An Embellishment on a movie
by BOS  cashley216@woh.rr.com



I am not baiting them, Susan insisted to herself, about to the two obviously
horny dudes watching her walk down the street.

A girl's got a right to walk down the street, doesn't she, she asked herself
rhetorically. All right, so maybe I am dressed in a way that would stop an
ICBM; it happens to have been perfectly appropriate for the occasion I was
attending tonight. Besides, what can they see? Bare shoulders and one
occasional bare leg. Big deal! Okay, and a few curves rather dramatically
silhouetted against the darkness. Big deal.

And okay, so it is 2 a.m. Saturday night, and those guys are probably high
enough to be looking for trouble. That's their problem! And okay, so everybody
warned me against walking alone in this neighborhood. A girl's got to get
home, doesn't she?

Besides, what's the point of all those years of kicking the stuffing out of
gym bags if you're going to be afraid to walk the streets alone? I may not be
willing to use my skills to actually kill some poor son of a bitch in the ring
just for the amusement of the local high rollers. But that doesn't mean I'm
some sort of prissy-assed preacher. They want trouble, I'll give them lots.

They did.

"Hey, baby, whattaya doin' tonight?" one of them said as she passed the
lamppost they were supporting. Good God, Susan thought, what the hell kind of
a line is that?! They leered and made suggestive hand movements as she passed.
She just kept walking, even picking up her pace. See!, she told herself, it's
not me who's looking for trouble, it's them.

Their pace kept up with hers, and their words grew in their intensity and
grossness until they were a jumble in her ears. She stopped momentarily to
look back at them, and she realized they weren't just talking. They were
coming at her hard -- so to speak -- and their eyes were on her legs, which
were revealed by the floating in the breeze of her flimsy evening gown in
response to her sudden stop.

All right, guys, she thought, let's play.

She took off running, not making great time in her high heels, but keeping the
distance between her and her lumbering pursuers. They were really built, she
had already noticed, and they were proud of that fact. They wore tight
pullover shirts that exposed massive, tattooed biceps; or at least that was
what her memory of what she had seen told her. Very big, very muscular, very,
very macho guys. She saw a gate to what looked like a parking lot of an
adjacent factory or warehouse or something. She thought the gate might be
open, and she stopped to go through it. But they caught up with her as she
fiddled with the mechanism.

The first received a kick in his gut for his accomplishment, followed by a
trip over her naked shoulder to the concrete. The second got his arms around
Susan from the back, only to receive an elbow or two to his midsection and his
own personalized flight over Susan's shoulder, onto his colleague.

She managed to get her way through the gate, but not before the guys were
halfway up. They chased her -- moving perhaps a bit more slowly -- through the
parking lot, her elegant dress blowing in the breeze, doing little to dim
their ardor.

The next gate was partially closed, and she had to more or less climb over it.
In the process she left a good portion of her dress clinging to it. What the
hell, she could hardly take the time to extricate herself.

Semi-naked now, she climbed a ladder to a loft, hid behind a corner and
stopped to wait, giving herself a rest her attackers did not have the luxury
of. She listened for the approach of the first male up the ladder and she
attempted to time her attack on him for just before he stepped onto the loft.
She turned, confronted him, lifted a practiced foot into his face and
connected. Maybe. Maybe not. At any rate, the guy managed to get a hand on her
billowing dress. He pulled as Susan was backing off. He got the dress.

Now in only her white panties and bra and her high heels, she turned to run.
But she heard something behind her. She stopped to look down from the loft and
saw that a cop had stopped the men. And they had attacked him. My God, she
thought, they're killing him!! It was too late for her to do anything about
it. They displayed remarkable martial arts skill, she noticed, and they
dispatched the cop easily and brutally and quickly and appeared to love doing
it.

They turned their attention back to Susan, and they seemed to her, if
anything, even more aroused now. As one climbed the ladder, the other went
around the other side to block her escape. She saw the second one walking
along the side of the loft, heading for the back of it. Grabbing a rope that
hung from the roof, Susan swung out perpendicularly to the loft. When she flew
past the man, he turned to see what had happened, and she flew into him on the
rebound, catching his face smack in the center of her crotch.

