A marriage under squeeze
By Barbunny
A beautiful young bride shows her groom the awesome power in her legs, part two


He knew he should leave her, let another hapless male endure the wrath of her
wicked legs. And yet, instinct urged him to the contrary. Why, he could not
begin to imagine, but that was hardly the issue at hand. The real issue was
when would he at last be allowed in between her hard thighs. He was always so
close, but still far enough as to leave him frustrated and expecting. She
still hadn't let him feel the real rage her silky thighs could generate. She
still hadn't ordered those smooth, powerful thighs of hers to garner his head
the way they were meant to.

Seeing her leg muscles expand enormously with every step she took, while
wearing those extra-short skirts she liked so much, Tom knew those muscular
legs could do far more damage to his male body than he had previously
imagined. The fun of being able to visualize how his jawbones would easily
give way in deference to her compressing thighs was overshadowed by the danger
those thighs exhibited. They looked like a pair of deadly weapon, constantly
ready to open fire. And they belonged to the one person he cherished the most
on earth. The one person he would give his life if he had to, in order to
protect. The one person he loved. A person with muscular, powerful legs.

Walking together in malls, hand in hand, he could feel the jealous, watchful
eyes of strangers gawking at the mighty, feminine legs of his own girl.
Viewers may be forgiven if they forgot to do certain basic things such as
breathing. It was written all over their faces. He felt as if those strangers
were trying to say to him that thighs like those should carry a surgeon
general's warning about being hazardous to your health. Tried to convey the
message that the safety of his masculine head will undoubtedly be compromised
the minute she starts squeezing. That in fact, such steel bars should be
adorned with a skull and crossbones, signaling: 'do not visit for fear of your
life'. The jaws of the trap would snap shut as she decides to teach him a few
tricks. If he had the courage he would raise his voice in fury, but his first
cry would probably be his last, dormant, lethal female thighs might be
aroused, revenge sought.

"It's in the second aisle, next to the towels," the salesman at the store had
said, staring straight at Martha's exposed legs while speaking. Tom could not
believe his eyes. Martha was enjoying this! Or was she? The salesman did not
even bother to look up at his face, or Martha's, for that matter, but was
gawking directly at the awesome leg muscles that could change the contours of
his body forever. And he had the nerve to follow them to the second aisle! How
dare he?

"What exactly do you think you are doing?" Tom had demanded, as the salesman
kept trailing behind them, his mouth agape, his brows arched, seeing the
enormous muscles in the back of Martha's thighs spread out with every step she
took.

"well, I am trying to figure out what a small, diminutive man like yourself is
doing next to that stunning, gorgeous lady," the salesman said without
averting his gaze from the powerful sight that stood before him. "Can't you
see the absurdity? It is preposterous! It is ridiculous! She could shred you
to small pieces if she only wanted to!" Tom was flabbergasted. He knew every
word he had heard was true, but the thing was the salesman did not try to
provoke him. He did not try to upset him. He was describing the reality as he
observed it with honesty.

"Man, I'm telling you, you better be really careful with those legs. If you
don't keep a healthy distance from them thighs, you will have a lot of
explaining to do. I know legs like these, and what they are capable of. I have
read a lot about such feminine, powerful legs in magazines. Trust me. Once
your head is placed in between them, there could be no tomorrow. You have to
be cognizant of the fact that they can squeeze the life out of you in a
twinkling of an eye, in a turn of a thigh, harnessing the aggression into..."

Suddenly the salesman had stopped in mid-sentence, his eyebrows arched, his
lips quivering, his whole body froze. Tom looked down and saw what the
salesman had seen. The legs of his own beloved Martha that the salesman was
speaking about had entered an intimidating, scary zone. They started flexing
and showing all kinds of massive muscles tom knew were there. It was splendid,
it was glorious, but it was also horribly terrifying.

Tom remembered the days before he fell in love with Martha. Every walk in the
park, every trip he took to a mall was like an investigation. Especially in
the summer. The search for the ultimate female power. It was like a forest of
female legs, in different shapes and styles. He was young, but he was
beginning to know what to look for in the unfamiliar forest. The paths were
lined with traps, he had to keep his guard up and move cautiously among so
many muscular female legs, without being caught staring. He could not permit
himself a mistake like the one he had once nearly made. He had come very close
to risking his life. He knew no charges will be pressed against him in case he
was caught staring. The only pressing would be done by the very same thighs he
was marveling at, compressing his head like a huge anaconda devouring her
prey. In the world of dominating female legs, there was no need of police or
jail. No necessity for court or jury. It was a seemingly lawless society where
vigilante girls' muscular legs roamed at will. Where a good, healthy squeeze
brings out the best in the human spirit.

Years of training had taught him to look for the unexpected, the tiny break in
a normal pattern. The outrageously bulging muscles on a lady's lower body. And
all the time he had to avoid committing a terrible error he had once
committed. Those ladies should not catch him ogling. Or else, it would be the
same feminine columns he craved so much, that will put him to death in between
them, literally. Legs like these defy the struggle of the human spirit to
overcome whatever is tossed in its path, or rather tossed around its head.
Pure death.

