★Memorable Author: [Jack Straw] Stories~collected

[elgat]

Now I have some good news, I manged to find something else that is not--well, was not--In the DtV library.

The Lady Blacksmith, by Jack Straw  part 1

She proved to be much more than either of two cowboys could handle


      Apel swore and heaved an angry sigh.  Their good-for-nothing cook
had driven the chuckwagon over a rock and broken one of its rusty, worn-
out wheels.  Fortunately, the cattle drive was over, and they were still
in town.  But the rugged trail boss hated this town; he wanted to be on
his way.  He had sent the inebriated cook to get some of his other men
to help out but he knew he'd not see them for the rest of the day.
"Damn drunkards!" he thought, and the cook was the worst of the lot.
Before they headed their separate ways, they would have spent most of
their earnings on women, whiskey and gambling.
      He set off for the livery stable and noticed a comely young woman
sitting in a chair outside the blacksmith shop.  Her legs crossed under
a long leather skirt, slit so that he could enjoy seeing more than a
proper woman was supposed to show, she eyed him appraisingly.  Not one
to stare or to look away, he appraised her in kind and tipped his hat.
He liked the way she filled out her cinched-in blouse.  He noted the
perspiration on her brow and her thrust back posture.  She seemed to be
relaxing after a period of exertion.  He saw a blacksmith apron beside
her and wondered where the smith was. 
      "Good afternoon, ma'am.  or miss?  Where's the smith?  I've got a
problem."
      Ignoring the first two questions, she responded, "What seems to be
the problem?"
      Pondering a moment whether it was worth the effort, he decided to
venture further.  "I've got a broken wheel there," he gestured with a
sidelong glance toward the grounded chuckwagon.
      "Well, sir," she began respectfully, "you've come to the right
place."  She walked over to a long, sturdy post that was leaning against
the building and hefted it easily onto her shoulder.  Then she whistled
for her horse, a spirited plow horse that came bounding out from behind
the building.  Guiding the horse with gentle pats of her young (but
sinewy!) hands, she ambled off in the direction of the broken-down
wagon.  Apel stood in bemused silence, staring appreciatively at the
swaying of her magnificently endowed body as she walked.
      "Well?" she turned around and arched an eyebrow on her young,
beautiful face.
      "Excuse me, ma'am, er miss?" Apel responded, uncomprehending.
      "I thought you wanted your wheel fixed.  Aren't you going to help
me get it off?"
      "Aren't you rushing things a bit?  It's going to take more than
you and me.  You got someone else in mind?"  He remained rooted to the
same spot, not seeing any point in following yet.
      "Oh, we've got all we need," she declared quietly, her lovely
unbound hair bouncing off her broad shoulders as she alternately tossed
her head toward the huge post on one shoulder and the horse on her other
side.  "But I'll need your help once I get the wagon lifted off the
ground.  I suppose you've got a tool in the wagon to loosen the wheel?"
      He nodded and then, shrugging, followed her against his best
judgement.  This was silly.  He felt like he was the butt of a joke he
didn't understand, but she was very nice to look at, so why complain?
      When she reached the wagon, Apel was still a distance behind, not
having tried to match her energetic pace.  She dropped the long, heavy
post near the wagon, oblivious to the resounding thud and the thick
cloud of dust as it hit the ground.  Scanning the side of the street,
she spied a large boulder that was meant to block wagon traffic between
two buildings.  Without saying anything or waiting for Apel's help, she
began rolling it toward the wagon until she had it in position to use as
a fulcrum to lift the wagon.
      Normally one to make the plans and give the orders, Apel watched
at first uncomprehendingly and then in catatonic amazement.  "Well?" she
queried in her laconic manner.  "Aren't you going to loosen the wheel so
that we can slide it off?"
      "What?" Apel mumbled absently.  He had been thinking how nice her
hair smelled as she turned to face him.  She was tall for a woman and
the top of her head was just above the nostrils of the lanky trail boss.
"Pull off the wheel while the wagon's leaning on it?" he finally managed
to respond in a confused tone, still not believing that the two of them
were going to accomplish this Herculean task.  His tone now conveyed
some respect as well, though.  He was beginning to feel that this young
woman was not to be trifled with.  Maybe it might be possible if he had
not pulled the cook aside before he could get drunk and bullied him into
getting provisions for the homeward journey, not to mention certain
things the infernal drunkard used to make money by selling to ranchers
along the way back.  He was not looking forward to unloading the damn
thing.
      "Loosen the wheel," she repeated quietly, "while I get another
rock," she went on slowly, as if speaking to a child.
      The trail boss, who was used to staring down bands of volatile,
hardened men until he got his way, found himself obeying her order
despite the obvious absurdity of it all.  Something about her manner, so
confident, so -- well, commanding!
      He rooted among the cook's disorganized pile of utensils and found
the rusty wrench.  He had to beat it on the side of the wagon to remove
enough caked rust so that it would fit on the bolt that held the wheel
to the axle.  Not feeling the need to rush this fool's errand, he
glanced casually around to see what she was up to now.  What he saw made
him stare, first in amazement and then in veritable awe. 
      She was bending down to pick up a second boulder, smaller than the
first but much larger than he would tackle, even with another man to
help.  Yet, with the barest of grunts, she straightened her legs and
hefted it to her trim waist and walked steadily to where the trail boss
was kneeling weakly next to the broken wheel, limply holding the wrench
that had slipped off the bolt while he blinked in open-mouthed wonder.
He felt suddenly faint with a mixture of threatened masculinity and --
he gradually realized to his surprise -- sexual arousal. 
      He noted how the veins stood out through the soft skin over her
sleekly muscular neck.  Her prominent breasts were thrust out against
her blouse, now soaked with exertion-induced perspiration that made it
transparent and molded it so tightly that her nipples stood out in bold
relief.  Although the blouse had been loose enough at the top to give
him a generous view of her cleavage on their first meeting, her bust now
strained against buttons that threatened at any moment to pop off like
tiny cannon shots.  Well-defined arms and shoulders were becoming
evident under what had been loose sleeves.  The fleeting image of her
shapely legs bulging through the slits of her skirt as she had raised
the boulder from the ground kept flashing through his mind.  No, this
was not a woman to trifle with.
      He couldn't help think about whether he could have lifted that
boulder.  It must not be as heavy as it looked, he decided.  Yeah, he
could have done it, he thought, but without conviction.  Anyway, he
wouldn't -- why risk his back?  Only a woman or child would be so
reckless.
      Coming out of his revery with a start, he realized she was
impatiently waiting for him to loosen the wheel.  He gave the wrench a
vigorous yank, but, to his chagrin, nothing happened except that
something gave way in his shoulder.  He grimaced and put his entire body
into it.  Still nothing.  On his third effort, the wrench slipped off
and he thudded ass-first into the thick dust of the street.
      Suppressing a laugh, but unable to hide the merriment in her eyes,
she delicately stepped over him.  "Let me help.  Maybe together we can
get it," she said politely.  But, before he could manage to get to his
feet, she had locked the wrench on the rusty nut and, with a loud
screeching sound, was loosening it.  "There!  You must have loosened
it," she murmured generously.
      "Now, when I lift the wagon, you slide that rock under the axle
and remove the wheel," she commanded softly in a matter-of-fact tone as
she wedged the post between the large boulder and the wagon bed.
      "Huh?"  He was slapping some of the dust off his pants.  "Look,
you're going to need more weight to --"  But before he could finish his
lesson in common sense, she had vaulted astride the horse and pulled
down on the post, inexorably levering the wagon upward.  Her legs were
gripped tightly around the big horse, bowing its flanks inward, and he
swore the horse's hooves almost left the ground as the wagon went up.
He hurriedly removed the wheel.  He couldn't help noticing how the
muscles in her exposed forearms bulged and rippled.  When she let go of
the post, her exertion showed in the deep color in her face, the
suddenly prominent veins in her neck, and the gentle heaving of her
imposing bosom.  But her voice was calm as she directed them back to the
smithy.
      THAT I could not have done, he thought.  It was more than just a
matter of leverage.  She had used her body like a powerful spring to
pull the post and horse together.  Well, maybe it was leverage; it WAS a
very long post.  But he thought about how he had strained to ROLL the
big rock she had LIFTED.  He shook his head, and returned his gaze to
the seductive swaying of her hips and the swelling of her torso inside
the straining blouse and the lustrous hair reflecting the afternoon sun.
[continue...]

[elgat]

The Lady Blacksmith, by Jack Straw part 2


[...continued]
Back at the shop, she closed the big double door and bolted it.
She opened some windows high above the floor with the long post and
offered Apel some whiskey and a glass.  He glanced around; impressive
decor for a blacksmithy, he mused.
      He turned to see her stripping out of skirt and blouse in a
corner.  With almost brazen aplomb, she pulled the heavy leather apron
over her naked torso and over a brief undergarment around her crotch.
Apel had never seen such muscles.  Her shoulders, arms, back, and legs
were densely muscled, but with an alluring feminine sleekness.  With her
side turned toward him so that he had a clear view through the gap in
the apron, he marveled at the way her chest thrust out her large
breasts.  Her body was almost completely revealed in breathtaking
profile, powerful and sexy!  Her large, striated muscles merely
highlighted the sleek curvature of her hour-glass figure, exquisitely
exaggerated on top and trimly corded in the middle. A vision, a fantasy.
His member was so hard it ached.  She saw him staring and smiled.
      For the next thirty minutes she calmly worked at the forge,
handling the huge hammer as if it were a drum stick.  He tried to be
nonchalant, unsuccessfully willing his member to behave and his heart to
slow down.  This young woman made him feel like a child, inadequate and
worshipful.  His voice cracked adolescently as he asked about the
previous owner.  "A huge bear of a man.  What happened to him?"
      "Managed to get his back broken, not to mention most of the other
bones in his body, and died."
      "Oh, what happened?"
      Again she ignored his question, but went on with her own train of
thought.  "He was my father."
      "I'm sorry."
      "Don't be.  He lived a full life by his standards."
      "Your mother?"
      "Dead, too.  Some say of a broken heart.
      "What's your name -- I apologize, I just realized I never
introduced myself."
      "Oh, no need.  Everyone knows that you're Buck Apel, but a friend
of yours told me your real name is Adam,"  she said, her eyes
unconsciously drifted to the outcropping of his larynx that was so
prominent on his muscular neck.  She liked his rugged features.  Perhaps
a little too old for her, she thought, but he'd only be here one day and
night anyhow.  She lifted her lustrous eyes seductively to his.  "I'm
Sally."
      "Call me Buck," he said quietly, emphasizing the last word.  In
countless scraps as he was growing up, he had earned the right to the
nickname he'd chosen.  Adam Ijpel, his Dutch parents had named their
first born in America, unaware of the jokes it would bring from teasing
children in their new home.  He somehow didn't hate his real name
anymore, but only one other person knew it, or so he thought. It seemed
strange to hear it after so long.  He wondered what had happened to that
saloon girl.  He had nearly proposed to her on a steamy night a few
years ago.  Apel looked away and sighed.
      "I'm sorry," she said softly. "If the name's a secret, it's safe
with me.  Betsy left this god forsaken place a good while ago.  She just
had too much of -- of everything for these -- " She paused and went on.
"She'll be in San Francisco or New York or London by now.  I think I was
the only one who understood her at all.  She liked you a lot, if it
matters to you."  She looked up at him searchingly.
      "Why don't you pour yourself another drink, Mr. Apel?"
      "Uh, thanks, but no.  How much longer will the wheel take?"
      "Quite a while.  I have to let this part cool, then I'll be fusing
this other section back.  Look," she raised her head to him as if she'd
just had a thought, "why don't I pour you some water for a bath.  More
private than the hotel and hotter water, too!"
      "Well, I don't think --" he started to reply, but she had danced
off with a huge steaming kettle from near the fire and disappeared
behind a curtain.  He heard what sounded like the kettle and then a
large bucket of water being emptied into a tub.  She pulled the curtain
open to reveal a lightly steaming elegant tub, more elegant certainly
than any the trail boss had ever rubbed against his skin.  "It's on the
house.  Don't tell me you wouldn't like one.  I know you cowboys fight
over those tepid things they offer at the hotel."
      "Well, if you insist," he replied with a smile.  It seemed rude to
refuse now.
      He stepped inside the curtain and stripped off his clothes.  He
noted the white color of his legs against the nut-brown leathery skin of
his hands.  He eased down into the hot water, letting his body adjust to
its heat bit by bit.  Settling finally with a sigh of comfort, he looked
around for soap, not that he really cared for any.  What he really
wanted was a smoke.
      "Looking for this?" she asked throatily.
      He blinked his eyes upward toward the parting curtain.  She was
holding a bar of soap in one hand and a whiskey in another, and she
didn't have on a stitch  of clothing!  The rugged trail boss swallowed
loudly.  Her glorious body glistened with a sheen of light perspiration
from working near the forge.  Bursting with vitality and so utterly
beautiful, she approached him with a seductive, knowing smile.  Apel
could only gape.  His aroused member made a small sound as it erected in
the water.
      "Well, uh -- this is definitely better service than the hotel,
ma'am" he finally managed to squeak out.  She bowed and chuckled, as
much at his confusion as at his wit.
      "You can call me Sally, Mr. Apel," she smiled enticingly.
      "Buck," he rejoined laconically, captivated by her lovely face.
      As she leaned down toward the flustered trail boss, the spell was
broken by a tremendous racket at the back of the smithy.  The large
plowhorse had started bucking in his stall.  Until now, Apel had not
noticed that a door at the back of the smithy opened into the stall, so
that the horse could actually enter the premises.  Apel was startled,
but, before he knew it, the nude amazon had scaled a stanchion and
leaped astride her bucking horse. 
      "Now, Dragon, calm down!  Don't be naughty!  You have no call to
be so jealous!  Do I have to show you who's boss?"  She clamped her
naked legs around the steed.  Apel became weak in the knees as he
watched her thighs and calves expand immensely into steely ridges that
cut incredibly into the flanks of the sturdy horse.  The horse neighed
in a pitiful cry of pain and slowly collapsed onto the straw-covered
floor.
      Sally gave the horse a couple of vicious flexes and then
triumphantly rose from the whimpering stallion.  She told it to get up,
swatted it, and sent it through a door behind his stall.  She closed,
bolted, and locked the door.
      Apel had seen enough.  It didn't matter that this sexy virago set
his body on fire like no other female ever had, and she still hadn't
even touched him!  She was just too strange.  And dangerous!
      Not finding a towel, he started to grab for his pants as he
dripped water on the floor.  But they were whisked out of his hands
before he had a good grasp.
      "Now, wait until I tell people how the great Apel tried to run
away from me!" she laughed merrily.  Batting her long eyelashes
bewitchingly, she drew his wet body against her impressive breasts and
murmured, "There's really no reason to leave.  Where are you going to
go?  It's not good manners to just jump up and run off."  He tried to
move his arms and legs, but she had them trapped with her more powerful
limbs and seemed not to notice his efforts.  Molded skin to skin against
her powerful, sleek, perfectly formed body and captivated by her
smoldering eyes, he lost the urge to resist.  His hardening member would
have erected in full iron-hard glory except that its upward thrust was
arrested by slapping against her hot, moist pubic mound, its bending of
his penis completing her conquest of his body.  She raised up on tiptoes
and opened her thighs to capture his engorged prong between them.  Her
sinewy thighs sawed up and down on it, sending waves of hot pleasure
crashing against his brain, which in turn sent one insistent signal
throughout his body.  The horse, the wheel, this lousy town -- all was
forgotten.  He sunk into the tub as she pressed him downward, his body
on fire.
      Once again a loud noise interrupted them.  Someone was banging on
the immense front door of the smithy.  "Open up, Sally," bellowed a loud
male voice on the other side of the door.  "Sally!  Open up!  I know
you're in there and I'm not goin' away!"
      She sighed and muttered under her breath, "You'll pay for this
Sam.  You'll really pay this time."
      She drew the long curtain to hide the naked trail boss, who sunk
obligingly down into the big tub.  She put on a long, loose shirt over
her naked torso, the long tails of which hung below the bottom of the
short, frilly undergarment with which she covered her wet pubic mound.
The shirt hid her arms, but she left the top buttons undone so that the
tops of her large breasts and the deep cleavage between them were
prominently bared.  Her beautifully muscled legs were naked down to the
high-heeled boots. [continue...]

[elgat]

