs. The kid lurched to his feet and bolted unsteadily out the door, her laughing behind him. She locked up and jogged back home as his shitty car belched smoke as it raced out of town.

The End  ;)
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Forum Saradas  |  Female Muscle Art - Female Muscle Fiction  |  Muscular Women Fantasies & Dreams  |  Neighborhood Crime Crush
 

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