"Just, just look at them thighs," the salesman continued, frothing at the
mouth. "Think about the horrible horrors that will be visited upon you. Think
about the STRENGTH in the legs of the beautiful lady standing next to you. It
is much more frightening than anything I have ever read in the magazines. It
is much more startling than anything my imagination could come up with. You
will become a thigh-abiding male once you get an in-depth observation."

And then Martha had done the unthinkable, unimaginable. Tom could not trust
his own eyes at that moment. His gentle Martha, his affectionate sweetheart,
the one girl that had never let him touch her thighs, not to mention actually
feel the power from deep in between them, his sensitive girlfriend, plainly
strode to where the salesman were standing, and gently grabbed his head with
her hands. It was impossible, but it took place right in front of Tom's eyes.
Martha's thighs were going to dispense justice according to their own terms,
based on their own muscles. What she lacked in speed and agility she made up
for in sheer strength and muscle size.

And then he saw something that made him freeze. The salesman automatically
reached with his hands in the direction of Martha's waiting thighs, as she
slowly started bringing his head toward them, watering her lips with her
tongue, arching her eyebrows. Was that the Martha he knew? How could she?

Taking the salesman even closer to her expecting thighs, Martha winked at Tom,
her index finger making a slashing motion against her throat. Could that be
true? Was he dreaming?

Finally placing the salesman's head in between her feminine, muscular thighs,
keeping him there with one hand on the back of his head, Martha was calling
Tom's attention to her lively legs with a simple gesture. As if Tom could look
elsewhere. As if positioning the hapless male there did not fuel the fire
inside Tom's heart.

The salesman had no choice but to go down on his knees before the awesome
power that was Martha. He must have felt so pathetic and insignificant,
genuflecting on the floor, his head hanging in the air, waiting to be squeezed
between the gargantuan thighs of this goddess, unable to do anything about it.
He should have known those thighs were about to squeeze an acknowledgment of
his good work in the store. There was no better way of rewarding a salesman
for a job well done than to squeeze the life out of him with a pair of the
most powerful female thighs he had ever seen. Or felt.

The salesman was obviously getting ready for the most horrendous ordeal of his
life, for the nightmare of his possible death. He was circling Martha's burly
thighs with both hands, much like people do when they are on a roller coaster,
bracing himself for the upcoming torture. His brain told him to close his eyes
and pray, but the eyes would not close. Calves were in their line of sight.
Great, enormous calves that extended far beyond the standard space of a
person. 'if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes,' he had thought to himself,
moving his hands from her thighs, grabbing both her immense calves, trying to
press his fingers into the stone. The salesman wanted to shout to the world
how solid those female calves were, how unyielding, how unmovable they were.
He opened his mouth, but no words came. His eyes widened, he suddenly could
hear his own heart, knowing it was all his fault, annoying this couple in the
store in the first place. Couple of female, powerful legs, that is. He knew he
has literally put his own head there of his own volition, having a false sense
of security being the salesman in a store full of people. Well, those people
were now gathering around them, including the security guards, all wondering
and casting doubt on whether it was for real.

The salesman's fingers continued to look for a soft spot on Martha's huge
calves, and then, as if reading his thoughts, Martha did what was anticipated
of her. It was so natural, so predictable. She lifted herself a few inches,
standing on her toes. Such a common, mundane motion for her, and yet such a
horrific, shocking movement for him. His fingers were spread out over her
expanding calf muscles, as his darkest fears had just been confirmed. She was
having a suspect in custody. A custody that was about to constrict the air in
his lung, a custody that was about to threaten the structure of his jaw.

And then it happened. Martha's eyebrows raised, the way they always did when
she was squeezing Tom in his dreams. And in the same moment she had brought
her right food around her left ankle, closing the gate, shutting the entrance,
making their seal-the-deal motion as they spoke with clarity and authority.
Instinct brought the salesman's hands immediately back to the thighs that
threatened to flatten his life, as Martha continue to slowly press her thighs
inward. He tried to force her crushing thighs apart, but to no avail.

"Not a peep," Martha declared, as guttural sounds emerged from the unfortunate
male that tried to save his own life. "Not a peep!" There was silence in the
store, as all eyes were transfixed at the spectacle in front of them. There
was a grown man, stuck deep in a beautiful lady's thighs, trying desperately
to extricate himself from her human jail, as she was pouring the pressure. It
was noticeable that the edge of panic was not good enough for her. She wanted
him over the edge.

Rapidly and unmistakably tapping her constricting thighs with both hands, he
signaled his lack of breath, and desire to stay among the living.

"You'll breathe later," Martha said, slightly bending her knees, in
preparation for the horrifying culmination.

And then, all of a sudden, it happened. In a swift, brutal motion, Martha...

End of part two.

Comments and special requests are welcomed at

Barbunny3111@yahoo.com