The Lady Blacksmith, by Jack Straw part 3
[...continued]
She jerked open the door.
      "Get rid of that cowpoke, Sally, or I'll beat him to a pulp,"
yelled a red-faced giant of a man.  "I know he's in here.  You're my
girl, Sally.  You keep forgetting that."
      "Sam, I've made it very plain that I want nothing to do with you.
Never have, never will.  And if you don't leave this instant, you'll
regret it for the rest of your miserable life -- which could be a very
short one, if you ever bother me again!"
      "Damn, Sal, I love it when you're riled.  You've just got it all
over any other gal," he chuckled, touching her hair.
      She batted his hand away furiously.  "I'm serious, you bastard.
Leave.  Now.  While you still can."
      "Still the tomboy," he chuckled again.  "I love your fire, gal.
I'm the only one who ain't afraid of you.  You know they're all afraid
to come courtin' ya," he smirked as if congratulating himself at telling
a good joke.
      "You mean they're tired of being attacked by you and your no-
account cousins.  You've caused me nothing but grief lately.  Give me
one good reason I shouldn't break every bone in your body with my bare
hands," she spat out through clenched teeth.
      "One reason," he repeated and paused.  "Well, for starters because
you couldn't."  He grinned smugly.  "You're strong for a woman and I
like that, but you're no match for a real man like me.  Just ask Jasper
or Joe," he smirked again reaching to draw her into a hug.
      She pushed him away before he could embrace her.  "A real man, you
say?  You don't think I couldn't beat you to a pulp?  Believe me, I've
done it to better than you."  She paused and then continued in an
exasperated tone, "You think just because you're a man, you must be
stronger?  You don't think smithy work requires more muscle than
whatever it is you do?  Well, how about a little contest of strength,
Sammy?  Prove what a man you are," she challenged, looking him in the
eye.
      "What, against you?  That's silly.  I didn't come here to fight
against you.  I'm after that yellow-bellied cowpoke who's in here
somewhere afraid to show himself."
      "If there's someone else in here, it's none of your business.
Forget about it.  Besides, you're the one who's yellow.  You're afraid
to match muscles with a girl.  You're the one who's afraid of me!" she
taunted.  When he merely smirked at her, she realized her taunting was
having no effect.  Her first thought was to slap him, slap him until he
tried to retaliate or overpower her.  Then she glanced at her anvil and
it gave her an idea.  "But look," she continued in a different tone,
"I'll make it easy for you to prove yourself.  I need someone with a
little muscle to help me move something.  If you're up to it, maybe I've
underestimated you after all."
      "Help, huh?  Just like a woman.  First you're talkin' about
fightin' and then you want my help.  Sure, what can I do for ya?"
      "Oh, I haven't changed my mind.  It's just that I want to use your
muscles before I crush them to mush,"  she leaned in close to him and
wrapped herself sensuously around him.  "Perhaps we are meant for each
other.  You're a bad boy and I'm a bad girl who loves to put bad boys in
their place."
      Behind the curtain, Apel was pondering his situation.  He had
never intended to hang around this long.  He could hear most of what was
being said and he was surprised at her childish bantering.  If she
really wanted to get rid of this loudmouth, she was going about it all
wrong.  Should he depart or stay?  A fleeting image of Sally entering
the bathtub stirred his still erect cock and decided the issue for him
momentarily.  What else did he have to do today?  This was his day of
recreation before heading back.  He reached for the whiskey and sunk
down into the warm water of the bathtub with a muted sigh.  Out in the
smithy, hearing the clink of glass and the muted gurgling of the bath
water, Sam turned his head toward the sound.  But Sally sprang to
action, giving him an all-out fusillade with the sexual weapons of her
arsenal, and his brain, never one of his strong points, ceased conscious
functioning.
      "My, Sam, such big muscles you've got.  I've been looking for the
man's who's strong enough to make me behave.  No one's been able to yet,
but I keep looking.  Are you the one, big cowboy?"  she breathed in his
ear, molding and rubbing her perfect feminine physique against him.
      She unbuttoned the top of his shirt and stroked the hairs on his
immense chest.  The open front of her shirt drew his eyes to a generous
view of her spectacular cleavage.  She rubbed her large breasts and hard
nipples against him.  Placing one hand behind his head, she brought his
lips roughly down to hers in a hot, moist kiss.  Simultaneously, she
placed her other hand behind his butt and rubbed his bulging crotch with
her bared and sensuously muscled leg.  In a reversal of the stereotypic
interplay of the sexes, he appeared to struggle against her as she drew
the breath from his body with her kiss and continued her forceful
ministrations of his obviously aroused crotch area.
      Men are so easy, she thought to herself.  I could bring this hulk
to his knees without a single punch or wrestling hold, but it's so much
fun to do it both ways.  Puff em up and then rip em apart.  So easy! she
mused as she teased his insistent erection through his tented pants with
her naked thigh.  Sam was so dizzy with lust and lack of air that he
would have fallen were it not for her muscular legs easily supporting
them both.
      Finally, Sam's arms went limp and she released her full, moist
lips from his.  Sam's head fell limply toward her bared bosom and then
bounced upward when those strong globes heaved upward as she took a deep
breath.  She rubbed the back of her hand across her lips and grimaced as
if trying to remove a bad taste.
      His eyes fluttered open.  "My, Sal, you want it bad, girl," he
croaked.
      "First, though, I need to use your big muscles, Sam, honey," she
said throatily.  "I want to move my anvil over there," she said nodding
toward her large anvil and then pointing toward a spot on the opposite
side of the fire area.
      Sam looked doubtful.  "That's a big hunk of metal and you've got
it attached to a bigger hunk of wood," he said indicating the sawed-off
trunk of a great oak to which the anvil had been nailed with huge iron
spikes.  "I'll go get some men to help me -- after we do some more
smoochin'."
      "Oh, Sam, don't go weak on me now.  You're always braggin' about
your big muscles.  How about puttin' 'em to some use?" she said pushing
away from him.  She strode over to the anvil, giving Sam a good view of
her breathtaking femininity, more revealed than covered by her loose
shirt.  Then, she bent her legs slightly, grabbed the pointed end of the
anvil, and lifted one end of the anvil and its sturdy oaken base off the
ground.  "See, it's not so heavy," breathing easily, she said to the
surprised giant.  "The two of us can do it."
      "Well, okay, maybe that side's not," he said in a puzzled voice.
"But that's the light end and almost all the weight's still on the
ground," he finished confidently as if he were an engineer explaining a
physics problem.  "Besides Sal, you're apt to hurt yourself doing things
like that.  I know you're real strong for a girl, but you need a big man
like me to do the heavy lifting around here."
      "Oh, bah!  This is nothing for me.  But it sounds like it's too
much for you.  I'm not surprised; men really are the weaker sex.  Never
seen one yet that could keep up with me.  A few minutes ago, though, I
thought you were the man for me.  Now I'm having second thoughts.  I
thought you could help me but I guess you're not man enough."
      "Who's not man enough?  Name one man who's stronger than me and
I'll beat the manure out of him without breaking a sweat," he roared.
"All right, if anyone can do it, I can.  But be careful you don't hurt
yourself," he brayed as he swaggered over and removed his shirt.  "This
is what you wanted to see, wasn't it?" he snickered as he proudly flexed
his bared chest and thick arms. 
      Bending his legs and back, he placed his large hands under the
other end of the anvil, grunted with effort, and managed to raise his
end a couple of inches off the ground.  Within seconds he was drenched
in sweat, his face and vein-swollen neck were red as the sunset, and his
grunting belied exertion to the point of pain.  Still holding the other
end higher than his, she started backing away with it. 
      "Whoa!" he croaked shakily as his end slipped from his grasp and
thudded loudly on the ground of the smithy. 
      As he panted noisily, she said brightly, "We were doing it.  Now,
if you get your end up higher, we can make short work of this and do
something more interesting!"
      Still panting, he was clearly dumfounded that she seemed hardly to
be exerting herself.  "Look, that end is a lot lighter, and you were
holding it so that almost all the weight was on me."
      "Oh," she giggled, "THAT was the problem.  I thought maybe the big
man wasn't as strong as the little woman.  Okay, you lift your end first
and get it high enough so that more weight's on me.  Let's try that, big
guy.  I don't want your heart to give out before we tumble in the hay."
      "Does this thing have to go over there?" he asked in a petulant
tone.
      "Look, are you man enough to help me or not?  Give little ole me
more of the weight this time," she taunted.  "Don't ever do any smithy
work.  You don't have the muscle for it."
      Her taunting had the desired effect.  With fire in his eyes, he
roared, "Okay, you asked for it."  And with the energy of his anger to
aid him, he slowly hefted his end a few inches off the ground.  "Now
lift your end if you can, girly," he wheezed challengingly, clearly not
expecting that she could, now that the weight would have shifted toward
her.
      "Okay," she said gaily and lifted her end immediately upward and
started retreating with it toward the other end of the large fire area.
      Trying to match her gait, he moved also.  But as he took another
step, he stumbled and let the big anvil and its base thud to the ground
once again. "Damn, Sally, I think you've given me a hitch in my back,"
he complained, holding his side and lower back as he settled awkwardly
on one knee.   "Let's forget about moving this thing, for now.  I'll
round up a couple of other guys after you and me make up for lost time
in the hay back there."
      "I can't believe what a weakling you are," she taunted
disgustedly.  "Why would I want to waste any more time on a nothing like
you?"
      "Thanks a lot for your concern, lady.  And as for weak -- again, I
say name one man who's stronger."
      "Well, there's at least one WOMAN who is," she said coyly, pulling
off her loose shirt.  Now almost nude before the stupefied giant at her
feet, she flexed and stretched the awesome physique that he had never
before been privy to view.  The womanly curves robbed a man's breath.
Her incredible musculature made him feel small at the same time her
beauty and audacious curves made a part of him get much bigger.
      "I guess this calls for a little gal power.  The big man wasn't up
to it," she teased.  Grinning at his slack-jawed shock from viewing her
nude physique, "What's the matter?  Not so proud of your manly muscles
anymore?" she sneered at him.
      "Maybe you weren't doing it properly," she murmured. "Remember,
you lift mostly with your legs."  So saying, she planted her feet wide
apart, bent her legs 90 degrees at the knees, grasped her hands under
each side of the huge anvil, and with a jerk straightened her legs as
she flexed her mighty arms.  Muscles exploded into jagged relief all
over her body, exaggerating her womanly curves, even as they put to
shame any male physique Sam had ever seen.  Higher and higher she hefted
the anvil until it slapped up against her large, heavy breasts, thrust
out on the thick pectoral muscles of her deep, deep chest.  Pivoting
around and walking steadily under this prodigious weight, she managed to
talk without panting or wheezing, though her face and upper body
darkened from the exertion and beads of perspiration broke out over her
beautiful skin.  "This is what a woman can do, you big LITTLE man, if
she works her body day after day at something that requires a little
muscle.  Maybe if you worked more and blew wind less, Sam, you might get
some decent muscle, too.  But for now, you ain't nothin' but a fly speck
to me.  I can do anything I want to you, and there's nothing that
bullying body of yours can do to stop it."
      She let the anvil down gently to ground and turned her attention
to the man who was awkwardly clambering to his feet.  She caught the top
of his pants with one hand as he tried to escape and reeled him to her
with the flexing of that one mighty arm.  "And there's plenty I mean to
do to you, you no-good bully.  I don't know where you got the idea that
I was YOUR gal, but you're sadly mistaken.  And I'm going to pay you
back for what you done to Jasper and Jason.  You ain't NEVER gonna hurt
none of my friends again." [continue...]

[elgat]

The Lady Blacksmith, by Jack Straw part 4

[...continued]
The big man's face took on a frantic look, and he visibly
trembled.  Completely stripped of his normal swagger, in his panic he
punched her in her rock-solid belly and yelped as it hurt his wrist.
      "Come on," she taunted, moving between him and the door, and
putting her arms across her gravity-defying melon-sized breasts, "you
can do better than that.  You're always brayin' to the guys about what a
terrific punch you have, but I think you're nuthin but a creampuff.  Go
on.  Hit me a good one.  Show the little woman what a big man can do!"
She stood exposing her midriff, taunting him to hit her.  Her trim waist
flexed into a corded washboard of muscular flesh as she dared the big
man to prove himself.
      "Okay, girlie," he said grimly, "remember you asked for this.  You
won't be the first woman who needed a little slapping around to put her
head back on straight.  Maybe I should give you a little spankin' too.
Your snoot's always been a little too high for your own good," he
finished fiercely.
      Narrowing his eyes as she continued smirking at him despite his
threats, he decided to give her a hard thump to wipe that smile off her
face.  Her taunting was setting off his volatile temper.  But his first
punch did not even make her flinch and her smile broadened.  Growling
with anger, he gave it all he had, beating his huge fists onto the soft
skin that cloaked her oaken abs, hips, sides, shoulders and back, until
he tired enough that he gave up.  When he swung for her face she blocked
him and covered her breasts against punches there, but otherwise she let
him vent his rage and run out of steam, smirking at him contemptuously.
      As he dropped his arms to catch his breath, she grabbed both of
his hands and raised them upward for a traditional test of strength.
"Come on, big guy, let me show you why I could lift that little hunk of
metal and you couldn't."  Despite his height and leverage advantage, it
was no contest.  She forced him moaning in pain to his knees and
continued pressing his wrists backward toward the ground and grinding
his hands with hers.  "Where's that great strength you're so proud of?
Fight back, you spineless sidewinder, you big sissy!  Can't even save
yourself from a girl!"  He tried, sobbing with pain and effort, but to
no avail.  "Kiss the ground, you weak excuse for a man.  Kiss it and I
might let you up!" she snarled.  
      "Oh, Sal, please, let me go.  My wrists hurt bad.  I think you
done broke one.  Please!" he sobbed, dutifully pressing his lips to the
grimy floor and then spitting dirt out pitifully.  Still she did not
relent, grinding one of his hands to pulpy, purplish mess with the
awesome strength of one of her work-trained hands, unmoved by his high-
pitched screams and ineffectual kicking and squirming to free himself.  
      "No more bullying of the boys who want to see me!" she commanded
sternly, contemptuously resting her other hand on her delectably thrust
out hip.  Still holding his damaged hand with one of hers, despite his
frantic efforts to free it with his other hand, she yanked the hand
easily away from his other hand and whirled him around.  Holding him
upright with her free arm, she jammed his crushed hand high up his back
until his shoulder was put under tremendous strain.
      "Oh, god.  Oh, god!  Stop, Sally, stop!  My shoulder!" he screamed
as she pushed brutally upward.
      "YOU stop ME, big guy!  Can't do it can you?  I've only used one
hand against you and you can't stop it, you big soft baby.  A woman is
doing this to you," she hissed throatily, running her free hand
seductively over his naked chest and shoulders and kissing him hotly on
the neck. "A woman you'd love to be slammin' in the hay but ain't man
enough," she breathed, rubbing her big firm breasts and thickly engorged
nipples into his naked back and moving her hand inside his pants to the
bulge in his crotch. "A woman that's got you so hot you can't think of
anything else." The big man gasped with arousal, forgetting the pain in
his hand and shoulder momentarily as she arrested her pressure at the
breaking point.  Whirling him around suddenly and then letting go of the
arm she had been torturing, she stepped backward and put her hands on
her hips.  "You know you want me.  Go ahead, try to take me.  Show the
little lady that you're man enough to put me down," she taunted.
      When the blinking man hesitated, she pushed him down and tugged
off his boots as she sat on his legs.  Jumping up, she grabbed the
bottoms of his pants and ripped them off as he flailed his legs
unsuccessfully.  She giggled as his dirty, floppy, button-down drawers
were revealed, and then she ripped them off as well.
      With a bellow of rage, he struggled to his feet.  She backed away
toward the door, smiling and beckoning with her fingers, challenging him
to attack her.  Hands on flaring hips, she drew a deep breath and held
it with an imperious smile of utter invincibility.  About to make his
charge, Sam was momentarily frozen in place by this vision.  Her torso
had exploded into a voluptuous, powerful sculpture of iron-hard feminine
pulchitrude.  Her lightly bronzed skin, exposed by disrobing and
glistening with perspiration, added to her extremely erotic allure.  It
was so different than the white, creamy appearance of other girls when
they disrobed and contrasted exotically with the white of her tight,
lacy bloomers.  Sam pictured her working by the forge in the nude,
working those arousing muscles and thrusting her imposing breasts, and
his penis sprang to attention.
      Seeing his condition, she giggled.  "Like what you see, cowboy?"
And she danced in front of him, making his erection engorge and harden
further.  Spittle formed at the side of his mouth and his breathing
quickened in the obvious throes of lust.  She giggled again.  Men were
so easy!  "Well, come and get it if you can.  Are you man enough to take
me down and stick that little twig in me like you want so badly?  Or
will I take you?  This the only way out of here, so you'll have to do
something.  Kick me, bite me, pull my hair, do all those sissy-bully
things.  It won't matter, you weak cowpoke, because I can rip you apart
with one hand tied behind my back."  Again she invited him with taunting
finger, a big smug smirk on her face.
      With another bellow, he charged, slamming her into the door with
his charge.  He grabbed one of her wrists with both of his hands and
whirled her around so that he now had her arm behind her back.
      "There, how do YOU like it, girlie?" he yelled as he pushed
upward.  He was protecting his damaged hand and wrist by pushing upward
with the forearm while he gripped her wrist as hard as he could with the
other hand.
      She merely laughed at his onslaught and tickled his exposed ribs
with her free hand.  "Got a good hold have you, little boy?  Go ahead
push upward with both your arms against my one arm.  It's only fair to
give the weaker sex an advantage, your two against my one.  Pa was
always rumbling about how much stronger men were than women, that I
couldn't do this and I couldn't do that because females were weaker.
Well, he found out which was the weaker sex in the end.  You're just
like him, never asking a woman, always telling her, bullying everyone
who's smaller.  You're a yellow-bellied coward, Sam, but you've made a
big mistake this time.  I am going to rip you apart and I won't even
work up a sweat.  Go ahead, try to hurt me with those big muscles of
yours.  We've already seen how weak you really are."
      He had bent her arm behind her back, but despite his best efforts,
he could not bend it further.  All the while that she had been deriding
him with her chatter about being weaker and belonging to the weaker sex,
he had been grunting with effort.  His muscles bulged monstrously, but
the woman's muscles swelled too, until they rivalled in size those of
her large attacker and far surpassed his in definition.  Her shoulder,
triceps, and biceps thickened and separated into awesomely striated
ridges.  The man's arms began to tremble and give way.  He whimpered
like a wounded animal as he felt himself being overcome.  He the man,
the supposedly stronger sex, with all the advantages of leverage and
weight, not only could not hold her arm in this vulnerable position, but
his two arms were being inexorably forced downward and outward by her
one awesomely flexed arm.  In this contest of brute strength, the woman
was proving far stronger, as she had ever since he had dared to enter
her shop.  Apel, peeking out through a small gap in the curtain could
not believe what he was seeing, a big man bulging with muscles most men
would envy, giving way after holding the single arm of this beautiful
young woman in the most vulnerable position imaginable with both of his
thick arms.
      True to her word, she now had managed to force his trembling arms
outward until her arm was no longer trapped behind her back.  The big
brute looked exhausted.  Not only was the woman stronger, but she had
far more endurance.  Sweat poured down his red face and he was breathing
in gasps.  The fierce pounding he had tried to give her with his fists
and now these drawn-out tests of strength had sapped all his energy.
She whirled around to face him, twisting her arm inside his now slippery
grip.  With her powerful legs spread apart solidly holding her ground
and her other hand held contemptuously on her hip, she continued pushing
backward on both of the exhausted giant's arms.  She smiled smugly as
fear registered on his face.  How could she be so strong and I so weak,
he wondered, the question, the shock, written clearly on his
transparent, contorted features.
      "How humiliatin', huh, Sam?  Your big cowpoke muscles can't stop
me, two of yours against one of the sexy lady's, and your little poker
wiltin' against my tummy like your soft muscles, and you cain't do
nuthin' bout it."  Looking smugly into his eyes, she reached her free
hand around to his big rear end and pulled him tightly toward her.  She
wriggled the soft skin of her rippling abdomen against his trapped penis
and felt it begin to swell again.  She giggled in rapturous delight.  He
groaned in pain and lust.  Tears of frustration welled up at not being
able to arrest her strength, at the humiliation of knowing the girl he
lusted for was laughing at him.
      "Come on, Sam, I don't think you're trying anymore," she taunted.
"That's going to cost you an arm, I'm afraid."  She yanked her wrist
from his grasp and grabbed his damaged wrist, simultaneously pushing so
that now one of HIS arms was behind HIS back.  It was now out of reach
for his other hand, so he used that hand to punch at one of her big,
firm breasts, but in such close quarters it merely made her giggle at
his inability to hurt her.  "Oh, Sam, don't tickle me like that.  You're
gonna make me laugh."  She quickly withdrew her free hand from his butt
and grabbed his free arm at the wrist as well.  She yanked both his arms
brutally out to his sides.  Pressing her big breasts seductively against
his yielding chest and her abdomen tightly against his now turgid prick,
she throatily challenged him again.  "Are you up for one more test of
strength, big guy.  You push against me, I push against you.  The
loser -- well, I intend to tear up your shoulders this time, Sammy boy!
I could have done it before but that would have been too soon. Not
enough fun for me, not enough pain for you. That's it push! You kinda
jumped the gun, but that's okay."
      Sensing that it was his last chance to prevail or escape, Sam put
all his considerable weight and remaining energy into it.  Ignoring the
searing pain in his wrist, he first pushed with all his might and then
suddenly pulled in an attempt to pull her off balance and get her on the
floor.  But her thickly muscled legs were immovable.  Slowly,
inexorably, she pushed the big bully toward the door, his planted feet
plowing grooves in the gravel floor.  As she pushed, she rubbed her big
breasts against his chest and when his midsection touched hers, she
rubbed against his turgid erection, keeping him on the edge sexually as
well as near exhaustion physically.  Slowly, effortlessly it seemed, she
pushed upward and backward on the exhausted man's arms, raising them
behind his back.  When she had them nearly meeting behind him and part
way upward she shifted her grips upward to the elbows so that she could
continue yanking them upward.  Even so his girth forced her to burrow
her breasts into his chest to be able to reach that far.  She noted with
satisfaction that the thrusting of her own immense chest was crushing
inward on his and he gasped every time she took a deep breath.  She
almost laughed as she toyed with him in this way, forcing him to gulp in
air whenever she would let him.  The pressure on his shoulders was
becoming painful as she yanked ever upward despite his furious efforts
to resist.  And more and more she insinuated her flexing midriff against
his erect member.
      She had him backed against the wall now, with his naked butt
pressed forcefully against the rough wood.  The wall and his girth
impeded her pulling his arms up further behind him, but she solved the
problem by kicking savagely with her booted heels at the back of his
ankles, each in rapid succession.  His butt slid down the rough wood,
picking up painful splinters, and his head sunk forward into the deep
chasm between her large, firm breasts.  Maintaining her grip on his
elbows and her terrible upward pressure, she brought his arms upward
until his shoulder ligaments crackled with the strain and mashed his
face brutally into the hard, deep muscles between her intimidating
breasts.  Knowing that she could break him at her leisure now and with
her arms now encircling his neck rather than being restricted by
reaching around his immense chest, she released her right hand quickly
from his left elbow, thrust it against his right elbow, grasping it in a
vise-like grip, as she released her left hand to cause mischief wherever
she chose.
      She grabbed his hair so that he had to look into her eyes as she
hissed, "I'm going to break you now, you he-man.  Just as I crushed the
bones in your hand, I'm going to rip apart both of your shoulders.  And
I'm going to use just ONE arm to do it.  That's all I need.  Still think
you're stronger because you're a man?  Bah!  Men are nothing!  Nothing
but playthings for me!" she laughed throatily, betraying her own
arousal.
      She turned his head roughly and pushed it slowly across the
contour of her prodigious and firm right breast, forcing him to
acknowledge its arousing and intimidating perfection.  Playfully, she
ground one of her steely nipples into his right eye until the injury
caused tears to stream out of it and he was sniffling like a baby from
the flooding of his sinuses.  She exulted in his complete inability to
arrest this erotic torture.  Tiring of that, she turned his head further
so that his nose was resting on her bicep.  
      "Here, have a good look at what's gonna rip you apart, bully boy!"
His frantic eyes widened as her bicep bunched into a jagged rock of
muscle.  
      She flexed her corded abdomen against his penis at the same time
and traced her finger along the contours of his excited member.  "Gee,
that little feller gets bigger and harder as my muscles get bigger and
harder.  That's got to be embarassin', huh, big guy?"
      He was losing the test of strength, her one arm against both his,
even though his adrenaline surged in his terror at intense pain and the
prospect of losing both shoulders.  At the same time, he was powerless
to prevent the teasing that had him near sexual explosion.  When he had
such a powerful urge to spurt his seed, the woman should be on the
bottom begging him to be gentle as he rammed it home to satisfy his
need.  Not like this.  Not like this!  And then it happened.  Both
things he wanted to stop, were happening at once.  He spurted in great
impotent glops that were whipped to an erogenous foam by the rubbing of
her delicious torso against his, even as loud tearing sounds and instant
pain signalled the demise of his shoulders.  He sobbed and gasped from
the twin insults.
      "Wh -- why are doing this to me, Sal?  If you ain't my gal, ya
just had to say so.  I ain't done nuthin to you, nuthin to deserve
this," he sobbed pitifully.  His legs no longer supported him as he
slumped weakly against her powerful chest and shoulders, their combined
weights easily supported by her muscular legs.
      "I have told you over and over I ain't your gal, you bullyin' rock
head.  You're just pretending now that you didn't understand.  You
didn't pay attention before, because you felt you could do anything you
want and the hell with anybody else.  Why am I doing it?  Because you
deserve it, you bastard!"  She brutally yanked back on his ruined
shoulders bringing more sickening crackling sounds and high-pitched
shrieks of pain from the sobbing man.  "That's for the jaw you broke of
Joe's.  THIS is for the ribs you busted on Jasper."  She yanked again
and again with her mighty arm, amid more shrieks, and finally let go of
both his arms.  They dangled limply, lifelessly, hanging seemingly only
by his skin, which was taking on a terrible purplish hue, especially
dark in color at the joints.
      "Why?" she continued.  "Because you deserve it for being the kind
of man I hate," she spat out and grabbed his head so that he had to look
at her.  "And because it's FUN bringing down a boy like you," she said
throatily, stroking his face like a child.  The abject, defeated look on
this formerly swaggering bully made her crotch and nipples tingle with
lust.  She threw him down on the ground and ground her boot on his
shrinking penis, coated with the spunk he had loosed on himself and her.
It delighted her further to see that he had ejaculated even as she
ripped him apart.  It was a testament to her overpowering sexual allure
and to the obvious superiority of women over men, a law of nature that
she never tired of proving.  
      Sexily stepping out of her frilly underwear, she descended upon
him to rub her tingling pussy and nipples roughly along his white skin,
revelling in the superiority of her physique.  Despite his pain and
utter degradation, the rubbing of his bare skin against her delectable
body with its soft velvety skin once again brought him to a large
achingly hard erection.  She noticed and chuckled softly, almost shocked
at how easy men were to play with.  This was another erogenous
stimulation for her, sending her into a state that had to be satisfied.
      "Oh, you are making me hot, Sam, sticking your little twig against
my superior legs.  You'd like to put it in me but you're not strong
enough.  Not nearly strong enough.  No man is!  I'm tearing you apart,
mashing you to a pulp, and still you can't keep from worshippin' little
ole me.  Oh, I think I'm gonna come!  Have you ever been raped, Sam?"
she gasped, mashing his face deeply into her sopping crotch and grinding
roughly with her eyes closed until the powerful spasms in her nether
regions subsided.
[continue...]

