Thighs squeeze poor Squeezics teacher's head to ... 
By barbunny3111@yahoo.com
A strange teacher's request in the name of physics is accepted when teenager's muscular thighs take his head too seriously, and go for the kill - part two. 

Comments, feedback and criticism will be gladly
appreciated: barbunny3111@yahoo.com 

"I have one more test to conduct on those powerful
thighs we see here," Steve said. "Al and George, you
are the strongest football players in the county,
aren't you? I want you to come right here and try to
prise her awesome thighs apart. Remember, she is only
a little girl after all." 
They both came near the table, shaking all over, and
placed their arms around each monumental thigh,
looking up to her smiling, pretty face. After long
seconds of uselessly putting their hardest endeavors
at her thighs, not even budging them an inch, let
alone prising something, Steve quietly said "you can
start now, just pull those huge trunks apart. It's
that simple. Please, just do it."
"Well Mr. Jones, it seems she is much, much stronger
than the both of us. I don't think we have a chance.
We'll be lucky to go home unscathed." 

"O.K. class is dismissed. I hope all of us had learned
today the merits of physics, as well as those of the
obviously strongest pair of thighs in class, or on
earth, for that matter. When you get out of the class,
please tell your friends that the amazing experiment
was for the sake of physics only. We had to use Pamela
and those powerful thighs that are still standing
proudly here on my table, as you can see, just because
no other object could generate such immense force like
her robust thighs. We absolutely had no sexual
interest in her, or in her unreal thighs whatsoever."
Steve said, boldly slapping her left thigh twice,
wanting to show he's got only physics in his mind, not
her intoxicating thighs. As opposed to minutes before,
when the thigh tapping of his hand caused rippling
reaction of moving muscles, this time the thigh stood
still, like saying 'just try to move me, you strong,
adult male'.

"You can step down now, Pamela, I need your thighs to
come to my room, to sign some experiment papers and
footnotes" he said, looking straight at her striated
thighs, as if he was talking to them, as if they
already control his world, his head is wedged tight in
between their intensity, brutally squeezed. He slapped
her resistant thighs harder now on their back side,
stunned by the way they didn't move at all, squeezed
to the conclusion that she's most probably flexing
them.  

There was a soft knock on the door. He came to the
door and opened it, determined to reach the finale,
knowing that those insatiable thighs have to serve the
purpose they were made for, and his unproductive head
is going to be on the receiving end. She has to watch
her squeezes, or it could be the end of his life. His
own life is in jeopardy now. Once his submissive head
is in there, no one can guarantee there will be no
casualties. She could even kill him by accident. Just
enjoying the newfound sensation her gifted thighs
have, while he is suffering between them, thinking his
cries for help are only part of the game, keeping on
squeezing his crushed head, and unintentionally
putting an end to his life. Does it worth the risk?
One look at them and you get the point. You usually
keep distance from such dangers. They look like Mike
Tyson's. Or should he call her Pamela Thighson. 
 
"You said I should come here and sign some papers, Mr.
Jones" Pamela girlishly said.
"Yes. There are some thighnotes I need you to help me
with for generations to come." Steve said, shaking. "
I want to stress again that all we do here is for the
benefit of history. Who knows when there will be
another chance for a physicist to take a foothold, or
rather a thighhold, in the face of such monumental
thighs like yours? They are one in a million, or,
actually I should say two in a million. I want you now
to sit comfortably on that couch, yea, like that, and
open your legs. Thanks. There's one more item we have
to squeeze to ratify Newton's Squeezics. I will place
my head right in between your rocky thighs and I want
you to squeeze my head until I'll tell you to stop."
"I didn't know, Mr. Jones, you could use your thighs
this way to squeeze. I am not standing, like I was in
class. I don't think I am able to do anything to you
like that." Pamela innocently said, while Steve gently
put his head, neck first, facing away from her crotch,
in the most dangerous location on earth he knew,
leaning on those devastatingly powerful thighs.

"Well, my educated student, you'll have to trust me on
that. Everything is ready for the squeeze. My head is
in place, between your overwhelming thighs. You are
now in the best-possible position to extract the best
of your thighs. History is waiting to be written anew
for the widespread world. Your thighs are enormously
wide, but please don't keep them spread anymore.
Please Pamela, you are such a good student. Please
squeeze." Steve said, raising his hands to feel their
enormity, muscles bulging all over his little,
sensitive student's thighs, though they were still
relaxed. 

