ROLLER-BLADE BITCH


  Paul happily rolled into the parking lot of the bike path one clear, 
sunny Sunday afternoon. He hauled his brand new bike out of the back of 
his van and set up for the day's ride, checking the brakes, putting two 
bottles of water in the double rack at the back of the seat. He'd paid a 
pretty penny for this bike, but it was worth it. He'd been riding for 
months now and felt in the best shape of his life. All was well when he 
was riding his bike down various paths, and today he was checking out a 
new one. 
  He'd heard the rumors and this day, a sunny weekend morning, there 
were scant few people on the picturesque path as he headed toward it. 
Now he was wondering how true the rumors were, that bike thieves hung in 
the woods waiting to rob bikers of their high-priced machines. He 
shrugged them off and figured he could outrace whoever it was who would 
try to stop him. He paid nearly a grand for this puppy afterall, it damn 
well better be fast. 
  About halfway through the 20-mile trail, working up a good sweat on 
the hills and flying down the flats hard by a scenic river that rushed 
by next to it, he was startled to see a shadow overtake him. He was 
going so fast, he never expected to see another bike overtake him, and 
he didn't. What he saw was someone on inline skates, and a woman no 
less. She was a blur as she blew by him but there was no mistaking the 
longest, most muscular pair of legs he'd seen on a woman in years. She 
slowed up a bit ahead of him and he got a good look. She was tall, a 
blonde beauty at least from behind, with thighs that were thick bubbles 
of muscular meat for hamstrings and high rolling jagged peaks of flesh 
for calves that rose above the boots of her blades. Paul gulped  and 
pedaled harder to catch up to her. He couldn't believe his speedometer 
and tapped it to make sure it was true. No woman, no human could be 
going 35 mph in the flats of a bike path the way she seemed to be going. 
  Then incredibly, she spun around and faced him, maintaining her speed 
in reverse - and smiling broadly at the stunned biker coming up on her. 
She slowed rapidly now, totally throwing Paul off his stride. Her thick 
thighs were cords of steel running down heavily striated quads, massive 
separation of muscle groups that glistened with sweat in the hot sun. 
She slowed even more quickly now, going side to side and not letting him 
pass. Paul was about to try to dart to the right when he realized too 
late the side of the trail was sand next to the asphalt. He dug in hard 
and his shoe clips wrenched free as he tumbled head over heels, flying 
over the handlebars and crashing to the grassy river bank, skidding on 
his ass to the water's edge. 
  "Nice wheels, thanks," he heard the woman say as she picked up the 
fallen bike and brought it down to where Paul lay, stunned. "Should 
fetch a pretty penny on the black market." 
  Paul sat up, still shaking the cobwebs from his head. What she said 
was sinking in now and he was pissed. HE started to get up and then felt 
her behind him. 
  "You're not going anywhere asshole, except to the hospital maybe with 
a cracked skull if you don't cooperate," she hissed, lacing her arms 
around his to hold them to his sides. "I'm taking your bike. Any other 
questions?" 
  "You fuck!" he screamed, trying to pull away from her and being unable 
to dislodge her amazingly strong arms from holding his down. "You can't 
do that!!" 
  "Hmm, not a bad helmet, you pay what, a hundred, maybe a buck fifty 
for it?" she hissed into his ear. "Not a problem for thighs trained by 
years of blading!!!" 
  Seconds later, Paul was laying back on the grass, the thick thighs of 
the robber laced around his head - and his helmet. She had him flush in 
a very tight headscissor hold, her inline skates twisted around each 
other as she bucked up on her hands and leveraged down on the hold, 
pumping her amazingly beefy thighs onto his head. He felt the helmet dig 
into his skull as she squeezed, the pain of the hard material pushing 
into his temples. He saw her locked calves quivering in the effort of 
what she was trying to do, and with trembling hands, Paul reached up to 
unsnap the helmet in an attempt to pull his head away. But it was too 
late. With one, two and then three murderous hip-snapping jolts of her 
long, powerful legs, the robber cracked Paul's highly rated, very 
expensive bike helmet into two pieces, each of which fell away from his 
head as she finally let up the hold. But just for a second. 