[elgat]

The Lady Blacksmith, by Jack Straw part 5

[...continued]
"My, that was so good, Sam!  Did you enjoy it as much as me?" she
taunted the nearly unconscious and pitifully sobbing giant, now bleeding
from a broken nose. 
      It was too much for the volatile bully.  "You're gonna regret
this, you bastard bitch.  No one does this to my family or me.  You're
as good as dead!" he managed to gasp out between sobs of pain.
      "My, my, Sam.  Threatening me?  You ain't in a very good position
for threats.  And such language!  I guess you ain't learned your lesson
yet.  Good!" she smiled down at him, feeling another tingle in her pussy
at the prospect of beating him further.  "There's just so much to punish
you for, considerin' all the evil you've done in your short span on this
earth!  And so many lessons to teach such a disgustin' member of the
weaker sex."
      "How about a little demonstration of the strength of a woman's
leg?  Pa was amazed that last time at how I could pulverize him with
just my glorious legs.  The legs I built up by riding Dragon bareback
and racing him in the meadow and pushing against heavy rocks with them."
She now laced one of her legs over Sam's and drew it up so that his
thick thigh rubbed against her deliciously firm derriere. 
      The man sobbed in fear of what was to come next.  "Now don't cry,
my big baby.  I'm going to give you a big advantage and if you can stop
me from doing what I want, I'll let you up to go free.  If you lose, you
deserve to lose, for pretending to be strong when you're just a big soft
crybaby.  I'm going to slowly straighten out that big leg of yourn and
then I'm going to start bending it backwards the way nature don't
intend.  Did you hear how Pa's knees was both broke when he died?  But
I'm giving you a big advantage.  You can wrap your other leg around it
to stop me.  Yeah, you're already doing it -- you catch on quick
sometimes, too bad you're such a log head otherwise.  Now there's no way
a girlie like me, a girlie who makes you all hot and bothered, there's
no way I can push out against those two big legs of yourn, especially
after I told you what I'm going to do -- one girlie leg against two
tough cowpoke ones?  So just stop you're crying, you big baby." 
      Emerging from the now cool water of the tub, Apel was curious to
see what was happening.  He watched through the crack in the curtain
stupefied and, despite his horror at her brutality, his penis lurched
into a painfully hard state as her delicious leg muscles, one of many
lust-inducing women parts he rarely saw, bunched, expanded, and
separated into smooth individual cords of seemingly immense power.  Sam
grunted with effort, terrified to feel both of his legs being moved by
her single one.  He put all his energy and huge musculature into
stopping this movement and seemed to succeed when his leg had moved from
the sharp angle of the beginning of this "contest" to a little beyond 90
degrees.
      "Are you giving it all you've got, Sammy?" she asked in a voice
that betrayed effort but was controlled in comparison to his gasping
grunts.  She grinned ominously down into his eyes and gloated at the
evidence of his effort in the sweat-bathed brow, indeed his entire body
between them was wetter and hotter from his effort to prevent further
pain and humiliation at the hands of this woman he had wanted so badly.
"Yes, I believe you are, but it isn't enough, Sammy, not nearly enough,"
she smiled into his bewildered eyes as she hissed with the effort of
putting more pressure against the combined pressure of his two big,
burly legs.  Apel was astounded by the increased expansion of her legs,
lethal and erotic at the same time.
      Looking superciliously into Sam's agonized face, she raised an
eyebrow in mock surprise, "My, it seems my little leg IS stronger than
both of yours.  It's -- no -- contest!"  She cried exultantly,
orgasmically, as she powered the three legs outward so that Sam's
entwined leg was now completely straight and his other leg was mainly
useless at that angle.  She pressed her big breasts dominantly into his
imploding chest, her hard nipples burrowing into his skin as she powered
her rock hard, bulging leg bending backward toward her the mighty globes
of her sensuous derriere.  Though she was doing so against the thick
legs of her adversary, one of which was bending at the knee in the
direction nature never intended, she seemed to be expending no more
effort than a school girl lying on a bed reading a book and bending her
legs in absent joy.  Sam had never lost his second erection completely
and in her effort Sally found her thatch grinding down on this dominated
male shaft and felt it respond.  As she snapped his leg with a vicious
contraction of her thick leg muscles, she had her second orgasm,
squeezing her clit tightly against Sam's hard penis and mashing it into
his soft bowels.  Shrieking in abject pain, the broken bully felt
utterly degraded, not even realizing that his dominated member had
spurted weakly once again.
      "My Sam, you weren't any challenge at all!  I had no idea how much
stronger my sexy female legs were.  Feeling my muscles get bigger and
bigger and besting a big blowhard like you is givin' me the love fever
again.  I feel hot all over.  Sometimes I just can't get enough!"   She
bent his head toward the sculpted basin that was her powerful, trim
abdomen and forced him to lick up the goo he had deposited on its
corded, velvety surface.  Then, moaning in arousal, she pushed him
backward and plopped her snatch roughly onto his face and forced him to
suck out her juices.
      "Oh, Sam, wouldn't it be great if I was doing this to you?  If you
were man enough to make me suck on this little poker of yourn," she
taunted, amid her lustful moaning, batting his limp, abraded member
roughly back and forth.  Then, mashing her slit brutally down on his
nose and mouth, she rode him like the broncos she loved to tame.  "Yes,
oh, YEEESSS!"  In her lustful frenzy she laced her ankles together and
squeezed her bulging thighs around his skull, bringing her sex more and
more tightly against her face.  Grinding it, grinding it, until Apel was
sure his nose would be gone if she ever let up.  Slowly her orgasm wound
down and she opened her thighs.  Sam's head plopped limp and unconscious
against the floor, his face bloodied at the nose and mouth.
      She straddled him imperiously and bent down over the spent male.
Slapping him to revive him, she cooed, "Don't pass out on me yet, Sam.
You still have one limb that's not broken.  And you still have a lot of
joints I could break.  How about seeing if you can use your good leg and
your bad one to keep me from breaking your ribs in a scissors hold?  You
could put your back into it as well.  Surely, I can't hurt you in a hold
like that.  And if not -- you get to leave.  You can crawl right out of
here.  "
      Apel, from his voyeuristic perch, was stunned at how aroused he
was at the wanton display of female power and raw sex that he was
witnessing.  He could not feel sorry for the big bully; he suspected he
deserved what he was getting.  But Sally did not let up.  He was shocked
by the dark sides of her personality.  The same girl who seemed to be
almost tender with him had been vicious in subduing her (jealous?) horse
and now this.  Apel had known men who became drunk on battle lust, and
Sally seemed almost orgasmically intent on ripping the big man apart
until he was dead.  And he had heard enough of her comments about her
father to guess that this wouldn't be the first man she had crushed to
death.  Apel felt he had to intervene.  He spied his gun in a corner of
the room and, wrapping a towel around his dripping body, he went out to
confront the mighty virago.
      Sally had Sam in an accordion hold with her legs.  Sam's body was
bent in a V, resting on his big rear end, with his legs in the air as
one side of the V and his back nearly upright as the other side.  Sally
meanwhile was resting on her elbows and jutting derriere at right angles
to the wadded up man, using her powerful thighs to close the V to an I.
Sam was furiously straining to prevent her from slamming him together.
He only knew that if she succeeded, it would somehow mean more pain and
broken bones for him.
      "He's had enough, Sally.  Let him go before you kill him or
permanently cripple him.  You don't want that on your conscience," Apel
said quietly looking down on them.
      "I'm afraid you're too late, Sir Galahad.  He's crippled already,
but perhaps you're right," she said in a measured tone, looking up
calmly behind her at the gun in the trail boss's hand. The pointed look
on her face made him think about the reason he was holding a gun.  That
was the equalizer in this situation.  In a physical struggle or a battle
of wills, she would demolish him.  He was admitting as much.  He felt
foolish holding a gun on someone who wasn't threatening him, even more
so that it was a woman, in age still almost a girl.  But what a girl! 
He felt his crotch meat swell anew and relaxed his guard. 
      She struck so quickly that Apel was caught off guard.  He had been
standing behind her as she had Sam in a the scissors hold slowly
squeezing the two halves of Sam together with her awesomely swollen
thigh and calf muscles.  In a blur of movement, she pushed both Apel's
ankles away from her with mighty thrusts of each hand, so that Apel fell
forward right into her arms.  The gun flew out of his hand, landing well
out of his reach.  She cuddled the trail boss securely, speaking to him
softly in seductive tones, kissing his lips and neck.  Embarrassed to
have been controlled so easily, he struggled to break free, but she
hardly seemed to notice.
      "He's had enough when I say so.  You don't live in these parts;
you don't know this varmint like I do.  He's got the thickest skull in
creation.  This is the only way.  I won't kill him, though it'd be easy
and nobody'd miss him.  And he'll recover, but he'll never be the same
in either his head or his body.  I'm doing it because I CAN do it, and
if it gives me pleasure, well -- that's my business.  I answer to no
man," she whispered throatily.
      She kissed Apel deeply and, ripping away the tented towel over his
fully erect member, gently stroked him nearly to the point of release.
"You've been enjoying this.  Don't deny it," she whispered sensuously. 
As she continued to draw all the air from his lungs with her powerful
kiss, panic mixed with arousal for him.  He desperately pushed at her
with all his ebbing strength, but, caught in her own arousal, she seemed
not to notice.  Moaning softly, she closed the V of Sam's body and
proceeded to splinter first the backs of his ribs and then amazingly the
fronts as her iron-hard leg muscles cut through Sam's fatigued muscles
like a knife through butter.  She tensed her muscles as delicious waves
of pleasure washed over her.  Two proud specimens of the male sex,
accustomed to having their orders obeyed without question, were so
overmatched physically by this virago that their struggles merely
stimulated her to greater heights of sexual bliss.  "Mmmm," she gasped,
releasing Apel's lips just as the overwhelmed trail boss had sunk into a
feverish swoon.  Swimming back to the surface of consciousness, he
shakily gulped in needed air.  She plied him with soft kisses over his
neck and bared chest.  Devilishly running her fingers over his turgid
member and sensitive testicles, she reduced him to a limpid, dizzy
puddle of male flesh, incapable of any brain activity other than urgent
sexual desire.
      "Get yourself another whiskey, Buck Apel, and wait for me.  I
won't be long, and you won't regret it.  I can please you in ways you
never dreamed."  He struggled for as much dignity as he could muster as
he retrieved the towel to cover his seeping, bobbing member, and walked
away.
      Stretching lasciviously, the mighty woman released Sam from the
vise of her legs.  He plopped limply on the floor like a big lump of
jelly.  "Well, Sam, you're just a puddle of flesh, now.  How about
giving me that spankin' you said I needed?  Oh, I guess not -- you can't
even raise your arms.  Even if I draped myself over you, you couldn't
support me.  But I could spank YOU, couldn't I?" she taunted ominously.
"Your butt is the only thing I haven't abused yet.  I believe in giving
all parts of the body equal attention.  That's what I've done in working
my body and it seems to have paid off," she said in a mock innocent
tone, and examined her body in mock seriousness as she flexed all of her
muscles in an terrifying display of feminine physique and, at the same
time, an arousing display of frank pulchitrude.
      She pulled up a sturdy chair and draped Sam's limp form over one
magnificent thigh.  Sam's limp penis was squashed flat against the iron
muscles of her thigh as she tenderized and bruised his butt mercilessly.
As she brutalized the big man, she eyed Apel in undisguised amusement
through the parted curtain as he sat uncomfortably trying to hide his
full-blown erection and looking around for the whiskey bottle.  But
tiring of Sam's piteous whining and the lack of challenge, she pushed
what remained of the former bully onto the floor.
      Laughing at the poor man's weak protests, she said reflectively,
"You're right.  This isn't fair.  Since you have only one limb that
isn't broken, you can't defend yourself.  Of course, that's because MY
limbs were so superior that they demolished yours, but, to even things
up a bit, how about a chest fight?  Your flat male slabs against my big
female bosom.  You probably think I'm too soft up there and you're too
hard.  Right?"
      She snickered as Sam instinctively tried to crawl away from her.
She couldn't stop humiliating him, grinding him until nothing was left,
because at the back of her mind she remembered what a simpering bully he
had been, so cock sure of his invincibility -- now revealed to be so
utterly inferior to her, a woman he lusted after and sought to abuse
like he had everyone else.  But how inferior, how low could she bring
him?  It aroused her deliciously, intensely, almost unbearably, to think
of ever more ways to degrade him further.
      "But first, we must eliminate that last limb to do this properly."
She kissed Sam delightedly as his eyes widened at the threat of more
pain.  "Is your leg stronger than my arm?"  She draped one leg across
his thighs on the gravel floor and gripped the ankle of his good leg
with one hand.  Though Sam squirmed frantically, she controlled it
easily, straightened it, and began to curl her arm upward.  Her biceps
popped out in awesome ridges of rock hard female muscles and with a loud
crack another knee was broken.
      She lifted the sobbing man against the wall and held him aloft as
she thrust her large breasts forcefully against his.   She put her hands
on her hips and spread her legs so that he was securely trapped in place
with just the power of her mighty chest.  With his mindless squirming,
he resembled a large bug mounted in a museum, the pins that held him in
place being her large but firm breasts riveted against his imploding
chest with her thick bullet-like nipples.  The sexual charge she derived
from demonstrating female superiority in this way stiffened her breasts
even further.  Indeed, it even surprised her that her big female breasts
and powerful underlying chest muscles could prove so superior.  The man
began to whimper from this new, completely unexpected source of pain.
"Gee, Sam, not only am I much bigger up there but much stronger too."
She began to take deep, powerful breaths that made the overmatched male
expel his lungs in a loud HUWHOOP sound.  As she expelled her breath
slowly and easily, smirking at the deep lines of pain etched on his
face, he managed to croak, "Please!  I can't breath.  You're suffocating
me!  My ribs hurt bad.  Please!"
      "More and more proof of the stronger sex, huh, Sam?  Suffocatin'
ya just by breathing in and out.  You are nothin'!"  She took a
prodigiously deep breath and was rewarded with another cracking sound,
this time from his chest.  His chest contracted in sobs of pain but no
sound emerged from his starved lungs.  Having wrested another
humiliating defeat from him, she let him slide ignominiously to the
floor.
      "Ya know, Sam, I believe I could beat you to death just with my
big hooters."  And she proceeded to pummel the long-since defeated and
openly sobbing male by twisting her torso fiercely from side to side.
Her large breasts slammed into first one side and then the other of his
face.  They landed so hard that his head was rocketed against one
shoulder and then another.  He stiffened his neck and raised his head to
protest but immediately regretted it, as she landed a particularly
powerful blow, and his neck cracked from the impact.  After her return
blow rocked him to the other side, she realized that his head was now
wobbly and heeded his screeching cries.  "Oh, God, Sal, my neck.  You're
killing me!  I think it's broken," he cried piteously. 
      "Oh, you baby, I doubt that but you might be right.  Is there any
part of your body that is a match for me?  How about your pride and joy,
that dribbling cock of yours?  Could it stand up to a good squeezin'
inside my joy box?"
      "Leave me alone, please," he sobbed abjectly, but she merely
laughed.
      Fatigued by having come twice, his cock could manage only a
rubbery but fully inflated erection as she kneaded it roughly and fed it
into her hot slit.  She gently and teasingly ran her hands over his body
and slowly brought herself up and down on his member.  The contorted
look of pain on his face melded with a vacant look of pleasure.
      "Is that as big as it gets?" she taunted in mock disappointment.
"Well, no matter," she murmured enigmatically as she brought her lips
down toward his.  "Shall I stop, Sam, or are you enjoying yourself
finally?" she whispered as she continued her slow rhythmic pumping.
"Shall I stop?" she repeated.
      "No," he gasped hopefully.  "Please don't stop.  It feels so
good!"
      "That's how it can be for someone I respect.  But I don't respect
you.  Sure you don't want me to stop?  Remember how much woman I am and
how little man you are.  If I go on, I'll surely pulverize your little
thing.  Crush it to a pulp with my love muscles.  Sure you want me to
continue?" she teased as his ragged breathing indicated he was near
explosion. [continue...]

