The strong ass-pects of the female anatomy 
by barbunny



The strength of a lady is evident when put to the test. But will the male
endure the feminine, awesome pressure? And will he live to tell about it?

"How dare you play like this with my butt?" Ann was outrageously angry with
John, sitting comfortably on his abused face after smashing the very same face
into her ass with her powerful calves. "How many times do I have to tell you
that I don't wear the pants in the family. I simply take them off, and squeeze
the faculties out of you with my huge calves. Can't you understand once and
for all, that I'm much stronger than you, John, stronger from head to thigh,
and whenever I feel like it, your head will come in thighy, as I squeeze the
life out of you, can't you understand such a simple fact of life?" she said,
burying his face deep in her ample behind, knowing he's going to tell her
about this Rita one squeeze or the other.

Lifting her ass slightly, keeping it inches above his mistreated face, so that
John would be able to inhale her feminine strength, Ann smiled to herself,
knowing how helpless he must have felt under his beloved wife. "I firmly
believe," she continued, flexing her firm butt muscles in front of his eyes,
"that you better tell me the truth, darling. My persistent ass would not be
fed misinformation, and I have a strange feeling you already know that by now.
Consider it a way of life from now on, honey, think of it as if you were
constantly under oath. And in a way, you are. All you have to do is look up at
the oath that dangerously looms above you," she tensed her arse muscles,
sensuously gyrating her all-inclusive behind on and around his breathless
face.

"I trust, John, that you remember those times when I didn't really loved you,
when we used to walk hand in hand to the sunset at the beach. Well, love,
guess what, I do love you now a great deal, but it's not gonna be hand in hand
anymore, sweetheart. Head in ass will be more like it. And if you don't tell
me what place this Rita has in your life, I just might let my courteous ass
have its way with your face, honey, and we both know it's not gonna be
pleasant" she whispered, feeling John's breath on her muscular behind.

John knew all too well this time it's going to be painful. He never realized
how hard his wife's buttocks could get. He actually never saw those feminine
ass cheeks flexed before, and he was certain he didn't want to be on the
receiving end of that powerhouse. And powerhouse it indeed was. There was no
way to be squeezed by that kind of feminine ass, and live to tell about it. To
deny his wife information about this Rita was much like committing suicide.
Committing suicide inside his own wife's butt, that is. He always took such
pride in the strength of his wife's lower body, and he was going to pay the
squeezing price now. There was no way he could avoid his wife's rear wrath;
there was no way he could get out of harm's way. But should he tell his wife
about the enormous ass that Rita possessed? There were no muscles in Rita's
butt, indeed, but the immense volume, the tremendous magnitude of Rita's
behind, his wife's butt won't get anywhere near that kind of fleshy
massiveness. Should he tell his wife that it was really Rita that first came
to mind when female butt was considered? Come to mind? Deadly butt will be the
only place his face will come to, if he told Ann about his affection to Rita.

"She means nothing to me, really," he said directly to his wife's looming
butt, knowing the cruelest-womanmade-crush ever was about to take place right
in front of his eyes, or rather on and around his eyes. And then, all of a
sudden, there was a knock on the door. They were not expecting anyone, as far
as Ann knew. "Is there something I need to know, honey?" she asked, zeroing in
on his squashed face as all her weight centered at her solid butt for a quick,
wholesome squeeze. Dismounting his mangled face and putting her robe on, she
went to the door, opened it, and then she saw her. Rita was the most beautiful
creature Ann has ever seen. "Who is it, darling," they both heard John, as he
ran from the bedroom, happily looking at Rita, not knowing what to do next.

And then, to their amazement, Rita stepped in without a word, and turned
around. Lifting her flowing skirt high above her huge butt and taking it off,
she bent down, exposing her bare ass for the both of them to see. They both
gasped in awe at the giant bottom that was proudly presented in front of them,
the sort political cartoonists won't have to emphasize. Rita just stayed
there, her torso parallel to the floor, her naked behind towering out of her
body like a tremendous addendum, no muscle visible there, only accumulation of
mountainous ass. And then John noticed her thighs. Oh my, John thought to
himself. How could that be? Rita's legs were the thickest, most muscular legs
he has ever seen. The thighdal wave of female strength those legs could
apparently produce, will be able to stop any man on earth that would even
think of getting his face closer to that fleshy bottom of hers.

