Beauty and the Squeeze
By barbunny
a young girl shows a burglar the power of her deadly thighs.


"Come on over here and put your head where it belongs. That's right, baby, you
know where that is" I say to Jim while he is standing at the door, staring at
my slightly opened thighs, not even bothering to look me in the eyes. I am
lying on the bedroom floor, one of my muscular, mature thighs is proudly
skewed in the air while the other is waiting on the ground for Jim's head to
be comfortably put on it. I am in my mid 20's, and beautifully faced, even
gorgeous, to quote the guys I was with. Until they see my thighs, that is.
Nobody cared about my face, once they saw those gigantic thighs. Thighs that
will control their whole world when placed around their heads.

"I know you like 'em, baby" I tell him, watching how he contemplates the
outcums, wondering whether his fragile head will be able to find its way out
of the thightening legs of mine, once his head is put where it belongs. "What
have you got to lose, honey? Other than the structural receptacle of your
head, I mean. Come on. I'm only a woman. What in the world could my feminine
thighs do to you? And remember, as they always say, no squeeze is ever final"
I declare, slamming the inside of my solid thighs together, the thighs that
are waiting on the ground for his head to be consumed from within. I remember,
as he starts to step closer towards my thighs, how many presumptuous men were
like putty in my thighs. I've devised so many custom-made squeezes on their
poor heads, there was no angle in which their heads weren't entrapped in. and
squeezed. And each of them desire different squeezes.

"You recognize the fact I'm only a girl. A fact I won't let you forget when
those thighs of mine will close around your face. I usually call it 'the
closure'. But for now, it's the Grand Opening. Grand Opening of Thighs. Your
squeezing needs will be met by two thick, femme thighs, thighs you now look
at, and can't help but come closer towards 'em. Thighs that typically belong
under a woman's dress. Only now, they're about to perform their Dress
Rehearsal on your male head". I can see how he hesitates, while he does draw
near where I lay. I recall how one of my late boyfriends wanted me to play
with him 'The Squeezard of Oz'. He would place his head, face-down, right on
top of my crotch, while my abundant thighs were impressively stuck out in the
air, as I was lying on the bed. I would then slam-lock my immeasurable thighs,
slowly but unmistakably grinding the inner parts of them against the sides of
his head, gradually making his fearful head disappear. He used to call it the
thighlights of our relationship, as it caused, as he said, the strength of my
legs to become more and more convincing. He drove my thighs crazy with his
terminoleggy. He HAD to be in between those enormous thighs, to come up with
such wisdom. Asphyxthighation was what he called it when he came back to the
living, after my squeezes got a little out of thighs.

Anyhow, I was now lying on the floor, my hands were tied behind my back, so I
had no other choice but to try to allure Jim, at least that what he told me
his name was, into the space between my muscular, waiting thighs. That was the
only way I could make him submit. If only he would place his head, or any
other head for that matter, in between my tremendous thighs, oh mama, it's
going to be the end of the burglary. And probably the end of his life, too.
How the hell could he break into my house, put me on the floor, and tie my
hands to the bed behind my back? He must've been looking for more than the
money he already found in my purse. I wonder if he's so foolish to deposit his
head in the, to my knowledge, most dangerous location on earth. My thighs.
It'll be incessant squeezing. Back to back crushing, or rather thigh to thigh.

"We both know that your head is going to end up down there, in between my
considerable thighs" I said to him, looking below, at my crotch, "so I suggest
you'll stop pretending. And don't tell me you don't want to be there. Look how
smooth they are. Just look at them thighs. So feminine, so gentle." I could
see the sparks flying in his eyes, as he watched how I rotate my thighs
outwards, so that the inner, most muscular part of them will be proudly
presented for him to see. And to be squeezed in.

"But I have to warn you about one small, minor thing. If you do decide to
place your head in there, I'm going to SLOWLY close those abusers of mine
around it, and then start squeezing. It's plain and simple, dude. Yea, that's
right, you're striding in the right direction. It's a small step for mankind,
but it's gonna be a giant squeeze for your head." He was getting closer,
looking nowhere but at the thick part in the middle of my thighs, thighs that
have fought an uphill battle on the issue of whether to let them know, while
delivering their bodies upwardly, their middle is snugly affixed to the
insides of my thighs. It was a bit more fun to snip their torsos, a lot more
room to be creative. Squeezing the small of their backs with the big of my
thighs always was my favorite. Problem was, I needed a decisive, ultimate
conclusion here. He was a transgressor, and he had to pay his dues right here
and now. Call it a membership fee, call it capital gain taxes, whatever. My
judicious thighs will be the cops, the prosecutor, the jury AND the judge.
Thing is, there will be no cops walking him into the car, saying the usual
watch-your-head routine. When faced with my awesome thighs, even his
conscience won't tell him to watch his head. The only thing his pate will
watch will be the thoughtful, steady pressure caving in on the sides of the
skull. It's much like a police interrogation, there is the bad cop and the
good cop. the left thigh, the one that is lying on the floor right now, the
one that will absorb the full power of the other thigh, through the poor head
that will be stuck in between, is the good cop. But then come the right one.
Right as in legitimate, lawful, justifiable. It plays the role of the bad cop.
And play it is.

And finally there he was. Not close enough for me to ensnare, but he could
definitely reach out and touch. And touch he did. I could see the fear in his
eyes. The fear of those smooth thighs he was groping now, his body keeps the
distance, and only his hand feeling the smoothness of my glossy thigh. It was
at that moment that I knew he was all mine. Mine to play with, to control, and
mainly to squeeze.