[elgat]

The Lady Blacksmith, by Jack Straw part 6 (final)

[...continued]
Sweating with the exquisite pleasure that crowded out all else
from his mind -- the pain, his broken body, the humiliation of being so
utterly inferior -- he nearly screamed in abject lust, "Yes! Yes!"
      "Well, I warned you, but I guess you don't believe me.  Don't
believe how inferior the male organ is to the female one," she hissed
and grunted with effort as she concentrated her energy on contracting
the muscles of her mighty vagina.
      "Oh, God, stop!  Stop!" he screamed and tried to rise up.  "You're
gonna BUST it!  Please, stop."
      "Stop?" she taunted.  "Isn't this what you wanted?  To feed your
little thing inside me?  And now you find that you're not up to the task
of merely pleasuring me with it, because it's so puny and weak!"  She
twisted her hips as she contracted her vaginal muscles viciously on his
member.  Gathering her feet under the point of coitus she suddenly
flexed her legs awesomely and stood up, ripping the heavy man up solely
by the grip she had on his penis with her mighty vagina.  His head and
feet drooped toward the ground as his middle connected by his spongy
member in her powerful slit, was held aloft between her long legs.
Blood seeped from ruptures in his once proud member caused by the vise-
like grip of her much stronger sex organ.
      Sam's loud screams echoed throughout the smithy.  Apel wanted not
to watch, now terrified at this crazy woman, but found himself even
closer to sexual explosion at this primal demonstration of the power of
the female.
      Sam screamed and lost his erection but she did not release him
from her love muscle.  His member stretched pitifully as she yanked him
up and then bounced him on the floor, her only grip on him being the
mighty clenching of his member with her snapping pussy.  "Gee, Sam, why
are men so proud of these puny things?  If this is the seat of your
power, no wonder men are so weak.  My sex organ can hold up that fat
body of yours with no problem but your organ doesn't seem to be able to
handle it."
      Having made her point, she released him and let him fall heavily
onto his back, his broken ribs sending intense waves of pain to match
that of his wounded groin.  He wanted to massage his ruptured penis but
couldn't lift his arms to reach it.  He sobbed in complete degradation.
      She regarded him triumphantly, utterly without sympathy.  After
letting him rest briefly on his back, she straddled him and devilishly
massaged him with the knowing touch of a woman that invariably arouses a
man.  His member, though purplish and seeping blood, began to swell.
She giggled mischievously.  "Gee, Sam, that little guy don't know when
to quit.  Maybe he wants another ride," she teased, exulting in the
abject look of terror in the formerly arrogant bully. 
      "No! No, NO -- please," he gasped.
      She smiled impishly down at him.  "Your mouth says no, but your
little man says yes," she laughed.  She thrust his pliant member into
her sopping thatch and swallowed him up.  With her boundless female
vigor, she pounded him so viciously that his balls were smashed
completely flat.  Amid his high-pitched terror-laden screams she
contorted her face and clenched the muscles of her nether region so
tightly that his screams reached a feminine soprano pitch.  "You broke
it!" he screamed.  "You broke me, you --" but he caught himself before
uttering the epithet and sobbed in utter humiliation at the realization
that he was so terrified of her he dared not say it.
      "How does it feel to be raped, Sam?  Not much fun on the other
side of things is it?" she spat at him.  There was one more thing to do.
She had been putting it off, waiting until death would be a relief to
him.  She wrapped her arm around his neck and pressed her bicep against
his throat.  "Answer, me, Sam, and tell the truth," she demanded.  "Were
you one of the men who attacked Betsy that night?"
      "What?  What do you mean?"
      "You know very well.  Answer me or I'll crush your throat and you
know I can." She flexed her bicep until he gurgled.
      "I wasn't there, Sal, I swear.  It was my cousins, not me.
Believe me," he cried pleadingly, piteously, feebly.
      "I believe you.  It's the only thing she would tell me.  She was
afraid I'd get hurt avenging her I guess.  Well, your cousins are next
on my agenda.  Too bad you won't be able to warn them first.  How can
you live with yourself, running around with them, knowing they did that?
You disgust me!"  She squeezed until he gurgled again.  "Just remember,
I could have killed you but I didn't."
      Disgusted that he still whimpered and screamed as she moved on top
of him, she muttered, "Oh shut up!"  Dropping her large, pliant cleavage
over his face, she smothered his cries with her bounteous breasts.
Suddenly robbed of air, the utterly demolished male thought he was being
smothered to death and struggled feebly with his crushed body against
her.  Toying with him to the end, she giggled, "I thought you liked my
big breasts!  That's all I'm using to hold you down."  True enough, her
hands were on her hips and she was straddling him so as not to touch him
except with her cleavage and the magnificent globes that gripped his
face in a tight seal.  When she felt him stop struggling, she lifted her
lethal bosom off his unconscious but weakly breathing visage.
      She stretched her magnificent, nude, beautiful physique in triumph
and noted that Apel was frozen in an open-mouthed stupor on the other
side of the curtain.  Bending down in most feminine and arousing fashion
for Apel's benefit, she hefted the unconsciousness pile of flesh that
had once been a swaggering bully up onto her powerful shoulders and
easily carried him toward the door to her horse's stall.  She opened the
door and draped Sam's body over her horse.  "Dragon, I've got a job for
you."  After whispering in the horse's ear, she slapped him on the rear,
and the horse sauntered off slowly in the direction of the town doctor's
office.
      Apel had seen it all, mesmerized, half in lust, half in fear of
this virago.  As his wet body cooled and he began to shiver, his pride
forced him to a decision.  Quietly he dried himself and put on his
clothes.  He studied his options for escape, but saw only the front door
as an exit.  As she was busy loading the beaten pulp onto her horse, he
walked quickly toward the door, thinking that once outside he would be
the man he always was, in command of himself and secure in his world.
      It was difficult drawing the heavy bolts for the door, but even
after he had them drawn, he couldn't move the door.  He looked up to see
her leaning on the door and smiling at him.  "I prefer it this way,
Apel.  I prefer it that you will end up serving me and my needs against
your will.  You will not be able to help yourself.  It will not be rape,
because you will beg for it.  But it will be because in the beginning I
wish it, not you.  Yes, I prefer it this way; it excites me no end," she
ended in a whisper, kissing him deeply on the lips even as she captured
the rest of his body.  Controlling him with one hand, she undressed him
with the other.  Insinuating her naked, hot, moist body against his
naked body, she felt his resistance weakening and his prong poke into
her bush.  She laughed throatily, aroused by her imminent conquest and
the demands she would make of him.  She would break him like her horse
and he would beg.  Beg for release, wound up so tightly he could think
of nothing else, his pride strangled in the grip of her sexual power,
just as his muscles were now caving in to her vastly superior physique.
Another male, another conquest.
______________________________________
     
      Back on the trail, Apel groaned in pain astride his trotting
horse.  Reaching for his tobacco, he felt something else and pulled out
a bent horseshoe.  He breathed shakily as he remembered the flexing of
her naked arms and torso as she had done it for him -- a souvenir.  It
was bent in the shape of the first letter of her name and not the way a
male blacksmith would do it, with heat and hammer -- just plain brute
strength on cold hard metal.  He gripped it and pulled at it as hard as
he could, to no avail.  It had been no simple feat, but he knew that
already.  He thought of her naked body and its perfection and its warmth
as she rode him mercilessly in her overstuffed feather bed.  His revery
was interrupted as his sore cock erected and pressed painfully against
the pommel of the saddle. 
      He sighed.  It took all his willpower not to go back and risk
another look, another ride with her, but he kept on going.  Let her be
the death of someone else she liked; let her toy with someone else.  He
had men to command.  The man among men was he.  He smiled ruefully.
After being put in place by the lady blacksmith, being a man among men
didn't mean much anymore. 
      Oh, well, it could be worse.  He thought about his hungover cook
suffering on the bumpy trail as the wagon bounced heavily on its iron
wheels, one of them brighter than the others from its recent repair.
Each bump would jar his aching head and make him swear to never drink
again, as it always did.  Apel smiled.
      Or it could be much, much worse.  He stared off in the distance, a
troubled expression on his face.   He was thinking of Sam.  Then he
thought of the Roen boys, Sam's cousins, and shivered.  Why did it
bother him so much?  They were nothing to him, whereas Betsy had been
very special.  Still, there was a line beyond which even frontier
justice usually didn't stray.  He had answered the Sheriff's questions
about Sam in a way that was truthful but revealed nothing, and said
nothing at all about the cousins.  She had left him during the night
while he slept soundly, dead from exhaustion.  That much he knew.  He
was still miffed that she had given him no chance to intervene.  Betsy
had meant something to him, too.  When he awoke toward morning, he could
have tried to track her.  It would have been easy, considering the size
of her horse, but he knew it was too late.  He hung around town long
enough to see her return, completed his business amidst the excited
gossip that followed, and left.
      He rolled a cigarette, lit it, took a long puff, and kept his
horse headed away from the town he hated.  Each mile he put between them
made it easier not to go back.  At least he hoped so.  It had been
damned hard so far.  Why hadn't he stayed longer?  Why had he stayed at
all?  He stuffed the bent horseshoe deep into his saddle bag and kept
going.
      Back in town a beautiful woman with an extraordinary physique was
packing her most prized possessions into a large trunk.  Finally, she
could leave this town she hated.  Quite unexpectedly, in the space of 24
hours she had freed herself of a burden that she hadn't even realized
she was carrying.  She paused as she laid into the trunk two faded
photographs, one of her mother and the other of her now distant best
friend.  Her eyes misted as she gazed at her mother's long-suffering
face.  The daughter knew that her mother would not have approved of what
she had done to avenge them, but she didn't care.  She would never be
the victim her mother had been.  No, quite the reverse.  If a man
deserved it, she would dish it out -- and enjoy it.  That's the way it
should be and that's the way it would be in her world. [THE END]

Ok, this has been a long one but I hope you may have enjoyed it, personally I consider it one of my favourite by Jack Straw.

I'll continue to post what I have but you feel free to applaud 

[jjwalker]

or Jack Straw, whoever this.

[elgat]

Dear jjwalker, thanks Jack Straw, not me; he is/was the author, I'm just posting here some stories he wrote and I saved on my HD before they had been removed from where they were hosted (mainly Diana the Valkyrie's Library), unfortunately he is missing from several years.
It would be great to see some of these stories illustrated, even if I don't know how I/we can manage to find someone willing to (and just for fun/free), maybe we can find a way to coordinate some effort on this directon? Actually a couple of Jack's stories have been illustrated years ago on a now defunct site; I managed to post one here on Saradas while the other (the better one?) is lost forever.

On the meantime I'll post another story.

[elgat]

RECOMPENSE FOR RAPISTS, by Jack Straw (part 1)


She had seen them out of the corners of her eyes as she hefted the huge
barbell. Their shadows flitted in the dimly lit hallway beyond the open
door as they crept in hiding.  Unconcerned, she concentrated on her
exercise.  The steel bar of the barbell bowed slightly and seemed to
groan in protest under the stress of too much weight. As she began each
repetition, her arm, shoulder, and chest muscles exploded into bulging
relief, the oversize T-shirt suddenly stretched beyond its limits and
tearing at the seams. 

After calmly finishing the routine, she broke off her exercises early.
Nonchalantly, she walked to the showers, using a towel to wipe the
profuse sweat from her brow. As she pulled the sweatband from her hair,
the long, curly mane spilled out over her broad shoulders.  Sweat soaked
her T-shirt and emphasized her awesome, voluptuous physique. 

In the shower room she peeled off her clothes and listened for the
sounds of approaching footsteps.  As she showered, she heard the locker
room door softly creak, but let the water continue its forceful massage
of her beautiful, powerful body.  She turned off the water, reached for
the towel, dried her lovely face, thrust her hair back to dry it as
well, and turned to face the door to the shower area.  There they were,
insolently leering at her nude body revealed in all its stunning
athletic and sexual perfection.  She recognized them, and was not
surprised.  Three large, strong men, they were the coach she had
replaced at the school, a burly construction worker, and a former
student who had been the state heavyweight wrestling champion two years
before.  They were about her height and weight, perhaps even a little
larger. She was a large woman, but, despite the impression gained from
stories about her strength, she was not a giant.  The men facing her
were proud of their physiques; their stretched sleeveless shirts
revealed rippling muscles and deep, hairy chests.

She suspected what they had in mind but showed no sign of concern.  She
coolly continued toweling off.  Her large breasts undulated ever so
slightly as she thrust them out to dry off her back.  Capped with huge
nipples erect from the evaporation of water, the lift of these out-sized
mammaries was mesmerizing, intimidating.  They seemed to defy gravity
unless you looked closely at the thick underlying pectoral muscles.  The
men in their transfixed fascination noted only that the out-thrust bust
had the amazing, alluring dimensions and perfect shapes heretofore only
envisioned in their fantasies. Her love channel winked at them beneath
its luxurious bush as she dried each leg on a bench, thigh and calf
muscles bulging and bunching with each movement.   Her aplomb
momentarily put them off guard.  Despite its rippling musculature, the
ultrafeminine allure of her body had them panting with sexual arousal
and yet she did nothing to hide her charms.

She spoke first and broke the spell.  "Okay boys, the show is over.  Now
I suggest you leave.  And don't ever even think of coming in here
again." Only the glow of her lovely green eyes betrayed her inner anger.

The coach, fairly drooling with lust and swaggering with the security of
numbers, managed an evil grin.  "You're not in a position to tell us
what to do.  We know you're alone.  Beg us to leave, miss Smarty Pants." 

Calmly, evenly, she repeated:  "Leave.  Leave now and none of you will
get hurt."

"What a relief!  And just how would we get hurt?" the coach responded
sarcastically.

"Oh, isn't she feisty.  I love taming these liberated bitches. This is
going to be fun," hooted the construction worker.

The former coach's two companions each grabbed one of her arms.  As she
pushed the two assailants backward toward the wall with a mighty thrust
of her planted legs and powerful torso, the coach rushed in to help.
Braced against his cohorts, who were now forced against the wall and
struggling to bend her arms behind her, she launched a devastating kick
into the coach's gut.  Air exploded from his wounded diaphragm as he
dropped to the ground and gasped for breath.  Meanwhile, his surprised
companions found themselves being propelled to the floor over the
incredible woman's bent thighs.  She had managed to get an arm behind
each of their backs and, flexing awesomely, heaved them forward in a
double hip roll.  They clambered angrily to their feet and attacked her
again.  The first one dove into her granite-hard midsection, jamming his
neck in the process; the other grabbed her shoulders and pushed down. 
Together, they managed to wrestle her to the floor.  The first one (the
construction worker) regretted it immediately, for he found himself
between her legs as she clamped his considerable girth in a waist
scissors.  She flexed her leg muscles and grimaced with effort as the
muscles bulged and grew rigid with vise-like power.  An audible crunch
signalled the demise of some ribs and the poor man groaned in agony as
she opened her legs to grapple with the former high school heavyweight
champ, whom she had maneuvered into a crunching bear hug and then into a
headlock.  His nose and mouth were wedged into one of her armpits, and,
threatened by suffocation and feeling his skull painfully constricted
from the rigid bulges of her arm muscles, he was struggling violently to
extricate himself.  Despite his efforts, the mighty woman easily clung
to the debilitating hold as she rose to one knee.  But, before she could
put him out completely, the coach piled on from behind.  Releasing the
young heavyweight, she reached behind her and pitched the coach over her
shoulder onto the hard floor.

She rose to her feet and waited coolly for them to recover.  One gulped
in needed air as the other shook the cobwebs from his brain. 
Simultaneously, they charged at her.  She allowed them to back her
against the wall where she had support to push against them.  They each
grabbed an arm with both hands and tried to pin her arms against the
wall.  Instead, incredibly, they found their arms being forced backward. 
Maddened by the triumphant smile on her face, they redoubled their
efforts, panting with exertion, but to no avail. Her biceps, shoulders,
forearms, and chest muscles expanded to frightening dimensions, each
bicep bunched in awesome peaks on top of peaks and exploded in size to
the point that one would think the taut skin would rip open.  Each
overmatched male had one of his arms pinned against his throat, nearly
choking him as his other arm was forced outward.  Adding to their
predicament was that to provide leverage in their efforts they had
thrust their legs back and leaned forward.  As she kicked at their
ankles to unbalance them, they pitched forward, face-first into her huge
firm breasts, which hardly sagged despite supporting their weights. 
Indeed, as she took a deep breath for her next move, they were propelled
upward by these turgid, sexy globes.  Rapidly, she shrugged her arms
from their loosened grips and grasped each of their heads. Grimacing
with effort, she banged their heads together and then pushed down hard. 
They plunged unceremoniously down the sweat-slicked colossus that was
her body into a confused heap on the floor.  This time she followed,
clamping the one on top in a head scissors, while forcing the other's
arm back in an excruciating arm bar as she sat comfortably on his back,
working the two holds mercilessly.  Befuddled, the men refused to
believe that she was somehow in charge of a situation in which she had
been pitted against three burly men, each having successfully vanquished
countless men (and defenseless women) in their violent lives.  Yet,
their best efforts were futile; they succeeded only in exhausting
themselves. 