"Would anyone please say hi?" Rita said out of thin air, or more accurately,
John thought, out of thick thighs. He wanted so much to press his face onto
that copious ass, to snuggle, to nestle, to nuzzle. He wanted to grab the
opportunity that was there before his eyes, but he knew all too well, that
he'd have to grab those massive female thighs first. And the danger that was
inherently visible in those powerful thighs... After all, it was his wife that
always taught him, that the same way high fences make good neighbors, strong
female legs make docile husbands, but there could be no comparison between his
wife's strong thighs and Rita's muscular, tremendous ones. The authoritative
squeeze those enormous thighs of Rita seemed to be able to administer, was
beyond belief. He indeed fell for her plentiful ass, but he first had to fall
in between those mammoth thighs, he knew, to gain full access to heaven.

"what the hell do you think you're doing, Rita?" Ann asked, stepping toward
the entrance, only to stand next to where Rita was. And then, suddenly,
unexpectedly, Ann disrobed, bending her firm body beside Rita. John could not
believe his eyes. they were both standing there, the back of their legs,
together with their bottoms, clearly showing comprehensive capabilities, for
him to choose. There certainly were more muscles in his wife's butt, but the
generous exuberance of Rita's bottom...

And then it happened. Much like a king instructing his servant, Rita opened
her immovable legs slightly, making room in between her colossal calves for
his head to be put in. "do you mind?" Rita said to John, to the utter
bewilderment of his wife, as if it was obvious that he should bring his head
to 'the zone', as Ann always called the space between a woman's legs. "It
should not be long before you take to the calves, honey" Rita continued,
starting to flex what hardly needed any flexing "or the calves will take you,
and when they do, it's always in between," she declared, insisting on the
all-too-endangered consensual squeeze. There was no choice, John pondered. He
had to put his head there, if he was to have a chance at feeling Rita's hefty
ass with his cheeks, the subsequent spousal abuse notwithstanding. Kneeling
behind Rita's waiting legs, he brought his trembling hands to her slender
ankles, cautiously holding them for support, as though he were dismantling a
complicated bomb, as though he accepted the fact her impressive legs were
literally open for business, terrifying calves and all. He fearfully looked
straight ahead through the opening of her massive thighs, only to see Rita
gesture with her attractive eyes, indicating him to merely shove his head in
the acknowledged area in between her amazing, marvelous calves, and let her do
the rest.

"Are you ready?" Rita asked when she saw the male head placed exactly where it
should be, slowly raising her body until she stood erect, her menacing legs
authoritatively planted on the ground, ready for the squeeze. "As ready as
I'll ever be," he replied, bowing his head in deference of the calves that
were about to show him the power of a woman, closing his eyes and bracing for
the awesome crush. Beads of sweat began to form at his hairline, the fear and
uneasiness of the female strength that was so near swallowed him up, when
suddenly Rita clicked her heels together, causing her monstrous calves to jump
to life on both sides of his head. It was devastatingly painful, as John's
cheekbones were on the verge of cracking, when she eased her protruding
calves, parting her heels, only to abruptly, powerfully, bring them back
together, without hesitation, in the famous salute of that filthy army in the
40's. John could not believe the sheer power those immense calves could
generate. He was literally at her calves, which, in turn, were at his throat.
How could that be possible? He thought to himself, as Rita brutally brought
her toes outwards in a circular manner, making her calves gain even more
volume, grinding them onto his abused head. How could a mere female, no matter
how strong, control a man with such ease through her legs?

"Aren't you cold here? Can't you feel the breezes?" Rita turned to Ann,
looking at her pleading eyes. "I like to call it the breeze squeeze, or, to
put it bluntly, the sneeze squeeze. Whenever a man is at my legs, very much
the way your husband is right now," Rita proceeded, energetically grating her
calves into John's head, the heels still fastened, the feet still aligned,
forming a straight geometrical line, "you better make sure I don't sneeze.
Cause if I do, there won't be much of a person, much of a human being for you
to squeeze later. And I really don't want to get into what happens when I
actually blow my nose. It's like magic. Really. Wizardry becomes squeezardry,
sleight of hand becomes sleight of calves, and things start to magically
disappear, I'm telling you. Squeezing of which, let me just..."

"No, please, please, we'll do whatever you say," Ann submissively said,
looking at her poor husband, watching how his facial expressions, his body
language painfully said it all. Well, Ann thought, the real body language was
obviously the one of this Rita, a body language that can no doubt be
understood all over the world, the feminine body language of pure strength and
potency. Ann was heartbroken, seeing her loved husband suffer like that, but
she'd better be heartbroken that for her husband to be heartsqueezeen.