  With the helmet out of the way now, there was nothing to protect 
Paul's skull from the incredible mounting pressure of roller girl's 
angry thighs. His hands pawed and pulled at the sweat-slicked tubes of 
muscular destruction that lay flush on his ears, the pressure of the air 
in them crushing in on his eardrums and threatening to implode them. He 
couldn't hear a thing except the blood pounding in her femoral arteries 
and the hair plastered up against his skull. He swore he heard the 
cranial plates in his head grind against each other as she relentlessly 
squeezed in with her iron thighs. Leaning up on her hands, she lifted 
her slim hips entirely off the ground and vibrated her thighs madly 
against his face until what voice that could come out of him came out in 
a stuttering wave of begging for mercy. She laughed and showed none. 
  Suddenly he was free and the blood rushed back into his skull. He 
found himself gasping for air and rubbing his neck, white-hot rivulets 
of pain coursing throughout his scissor-damaged skull. But his freedom 
was short lived. 
  "If you think the thighs of a rollerblade bitch are strong, try 
these!!" she shouted. 
  Paul's neck was now captured in the insanely tight vice of the thief's 
pumped-up calves, the plastic of the rollerblades crossed and creaking 
inches from his face. Instantly, he saw stars as the thick ribs of calf 
meat rippled into his carotid arteries and slowed to a crawl the flow of 
blood to his agonized brain. His shaky hands fell away from her rock-
ribbed calves and he felt himself sliding under. She'd scissored him out 
in three seconds flat. 
  The smell hit him first when he awoke, then the darkness and then the 
pressure on his face. When he finally fully came around, it dawned on 
him where he was. The crazy bitch had slipped out of her tiny shorts and 
was face riding him like a cowgirl on a bucking bronc, the sweat-smeared 
oil of her asshole ring trapping his nose in its gamy grip, her pussy 
lips cheesed up and rancid from hours of blading rubbing mercilessly 
over his lips. She was facing his feet and had captured his entire face 
in her sex, his nose a prisoner of her stanky shit chute, his mouth 
forced to gobble up the leaking emissions from her liquid cunt. 
  "Yeah, that's it, that's fucking it, just like that.....coming, 
coming, fucking COMING!!!!" the maniacal robber screamed as she bucked 
her hips back and forth on Paul's trapped face, a thick foam of her 
orgasmic jel lathering out of her pistoning cuntal muscle and jetting 
right down his throat. She was forcing him to swallow every juicy gulp 
of her pussy's offerings while she continued to fuck herself blind by 
the asshole on his nose. When she finished coming, she slipped the tight 
vice grip of her buttery o-ring shitter down over his mouth. 
  "Lick it..." she cooed, rubbing the rubbery sphincter over his lips. 
"Tongue the scuz cream from my bunger...." 
  Paul had to obey and laced his tongue around her strong rectal muscles 
and licked to save his life. She forced her butt hole open and then 
retracted it, sucking his tongue so far out of his mouth and up her 
demanding shitter cavity it hurt. He put his lips around the outer walls 
of her inside-out butt tube and sucked to offset the pull of her shitter 
on his tongue, but it didn't help. She kept the rude tongue fuck of her 
greasy dung ring until she came again. 
  By the time she was done, Paul was nearly out and in no position to 
stop her. She took off her blades and stood near him. Pointing one foot 
down, she rammed her soiled, sweaty toes into his mouth and ordered him 
to suck them clean. Paul had to obey, gagging at the smell and the grit 
from between her long, strong toes. The other foot followed, a five-
minute bath from his mouth until no toe jam remained on her slimy toes. 
She laughed and slung the blades over her shoulder, hopping on his bike. 
  "Thanks for the lift," she said, pumping off, her massive thighs 
shining in the late afternoon slant of the sun's waning rays. "Come back 
when you get new wheels." 
  It was a long walk back to his car.