"Is this the best you guys can do?  You all should join a health club
and get in shape," she taunted them, laughing and breathing easily while
they wheezed noisily.    The young heavyweight succumbed to the suffocating
scissors in which the moist bush between her legs covered his mouth and
nose.  His hands and strong arms struggled to pry her legs apart but
without effect, and he soon swooned. As she allowed him to plop limply
from her parted gams, she proceeded to lift and then toss the startled
former wrestling coach against the wall.  While the coach shook the
stars from his muddled brain, she bound up his young protege by ripping
off his shirt and tieing his hands together behind his back, hiking down
his pants below his knees, and using the belt to bind hands and feet
together.  She did the same to the construction worker who had been
incapacitated early on when she squeezed too hard with her legs and
crunched some ribs.  Breathing and any other movement was so painful
that he put up no resistance. 

Hands on hips, she waited for the coach to regain his feet.  As he gazed
at her imposing figure, he was a mixture of emotions.  He still lusted
after this woman, the desire to possess such an embodiment of voluptuous
ripeness had him in a state of near insanity.  At the same time, he
hated her for the many humiliations he had suffered since she entered
his life.  First there had been that party just after she joined the
school's faculty.  Somehow--he couldn't remember how it started--he
half-jestingly had challenged a couple of men to arm wrestle to prove
that he was as strong as he contended.  When he easily beat one of them
and a crowd gathered, he challenged the other, who conceded without a
contest.  But to his amazement, the newly-hired girl's gym teacher
nonchalantly stepped forward and took up the challenge.  From the moment
they had first met, this woman had him stupefied with lust.  Just
looking at her put him in a state of erection; and at this party she was
doing little to hide her bounteous bosom, trim waist, and curvaceous
legs, which were breathtakingly revealed by her miniskirt and emphasized
by her high-heeled sandals.  Filling her glass with a beer, she sat down
and planted her elbow on the table.  She had removed a loose half-open
sweater that had covered her arms.  Audible gasps and murmurs greeted
the upper body now revealed.  Merely crooking her elbow had caused huge
muscles to bunch in her bicep and forearm.  Her bare midriff clenched in
washboard relief as her huge breasts threatened spill out of the
straining halter top that barely covered their lower halves.  Her
voluptuous lips formed a taunting smile and the scent of her perfumed
breasts wafted to him.  He felt challenged sexually as well as
physically.  Laughing shakily, he put up his arm and they began.  Soon,
despite his pretence of not taking it seriously, he began to struggle.
Without any seeming effort she had forced his arm slowly toward the
table and then stopped.  Drinking her beer and carrying on a
conversation about her upcoming semester, she was implicitly demeaning
and taunting him.  He had to put her in her place.  But he couldn't.  He
forced her arm upward slightly and then it stopped.  It was like a brick
wall.  As if she were doing nothing more than stretching her limbs, she
casually asked for another beer.  He began to sweat profusely and his
face darkened with the effort.  She toyed with him in this way until it
was obvious to everyone that he was exhausted whereas she had hardly
expended any effort, and then she drained the second beer and slammed
his arm to the table.  [continue...]

[elgat]

RECOMPENSE FOR RAPISTS, by Jack Straw (part 2)

[...continued]
Then there had been the charity race at which she easily beat him and
various picnics at which she bested him at whichever sport he entered.
Eventually, he stopped going to these outings to avoid the humiliation. 
And finally, she had won the job as strength coach for all the varsity
sports, a job that he had wanted.  But, even the newspaper had touted
her superior credentials and career as a bodybuilder.  It had been his
burning mission to best her at something and to satiate his secret lust
for her body, but he had never come close to either.  Although she had
spurned his advances, he was certain that if he could but once show her
his cocksmanship, she would be his. When she had led a successful
campaign to allow girls on the wrestling team, he had resigned in
protest and she had been appointed interim wrestling coach, to the
discomfiture of the boys.  She had been circumspect, though: she
demonstrated holds and moves only with the girls. Despite the best
wrestler, the state-champion heavyweight (now slumped against the wall),
having quit immediately, the team prospered and eventually won the state
tournament with boys and girls. When she won the job permanently and
later her team soundly whipped the team at the school where the former
coach had finally found a job, he had vowed to humiliate her someday. 
Hence, the desperate act that he and the others had come to carry out
that night.  His mistake, as usual, was in underestimating her.

He now realized that neither he nor the others could match her strength,
but still he retained a defiant confidence.  He had never been beaten in
street fight even against larger, stronger foes; always he found a way
(often devious) to win.  If only he could find a weapon, and release his
young friend, they could still have this woman.  As if reading his mind,
she backed away slightly, daring him to make a move.  He jumped for the
doorway of the shower room, but she was much faster.  Now in her
clutches, he began to panic, realizing that he was now alone against
her.  Reversing the cliche of girl against boy, he began to kick and
bite.  Laughingly, she held him in such a way that the kicks impotently
missed their marks.  When he proceeded to punch furiously at her
abdominal area, she merely clenched the muscles into iron-like ridges,
ever ready to block a punch into her genitalia.  The man's forceful
blows were arrested completely by the woman's unyielding thick muscles,
and the shock of the arrested motion sprained his wrists and sent
needles of pain through his thick arms.  He sensed by her mocking smile
that he was hurting himself more than her, and that she was toying with
him. Enraged, he managed a punch into one of her firm breasts that sent
her into enraged action as well.  She gripped his throat in both hands,
forced him against the wall and squeezed.  Immediately his hands flew up
to claw at this constricting vise.  Again he kicked, but she enveloped
his lower body in a python-like hold with her legs.  Seeing his panic,
she was amused once again, and removed one hand.  As the other hand
remained in a lethal grip on his throat, he now pulled with both hands
on the arm that was squeezing his neck. Mockingly, she was challenging
him to a test of strength, both his arms against one of hers.  He
focused all his energy into his arms, muscles straining and bulging,
veins popping into view, chest expanded, his face purple with effort. 
And yet... with each increase in his efforts, he saw the muscles of her
bent arm bulge out further to terrifying proportions beyond his belief,
the pectoral muscles beneath her torpedo-like right breast bunched and
flexed and causing the breast to ripple and pop out further.  Now dizzy
with the effort and loss of air, he could not believe this was
happening.  How could a woman be so strong?  Even the adrenalin surging
to prevent his death was not enough.  That this was a woman could not be
more apparent either, in all her nude glory.  Her mammoth breasts
pressed against his chest and her naked loins trapped his impotent male
organs, which were confined by his clothes and the grip of her thighs. 
As consciousness receded, he was dimly aware of being sexually aroused
by contact with this superwoman.

Mercifully, she released her grip at that moment and he sank to his
knees, massaging his throat and weakly sucking in air, barely aware that
she was ripping off his clothes.  She had no intention of killing these
guys, only of teaching them a lesson, and it seemed inappropriate that
she was naked but he was not.  In addition, another type of lesson had
occurred to her as she felt him erect as he began to pass out.  And his
friends were both awake to see this. She always kept a wary eye on their
state and made sure that she was positioned to prevent any escape. This
might be interesting!

She waited until the coach regained his breath.  Looking around for his
clothes, all he saw was his briefs.  She was twirling them on one
finger, again with that mocking smile on her face.  It was a symbolic
gesture of triumph.  Three burly men had attacked a naked woman.  Not
only had she repelled their attack, but denuded them as well.  Clearly,
she held the upper hand.  Fearing more physical pain and humiliation, he
tried to back out of the situation.

"Look, you win.  Give me my clothes and we'll leave.  We'll never bother
you again."

She leaned against the doorway and even in repose, her musculature was
immense; she seemed to fill up the room.  But how achingly beautiful she
was! And her alluring femininity was brazenly displayed for all to see. 
She smiled merrily as he tried to hide his engorging prick.

"No, I don't think so," she said finally.  "I don't think I can let you
go just yet.  You came to rape me.  Well, there is no clothing to
prevent it now, so give it your best shot.  Or maybe I'll rape you. 
That would make a nice story, don't you think?  Woman defiles rapist." 
She fondled her breasts suggestively.

"Oh, come on, this is nonsense.  You can't rape me.  A woman can't rape
a man."  Still, the thought of some sort of sexual combat with this
amazon fueled his erection further and made it impossible to hide.

"Oh, I think she can if she's strong enough and the man is .... Well,
unless you're getting excited about the exposed butt of your young
friend, I think you find me attractive," she said eyeing his erection
with amusement. "However, I don't see how you expected to rape anyone
with such a dinky little tool between your legs."  At this, his rising
erection drooped, simultaneously confirming her words and causing the
blood to rise in his face.

Enraged and humiliated, he rushed her.  He was used to being the bully;
he could not stand this.  Hoping that he might somehow poke her in the
eye, get her to bump her head or something, he tackled her as she
laughed and let him drag her down.  They rolled around and she clamped
his arms to his sides in a sensuous bear hug.  She rubbed her body
sinuously against him, felt him erect, and teasingly fondled him with
her thighs and crotch.  She lifted them to standing positions and
continued her arousing, gentle ministrations with hands, lips, and feet. 
Such was her superior strength that she managed to fondle him at will,
all the while keeping his limbs immobile and preventing any sort of
sexual advance on his part.  He felt like a baby, completely in her
control, try as he might to free his trapped arms and legs.  Soon,
oblivious to the incredulous stares of his friends, he fell into a
sexual spell.  His breathing became ragged and his rigid cock begin to
twitch. Caught in the grip of impending orgasm, his limp, sweat-soaked
body slid down her voluptuous, mighty curves as she released him and put
her hands on her hips.  He tried to turn away from his friends, but she
rolled him contemptuously with her feet so that his turgid cock sprang
into full view. From his prone position on the floor through half-open
eyes stung with sweat, she looked immense, all-powerful, and so
feminine, the curve of her hips receding toward the sculpted waist and
the outthrust breasts seeming to fill the room and blocking out the
light.  With a mocking smile she pressed an arched foot onto his bobbing
member.  He came so violently that spunk spurted onto his face and then
dribbled pathetically over his abdomen.  Now that the spell was broken,
he was keenly aware of his ridiculous state in front of his friends.

"That's another problem you have, premature ejaculation.  Some rapist,"
she mocked him derisively.  Anger and embarrassment flared in his face,
but as he reflexively kicked at her, she caught him by the ankle and
lifted.  As he hung impotently upside down, despite his violent kicking,
she managed to hold him off the floor with one immensely muscled arm,
amusing herself by using her free hand to grasp one of his hands and
smear it with the goo from his ejaculation.  Bending down and folding
his body in half, she then proceeded to rub this slimy hand over his
face.  Then she released him and backed away. Hands on hips, she dared
him to attack her.  Somehow he had to salvage his pride and turn the
tide in favor of the males; rage blinded him to his impotence against
this virago.  "I'm going to whip your ass, bitch," he cried, as he
tackled her. 

The powerful amazon had released the humiliated, furious wrestling coach
and backed away.  Triumphantly taking a slow, deep breath that swelled
her body in all its nude, voluptuous, awesomely muscular glory, she
imperiously scanned the room to survey the carnage of formerly proud,
brutal males.  Two were bound in the remnants of their own clothes after
having been suffocated or crushed in her powerful embraces.  The third,
the coach, was springing to his feet, his  mind gripped with fury at the
abuse he had suffered at the hands of a WOMAN.  Hands on hips, she dared
him to attack her.  Somehow he had to salvage his pride and turn the
tide in favor of the males; rage blinded him to his impotence against
this virago.  Unwilling to believe the depths of his inferiority, he
ignored the awesome strength she had already demonstrated.  He was
taller than she was and by god he was going to teach her a thing or two
about serious fighting.  "I'm going to whip your ass, bitch," he cried,
as he tackled her.     Convulsed with laughter at his rage, she allowed him
to take her down. But as he clambered on top of her and readied himself
to deliver brutal punches to kidneys, breasts, and crotch, she suddenly
straightened up, lifting the startled man onto her shoulder as she
stood.  Oblivious to savage punches and kicks that he was sure would
incapacitate her, she carried the frantic man to a bench along one wall. 
Seating herself heavily on the bench, she folded his violently
struggling form down across her left knee and lifted her right leg over
his flailing legs.   She pulled his arms behind his back and trapped
them with one mighty arm. 

"Well, well.  Let's see who whips whom!"  And she proceeded to deliver
crackling spanks to his exposed rear end.  The searing pain of
blistering slaps and bruises on top of bruises delivered by that oh-so-
powerful arm had him bellowing like a wounded animal.  When his will to
fight was drained by exhaustion and pain, she pulled him to his feet and
forced him to caress, kiss, and suck her voluptuous flesh.  Crushing a
hand caused his mouth to open as it was pressed upon a strategic site,
such as the nipple of one of her turgid breasts.  This lascivious
activity had the inevitable effect on his male appendage and soon he was
on the verge of orgasm again.  But this time she denied him this
release, amusing herself by bringing him to the edge of eruption and
then holding him motionless while his member bobbed pathetically and the
wave subsided.  His friends began to despise him; they could not abide
their fallen hero suffering such indignity: he had spurted semen
impotently on himself, been spanked by a woman until he lost all self-
control, and now he was serving as a toy for her amusement, oblivious to
his debasement.  Still, they could not help being stunned that a WOMAN
had done this to a male as hale and hearty as any they knew.

Scooping him up like a baby, she carried him to the shower.  Under a
punishing stream of cold water she revived him, and soaped him, first
harshly, and then giggling with mischief more gently, then erotically,
until he found himself erect again.  She carried him out of the shower
into full view of his friends again.  So far, she had found no release
for her rising sexual stirrings, but now she intended to use him for her
pleasure.

Challenging him to perform like the stud he pretended to be, she pulled
him down on top of her and entreated him to enter her.  Buoyed with
opportunity to show her his prowess, he envisioned taking charge of the
situation and making her crave his cocksmanship.  He plunged his rigid
member to the hilt inside her steamy love channel.  Once inside, though,
he felt his swollen prong being pulverized by the grip of her cunt
muscles and her steely legs trapped him so that he could not move. 
Ripples of contractions massaged his sensitive cock; it was painful, yet
he could feel himself build toward orgasm and could do nothing to
prevent it.  She could see shock and then the panic in his eyes, the
frustration of once again not being in control. 

She brushed her lips lightly near his ear and said softly, "Yes, I could
milk you dry mister, and there's nothing you could do about it.  We
already know that you have no self control.  But this time I want you to
last."   And with that she flexed her leg and cunt muscles with a sudden
jolt of power whose painful effect was to curtail his impending orgasm. 
Then, with a feigned look of desire, she released her legs.  "Come on
big guy, give it to me.  I want to feel it." 

Again feeling that she couldn't help but want his marvelous tool, he
pumped in and out.  At first it felt glorious in that hot, clinging
chamber, but slowly it began to cling more tightly despite the
lubricating moisture. And she became more vociferous and demanding: 
"Harder!  Pump harder and faster!  All the way in.  You must not be
hard; I can't feel it."     But he was in all the way and he had never felt
bigger.  He redoubled his efforts.  Never had lovemaking been so
strenuous for him.  Though she seemed to his friends to be physically
relaxed, her arms at her side and her legs splayed open, the grip of her
cunt became more and more constricting.  He had never considered the
possibility, but he was losing another contest of strength, a veritable
sexual combat.  Never at any sport had he strained so much.  He was
bathed in his own perspiration; his breath came in rasping gasps;
although it was indescribably exciting to be in contact with this
goddess beneath him, the pleasure was tempered by the exertion and the
frustration of being bested in the most inconceivable way.  It was
amazing; she would seem to have been as vulnerable as possible.  She was
offering no outward resistance, but she was such a specimen of vitality
that he could not even carry out the act he had come to perform.  He
slumped in complete exhaustion and defeat as she ridiculed him in front
of his friends. 

More surprises were in store for him.  Still supine, she folded her arms
around him in a crushing embrace.  She was fully aroused sexually and
her large nipples were as hard as diamonds; they bored painfully into
his skin. Her cunt continued its merciless squeezing of his overmatched
member, and as she pulled outward and down on his arms, she expanded her
massive chest to incredible dimensions merely by taking a deep breath
caused by her arousal, stretching his back to dangerous limits.  She was
punishing him with her sexuality.  The sexual anatomy that inflamed his
lust--her awesome bust, capped with its prominent nipples, the cunt that
he had longed to enter--was now his undoing.  Not only could he not
compete with the muscles of the rest of her incredible physique, his
male anatomy could not cope with her female genitalia.

With a swift thrust and twist of her body she whirled him to the floor
with her on top, never once releasing his trapped member from her
constricting love tunnel.  Reflexively, he pushed up to unseat her, but
his arms seemed like putty as she slammed them to the floor and
enveloped him, rubbing erogenous flesh against flesh. She was ready to
ride this broken horse and ride she did.  She straddled him and pumped
exuberantly.  She rode down painfully on his balls, preventing premature
eruption on his part, but kept him aroused by forcing him to suck her
incredible breasts and to caress her breasts, legs, etc., and by running
her own hands strategically over his body. Soon she came, nearly
smothering and crunching him from the force of her orgasms.  She forced
him to suck her to further euphoria, and her strangling orgasm drove him
near unconsciousness.  She slowly kneaded him with her powerful cunt
until he too came in painful spasm after spasm.  Then forced his head to
her cunt to lap up the semen.  These ministrations brought her to an
orgasm that this time did strangle him to unconsciousness.  Still she
kneaded his now very sensitive and abused organ.  As he regained
consciousness, she aroused him in spite of himself.  She dropped over
him, forcing him back inside her and pumped him to orgasm, but it turned
into nightmare for him:  as his feeble spurts subsided she continued to
pump harder and harder and to grip viciously just with her love muscles. 
He began to babble and pleaded with her to stop.  She ridiculed him for
begging her to stop doing what he had come to do to her.  [continue...]

[elgat]

RECOMPENSE FOR RAPISTS, by Jack Straw (part 3)

[...continued]
At this point the young heavyweight managed finally to tear away from
his bonds.  Quietly, he moved over to the small bench that she had been
drying herself on when they first confronted her.  He picked it up and
intended to hit her with it, but as he brought it down toward her, she
twisted around, crushing the coach's swollen, rubbery member as she
tensed her legs for leverage.  She used both hands to block the muscular
youth from crashing the bench against her head.  Still gripping it, he
pushed harder.  She released one hand to once again test one of her arms
against two of a male's.  He had the advantage of leverage, but, as he
strained harder, his muscular arms began to tremble with the effort. 
Her arm, bent and bulging once again in mountainous ridges, slowly won
the contest.   He gave a final lunge, but his feet slipped and his chin
banged on the bench as she propelled it with a prodigious thrust.  He
slumped unconscious.  "A glass jaw, as well," she mused.

She rose from the semiconscious coach, who limply curled into a fetal
position on the floor.  His spent body was of no further interest to
her.  She strode purposefully over to the construction worker, ripped
off his bonds, and carried him to the doorway to the shower room. 
Gently dropping him to the floor, she slid down next to him, placing her
right leg behind him to prop up his torso.  She noticed in amusement
that this former he-man was trembling uncontrollably.  Drawing him
close, she spoke in a low sultry voice.