"You're it," she said, climbing off the dazed man and running. She ran down a
corridor, turned into a open space and waited, her large chest heaving with
exertion and excitement. She heard the men coming, and she held her breath.
They ran way past her, down the corridor. She stepped out of her space and
said, "Here I am, fellas." They turned to face her, and they saw her casually
taking off her high-heeled shoes.

They watched, enjoying the movement of her thighs, soft and fleshy to the eye,
yet firm. She dropped the shoes, and she put out her right hand toward the
men, palm up and wiggled her forefinger toward herself, beckoning the men to
give further chase. Then she turned her equally substantial rearend on them --
straining as it was against its flimsy bonds -- and she ran down the corridor,
disappearing around the bend.

Again, the men gave chase. Out again in another open space, they were stymied.
As they stood next to each other looking around, Susan came flying at them
from above, grabbing what passed as a horizontal bar on her way down and
swinging back up, each of her newly bare lower extremities catching one
would-be rapist in his barrel chest and barreling him over onto his ass.

She was off and running again so fast that they hardly even got a glimpse of
her ass disappearing as they disentangled themselves. Down another corridor
she went, darting into an empty room, closing the door halfway. Her hunting
antagonists came down the corridor and stopped just outside her door, between
hers and a wider one on the opposite side of the lane. Suddenly, as they
puffed and pondered, Susan sprang out of her room, launched a double drop kick
at the enemy and sent the two men sprawling head over heels through the
opposite doorway.

As they struggled to pull themselves together -- now positively haunted by the
repetitive image of the flying female coming at them, hardly clothed, legs
spread -- Susan, who this time had landed on her feet, stepped into the room
they were now in, closed the door behind her and bolted it. Turning to the
men, she flapped her arms against her side once and said, "Well, boys, I guess
you got me." They stood speechless, staring at her. She said, "What do you
want to do?"

The room into which Susan has projected her two lover boys was a large office.
There was a large desk plus several chairs and a small refrigerator and a
window overlooking the warehouse area through which the men had recently
chased Susan, only to be ambushed by her. The two guys -- she thought of them
as Moe and Curly -- stared up in amazement at her luscious body. They were
both heavy set and muscular, just as she had thought. Moe was about 6-2, maybe
225. Curly was about equal to her own five feet, seven inches, but must have
had about 70 pounds on her, at about 190. They both wore shirts that exposed
weightlifter biceps, and they both had already demonstrated that they knew
their way around the martial arts; but both could stand to lose a bit around
the gut. Too much beer. She imagined that was what they had bean drinking that
night, and she wondered how its effects on fighting ability compared with
those of the fine booze she had been treated to at the fights she had watcher
earlier that night. About the same she guessed.

Moe and Curly were getting to their feet. Curly said, "You're crazy, bitch,
you know that?"

Susan turned her back on Curly as if she was walking away, then, as his eyes
went to her half-exposed ass, she brought her foot backwards up into his gut,
taking advantage of the easy target. She turned to see him kneeling before
her, holding his belly. "You talk big for such a little fella, Curly," she
said, "Now you take your friend Moe, here. He wouldn't talk to me like that,
would you, Moe." She walked toward him.

He backed away. "My name ain't Moe!" he said.

"Well, it ain't Einstein, now, is it?" she said. She saw rage in his eyes, and
she mocked him by taking up a kung-fu stance, one foot in front of the other,
her hands open, their edges facing him, her body bent at the waist, so that
her ass protruded backwards toward the fallen Curly, while her breasts bounced
in front of her, enticing Moe.

He assumed a similar position, and they began throwing punches and kicks,
neither combatant able to land squarely on target. Moe was content with that
because he felt that blocking a blow with a forearm would have to hurt the
girl more than him because his blows carried so much more power. Confidently,
he pursued the girl across the room, a smile on his face, simultaneously
acknowledging her competence and his dominance. He thought he was surprising
her with his dexterity, and that she must now be regretting ever having gotten
into this, especially given what she knew was going to happen to her if she
lost the fight.

As they parried, little Curly started to get to his feet. Susan backpedaled
toward him and caught him with another reverse kick, this one with the bottom
of her naked foot landing smack across his face. Hs fell backwards onto his
ass.