"If you think exploring the outer thighs with your hand will be enough for the
real man inside of you, think again, honey" I said, while slowly moving both
of my thighs to a slight slope, obliquely putting them in place, ready for the
kill, all the while his hand is glued to my outer thigh.

"Well, there's one more thing I've gotta tell you, sweetheart. Once your head
gets inside, or rather in between, I don't think I will be able to control
them thighs. They just involuntarily make eyes pop and jaws drop. Literally.
And I would certainly advise you to avoid getting any closer to them" I
continued, keeping my huge thighs straight up in the air, ready to squeeze his
head to perfection in no uncertain terms.

"I don't think you understand me," I said as he started to get closer and
closer. "I really mean what I've just said. It's real dangerous out there, or
rather in between there, and I want you to take it at face value. Or, more
accurately, at thighs value. I eat guys like you for breakfast with my
arrogant thighs. It's easy come, easy squeezed. As simple as that. Your poor
head will be pressurized by those molesters of mine faster than you can say
thighs."

He was turning now, and really placing his other hand on the other waiting
thigh. I couldn't believe it. It was so obvious he was not going to get out of
here unharmed, once he came to terms with my thighs. "I'm not going to caution
you again, buddy," I whispered, as he was close enough, both of his hands
encircle my outer thighs now, his head still keeps the distance. "If you dare
bending this head of yours, I'm not gonna be responsible for what happens
next. I'm telling you, man. I mean, take a look at 'em. Just take a good look.
Can't you understand they will crush your world? When introduced to a fresh
male head, they act on their own. They have no choice, but to perform the
world's second-oldest profession. Squeezing. Just take a one, last look at
'em."

And than it happened. Slowly but inevitably, his head started to move toward
the open space between my thighs. His eyes were closed, his hands were still
rubbing my thighs, and he was heavily sweating. It wasn't anything like the
squeeze-by shooting, or rather the drive-by squeezing I used to perform in my
teen years. This was a deliberate act by a grown man, who was literally
putting his fate in thighs' squeeze. There won't be no 'help! I need somebody'
when his head will go all the way. My, my, I thought to myself, it's going to
be as good as it gets. Or, as I love to say, as squeezed as it gets.

At this moment, I lost my patience. My thighs needed to squeeze someone, no
matter what. And the prey was handed to them on a silver platter. The prey was
handed now, but he will be thighed in a moment. He grasped both of my enormous
thighs, and ever so cautiously began to slowly bow his head toward my waiting
thighs. It was amazing. And then, just as his head went almost all the way
down there, he withdrew. He was trying to put it there, as if to check if it's
really dangerous, and then he retracted. My thighs didn't move. They stayed up
there, with all their magnanimous glory, waiting for his final move.

I was really hot now. I almost forgot that he was a thief, breaking into my
house, in the middle of the night. It didn't matter now. All that mattered was
that my proud thighs would get their fair share of squeezing. All of a sudden,
he opened his eyes. But he didn't look up. He was staring straight ahead to my
crotch. The one that function as the juncture of my thighs. I could easily,
with one swift motion, end the wait. If I only wanted, I could slam-lock my
thighs around his head with a simple motion. But I was not allowing myself to
close them too tight. Or close them at all, for now. My hands were still tied.

He looked at my inviting crotch, and began to descend. His head came closer
and closer until it landed straight on my smiling crotch, all the while his
hands clasping my thighs from both sides. My crotch twitching was like curling
a finger at him. He just couldn't resist it. And than he waited. It wasn't
anything but love at first squeeze. I didn't say a word. He had already got
his warnings. My thighs stood disciplined at the right angle, pointing to the
sky, waiting.

And than, suddenly, he began pulling at my thighs inwards, onto his head, with
all his manly force. He was committing suicide. But I couldn't let it happen.
Not yet. I needed someone to release my hands first, and than I would gladly
let my thighs do their thing. But he was stubborn as... as... as a man who
desires to be squeezed between a pair of muscular, thick female thighs. He
encircled my thighs with his arms, trying to bring them thighs closer to each
other, and to both sides of his head, but to no avail. He couldn't budge my
thighs an inch. They were much stronger than his delicate arms.

"I'm not gonna do you, darling, until my hands are free" I declared, spreading
my feminine thighs even further, elevating his head from my crotch, as he
clung to my thighs with his weak arms, unwilling to let go. "I know you really
want to have them right now, or rather them have you, in between, honey, but
it ain't gonna happen before you set my hands free. But I can assure you,
sweetie, once my hands are free, my magnificent thighs will do to you things
you never even dreamed of. They would even kill you, I you wanted them to.

Reluctantly, he left my womanly thighs, got to the ropes and released my
hands. The only thing he did not understand, while I was making myself
comfortable on the floor, was that he just put himself on the death row by
doing so.

"Now," I said as he returned in no time to his precious spot, hovering above
my crotch, expecting to be squeezed, "what was the reason you broke into here
in the first place?" There was no reply. He simply was there, inches above my
crotch, my deadly thighs are on both sides of his soon-to-be-crushed head. And
than I decided it's now or never.

"I think it's time, baby, I think it's time" I voiced, placing my
now-unrestricted hands on the back of his head, and in a one swift,
unthinkable motion I...

End of part one. Part two is up for you, readers. Fans should submit their
follow-up to me by e-mail, and I promise to publish the best one on Diana in a
month. I can be reached at barbunny3111@yahoo.com And by the way, Tom, they
ARE strong, aren't they? I've told you I could squeeze a man into oblivion.
And you didn't believe me. Poor baby.