"I just couldn't let you miss out on all the fun, since you were so
looking forward to it."  She lifted her left leg, so sexy, so
beautifully proportioned, so muscular, and commanded him to feel it, to
caress it, from the arched foot, across the mountainous calves, down
terrifying but voluptuous thigh muscles, to the V of her crotch.  Then
she had him feel his own lumpy inferior legs.  She had him repeat this
arousing inspection with the rest of her body and then compare this
perfection with his own inferior body, the body with which he had always
been so proud.  Finally, the closeness of her body, the stimulating feel
of her curves and velvety skin, and the gentle pressure of her left
thigh against his crotch were too much, and he spent copiously in his
underwear.

"You guys really have no self-control.  Is this how you please your lady
friends, the ones who feel sorry enough for you to let you be with them? 
Is this your idea of a fun:  soiling your underwear?"  she taunted him. 
"Gee, you still haven't seen me flex.  Here, let me show you."

Rising up from the floor, she bent down toward the frightened man, and
gathering the front of his sopping underwear in a firm grasp with one
hand, she lifted him off the floor with that hand and slowly curled her
arm, using him as a limp dumbbell.  Her bicep peaked in awesome ridges. 
The pathetic man screamed from the pain in his ribs, as his back arched
downward from his raised crotch, and from the terrible constriction of
his genitals inside the confining underwear.  Realizing that he could
not see the glory of her pumped-up biceps, she lifted his head with her
other hand until his forehead banged against her meaty shoulder.  She
discovered that she could force his head against her bicep, bending his
torso painfully in the process, and then by rotating her arm make her
bicep pop up further and snap his head upward.  She amused herself in
this way until he had a bloody nose and cracked lip merely from causing
her bicep to pop up at the moment his face plopped down on it. Then she
bounced his head from jutting bicep to flexed bounteous boob and back. 
Her fun was curtailed only when his underwear finally ripped from the
strain and he slipped to the floor.

She rubbed his face and hairy chest to remove the smelly gel that had
stuck to her hand from grasping his underwear.  Then, grabbing his face
with both hands, she looked directly into his painridden eyes:  "This is
what a 'liberated bitch' can do to you, buddy boy.  With an inferior
body like yours, and especially with such a puny useless thing between
your legs, you'd better learn how pay proper respect.  I want you to do
something you've probably never done before."  And standing with her
legs parted, she thrust his face up into her nether region.  "Now, get
busy!"  Unable to resist, he serviced her as directed, despite knowing
what he was tasting.  For him it was the ultimate humiliation.

Standing imperiously with her hands on her hips in the doorway, with the
construction worker's head locked and busily engaged at her crotch and
his body dangling limply onto the floor, she gazed challengingly at the
other two men, now revived and puzzling over what to do.  "In case
you're wondering, the only way you're getting out of here is over my
shoulder when I carry your trashy hides to the dumpster.  And the only
way out is through this door," she said meaningfully.  Then, as the
construction worker's clumsy efforts aroused her more strongly, she
exclaimed, "Ooooh, yeah!" and closed her eyes.  As she violently humped
against the poor man's crushed face in the throes of orgasm, the other
two men saw their chance and charged toward the door, hoping to at least
knock her down and escape.  But even as the powerful sensations and
spasms rocked her and the man suspended between her legs, she moved to
brace herself against one side of the doorway.  As they tried to plow
through her, the mighty woman caught each charging man in a one-arm bear
hug and tensed her legs so that, despite their combined weight and
momentum, she stayed upright. Stopped so abruptly, the men had the
breath knocked out of them.  And as soon as it started, their charge and
their advantage was gone.  Try as they might, they could not topple her,
and worse, the crush of her enormous arms was preventing breathing and
threatening their ribs.  They struggled violently, but the mighty woman
held on.  With her colossal strength, she twisted them so that their
wild kicks landed painfully on each other rather than her and caused
them to curse at each other.  Attempts at punching her were futile
because their arms were restricted by the bear hugs and, even when
landed on her steely body, had no effect.  Although it was amusing to
toy with three such arrogant buffoons, she felt it was time to end the
evening's activities. Fearing that he was nearing suffocation, she
parted her legs sufficiently to allow the construction worker to lift
his head free and then clamped her legs across his upper body. 
Grimacing with effort, she then flexed her entire body.  The coach and
the young wrestler felt their torsos implode as her firm mammoth
breasts, rigid nipples, and exploding biceps bored through their
inferior flesh.  Snapped ribs audibly crunched amid agonizing screams. 
The men begged for release.  Readjusting her arms, she pressed the heads
of the two standing men down against her breasts.  The pain in their
bent necks and cracked ribs caused their mouths to open and
involuntarily suck on her erect nipples.  To her surprise, she found
herself once again becoming sexually excited.  She parted her legs
slightly so that the construction worker's struggles could stimulate her
nether regions as well.  It felt delicious, especially since these
musclebound morons were stimulating her against their will.  And all
three at once!  As she was sending them to their final defeat, three
once proud males were so impotent against this one female that they
could not even escape and their combined assault was merely massaging
her erogenous zones.  She climaxed violently, strangling one pathetic
male between her spasming legs, smothering another in the deep valley
between her breasts and his companion between a breast and an armpit as
her body went rigid with orgasmic ecstasy. 

As she emerged from her blissful state, she found that all three males
had swooned from pain and lack of air.  As each revived groggily, she
had them grovel at her feet and beg for their pitiful lives, promising
vocal public support of women's athletics.  With her hands on her hips
and her legs spread she demanded that they kiss her feet and her flexed
muscles.  Thoroughly cowed and truly in awe of her, they complied
readily.  The young wrestler, not having received any sexual release,
was so aroused by his worshipful contact with her incomparable body that
his rigid member burst through his underwear. His final punishment was
to be denied release as she applied a sleeper hold. The other two
dreamily submitted to this hold without struggle.  Anything to end this
nightmare!

They awoke sometime later, groaning in the worst pain of their lives,
completely naked in a heap in a pile of smelly garbage in the dumpster
outside the gym.  It was still dark outside.  Painfully, they managed to
get out of the trash bin and made their way to the car.  The doors were
locked but inside they could see a note saying that their keys and
clothes were in the car's trunk.  Two policewomen surprised the men as
they were trying unsuccessfully to pry open the car's trunk with a
broken tree branch.  They were further humiliated as the women ordered
them to freeze while they shone their flashlights over their naked
bodies, pausing playfully when each crotch was illuminated.

"Well, we can see that you are truly unarmed," they giggled.  "Perhaps
you can explain what you're doing?" they mirthfully entreated.  They
could not contain their amusement as the men launched into an outrageous
story and chuckled aloud when their questions met with conflicting
simultaneous answers from the flustered men.  It was all the more droll,
considering the fearsome reputations of these muscular males, to see
them in such a ridiculous state and clearly unwilling to admit how it
happened.  The policewomen forced them into the back of the squad car. 
It was so amusing to see these bullies sitting side by side, mortified
to be discovered in this way and trying to cover their naked crotches
from the merry scrutiny of these two women.  The men felt emasculated;
their false bravado had been peeled away with their clothes.

Reveling in the men's discomfiture, the women shocked them by saying,
"We know what you were doing tonight.  There was a witness."  Puzzled,
incredulous, the men glanced at each other: a witness ...to that?  "We
know what you intended to do, slimeballs, but we can't charge you
because all you managed to do was get thoroughly trounced by your
intended victim.  We're going to take your worthless carcasses home, but
I think you'd better follow through on those promises you made.  Judging
by your condition, I don't think you want her mad at you!  It might be
worse next time."  The men groaned; they were to be laughingstocks and
marked men. 

At home in bed, their intended victim languidly stretched her
voluptuous, incredibly powerful body and drifted easily into sleep,
still enveloped in the afterglow of the pleasure the men had
inadvertently given her.  For the first time in her life, she felt
sexually sated.  Out of consideration for her sexual partners, she had
never unleased her full passion and awesome vitality.  Ironically, these
hapless males, who had started the evening seeking pleasure from her
humiliation, had instead provided the opportunity for the greatest
sexual release of her life.  With them she could abandon her normal
inhibitions; they deserved no consideration, and it was such a kick to
triumph against such cowards, cocksure that their numbers and the
physiques they proudly flaunted would overwhelm her easily.  As it
turned out, the male conceit had burst almost immediately: they had been
no challenge at all.  She had been superior in every way: mentally,
physically, athletically, and sexually.  It had always given her
pleasure in the past to defeat men whenever the opportunity arose, but
this had been so gratifying that now she saw a new mission in life.  She
would seek out the biggest, most powerful, most chauvinistic of men and
vanquish them, physically and, if she chose, sexually as well.  Their
myth of male superiority would be shattered and replaced by fear and
worship of the true AMAZON.

FROM              THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS         702-243-7723/8982/9897

[THE END]

[elgat]

Reckoning
by Jack Straw (part 1)
A self-absorbed college football star has a day of reckoning


It was going to be a scorcher.  Already in the hazy morning sun it was
so hot and muggy that sweat was drenching his shirt just from the
simple exertion of walking up the long driveway.  This was the type of
day that sapped your strength and your willpower and sometimes your
reason. 

He'd better start mowing the yard before it became unbearable, Kevin
thought, wincing as he rubbed his hand across his brow.  He had been
silly to volunteer to do this; the proper place to be on this Saturday
morning was in bed catching up on his sleep.  He was at the house of
an old widow, winning some badly needed points with his mother. 

In actuality he had only suggested doing it as a way to meet the girl
who lived next door to the widow.  When he had helped his mother drop
off some stuff for the community charity headed by the old bag, he had
seen her bodacious neighbor.  What a vision, she was!  His heart raced
just thinking about her.

She had been off to somewhere in a hurry, dashing off in shorts and
halter top, really showing off her wares.  To say that she filled out
her top nicely was an understatement and her trim, sculpted waist
flared out into a delectably packed rear end, above the best developed
legs he'd seen, nicely emphasized in high heels.  He practically
creamed in his pants just looking at her.  But with a sexy smile that
still lingered in his mind, she was gone before he had a chance to
talk.  He had found out from the widow that she had gone to the same
high school as he, having graduated three years after he had gone off
to the State U, but he had never known her.

It had been a dry first couple of weeks of the summer in the sexual
arena.  All the girls he knew at home seemed to hold silly grudges
about things that had happened long ago.  He couldn't wait for the
summer to be over anyway, and for football season to start.  This was
going to be his season.  He was the fastest and nearly the biggest
back in the conference.  His coach said all he needed was a little
more conditioning -- he was always harping on that.  Why?  Kevin felt
he was already stronger than other backs his size and he had the
stamina to carry the ball more -- just give it to him and he'd do the
rest.  He flexed his right arm and felt the biceps swell into a
satisfying mass of rock-hard muscle.  He narcissistically ran his
other hand over the warm engorged flesh.  It had developed to the
point that he could no longer encompass even half its girth.  He
studied the way the individual layers stood out in hard etched relief.
He thought back to that little cheerleader he had been with his last
night at the university this year.  She'd been impressed!  Man, had he
ever slammed it home for her, he thought, a self-satisfied smile on
his face.

His thoughts drifted back to the matter at hand.  Where was the mower
the old lady had told him about before she drove off? 

When he saw it, he groaned.  It had to be twenty years old and didn't
look like it had been used in a long while.  Well, he wasn't going to
waste all day on getting it started.  It either started now, or he was
going home.  He got the old mower out, checked the oil, and filled it
with gasoline from the old can.  Then he proceeded to try to start it
with the old-fashioned rope tow.  Ten tugs -- nothing!  He fiddled
with the choke, and tried ten times more.  He felt the rivulets of
sweat drain down the small of his back as he straightened up to push
the old heap of junk back in the garage.  He could honestly say he'd
tried.  Perhaps he'd come back later with his parents' mower.

"Hi!" 

She was finishing a graceful vault over the wooden fence between the
two yards.  His heart stopped.  It was SHE, the luscious girl next
door!  She was dressed in a long tear-away jersey that ended just
below her curvaceous hips and drew his gaping eyes downward along a
breathtaking expanse of bared legs ending in two sexy high heels.
What a crotch-riveting sight, striding over on those tanned, smooth,
muscular, long legs that rippled sexily with each stride.  His leering
gaze followed up past the hour-glass waist to the jut of her bust,
with the prominent nipples making audacious little peaks inside the
tightly stretched jersey. 

"Linda," she gripped his hand with a firm handshake and gave him a
dazzling smile.  In her high heels she stood eye to eye with the big
fullback.

"K-Kevin" he stuttered.

"Yes, Kevin Landis.  I remember you from high school.  I think you've
got it flooded now."  She nodded toward the mower.  "There was
probably moisture on the plug.  This thing hasn't been used yet this
year.  I'm the only one who ever starts it, but I've been using our
mower to cut her grass.  Let's  take off the plug."

"Huh," he mouthed stupidly, still fixated on her body. "Uh -- I didn't
bring a wrench."  He looked around for one in the widow's garage and
saw none. 

"Oh, I never use a wrench any more," she said matter-of-factly.
Snatching up a mildewed scrap of old clothing along the garage wall,
she offered it to him.  "Here's a rag.  Just unscrew it by hand." 

He looked at her condescendingly.  "If you put it on without a wrench,
no wonder it won't start."  He gripped the plug through the rag and
tried to turn it but it wouldn't budge. 

She smiled, "See, it's not so loose.  Put some muscle into it and
it'll come off." 

Against his better judgement, he tried again, gripping with both hands
and rocking the mower in his effort, but as he surmised, it didn't
give at all.  "If it's been on there all winter, we're not getting it
off without a wrench."

"Here, let me try," she said gently but firmly nudging him aside.  Had
he not been leering at the thrusting of her breasts, he might have
noticed the veins on her beautiful hands and the rippling of her
forearms as she gripped the plug through the rag.  A loud squeaking
sound of two fused pieces of metal grinding against each other met his
ears, and, she had the thing loose.

Red-faced, he looked at it.  "Might as well throw it away and get a
new one; that thing is hopeless."  His nose curled at the smell of
gasoline roiling off the greasy black plug.

"Just like a guy," she said good-naturedly.  "Always getting something
new rather than fixing the old one.  Trust me, it'll work as soon as
we clean it up."  Sure enough, after she had wiped off the gasoline
and filed off the carbon with a piece of rock, put it back on with a
slight grimace of effort, it fired up on her first pull.  Kevin was
mesmerized watching the sinuous movements of her body, the riding up
of her thin jersey to reveal perfect, smooth, rippling hips clad in a
bikini thong.  He hoped she hadn't noticed his burgeoning hardon.

"See you later.  I don't think you'll have any more trouble."   Again
that dazzling, good-natured smile.  She turned and was soon over the
fence with a deft, easy vault.  Kevin's cock was so hard it hurt in
the confinement of his sturdy shorts.

Later, when he had to put in more gas, out of curiosity he tried to
unscrew the plug she had put on but it wouldn't budge.  He merely
ended up burning his hand as it slipped through the rag on the hot
engine. 

As he ruefully sucked on his knuckles to cool them off, he thought he
heard a clanking noise across the wall.  He sauntered over to
investigate.  Mowing sucked anyway; the reason he was here was to ogle
that babe next door.

She was stretching out on a lounge chair with bare legs extended and
seeming to be resting from exertion.  Her long sweat-streaked jersey
clung to those spectacular upper curves and beautifully sculpted hips.

Poking his head over fence, he called to her.  She looked up and
smiled.  He then vaulted over the fence, not quite clearing it as she
had and nearly falling as he landed clumsily on the other side.

"Would you like some lemonade, Kevin?"  When he eagerly assented, she
disappeared into the house.

He sat down heavily and looked around.  He spied two barbells nearby,
each seeming to carry a colossal amount of weight.  Casually, he tried
to pick up the lighter of the two but let it go with a grunt after
lifting it a short way off the ground.  Wow! he thought to himself.
Someone around here is really into lifting weights.  He was not sure
he wanted to meet the father or brother who could lift such weights,
particularly with the lecherous thoughts he had toward this girl.

She emerged from the house with two glasses of lemonade, now wearing a
skimpy bikini top over which she had a loose open blouse that exposed
her breasts most delightfully.  He could smell perfume and knew he
hadn't earlier.  He smiled to himself at the implication.  This could
be a day to remember!  He commented on the two very heavy barbells
that lay nearby -- "Do you have a brother or father into pumping
iron?"

"Well, Daddy does lift some, but those are mine." She smiled at his
disbelief.

His curiosity piqued, he cautiously lifted the smaller of the two huge
barbells again.  To his consternation, he was forced to struggle to
get it past his waist and hoped that he seemed nonchalant in letting
it back down before he hurt something.  Gripping it to put his whole
body into it, he snatched it up to his chest and then with a grunt
lifted it shakily over his head.  He felt lightheaded as he carefully
let it back down.  That was a lot of weight!

"I use that for curls, but I was going to increase it today," she said
brightly.  "Are you into weightlifting too?"

"Well, yeah, our coach forces us to spend at least an hour a day at
it.  I do okay I guess, the best at my weight and third best on the
team.  You're joking, though, right?  Are these really yours?  And did
you say curls?  If you lift weights, you know that you can't do leg
curls with a barbell like that," he said.  Never having had much
practice, he wasn't a master of tact.

Her eyes glinted, but she merely replied in a quiet, forceful tone, "I
didn't say LEG curls -- if there is such a thing.  I use them for ARM
curls, of course." 

As he continued telegraphing his skepticism much like a smug master
regarding a novice, she added, more heatedly and now tauntingly,  "So
what you're saying is YOU couldn't curl it.  You don't believe a GIRL
could be stronger than a big guy like you -- even after I unscrewed
that plug on that old mower and you couldn't."  Again she smiled
disarmingly.  "How about trying me at arm wrestling?"

Coyly, she pulled off her loose top to reveal an upper body of amazing
muscularity and arousing femininity.  Her large breasts bobbed ever so
slightly in her straining bikini top as she sat down across from him
at a patio table. 

Blinking at her aggressive self-confidence and the implied sexual
invitation, he hesitated, scratching his head.  In the back of his
mind was the anxious thought that she might be stronger and he really
didn't want to know that, but he wasn't clever enough to think of a
way of slipping out of her challenge without looking like a wimp and
losing any chance of making her as interested in him as he was in her.
She was in complete psychological command, and he was not used to
being on the defensive with a woman, at least not in this way.  "Oh,
come on," he chided himself silently. "This is just a girl and three
years younger than me.  Plug, shmug -- no girl goes through the kind
of training and has the body of a Division I football player."

"Come on, just for fun," she said good-naturedly.  "I promise I won't
crumble in your big hand."

He locked hands with her, still with a vague misgiving at this turn of
events, but anxious to put her in her place so that he could dominate
the scene as he usually did.

"Wait, take off your shirt, too," she said.  "I just love big muscles
on a guy."

"Nice!" she said as he complied, only too happy to show off his body.
He flexed his biceps for her in a mock pose to let her know that he
was not taking this seriously and then held it to let his physique
speak for himself, as it always did.  She had to notice that his
flexed muscles were hard as rocks, at least as big as hers -- and they
were the muscles of a virile MALE, the sex that called the shots.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, practically drowning in
testosterone.

"It'll be a hoot," she smiled derisively.

He winced a little from her grip as they locked up again and she
huskily said, "Go!"