"Stay out of this, little fella," Susan said. "You could get hurt." This
disconcerted Moe a bit because he knew that, little as Curly was, he was every
bit a match for Moe. As he tried to focus on what Susan had done to Curly,
suddenly Susan caught Moe with an elbow to his gut. Now the action was
reversed; Moe was on the defensive, and the blonde bombshell in her underwear
was attacking him, following him all over the room, throwing fists, elbows,
feet and knees at him, missing on some, having some blocked, but landing a
few, too. Her attack was so concerted that Moe lost track of his position and
backed into a chair, bringing himself into an involuntary sit.

Immediately, Susan bent to the floor and grabbed both of Moe's ankles and
lifted them over his head and pushed, until he fell backwards over the back of
the chair, which fell after him. Now he was completely trapped under the heavy
leather chair. Susan brushed her hands together in acknowledgment of her own
accomplishment and turned her attention back to Curly.

She kneeled down next to him. Sensing that he was by now in complete control
of his senses, though probably not feeling on top of the world, she said
brightly, "Want same sex, little fella?" His eyes bulged. "Well," she said,
"why didn't you say so? I'm always happy to oblige. It may hurt a little,
though." With that, she threw her right arm around Curly's neck and brought
his head to hers and locked her lips on his, holding his head firmly in place.
At the same time, her left hand went to his crotch, which she first caressed,
then seized. By that time his one arm was pressed firmly between their two
bodies. His other arm tried to fight off her lock on his center, but she would
distract his attention with some inventive oral manipulations. Then she'd
squeeze him again.

Suddenly, as quickly as she had grabbed Curly, she dropped him and stood up
above him, wiping her forearm across her mouth. He fell to his back and
brought his knees up to his chest and clutched his groin with his hands in a
fetal position as the girl stood above, tucking herself back into her bra and
adjusting her panties to cover most of her ass again.

As she was turning to check out Moe, she felt his arms close around her from
behind. "Uh oh," She said, "big boy must be jealous. Don't worry, doll.
There's plenty of me to go around," As Moe secured his position, Susan locked
her feet around Curly's head, one foot pressing down on his face, the other
separating his other cheek from the floor. She squeezed, and Curly's hands
went from his balls to his face and he screamed. He could not upend the girl,
because his friend Moe was providing her all the support she needed. His words
were muffled by the soft sole of her right foot pressing into his lips. But it
sounded as though he was asking Moe for help. Moe obliged by dragging Susan
away from Curly, or, rather, trying to, for as Moe and Susan moved, so did
Curly, so secure was the lady's grip on his head. And his sounds became more
urgent, apparently out of fear for the safety of his neck. Moe didn't know
whether to rip violently on Susan's body, thus jarring her loose from Curly,
or whether that would leave him all alone with the lady. And he still couldn't
make out the precise nature of Curly's suggestions. Moe's other problem was
the feel of his opponent's body, which was getting to him. Susan could feel
that. She turned her head up toward him and looked him in the eyes. She batted
her eyelashes at him and said, "Isn't this fun?" Then, taking advantage of a
slight loosening of his grip, Susan brought her left elbow into Moe's large
gut, producing the desired effect -- the further loosening of his grip and an
increase in the angle at which his torso was bent over her. Then -- stepping
off of (and out from under) Curly --- she wrapped her right arm under her
upright opponent's left arm and placed her hand on his shoulder and put her
hip directly in front of him and threw him over her.

Just as Curly was beginning to enjoy his new-found facial freedom, his buddy's
large body landed rather squarely on his chest and flattened him to the floor
get again, this time with a perfectly audible "Oof!!"

After standing there and admiring her work a moment, Susan strolled over to
the refrigerator, extracted an apple and took a seat on the edge of the desk,
facing Moe and Curly. She crossed one leg over the other and sat munching the
apple as she watched them untangle themselves and check themselves out for
serious injury.

"You boys suck, you know that?" Susan said. "You couldn't fight your way out
of ballet school." She took another big bite out of the apple, and well before
she had finished chewing it, she continued, "I mean all that weightlifting is
fine, but sometime you ought to take a lesson or two in martial arts, you
know?" She knew they considered themselves experts.

