My boyfriend loves “Fear Factor.” So me and my legs gave him something to be very fearful of…
Dick was annoying me. It was Monday night and as usual, he was glued to “Fear Factor,” that ultrastupid show about people eating bugs and being locked underwater for money. Reality TV at its worst, but he loves it.
“Do you think for once we could watch something else, I mean anything else?” I groaned as I sat next to him on the couch as the show came on.
“No way, babes,” he said, patting my thigh as I sat down, my legs exposed in the tiny cutoff jeans I liked to wear around the house since I have great legs (I stand 5-10 and weigh a very athletic 140 pounds) and love to show ‘em off.
As I looked at my own legs, and watched the show as people ate maggots or some other stupid shit, I got an idea. Dick and I had only been dating a few months so he didn’t know my past that well, or what I really like to do. This would be the best time to show him. Big time.
“Uh, so do you think you could handle this show?” I asked.
“Oh, piece of cake, in a heartbeat,” he laughed. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Really?” I asked. “Nothing?”
“Nope, nothing,” he said, his eyes glued on the screen, one hand resting on my thigh.
“You feel the muscle in that thigh, Dick?” I cooed. “Are you still not afraid of anything?”
He looked at me quizzically. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“A little wager,” I said, sticking both my long tanned legs out straight and snapping my head to the side to whip my long blonde hair out of my face to stare at him. “If you’re not afraid of my legs – and what they can do to you – you win, say dinner at Renaldo’s, on me, anything goes. It’s your favorite place, right?”
“Shit yeah,” he said, a slight smile on his face.
“And if you are afraid of my legs,” I growled. “Dinner’s on you!”
“Well, it sounds weird,” he said, rubbing his chin. “Exactly what kinda fear factor you talking about with your legs?”
“Oh, I’m talking about the scissor factor,” I laughed, gently pushing him to the floor before me as I sat on the couch. “Have a seat, you’ll see.”
“Well, sure, as long as I can still watch…” he started.
My thighs cut him off as they cut into his head. I’d positioned the back of his head against my crotch and let my thighs slam shut with a beefy slap around it, the muscles in my big upper legs flexed and hard as I snapped my naked feet together and twisted the hold on full.
“THE SCISSORS FACTOR!” I roared, bucking up off the couch to put hundreds of pounds of squeezing pressure into his head, his hands grabbing my thighs. “Are you afraid yet???”
“DAMMIT LEGGO!” he howled, eyes shut against the pain, my quads rippling hard and high around his scissored skull. “Christ sakes, Mary Jane, STOP!!”
“Sure, I’ll stop, if you’re afraid yet and admit defeat!” I growled down at the top of his head, his face crimson in my leggy clamp. “Are you afraid? Do ya GIVE???”
“Shit….no…” he groaned, fighting the mounting pain in his skull.
“Oh, you will be afraid, you’ll be VERY afraid, they all are,” I hissed. “I wasn’t a star gymnast in college a few years back for nothing, my legs were legendary on campus for what they could do to a man’s head! Like I’m doing now to YOURS!!!”
I snapped them out straight and hard, bridged off the couch again and gave him the full squeeze, his jaws compressing in my rugged thighs. He screamed his submission over and over until I eased up and sat back down, loosening my grip slightly and tousling his hair as he panted to regain his breath.
“That was too easy,” I sighed, whipping a thick calf to his throat for a figure-four scissors, tucking it hard against his windpipe and locking that foot under the opposite knee. “Let’s make it two outta three!”
I pulled back on that foot and crushed his throat. He gagged and bucked up against the leggy onslaught but I rode him back until he was on the couch, we both were, me tugging that calf deeper and deeper into his throat.
“Give…” he cackled. “I…give…”
I laughed as his trembling hands cupped the thick, 17-inch calf bubbling up against his throat, and eased up to let him breath.
“Damn…..too much…no more…” he panted. “You win…owe you dinner…”
“Oh, you pussy, you said you weren’t afraid of anything!” I pouted. “Well, at least we don’t have to watch the show anymore.”
“Bullshit, you gotta let me at least see it, for Chrissakes, Mary Jane!”
“Oh, I’ll leave it on,” I growled darkly, working him to his knees before me and jamming his face to my crotch as my thighs lathered the sides of his head. “But you won’t be watching!”
“NO!!!!!” he screamed.
My thighs pulsated against his ears as I laced my fingers around the back of his head and pulled him tight to my crotch, putting a horrendous scissor crush on, my legs locked and straight. The show played on, but he couldn’t see nor hear a thing with his face at my pussy and his ears packed with my muscular thighs.
“Mmm, gotta admit, they got some studs on this show,” I hissed, loosening my thighs very briefly so he could hear me, playing off his jealous streak. “Damn, that blonde, what a fucking body…love to have HIS face scissored in my cunt now….mmm, think I’ll use your face while I watch that stud in his tight little bathing suit!”
Dick struggled angrily but I resumed my scissor fest on his face, crushing my thighs against his head and humping his trapped nose and mouth, using him for my pleasure. The guy on TV was gorgeous, so the visual attraction was there combined with the constant grind of my cunt on Dick’s scissored face, and in no time I was scissoring out a quick, hot orgasm as my boyfriend moaned in my leg lock.
“Show’s half over, Dickie,” I laughed, unlocking my legs to free him briefly. “I’ll let you watch – the commercials!”
I rolled him to the floor and slapped on a flat bodyscissors, my 30-inch thighs etched in muscular steel as they embraced his slender middle. HE was on his back, me on my side, my big legs laced around his belly and spine and squeezing hard. He howled in agony and pushed down on that big top leg to no avail.
“S’matter, you don’t like commercials?” I growled, thundering my big thighs harder on his aching body. “I thought you liked this show? C’mon, watch it!”
I cupped his chin in my hand and twisted it to the side while the commercial played. The second the show came back on, I released my bodyscissors and sat on his face after hiking up my already short shorts so every inch of my muscular haunches were exposed and trapping his nose and mouth between them.
“Aw, you can’t see again,” I cooed, stretching my body out over his to snag his head and face in my thighs again for a reverse facescissors, my favorite hold. “Enjoy the view of my ASS, Dick, it’s all you’re gonna see for awhile!”
I punished him brutally hard in this hold, squeezing my glutes in on his nose while my thighs chewed mercilessly at his face. He screamed in agony, submitting over and over; I’d let up briefly and put the scissors on again, eliciting one submission after the other, one more quickly than the last as his scissor resistance weakened, if he had any at all. I even knocked him out a few times, letting up to let him snort back to life before quivering my thighs hard on his face and putting on the full power squeeze. For a solid half hour, I devoured his face in my clutching thighs, occasionally folding up my locked calves to push his face harder into my muscular ass.
The show credits came on and I finally released him, standing over his moaning body.
“It’s early yet, Dick,” I said. “I’m going to change and we’re going to Renaldo’s. They have a late night menu I love, and you’re gonna buy me whatever I want. And I’m hungry, Dick, all that scissoring worked up my appetite!”
He moaned as he struggled to sit up and click off the TV.
“Remember,” I said, walking toward the bedroom to change, “be afraid of my scissors, Dick, be VERY, VERY AFRAID!!!”
The End