"But Mr. Jones, I don't get it. Why would you want me
to squeeze my thighs together while your head is
between them? Why would anybody? You saw what my
thighs did to the melon and the football? What if ... "
Pamela said innocently, tears starting to flow from
her eyes, "what if I hurt you? What if you will have a
headache and won't be able to teach our class
tomorrow? Please Mr. Jones, don't make me squeeze you
like that" she said, his hands savor the ropes-like
muscles in her unflexed outer thighs, his brain
starting to panic.
What if she wouldn't want to do it? What if, when his
neck is right in the place he has dreamt of for so
long, the overpowering thighs envelop him from all
sides, what if she won't do as she was told? He can't
force her, can he? On the one thigh, he is the
teacher, she should behave accordingly, and do exactly
as he says, or she will be punished. But on the other
strong-devastating thigh, he can't let this
opportunity, or his open-minded, soon-to-be-closed-on
head, slip away. He has to act now, to take matters
into his own hands, literally, the 'matters' being her
oh-so-strong thighs. If she is not closing them around
his head, he will.

"Now listen to me, you punk. You are going to close
those heavy thighs of yours now, or I'll punish you
severely. I can't stand it. Your gigantic thighs are
in both side of my face, presenting themselves in all
their simmering glory, already poised horizontally, my
view of the world is very limited to their animalistic
magnitude, I feel like I am on the ropes. As far as
your thighs' muscles are concerned, I am between'em.
Now please do me Pamela, just do me, as your thighs
congenitally know, do me." He begged, trying to clasp
her monstrous thighs that seemed to be expanding now
by the second, preparing themselves for the inevitable
coming of age, and possibly some other king of
cumming.

"O.k., o.k. I'll do as you told me, but it's only for
physics' sake, right? I'm starting to squeeze now, Mr.
Jones. Am I doing it right? Is that the way you want
me to squeeze?" Pamela asked unsophisticatedly,
bringing her thighs only a touch together.

"Yes it is. I can already feel the pressure, but I
want you, dear Pamela, to cross your ankles now, and
straighten your legs, as if there was no head in
between them." Steve said, braving the head
pulverizing that is about to begin, feeling the
almost-instantaneous response of her intellectually
disciplined thighs, as they started to constrict
around his soon-to-be-fractured skull. She  s l o w l
y  but  s u r e l y  phased the pressure in, crossed
her feet to his request, and straightened her legs.

"O.k., that's enough, Pamela, you can stop now," Steve
said, aghast by the awesome pressure her steely thighs
were taking his ravaged head through.

"But it feels so good, Mr. Jones, my muscles are
having a strange sensation right now, a sensation I've
never felt before" Pamela whispered, grinding her
inner thighs into both side of his delicate, hapless
head.
It was the first time Steve heard her whispering. It
was as sexy a voice as ...  as ...  as the sound his
about-to-be-cracked jawbones were making now at the
whim of her thighs.

"I think I've told you to stop, Pamela. Stop squeezing
now, or you'll be badly puni ... " his words were snapped
in midsentence by the tightening of the tremendous
thighs that were now inflated with a mix of muscles
and blood that flew along her thick thighs' arteries,
an obvious contrast to the difficulty his guttural
blood circulation was facing.
"What's the matter, Mr. Jones? Can't you take a little
pressure from my 18 year old thighs? It feels so good,
Mr. Jones. I don't think I could stop now. I don't
think I wanna stop. My shapely thighs sure don't. And
besides, we are helping to write history, aren't we?"

"I'm not going to tell you again" Steve said,
frightened by those colossal thighs that were usually
a sight to behold, and now became a sight to
besqueezed. "If you don't remove your unsymmetrical
thighs fro ... " he was brutally interrupted again by her
closing thighs.

"You know what our math teacher said, don't you Mr.
Jones?" Pamela said. "Always when you close a
triangle, it becomes symmetrical," Pamela said,
closing her thighs tighter still.