When the two men got to their feet simultaneously and began to approach her,
Susan remained seated on the desk top, eating her apple. They stopped and
looked at each other,

"Get up and fight, bitch," Curly said. "We ain't through yet."

"Neither am I," Susan said ambiguously, taking another bite from the apple.
They rushed her, but they never got to her. Curly got another foot in his
belly, and Moe got a pedal swipe across his face, then another in the opposite
direction. and another in the original direction. Forefoot, back foot,
forefoot, in the middle of which sequence Susan took another bite from her
apple.

Her big and fourth toes then locked on the top of his shirt and pulled him
toward her, and -- already dizzy -- he fell so that his head was smack in her
crotch. She lifted his head by grabbing his hair with her free hand, so that
he was looking directly up into his opponent's eyes. In that position his
mouth had to be open. Susan stuck the apple in it. Before he could protest,
she put her foot in his gut and thrust him firmly away from her and onto his
ass, where he sat for an instant with the apple lodged in his mouth.

She turned her attention to Curly, who had backed off to catch his breath. She
curled her finger toward herself, beckoning him to her even as she kept her
perch. Her legs dangled off the edge of the desk like those of a schoolgirl
testing the water of a pool. Her hands both held the edge of the desk, her
palms horizontal to the floor, squarely on the desk, and her fingers pointing
at the floor. She leaned slightly forward, hunching her shoulders and allowing
Curly a delicious view of her breasts.

"Come on, little fella, give it a shot." Susan said. He was leery of her feet
and tried to come at her from an angle that would give her trouble, but she
turned with him. He felt at a disadvantage; his arms were not long enough to
reach her before her legs could reach him, and yet he could not use his legs
as effectively as she could because he did not have the support of the desk
like she did.

On the other hand, deep down he know all of that was ridiculous.

When that latter thought seized him, he suddenly decided to barge ahead, come
what may. Susan never moved her torso. She threw her left foot into his belly,
and when he deflected, she put her other one in his face, which she was able
to do because she exercised a degree of flexibility that he had never
imagined; she was able to point her leg almost vertically upward without even
bending backwards, thus giving herself the opportunity to come at his face
from above and to the side, rather than just from below. That was what had got
him, and when he staggered backwards, Curly still did not know that.

All he knew was that the girl was still sitting, still hunched forward on her
hands, still brazenly showing him the swelling of her breasts. He came at her
again, this time even more violently, This time Susan exercised that
flexibility to wrap her long leg over his head and bring it back down on the
back of his neck, thus projecting his head downward onto the top of her desk.
Then, still leaving her thigh on the back of his neck, she locked the ankle of
the offensive leg around her other ankle and, thus, held Curly rather firmly
in place, his face pressing into to the wood upon which Susan continued to
sit.

Moe watched all this in amazement and continued to watch now as Curly's hands
flapped uselessly in the sir, looking for something to press against, but
finding nothing that gave him any leverage because the desk was mainly hollow
underneath.

She had him all right, Moe thought. But in case he didn't realize that, Susan
now brought it home to him. "You know I could kill your funny little friend
right now," she said. "Look, Moe! No hands." She tightened up on her leg lock
around Curly's neck, and Moe heard him gurgle, even as Susan raised her hands
above her head in demonstration. Moe was convinced.

Moe started toward the girl. Suddenly, though, she was off of Curly, who slid
once more, to the floor. She was advancing toward Moe, mindless of Curly. He
found himself backing up. "You know what's wrong here?" Susan said, "I'm the
only one who's, half naked, I want you to be naked, too, Moe. Come on, show me
some skin. How we gonna do what you fellas came to do if you don't get naked?"

"You're crazy, bitch," Moe said, backing away.

"You ever been stripped by a crazy bitch, Moe? I'm gonna make you as
bare-assed naked as the day you were born."

