God-fearing country Amazon puts the fear of scissors into her wimpy husband.
Jeannine put her Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes on, looking and feeling like a million bucks. Jeannine was raised in the poor south of poor parents who were very religious and imparted their God-fearing ways into their little girl. Or in Jeannine’s case, not so little. The 25-year old short-haired brunette was six foot two and a rock solid and incredibly well muscled 200 pounds, a body honed firm from years of working on her daddy’s farm. She met and married Billy Ray at 17, himself not a very religious type and having no use for the word of God. And usually Jeannine would let it be, going to church without him. But certain days, like this glorious Sunday, she felt she wanted her man by her side when she prayed to her God, and by God, she – and her 33-inch thighs and 20-inch calves – would not be dissuaded.
“Billy Ray, get your things on and get your skinny ass in that pickup, you hear me?” she growled at him, combing her hair at the dresser as Billy Ray lounged in bed of their double wide. “Don’t make me make you, you know how you ain’t likin’ when I put the fear of my legs into you!”
“Jeannine, c’mon, I’m tired, had a long goddam week down at the plant, I just wanna get some more shut eye, please, for lord’s sake, leave me be,” he whined, hiding under the covers.
Jeannine stood and walked to the bed, whipping the covers off his skinny, pale body. She hadn’t dressed yet and stood before him in white bra and panties that struggled to cover up much of her thick, powerful body. Her huge tits were striated masses of pec muscles that erupted from her bra, her shoulders, back and arms with pumped with muscle and her legendary legs – for fun and shock value, she’d burst open bags of grain by putting a scissor lock on them – were gigantic, 33 inches in the thighs, 20 inches in the calves, every inch of her long legs solid muscle.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya, Billy Ray,” she growled, leaping onto the bed.
Her thighs were so big they covered his entire torso when she easily worked him into a bodyscissors, flat on, those massive upper legs enveloping his skinny midsection. She lay on her side, he on his back, and he howled in agony, pushing down on the top thigh that imprisoned half his body. The bottom of that thigh was at waist level, the top just above his nipples and riding damn close to his neck and chin. Every inch of those 33 inches flared wide and hard, nearly doubling in size, or so it seemed, as it pressed brutally hard against his tiny midsection. She locked her ankles and squeezed, glaring down at her skinny husband flopping like a beached trout in her mammoth legs.
“Praise be to mah scissors, Billy Ray, say it with me, say it with me, Billy Ray!” she shouted at him. “You may not be a God-fearin’ man, but by God and my big legs, you will be a SCISSOR FEARIN’ MAN!!!”
He screamed his surrender over and over, mouthing the words she demanded he say, unable to get actual words out as her relentless bodyscissors squeezed the air and voice from him, finally knocking him out cold. She peeled her legs from his tiny guts and rolled off the bed to finish dressing, pulling on a white cotton dress that clung to her amazing body, revealing her chiseled arms and frightening legs, and on top of her pretty head a white, wide-brimmed hat, country-girl style. She looked in the mirror and liked what she saw. She knew her dress always got looks from her fellow parishioners but she didn’t care. If any of them complained directly to her – and none usually did – she’d have a word or two with them out back, coupled with a crushing scissors, and that would end their problem with her.
She turned back to the bed as Billy Ray awoke. She pulled him to the edge of the bed on his back and hiked up her little dress over her lush hips, revealing her thick, white ass that exploded from the tiny g-string panty she wore, massive mounds of chiseled ass flesh that soon enveloped Billy Ray’s face as she straddled it and settled down on him.
“Last chance, Billy Ray, it’s getting’ late,” she hissed over her brawny shoulder as she slowly brought her killer thighs together around his skull. “You gonna get dressed the easy way or the hard way?”
“OK OK OK!” he screamed, pawing at her thick thighs that were slowly tensing on his ears. “YOU WIN AGAIN!”
She laughed – and let her legs slam shut on his head, despite his submission. When Jeannine was in the scissorin’ mood, which was often, she would not be denied and now she leaned over his tiny, writhing body as she lifted her locked feet off the floor to let him have the full punishing fury of her crushing headscissors. Her hamstrings spread wide around his face, flaring wide and pinching his face into a grotesque mask of fear and pain while her quads bubbled and rolled around the sides of his neck. His entire head went red, then purple in her scissor grip as she seemingly crushed the life from him. He babbled his submission, his tiny hands pounding vainly at the fleshy bars of his scissor prison, as Jeannine worked the hold on tighter still.
“Praise be to mah SCISSORS!!!” she roared, arching her back and snapping the scissor on with such sudden intensity she knocked him out cold.
When he woke, he was fully dressed; Jeannine had taken the liberty of putting him in his best outfit. And wearing his neck brace.
“Figured you might need this to keep your head up durin’ sermon, Billy Ray,” she giggled, lifting him off the bed and pointing him toward the door. “Now let’s get to church and pray.”
He prayed, as always, to be free of his crazy wife and her crushing legs. And she prayed, as always, to be stronger day by day by day. Only her prayers, it seemed, ever got answered.
The End