Trying to maintain his air of nonchalance at the start, he was
inwardly dismayed to find his arm moving slowly toward the table.
With each increase in his exertion, he found her counterforce
increasing to match it.  Finally, as his arm neared the table, he
summoned all his energy and flexed his arm muscles to the maximum.
Amazed that she was making him go all out, he was at least gratified
that he was able to slowly push her arm back to halfway.  He smiled at
her in silent confidence, and found that same smile looking back at
him.  She wasn't even breathing hard yet, he noticed, whereas he,
despite trying to pretend that he was not trying, was breathing in
muted gasps to cover his exertion and beginning to sweat heavily.  His
arm was shaking somewhat with the struggle, but hers wasn't wavering
at all.  Once again, he was assailed with the fear that he might
actually lose this stupid contest.  His ego was already looking for a
diversion to put a stop to it.

"Well, I guess I've got your attention, now," she smiled.  "Perhaps
now you'll make me strain a little.  I'm sure a big star like you can
do better than this."

To his consternation, his arm began to go down again and he grunted
audibly, no longer pretending not to try.  Without seeming to strain
in the least, she began to pour on even more power than before.  And
to add insult, she was talking to him in a normal unstrained voice, as
calmly as if they were sipping drinks together.  In fact she did take
a casual sip of her lemonade.

"Have you ever heard the story of Atalanta?" she asked mysteriously.

"Atlanta?  Atlanta, Georgia?" he gasped out, not wanting to waste his
breath on talking.

"No, AT-A-LANTA, the female athlete of Greek mythology."

He knitted his eyebrows in puzzlement and shook his head.  He'd never
heard of her.  "No. So what?" he rasped out and involuntarily grunted
as he felt his arm head downward again.

"She loved to compete with men -- the strongest, the most skilled --
she beat them all.  She was the best hunter, the best wrestler.  In a
famous set of contests at the funeral of a king, she beat the male
champion at wrestling -- in the nude.  And her greatest fame was that
she was the swiftest runner."  He glanced up and found her eyes
studying him as she continued.  "I'm that way.  I love to compete,
especially against guys, whatever the sport, whatever the contest.
But it's getting more and more boring.  You guys are supposed to have
muscles, but it's really no challenge.  Perhaps some time we could
race; I've heard you're fast.  I beat your school records in track,
but maybe you're faster than you were in high school."  Again, he was
skeptical; he was proud of those records.  Surely he would have heard
something, even though he never bothered to find out what was
happening at the high school; it was beneath him now.  Had he heard
something?  He was jolted from a fuzzy scan of his memory by another
increment in the descent of his aching, trembling arm.  He grimaced
with another surge of energy.

"Atalanta's father wanted her to marry but she didn't want to, so she
posed a challenge to appease her father.  Any man who could beat her
in a race could wed her."  While she prattled on, seeming not to be
exerting herself at all, he gasped in exertion and sweat was flooding
from every pore.  He could hardly see through the rivulets pouring
across his eyes.  "Do you know what she did to the males who
challenged her and lost?  She killed them.  In their stories the
Greeks probably had her do it with a spear, but I'll bet that in their
minds those outwardly chauvinistic males secretly fantasized that she
did it with her bare hands.  It's a fear that most of you men have,
that, if you really tangled with a strong woman, she'd win.  And yet -
- secretly, you want, you need, a woman who's stronger, just as long
as she doesn't prove it to you.  I know all about you guys -- every
guy in high school was afraid of me, but always trying to get a good
peek at me when they thought I wasn't looking.  Silly male psyche --
can't stand to lose to a woman even if she's better, can't stay
interested unless she IS stronger."

He had fallen off her train of thought, whatever it was.  "Is there
going -- to be a -- quiz -- later?"  he managed to grunt out.  Why all
this talk?  It only added to his frustration and befuddlement.  He
didn't understand what was happening and he wanted it to stop NOW.  It
infuriated him further that his best effort had no effect on her.  How
did she have the energy to talk when he didn't?  How could he be
losing at all; was there some trick to armwrestling that he didn't
know about?  That must be it.  He was just glad that nobody else was
around to see this.  On the other hand, he had wanted above all else
that day to impress this fabulously beautiful girl and she was making
a fool of him. [continue...]

[elgat]

Reckoning,
by Jack Straw (part 2)

[...continued]
She smiled and fixed him with a penetrating look that made him feel
mentally naked.  He averted his eyes and strained harder.  He felt her
eyes burning his skin as she continued in that sexy, careless voice. 

"Those manly, manly Greeks probably fantasized that Atalanta first
made the losing suitors pleasure her or maybe the killing and the
pleasure came at the same time.  A woman like Atalanta -- or me --
could kill a man just with the strength of her body during sex, you
know," she said, her eyes shining with the look of a predator who had
cornered her prey.   He wanted to laugh at her words -- such silliness
-- but the grip she had on his hand, that arrogant self-confidence,
and now that look.  It was threatening and sexually arousing at the
same time.  A sudden twinge of ... of outright fear radiated from the
base of his spine to the pit of his stomach.  The novelty of it
startled him; it was a feeling he had never had in the presence of a
woman before.  Even the nervousness of his first date was far
different than this. He struggled mentally to shake it off, even as he
felt his arm descend a few more degrees toward the table.

His eyes met hers.  The predatory glow in those beautiful green eyes
was joined with a glint of amusement; she seemed to read his thoughts
or, more precisely, his emotions.  Angered, he found another reserve
of energy and arrested the descent of his arm, but, try as he might,
could not gain any ground.  He was very close to losing!

"Girls can be kinda strong, can't they?" she taunted, giggling.  He
suddenly felt pain as she gripped his hand more tightly.  His eyes
widened and he moaned softly, despite himself. 

"Does it turn you on to be outmuscled by a girl, Kevin?"  She leaned
forward, seductively bringing her moist full lips close to his.  He
was again aware of her perfume.  At the same time she puffed out her
chest, stretching the bikini top to the point of bursting. 

This sexual assault by itself would have reduced him to jelly, even
had he not been nearing exhaustion and the rupture of his biceps.  As
it was, he momentarily gave up all resistance, but rather than
providing him the relief of ending this one-sided humiliating contest,
she drew his hand upward from its position of imminent defeat and over
against the engorged nipple of one jutting breast, boring through the
stretched fabric of her top.  Twisting his hand so that the back of it
pressed against her breast, she began to rub it slowly against her
steely nipple.  She ran her tongue provocatively across her parted
lips, arousing and taunting him at the same time.  Because her grip
threatened to crush his overmatched hand, Kevin  reflexively tried to
resist her movements--but to no avail.  His efforts were like those of
a child against her power.  The twisting and squeezing of her hand had
made the muscles of her forearms and biceps bunch and bulge to
intimidating girth. 

He felt strangely aroused by this display of overwhelming strength and
the obvious sexual implication of how she was using it, but at the
same time he was maddened by being so plainly bested and toyed with.
With a smile she ran her free hand lightly over his crotch and
chuckled as she felt his penis lurch, obviously tenting his pants in
arousal despite his exertions.  His labored breathing quickened
despite his efforts at self-control.  She batted her eyes in
coquettish triumph.

"My!  That little guy is excited!"  she teased. 

"She's nothing but a cock teaser!" he thought angrily.  "I've got to
put her in her place."  He tried to jerk his hand away from her
breast, but it hardly moved as he saw her forearm and biceps bulge out
further.  Otherwise, there was no evidence that she even noticed his
efforts.

Still tracing her other hand over his tented crotch, she asked, "Isn't
it painful to have it bent like that.  Too bad it doesn't have a
little more muscle behind it.  It might do something like THIS." 

She drew a deep breath and expanded her now massive chest, flexing the
pectorals and forcing her large, firm breasts outward.  And with a
loud ripping noise, they broke through the overwrought material of the
bikini top like the prow of a ship crashing through a rotten dock. 
"This was last year's.  Too small for me now; I just keep growing and
growing up there!"  Kevin couldn't help but stare at her amazing
bosom, large, sexy, and powerful.  Bared proudly and brazenly, it
seemed to fill up his entire field of vision.

Conditioned by the experience that breasts were bared only in the
dimmest of light, he furtively glanced around.  "Oh, don't worry, no
one's home," she said coyly.  "My Mom and Mrs. O'Malley, whose grass
you're supposed to be cutting, went to an auction.  They'll be gone
all day."

"And your father?" he managed to gasp out.

"Oh, don't worry about Daddy.  He's gone too, but he knows better than
to interfere.  I think poor Daddy is afraid of me -- not that I'd ever
hurt him now that he knows his place, but embarrassment in public is
such a good preventive medicine," she laughed.  "Don't worry about
anybody.  This is such a deserted street, almost in the country --
we're quite alone.   I'm at your mercy, big boy," she murmured
ironically.

"All you have to do is outmuscle me and I'm all yours, Mr. Football
Hero," she said cupping one meaty tit with her free hand.  "One part
of you is getting hard at least.  Now if your muscles could grow like
that ...."  She had kicked off one of her high heels and insinuated
her bare foot into the opening of one leg of his shorts and was
massaging his trapped penis.  As it engorged, its confinement within
his underwear was painful, yet the massaging was so pleasurable and
she was so exciting, so arousing.  His breathing became more and more
labored and his heart raced ever faster.  He was amazed to have a
full-blown erection at the same time he was putting all his energy
into his arm and shoulder muscles.  It was an old trick with him to
deflate an errant erection by physical exertion like this, but this
exciting, maddening creature seemed to override the normal laws of his
body.  And she just wouldn't SHUT UP.  Word after maddening word
tumbled tauntingly out of her mouth.

"You want me but you can't have me unless I want it.  I'm in control,
not you.  Ooh and it's so hard!  But unlike my fun parts, it's not
strong enough to bare itself.  Here let me help you."   She hooked her
foot within the crotch of the sturdy shorts and pulled.  Despite his
weight bearing down on the seat, a sudden flexing of her mighty leg
whisked the shorts down to his knees.  She extracted her foot from the
shorts and rested it lightly on his thin briefs.  Sensuously she
rubbed the hairy back of his tightly gripped hand over her engorged
nipple, caressed with her toes the trapped penis that tented his
briefs, and fixed his eyes with a smoldering gaze of predatory lust.
It was simultaneously seductive, challenging, and--even he could not
miss it--mocking.  Silently, but not at not all subtly, she was
triumphantly reminding him that she was so easily winning their test
of strength that she could toy with him in other ways, and so far he
was powerless to stop her teasing.  He couldn't believe a girl could
be this strong.  Again his only solace was that nobody was there to
witness his humiliation.  Captivated by her strength and her lusty
charms, one insistent part of him wanted just to collapse on those
delectable breasts and let her play with him.  But his pride, his male
pride, and his competitive nature could not allow this female to
overcome him so easily.  And despite his arousal, he was angry.  She
was nothing but a lousy cock teaser!  He sensed that she would never
give him the kind of sexual release she was building up in him, unless
she did it in some humiliating way.  He would not, he could not,
submit.  He would somehow wipe that arrogant smile off her face.

He bent his head down and grimaced with effort, trying at least to
grip as tightly and painfully as she and to wrest his abused hand away
from the humiliating use she was making of it, as if it were a fleshy
implement to masturbate herself.  He smiled hopefully as his burst of
effort lifted his hand just free of her nipple.  His muscles rippled
and burned and trembled with the effort, but--yes!--his hand had
moved, almost imperceptibly but it was a start. 

"Yes!  That's it, give it all you've got little boy!  Give me some
competition,"  she cried almost orgasmically.  His hand moved back
onto her hot flesh!  It was again grazing that perfect, powerful orb
and the steely knob that stood out on it.  He was simultaneously aware
of the perfection of her breast and the increased pressure on his
abused hand.  He gasped with effort and pain, but it pressed ever more
forcefully against her jutting breast.  He was losing ground again.
Head down, he almost whimpered, but still did not give up.

She rubbed the back of his hand ever harder against her large breasts,
which in her sexual arousal transformed from firm to ultrafirm.  "Ooh,
this is making me hot!  Don't you wish you were man enough to do this
yourself?"  Her arms rippled in overpowering ridges of living granite,
as she moved his hand at will, despite his best effort to resist.  Bit
by bit, she had transformed this encounter from an innocent meeting
between two strangers to a blatant, one-sided sexual battle of the
sexes.  She was a cock teaser and there was nothing he could do about
it.  He couldn't even end this game without her allowing it.
 
"Oh, this is such a turn on!"  With her free hand she grabbed the back
of his head and pushed his lips toward her other mountainous breast.
Instinctively, he resisted, and reached up his free arm to pry her
hand away from the back of his head.  But neither his flexing neck
muscles, nor the arm muscles he once thought so powerful, arrested the
inexorable dip of his face until she had his lips positioned on her
other nipple.

"Suck!" she demanded regally.  "Lick!"   And as he mutely refused, she
crushed down more forcefully on the hand he had been so futilely
armwrestling with her.  The crush was unbearable, unbelievable.
Through the haze of pain, for the first time he whimpered out loud.
"Get that tongue working, or I'll break your weak little hand," she
hissed.

He moaned in resignation.  He pressed his lips against her delicious
flesh and licked and sucked, at first tentatively, but, with the
onrush of feverish responses in his own body, soon slavishly.  The arm
he had been using to wrestle went limp.  He had given up.

"Yes, that feels good.  With a little practice you might get good at
this."  she murmured.  "Hey," her voice took on a hard edge, "I didn't
say our contest was over.  You can't give up until I say so.  Try to
pull your arm down, try to pull your head out, or I WILL break your
weak male paw."  She crushed down once again.

"Oooow!" he wailed.  "What's the point?" he gasped out through the
pain. 

"The point?  Have you no pride?  Are you defeated so easily, big
football star?  I want to feel your manly strength against me.  Is
this the best you've got?"  she demanded.

He was completely confused -- and angry once again.  With a second
wind he growled with animal rage and flexed all the muscles of his
body to their maximum.  For an instant, even a few seconds he
extricated his face and hand from her breasts.  In that brief time he
glanced at her arm muscles and saw them bulge to far larger
proportions than his decidedly inferior muscles, despite being pumped-
up from his exertions.  With prodigious force she restored his face
and his hand to their previous perches.  "You're not sucking!" she
said in a warning tone and crushed down on his poor, swollen fingers
once again.

In desperation, he applied his lips and tongue to do her bidding.  But
to appease her earlier command, he maintained the exertions of his
muscles.  Now exhausted, he was completely and utterly defeated, but
could not even give up.  Yet -- as he endeavored to please her, he was
more and more aware of  her ultra-arousing contours, so extremely
female in velvety skin texture, scent, and voluptuous shape, so
powerful in musculature.  Her physique overwhelmed all his senses and
filled his mind.  His member, which had receded limply during the
renewed physical struggle and his angry reaction to her taunts,
erected anew, painfully confined within his underwear.  She noticed it
lurch again against her bare foot.

She chuckled triumphantly.  "How strong is that little guy?  Can he
break through a little cloth like my breasts?"  She stroked him
through the cloth until he thought he might erupt.  Then she stopped.
"No I guess not.  I'll have to help you."  With her powerful foot and
toes she peeled the waistband of the briefs downward.  His penis was
bent painfully and then sprang free.  SPLAT; it slapped loudly against
his belly in most undignified fashion.  She giggled girlishly at this
indignity.  She had his upper body effectively tied up, impotently
being used to massage her breasts.  Now she added to the humiliation
by toying with his exposed member, pressing it against his solid,
hairy belly, massaging it sensuously.  She worked it until it bobbed
on the verge of ejaculation and then she stopped.  Then she toyed some
more.  This treatment fatigued him more.

"Should I make you mess yourself?  Would you like that?" she giggled.

"No, I don't think so.  I should be served first.  But first we have
to finish this silly little contest.  You really are not much
challenge.  Maybe if you put both your arms against my one, it might
be a contest."  She crushed down on his hand again and released his
head.  "Now the only way you'll get this hand back is to remove it or
force my hand to the table.  Let's see if both your arms can beat just
one arm of little ole me." 

To rescue this aching hand, he grabbed it with the other. 

"Yes, that's it.  Push!" 

"Finally, I'm getting some resistance to push against," she cried
excitedly.  Her breasts and nipples seemed to stand out even more, and
her muscles bunched and swelled to a size that he would have thought
impossible at the beginning of their little bout.  As her excitement
and battle lust increased, his strength ebbed and he finally
collapsed, exhausted, humiliated as she drove both hands to the table
with a loud bang. 

Not wanting to look at her triumphant visage, he kept his face down on
his aching arms.  He felt certain that he had ruptured his right bicep
and his hand was swelling from possible fractures.  The prolonged
struggle had robbed him of every millicalorie of energy and muscular
tension.  He was as limp and wet as a dish rag. [continue...]

[elgat]

Reckoning,
by Jack Straw (part 3)

[...continued]

"Woo!  Woo!"  she whooped triumphantly, raising her mighty arms.  "To
the victor goes the spoils.  Atalanta has won again.  And now ...."   

Remembering her strange comments about killing (with sex!), he
leadenly rose up to get away but tripped ignominiously on the shorts
and briefs still pulled down around his knees and ankles.  She giggled
and placed her sexy high-heeled foot imperiously on his crotch.

"Oh, you big LITTLE boy!  You're so cute and weak!"  She tore off his
shorts and briefs and caressed him to a squirming erection.
Effortlessly, she lifted him and folded his body against hers.
Although he was taller and heavier, she was firmly in control.
Instinctively, he struggled against her, without moving her one iota.
"I could rape you, you know," she whispered hotly in his ear and then
pressed her scorching lips on his sweat-drenched neck.  Kevin was
dizzy from arousal, the heat of the day, and his exertions.  He had no
thoughts and no will.  "But if you don't want it, Kevie, I won't force
you."  She planted her mouth sweetly over his in a long breath-robbing
kiss.   "Say the word and back you go to mowing.  No hard feelings."
Her kisses proceeded down his neck to his salty chest.  He breathed in
excited gasps and said nothing.

She roughly tossed him down on the grass and mounted him.  She ground
her bikini panties up and down along the length of his rigid shaft as
it rested impotently against his muscular abdomen, painfully squashing
his balls at the end of each frenzied stoke.  For a while it was like
a nude wrestling match, very much a one-sided one, as he struggled to
resist her dominant mastery over his body.  He wanted her, no question
about that.  He had never wanted anything more passionately than to
ejaculate astride her body.  He needed to COME and she wasn't letting
him.  He felt like a bow that was being wound too tight and soon would
burst from the pressure. The more he struggled to control her, the
more excited and forceful she seemed to become.  It was hopeless, he
was no match; his stamina wasn't up to a prolonged bout and soon he
was docile again.

She gripped his wrists and guided the hands to caress her breasts.
Then she grabbed his head and thrust her mighty orbs against his
mouth.  No longer startled by her aggression, he gave in to it.  Let
her use him; at least he was in contact with her supremely exciting
body.  The masterful cocksman allowed her to rub his member in this
belittling manner, never letting him insert it and giving no promise
of release.  Soon she began screaming and spasming.  He was crushed as
she hugged him to her and his head was smothered in the prodigious
cleft between her breasts.  Her legs clamped around his ribs and his
trapped diaphragm was unable to draw in air.  He sank into a burning
abyss of unconsciousness ....

Slowly his senses rose from the pit of blackness.  He hadn't died
after all, not that he any longer doubted that she could squeeze the
life out of him if she chose to do so.  On the other hand, he didn't
feel very much alive either.

Limply, he opened his eyes to see her facing him, slowly curling that
huge weight that he had trouble lifting at all.  Still topless, she
smiled smugly at him with a come-hither look, as her arms and torso
bulged hugely with each lift, breasts jiggling slightly on the
awesomely inflated chest as the bar contacted them at the apex of each
repetition.  Despite his humiliating condition, he found his cock
engorging to stiff erection, for the umpteenth time, still without
release. 