She loved the fact that he was backing away from her. He put up his arms in
the same kung-fu position he had assumed earlier, and Susan smiled and went at
him, This time he was clearly on the defensive from the start. Using mainly
spinning, flying kicks of the type her opponent could not even attempt, she
backed him into a corner. When she had him doubled over, she assumed a
position next to him and blasted a close-fisted uppercut to his belly,
doubling him up even more. Then she grabbed a chunk of his belly flab and
pulled and twisted on it with one hand -- her chin resting on the man's broad
back as they fought -- while, with her other hand she fought to undo the top
of his pants. Just then she heard something over near the desk and turned to
look at Curly even as the doubled over man fought with her hands, unaware of
her other concern. Suddenly she took the hand with which she was undoing his
pants and wrapped it down over the back of his ass. She used it to propel him,
throwing the doubled over, pained, oblivious man falling across the room, his
pants gradually falling away from his hips, until he collided with his buddy.

Before he knew what he had run into, before either of the man could even begin
to get to his feet, the girl was on Moe's back, pulling his pants the rest of
the way off him, even though she knew that he could fight better that way than
with them half on and half off. She took his underpants off in the process,
too, then immediately bent over him and began ripping on his shirt. He was
still facing the floor, and she put one foot on his head and pulled back with
all her might. The shirt gave way, and the man was left -- now entirely naked
except for shoes and socks -- lying on the floor (well, half on the floor and
half on Curly) wondering whether his body was irreparably broken. Susan then
gathered up all his clothes and tore them to shreds.

She was panting now, with both exertion and excitement, and beads of
perspiration glowed on her head, even as her eyes glowed.

"There now," she said, "isn't that better? Now, let me see what you've got."
She kicked him in the side, and, as he was reacting, she simply bent over and
rolled him off of Curly and on to his back. She sat on his chest, her (only
barely) covered ass pointing at his face. Instinctively, his hands went to his
crotch, but one of them never reached because it was locked under the
succulent smoothness of Susan's thighs and the other she was able to control
by locking it against her body. With her free hand, she explored Moe's crotch.

"Naaa," she said. "I think I'll check out the little fella. You never know."

Without getting off of Moe, Susan reach over and grabbed the groggy, bleeding
Curly, gave him a left fist to the face so that he was even groggier, and
proceeded to strip him, maneuvering his body like a lump of potatoes. She was
disgusted with what she found.

"Jesus Christ," she said from her perch on Moe, "what were you guys going to
rape me with? Were you hoping to find a flashlight?"

She now had the men arranged so that they were next to each other, parallel on
the floor and pointing the same way. She turned around so that she was facing
their heads. She put one of her bare legs between Curly's hairy bare legs and
one between Moe's, and she sat back on her haunches, each of her knees almost
in contact with a pair of male balls. "Well, boys," she said, "since sexual
entertainment is foreclosed to us due to your deficiencies, which I suppose is
why you have to go around forcing yourselves on girls in the first place, I
guess we'll just have to find some other way to amuse ourselves. Hmm, let's
see, what shall we do? I know! Let's have a screaming contest." With that,
each of her hands went to a vital male organ and squeezed. She watched the two
men thrash beneath her, and she wondered if their screams would be heard
outside.

"Curly wins," she said, "Maybe he gets more practice." She climbed off the
men, already bored with their helplessness. She walked over to one of the easy
chairs in the room and sat down and tried to relax, then got up and checked
out the refrigerator, this time taking a banana. "It'll have to do, I guess,"
she said to the guys as they looked up at her as she was peeling it, once more
having taken her seat.

Moe could almost see that something was going through her head. Her eyes were
looking right through him. "Hmmm," she said, "maybe there is something sexual
we can do. Just so long as is doesn't involve penises, huh boys? I'm always
willing to make allowances for the handicapped. But you do have tongues, don't
you? Of course you do. I see them hanging out every time you look at me." So
she arranged them in a position such that they could both use their tongues on
her simultaneously in a way that she would enjoy very much.

Then she got up and took a walk around the grounds, locking the boys in the
office, thinking about what to do with them, giving them time to recover.

When she returned 45 minutes later to her male captives, she did not take a
chance of being ambushed by them. She burst through the doors with a flying
kick that left her standing in the middle of the room before they even knew
she was coming.

When she did land, she saw that each of them now had a knife, apparently found
in the office. Each of the naked men now brandished his knife at her.

"Okay boys, here's the deal," she said. "You come at me with those things and
I will badly mutilate one of you and leave you crippled for life. The other
one I'll kill. Right here. Right now, Drop the knives in the next 10 seconds,
and we'll talk. Your choice."

END