It was dangerous now. He should find his way out of
her lethal thighy embrace one way or another. There
has to be a way out. There is no, - like he has always
told his students ^Ö absolutely no problem that can't
be solved. But how? 
He will take the begging attitude. "Now please listen,
Pamela. Be reasonable. You are much stronger than I
am, as we are both aware of by now. But believe me
when I tell you, if you'll allow me, I can train your
rusty thi ... " again the solitary closed its thighs
together, not letting Steve to finish his sentence.
Pamela was thrilled. She was at higher skies, unaware
of he fact that Mr. Jones, her own physics teacher,
was shedding tears now, tears that trickled down his
soft cheeks, and were lingering in the fine,
newly-formed line of the thighs confinement, the same
tears she was shedding mere moments ago. She ground
her astronomical thighs, one at a time, onto his
squishy face, extending her left leg further away from
the couch and bringing her right leg closer, all the
while both of her horizontal, crossed legs are still
trapping Steve's inferior head in between, forcing it
to harmoniously move with the crushing rhythm, his
head ending up sideways to the righthand side, or was
it rightthigh?  She switched legs, stretching now her
right leg out, bringing her left one back, only to see
his whole head doing a 180 degrees turnaround toward
the lefthand side.

"I don't think you understand, Mr. Jones. This is your
lucky day. If you stay alive, that is. You should
define P in the formula as Pamela=pressure. You know
what our art teacher said, don't you Mr. Jones?"
Pamela said. "Always when you have a rusty object,
you've got to sharpen it" she said, continuing to hone
his prostrate head from both sides, equally devoting
her full thighs' muscle potential to each side.  "Mr.
Jones, I'm starting to get used to squeezing your
little head. The pressure is on. The squeeze is on.
Just as you asked me." She squeezed much tighter now,
simply bringing her elephantine thighs together,
preventing the steady stream of tears from moving
through the thigh barrier. "You don't think I'm
getting too promiscuous Mr. Jones, do you? It's only
so new and sensational to me, that I can control my
teachers so easily this way. I hope this doesn't fall
on deaf ears. I hope you can still here me now, Mr.
Jones. As you always say to us, are you all ears? It
looks like you are all thighs, rather, Mr. Jones. Are
you listening at all? Mr. Jones? ...  Mr. Jones? ... "

Her mind gave the instant order to her thighs to ease
the hydraulic pressure, only to see the life flow back
to him. She saw the look of terror from above, his
eyes said it all. He new it could be the end. He had
the feeling no supplication is going to help now. His
fate was at her thighs, thighs' submersion. He only
doubted whether it's going to be Apnea or a simple
head crushing. Things were so simple at her thighs,
yet so complicated. Then he heard her sweet voice
again. "You know I'm a good student, Mr. Jones, and I
always do as I am told. Now what was it you said about
the forces of nature, which are strange at times?
Every squeeze is caused by some pressure-applying
instruments, every crushed item has been pressurized
by a more powerful object? I've learned from you so
much". Pamela said, again constricting her strong
pythighs around his skull, squeezing, showing him a
touch of the precursor to losing consciousness.

After easing up a bit, she said smilingly, knowing
better "I think it was something like the bigger the
object, the less pressure it has to apply in order to
make serious damage. On the other hand, superfluous
strength and power offsets lack in size and enormity,
and vise versa, but in my 18 years old thighs' case, I
don't think we'll have to offset anything, do we Mr.
Jones?"

"Before you go out again, Mr. Jones, I think my thighs
want to remind your head something you've said, that
left a great impression on them. You were saying
something about 'if you can't beat them, squeeze
them', didn't you, Mr. Jones? It comes hand in hand,
or rather head in thighs with what our biology teacher
have said. He said that in nature's food chain, the
stronger animal have to hunt the weaker one to
survive. But it's the face expression of the weaker,
which orgasmatize the stronger. The seconds before the
death, when the weaker knows it's all over, his throat
is the center of the dying process, like yours is now,
the satisfied, victorious look of the stronger is
unforgcrushable, the same look my thighs have now ...  
and to paraphrase what our principal always says,
don't ask what you can do for the thighs, ask what the
thighs can do TO you ... " Pamela said, preparing herself
for the ultimate.

"You always say we have to try in real life whatever
we learn in class, don't you Mr. Jones? Well, I'm
going to feel that satisfied, victorious feeling of
the stronger lethal animal now, Mr. Jones" she said,
her thighs doing the unthinkable, lifting...

End of part two.
Part three is in the making. How-to-continue
suggestions will be gladly appreciated as long as they
are not too extreme! 
Thanks Jessica (awakening ).
Part three of the NSA is much too extreme to share
(for now). Sorry.
barbunny3111@yahoo.com