"So, there is some life in you, after all," she giggled nodding at the
stiff mast rising from his splayed, limp body.  "It's too bad that
you're not strong enough to use that thing properly.  By the way, note
that I am using proper CURLING form."

Now with both her heels back on, she walked sexily over to where he
lay, a wet noodle of a male completely flaccid except for a rigid
phallic rod bobbing spastically.  Curling the weight nonchalantly to
her naked breasts, on that awesomely expanded chest, which flared out
above the cinched-in corded layers of her rock hard abdomen, her
shoulder and arm muscles exploded in jagged relief.  His member
engorged to the bursting point and arched upward.  Balancing on one
marvelously sculpted leg, she pressed the sole of the dainty shoe on
her other foot down haughtily on his rigid member, trapping it
insolently against the sweaty hairs of his belly. He came in a great
squirt against his chin and chest and then like a gurgling fountain in
impotent spasms on his belly.

"Looks like I'm late for the party!"  It was a vaguely familiar voice
calling out behind them as the back screen door banged closed.  In
panic, Kevin broke out of his languid torpor and tried to twist his
body over to screen his humiliating condition out of sight, or at
least the most embarrassing part of it.  But Linda's imperious foot
and the mighty leg pressing down on his rapidly deflating fountainhead
pinned him in place. 

"My, my, my!  What have we here?  Kevin Landis, superstar!  You're
really showing off your talents today."  Her rich voice biting with
sarcasm, another stunning female, rivalling the goddess standing over
him, approached threateningly.

"M-Mary?"  Kevin stammered, mortified by his state and the
implications that were unfolding.  A tiny light in the recesses of his
brain flickered up, and later he would discover it again and, with its
dim glow, probe the idea that he had been set up.  Who had suggested
that he mow that damned lawn?  Had it been his idea?  If he traced
back to how the subject came up ....  The widow?  His mother!?

"So, you remember me?  Hard to believe you're still alive -- no
letters, not even a phone call in three years.  Not even the courage
to let me vent my anger.  Nothing.  That's what you are -- a big fat
nothing!" 

Kevin wiped a glob of semen off his chin.  He could imagine how silly
he looked with his sticky fluids all over his hairy abdomen,
completely naked, and limply splayed out like a complete dork.  But
the worst part was that SHE, Mary, was seeing him like this and loving
it he was sure. 

With his worst sense of foreboding yet, he silently cursed his luck.
How had he gotten in this predicament?  Girls being how they were, he
could see that perhaps Mary might hold a little grudge.  His last
summer before college, he and she had been going at it hot and heavy
for a month or so.  A lovely dimpled face she had, but she was too
big, a little clumsy, shy, and looked chubby, although in the back
seat of his car in the night or at home in bed when nobody else was
around, that body had seemed pretty solid and those boobs ...!  She
had been a good lay, a fun time on the side for him.  Nobody else
knew.  She had been a neighbor then, and it just happened.  He was
doing her a favor as he saw it.  She wasn't in his league socially,
chubby and two years his junior -- his friends would have ribbed him
unmercifully if they had known.  She was beginning to be a pain toward
the end of the summer, complaining that they never went anywhere and
that he never let her stay around his friends when they came by.  She
just didn't get it!   When she pulled him away from his going-away
party and gave him that silly present the day before he left for
college, he was embarrassed and short with her, but when she started
to cry, in desperation he said he'd write and see her as soon as he
could.  And that was the last he'd seen her. 

Well, she was chubby no more!  Dressed in a delightful tan that was
covered in strategic places by a skimpy stretched out halter top and
tight shorts, she had the muscular curves he found so exciting in the
feminine colossus who was astride him and even larger breasts.  As
Linda shifted her foot to free his cock, it began to thicken in
renewed arousal. 

"Well, the poor little thing likes what he sees, Mary," Linda giggled
as she poked at the lengthening phallus and it rose worshipfully.  "I
believe I'm jealous!"  she tittered.

Dry of mouth, Kevin could say nothing, and weakly gulped as Mary
majestically approached.  He didn't even try to hide his pubic salute
when Linda stepped away from him to let Mary take over. 

"Is that right, Kevie?  Would you like to make it with me?  Just like
old times, only better?"  She stood astride him, looking a mile tall,
with arms folded across that amazing bosom.  "Too bad.  I just don't
think you're man enough!"

Before Kevin had time to react, she had lifted his head with one foot
sexily clad in spike heels, pressed his neck against the bulging calf
of the other exciting leg, swiftly removed the first foot from below
his head, and crossed her ankles so that his neck was trapped between
the iron wrecking balls that were her calves.  As she flexed and
straightened her legs, the terrifying girth of her calves increased
and, impossibly, they hardened further.  In danger of having his neck
cut in two even before he asphyxiated from the blockage of air,
Kevin's limp form suddenly exploded in violet action.  He tried to pry
apart her lower legs and then panicked further as she pressed her
muscle-laden legs together such that now his hands were trapped in a
mangling vice that popped his overmatched joints.  Desperately, he
kicked his legs in violet jerks, trying to unbalance her, but, hands
on delectably sculpted hips, she didn't waver an iota.  Next, with
consciousness rapidly fading, he kicked backward, beating on her
awesome quadriceps, but she merely laughed as his shoes connected
repeatedly.  It was like kicking iron, those Amazonian thighs flexed
in corded relief, and the shock waves of his feet meeting the
impenetrable surface was the only thing stimulating his nervous system
to stave off unconsciousness.  But even that faded and he slumped
toward Nirvana ....

Abruptly, she released him and he gulped air into his burning throat,
but it was a few moments before his eyes could focus through the rays
of blinding sunlight at her smirking visage.  She was now kneeling
with her knees planted across his splayed out arms, painfully pressing
on his limp biceps.  "Remember how we used to wrestle, Kevin?  You
loved being the masterful victor, but I think you were surprised at
how much energy it took you.  Did you ever consider that I might be
LETTING you win?  Well, I don't think you'd be ANY challenge for me
now, WEAKLING.  I read the story in the paper this morning. your coach
is right; you need conditioning.  Your stamina and strength are
pathetic, but then all you guys are pushovers now.  Too bad, because
I'd like a little male challenge now and then.  It's a drag on your
sex life when guys are so fragile.  Unless you look elsewhere ..." she
trailed off smiling at Linda.

"Let me show you just how pathetic you are," she continued, smiling
malevolently.  Shifting position again suddenly, she ended up sitting
on his belly with her ankles trapping his neck.  As he reached up with
his hands to relieve the pressure on his neck, she lay on her back
between his legs, which he had lifted slightly as his hands flew to
her ankles.  She grasped each of his ankles with her hands, and rose
up as if doing a situp.  Kevin, although confused by this move, sensed
that he should resist to prevent whatever she had in mind.  It was a
revealing sight.  The football hero, his thick weight-trained muscles
flexed to the maximum and his body clearly outweighing this big girl,
was being inexorably folded by the sexy Amazon.  It was basically her
abdominal muscles against both his abdomen and muscular legs.  Her abs
cinched in awesome arrays of brick-hard strands.  Her arms likewise
exploded in ridges of muscular peaks.  Kevin could neither kick his
legs free from her powerful grip, nor could he overcome her arm
muscles with his thick muscular legs.  She easily prevented him from
closing his legs against her neck in the same way she had him.  With a
final snapping sound coming from his now stretched back, she bent
forward until her massive chest pressed down on her sexy shins, and
her arms drew forward to press his shoes into the grass behind his
head. 

Kevin wailed in pain.  "Oow! Please, my neck, my back, you're breaking
....  Let me go!  You win.  I'm pathetic!  I'm a jerk!  I'm whatever
you say -- just let me up."  He let out a half sob and tears trailed
down his cheek from the pain.

She eased up a little and tossed her lustrous hair.  "And some people
actually believe you're a powerhouse of strength.  They should see you
now.  Kevin Landis -- macho wimp, half as strong as a girl who's
younger.  But, Kevie, the demonstration isn't over yet.  This hold
shows that my arms are stronger than your legs, but I think my arms
and shoulders and -- chest -- are stronger than all the muscles in
your wimpy body."

Mary looked up at Linda, who had been leaning on her curling barbell
held vertically and enjoying the one-sided onslaught of her protegee.
"Bring me the other barbell." [continue...]

[elgat]

Reckoning,
by Jack Straw (part 4)

[...continued]
Linda reached down and, with a mighty heave, snatched the huge weight
to her chest and carried it effortlessly over to Mary and the trussed-
up Kevin.  As she arrived, Mary swiftly and gracefully changed her
position again.  In a trice the still doubled-over Kevin found her
standing, her mighty arms on her powerful hips, with each of his
ankles at the narrowest point stamped into the ground beneath the arch
of her high heel shoes.  Such was her balance and strength, that try
to flail his legs as he might, he could not budge her.  She reached
out her hands to take the prodigious barbell from Linda.  Kevin feared
the worst.  That was a tremendous amount of weight.  He doubted that
there was a man in town who could lift it, and here were two girls
still in their late teens handling it with ease.  His view on genders
and physique were being starkly revised, but that was not uppermost in
his mind at this point.  He didn't like being in a vulnerable position
below so much weight.  And he didn't care much for the indignity of
having his naked ass waving in the air, either.  With his now freed
hands he alternately pummeled Mary's legs and pushed with all his
strength to bring her down, but he might as well have been trying to
lift a house for all the effect he was having.  The only debilitation
she suffered was shaking slightly from laughter at how puny his utter
inferiority made him seem.

"Careful, silly," she laughed.  "You don't want this coming down on
your head, do you?"  With that she pressed the weight over her head.
The steel bar drooped on either side from the weight it carried.  From
the tops of her wrists to her arched feet Mary was a picture of flexed
strength.  Every muscle group was etched in anatomical splendor, all
expanded well beyond the size of his muscles, of which he had been so
proud just a couple of hours ago.  The expansion of her chest snapped
one of the straps of her top and uncovered one mighty breast in all
its meaty glory.  Her glutes jutted out the stretchy material of her
shorts and he could see the fount of her sex imprinted through the
stretched front.  And her legs emphasized by the arching of her feet
within the high-heeled sandals were ultra sexy and ultra powerful at
the same time.  A light sheen of perspiration burst out all over her
body and enhanced the lustrous bronze of her velvety skin.  In his
mesmerized stupor he was dimly aware of his cock poking aside pubic
hairs as it erected anew and his balls tightening in a tingling
arousal.

She lowered the weight to her chest and, between deep breaths,
informed him in a superior manner, "Linda and I have been using this
for bench presses when we exercise outside, but I think we will have
to add a little more weight to give us a challenge.  Still, I think it
will be enough to keep you pinned in place."  And again, catching him
by surprise, she lowered the weight so that it rested in the crock of
his knees and lay across his upper chest below his neck.  He was still
trussed up with his rump indignantly raised up higher than the rest of
him, but now only the barbell held him in place.

"You see how you can bring your whole body into play," she said,
giggling at the ridiculous spectacle he made in this position.  "You
have your legs, arms, shoulders, and abs all in position to lift this
little bench-press weight off of you.  And if you do, I'll let you go.
Or you can stay and play some more if you wish.  Come on, big boy,
show us that a male is at least half as strong as a female.  If you
can't, I'll be glad later to show that a girl can do it without
breaking a sweat."

Kevin strained and flexed, grunted, strained and flexed some more.  He
concentrated all his effort in moving that damned mass of disks and
metal bar.  Finally, drawing a deep breath, he pushed furiously with
all his might and muscle groups.  The girls regaled him with laughter
and mock cheers, "Go! Go! Go!"  He heard a click as he continued
grunting in effort.  The barbell seemed to move upward some and he
strained mightily but then simply gave out.  He was utterly exhausted
and gave in to defeat.  Through eyes streaked with sweat and now
tears, he saw that Linda had taken his picture.  Their laughter made
tears of frustration well up in his eyes, but he fought to hold them
back.

"Well, that was a good show, Kevin, but a pretty weak effort.  You're
probably just tired.  We'll let you rest for a while perhaps and then
you can try again," Mary said.  Kevin noticed that Mary had done most
of the talking since she arrived.  In fact, Linda was leaning back in
a chair nearby with her feet propped up, sunning her still bare,
awesome torso.  She looked almost bored with the proceedings, clearly
choosing to allow Mary the stage, like a mentor allowing a student to
show what she could do.  Again that flicker of light in a narrow
recess of his brain.

"Maybe a little corporal punishment might give you incentive.  How
about I give you one whack on your butt for each month you didn't call
or write?"  Mary said, stooping down in a menacing pose.

"But no, I prefer to have a man on my lap when I spank him, struggling
to escape without any bonds to prevent it but unable to get away as I
whale away.  Does that sound like fun, being naked on Mommy's naked
lap, unable to keep her from doing whatever she wants?"  she said
huskily tracing her hand along Kevin's side, across his chest, down to
his phallus, once again thickening in erection.  "Yes, I think that
appeals to you, you naughty weak little boy," she exhaled sexily with
a half laugh.  She drew one of his hands on top of her exposed breast,
and he felt the large, thick nipple harden.  She reached a hand back
to his penis and tickled its now rigid expanse.  He began to breath in
gasps.

She drew away and laughed at him.  "You know, I think you made a big
mistake, never keeping in touch, Kevin.  We might have had some fun,
while I grew up.  Maybe I could have made a man out of you, but now
I'm afraid you just couldn't hold up to a real love bout.  You'd break
in two.  But come to think of it that could still be fun for me --
once." 

Erotically, she drew off her shorts and halter top, posing for him
completely nude, save for her white high-heeled shoes.  Kevin said
nothing, but his bobbing cock and his labored breathing spoke for him.
She imperiously stood astride him and squatted down to remove the
barbell.  He was treated anew to the bulging of each muscle group and
an open view of her pubis as she snatched up the weight and, pivoting
over him, dropped it gracefully alongside him.  He moaned as he
stiffly brought his legs down to rest on the grass.  She then lay down
on his supine body and spread her substantial, ultrasexy body over his
in a grapevine hold.  Lifting his mouth to her breasts, she
simultaneously grabbed his member and thrust down to engulf it in her
wet, hot vagina. 

"Put that mouth to work, little man," she hissed.  He did, licking and
sucking as the nipples bobbed up and down as she violently plunged up
and down on his member, each downstroke crushing his balls and each
upstroke of her mighty vagina threatening to pull his cock out by the
roots.  She cackled forcefully as he at first grimaced in pain, and
then babbled for her to ease up, to slow down.  He tried to arrest her
movements by grabbing her shoulders and pulling down with all his
might, but what he had always considered a strength that could
overpower any damsel and most men was like putty to her; it only made
her laugh and pump harder.  There was no need for her to warn him not
to come; the pain and pressure ensured against that.  But there was no
flagging of his erection either as she pulled his hands down and
forced them to caress her colossal breasts, her prodigious lats, and
unbelievable abs.  She reached her first orgasm and then another, and
finally she buried his head in her bosom and hugged his upper chest
with such force it bowed out on either side of her stupendous arms and
at the same time her thighs crunched down on his lower ribs.  With the
crackling of his bones resounding in his ears, he swirled into
unconsciousness thinking that they had made good on their claims.  He
had died in the throes of their sexual climax.

"Is this a private party or can anyone take off his clothes and join?"
Kevin revived with a start at hearing this booming familiar voice.  He
turned his head to the source, and through a prismatic haze saw the
gigantic curly-haired lineman lean over the fence leering at what
seemed to be an orgy at intermission.

Kevin groaned woozily.  This was a nightmare; this place was busier
than Grand Central Station.  He supposed his mother had told Lance
where he was; the guy was always hanging around.

Linda vaulted over the fence to smile at the newcomer in the widow's
yard.  "Well, Lance Murphy, what an honor!"

"Lance," Mary called out, "you're just in time to see Kevin get
punished for his sins of commission -- or omission.  Right Kevin?"

But Kevin had taken advantage of their attention to Lance, to grab his
clothes and make a dash for the other end of the yard.  Alas, he had
not enough head start.  Mary's back was turned, but Linda saw and
vaulted back over the fence and raced after him in hot pursuit.  As he
sped away, feeling ridiculous in his nudity, with his still glistening
half-hard prong and exposed balls swinging painfully, he heard Linda
gaining ground on him.  She had not bothered even to kick off her sexy
shoes and was a glorious sight, her large breasts jouncing with damped
motion on her deep muscular chest.  Soon her powerful strides brought
her close enough that a flying tackle brought the big fullback banging
down hard on the grass, completely knocking the wind out of him.  He
clutched the tender ribs that Mary had severely strained but
mercifully not broken, and which now had been assaulted again.  He
would have screamed in pain but his injured diaphragm denied him the
air to do it.  His only sounds were panicky "Hu--" sounds as he
struggled for breath.

Her robust chest heaving deliciously with the thrill of triumphant
chase, Linda smiled down at the gasping male trying to draw a breath
but not yet succeeding.  "Well, I guess we can cross foot races off
our list of contests," she said teasingly, "Or maybe I should take on
the same handicap as Atalanta.  The suitors raced nude in typical
Greek fashion, like you, while some authors said she wore heavy armor.
Say, you know, I think I'll add football to my resume -- tackling is
fun!  It doesn't seem very much challenge though.  But if there were
enough guys against Mary and me ...."

She scooped down and lifted him on her shoulders.  Departing
momentarily from her teasing, she whispered in an almost tender tone,
"I would let you go now, Kevin.  You weren't the challenge I expected
and you're clearly spent now.  But there's a price to pay for the past
and sometimes it's best to get it over with.  I think I'm doing you a
favor, pretty boy." 

She headed back toward Mary and Lance, carrying the 200-plus pounds of
male athlete like a tow sack.  Kevin, for his part, was silent and
still; might as well save his energy, he thought.  Linda's
compassionate words splashed off him like water off plastic; she was a
cipher to him. 

Lance was confused and nervous.  For all his male bravado, he was very
insecure to be in the intimate presence of two beautiful babes
essentially nude in the broad daylight and voluptuous in the extreme.
His cock was fully awake and leaking already inside his underwear.
When he had first arrived, his hormone-driven mind registered two
girls undressed and a lucky Kevin exposed as well and apparently
winding down from such an intense sexual frolic that he seemed
exhausted.  His respect for Kevin, already his idol, had risen even
higher.  "Kevin, you the Man!" he blurted out softly.  And then that
supreme babe had vaulted the fence and seemed to come on to him.  He
had almost blasted his wad without being touched, and his knees felt
weak.

Then Kevin had done such a strange thing by running away, looking
ridiculous and pathetic.  And worse, a girl in high heels was able to
catch him, tackle him in incapacitating fashion, and carry him back.
It was like a reversal of a caveman capturing his woman.  He noticed
for the first time how muscular these girls were.  Bodybuilders and,
lord, what bodies!  The one leaning her chest against the fence toward
him -- what a cleavage!  Her large-nippled breasts were pressing
against the fence, and, far from flattening those outsized melons, the
damn fence was giving way!  She was saying something.  Reluctantly, he
drew his eyes upward.  "Huh?" he managed stupidly.

"I said, I'm glad you dropped by big guy," she repeated.  "The more --
and the BIGGER -- the merrier, I always say!  Don't go away.  Kevin
and I have some unfinished business to take care of, but we have all
day and I bet you really know how to party, right Lance?" [continue...]