"To be honest with your legs, ma'am, we'll do whatever you say, just please
let him go," Ann wept, incredulously staring at her miserable spouse, his face
contorted, disfigured from the downright power of Rita's lower limbs. "After
all, it was me who told him that we can never know what our future holds, but
it's obvious right now what hold our future. It's apparently your awesome legs
that hold it, and I am truly begging you not to squeeze him indiscriminately.
Please, I mean, look at his poor face, it appears like you're pointing a gun
to his head. Well, two guns for that matter."

"O.k., o.k., I'll open up my legs, darling, but only if you promise to deliver
his face towards my ass for him to kiss," Rita smirked, rubbing her extended
calves into his now-sunken cheeks, manipulating his head with her large
muscles. "All right," Ann replied. "Just set him free. I beg you, please."
Crushing John's face with full female pressure for a few more seconds, Rita
unlocked her legs, stepping forward, allowing his still-conscious head to
slump to the floor. And then, all of a sudden, she started for the staircase.
The amazed couple didn't know what to think, as they saw Rita climbing up the
circular staircase to the second floor, her huge rear end swinging from side
to side like two giant trunks. Leaping above the railing, she slowly lowered
her body down, her breasts rubbing the railing itself, her rump sticks out in
a rude, protruding way for them to admire, until she held the railing with her
hands, her feet dangle five feet from the ground.

"Now I want you, dear," Rita sweetly said to Ann, "to help me bring your
husband to justice. I need you to simply lift him up with your hands, holding
him at his waist, so that his face would be at my butt level, and we'll
together let him kiss the fruit of his desire. Are you up to the task, honey?"
Rita inquired, not noticing that Ann was already holding her fully awake
husband from behind, the both of them looking up at that overflowing ass above
them in admiration. And then it happened. It was the first time his wife had
ever lifted him with the bare strength in her arms, but it was awesome. How
could she? Ann simply hoisted his body in one motion, as she was standing
behind him, until his face was at the same level with Rita's profuse backside.
Noticing those buttocks twitch with anticipation before his eyes, and bringing
his lips closer for the kiss, he was taken down by his strong wife, only to be
brought up to the butt again by the force in his wife's arms.

And then, while reaching with his mouth for the buns, it happened. Like a
carnivorous beast swooping on its prey, Rita swung her gigantic legs outwards,
bringing them back in the speed of a squeeze towards the sides of his neck. It
happened so fast, Ann didn't know what to do, other than taking her hands off
of John, realizing that he wasn't going down! He was simply hung there,
dangling from Rita's huge thighs, suspended by the sheer might of her legs,
his face pressed deeply into her engulfing ass! She had to do something
quickly! She could not let her own cherished husband be executed like this in
the feminine thighs of this Rita. She had to do something!

"I hope you understand now what I meant when I said help me bring your husband
to justice, or should I say in between justice," Rita said, looking down in
between her constricting thighs, seeing John's body fluttering in there,
maintaining her bird's thigh view on the situation. "I'd advise you to relax,
Ann, and take a back seat, while your hubby takes a first row squeeze, or I'll
break his neck in one counterclockwise twist, and you know I could, honey. But
I would prefer to go the slow way this time, if you allow me, of course. And
as the noose thightens around his neck, please let me explain," Rita
continued, looking at Ann over her shoulder.

Ann could not believe how fool she was, bringing her own husband to justice in
the feminine thighs of that sexecutioner, but is that it? Is her husband
really a history? He looked so damn pitiful, hung from Rita's strangling
thighs, soon to be decapitated by her strong, uncompromising gams, but he
still was her husband. And then Ann witnessed exactly what Rita meant, when
she said 'the slow way'. No clarification was needed, as she saw those hungry,
voracious thighs suddenly start to flex, reaching a tremendous volume,
violently forcing John's molested face into the crack in the middle, as they
caused his mishandled neck to gradually cave in. As his abused face was
aggressively pressed onto Rita's abundant, merciless butt, John was frankly
hanging there at half-staff, she knew, but he was taking Rita's thighs at full
pressure. One small twist of the legs, one minor thigh-pivoting on Rita's
part, and it's all over. Why the English language has to be so cruel? Why
there are such unfair words like ass-ault? Ass-ertive? Ass-ass-ination?

And then, suddenly and without warning, it happened. In a one quick motion,
Rita...

End of part two.

Hope it's up to your expectations, my friend. And to all of you out there,
want a tailored story, too?

Just tell me, and remember, I can make your worst fantasies cum true. It's the
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deliver. So what do you have to lose? Give it a shot at:

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