Beast Legs

"Really, Jim?" She asked, "You still think that you can overpower me? I always heard wrestlers needed technique, I never realized the technique was 'Same but harder.'"

And with that comment made, she began to push back against him, her thigh muscles bulging as she started to force him backward and away from her body. A small cheer went up from her son's friends as they saw her start to overpower the much larger man, and that fact just inspired her to push harder, pressing her bare feet against the wood floor, and bunching up all the muscles, whether in her thighs or upper body, to assist her in overpowering him.

"Yeah!" One of them called out, "You go, Mrs. W!"

"You hear that?" She asked her husband, as she forced him to backpedal with her pure might, "They like what they see. Your son's friends are watching his dad get whipped by his wife. You going to put up with that?" She felt his muscles tense up against her, pushing harder again, and she easily stopped his attack with just a single step off her back foot, the might of her legs so great that she didn't even need to increase her effort to overpower the most forceful shove her husband could muster.

"Oh yeah," she answered her own question, "You don't have a choice." And gave another shove.

Her pushing against him hadn't just been random thrusts to show off her power, there had been a purpose behind it, a place she was directing the overpowered man, and she had his back to a chair now. Her chair, in fact, or what used to be hers, the stiff-backed blue wool antique that his mother in law had insisted on offloading as a 'housewarming gift.'

"GAH!" He cried out as he fell right into it, his whole body weight crashing down on the chair, and she stepped forward.

"What's wrong, not comfortable?" She asked, "Try sitting in that for fourteen years and then complain. Actually," She laughed, and stepped forward, kneeling - In fact practically standing - On his lap, "How about you just try to complain right now!" She declared, and leaned forward, pressing her entire body weight against her husband, and burying his face against her thigh.

His nose and mouth were completely covered in the press, and she felt him trying to push her off, escape the thigh-based smother. She wouldn't allow it. In fact, not only was she not allowing the escape, she pressed harder, feeling his struggles get wilder until they took on the familiar desperation of a man whose body is entering a panic mode as it realizes it can't breathe and he might soon pass out.

She released him then, but only because she had more in store for the helpless man, as she leaned over the back of the chair, tipping her whole body over, and carefully balancing herself on her hands, making sure not to tip the thing over, while still using it and its weight (and his weight keeping the chair sitting down) to balance herself and avoid falling on her own.

She was in an almost wheelbarrow position (coincidentally one of the more athletic sex moves they had used when trying to conceive James Junior) when she was sure she was steady enough to make the next move. Fortunately, her husband had been too shocked and helpless from the lack of oxygen during her assault to make any sort of attempt to escape the seat or stop her from doing what she liked, so with her thighs pressing in on the side of the solid wood, she quickly cinched her calves in under his chin, pulling him into an assisted, crushing headscissor hold that cut off his oxygen as soon as he had the slightest bit back in his lungs.

"HOLY SHIT DUDE!" One of the friends exclaimed, "YOUR MOM IS AWESOME!"

She didn't hear her son's response, but she saw it out of the corner of his eye, as he blushed beat-red and buried his head in his hands. She smiled wickedly at it and decided to take the opportunity to torture both of them at the same time.

"They're right, you know," she said, "I AM awesome. My legs are awesome. And you AND your father are just cowardly little BITCHES who used to insult them because you were SCARED!" She declared and punctuated her comment by crushing her husband's throat with her powerful legs once more.

"GGGLLKKK!" Her husband began to choke as she compressed his airway with her calves, and she felt him pulling helplessly on her legs, though his attempts amounted to nothing in the face of her pure muscular might. She licked her lips and tensed her arms for a little more balance.

"You know, Jim," she said, "I never really LIKED this chair. I think it's time we got rid of it!" She announced and began to squeeze tighter around both chair and throat. For a moment, all she got out of it was more desperate clawing at her might calves, but soon, she felt movement from her thighs and heard the distinct sound of wood splintering. She smiled at that, and poured on the pressure even harder, feeling the wood back of the chair bend against her legs, crack, and soon, splinter entirely. It wasn't a solid wood backing, just a few simple supports with stuffing in the middle, which meant that as soon as the outside supports were gone, nothing stood between her thighs and her husband's head except old balled up cotton, and that was gone in an instant. Now, the only thing that stood between her thighs was her husband's neck and skull, and she gave him a hard pulse to make sure he knew that before releasing him, rolling forward away from the ruined chair, and taking in the full scope of what her legs had accomplished. Her husband sat limp and helpless in the splintered wood of the unwanted antique, clutching at his throat in a desperate effort to recover air.

She could have pushed forward and crushed him then and there, but the point of this was no longer to win, but to humiliate. His obstinance in the face of her repeated victories had proven to her that nothing short of complete physical and psychological destruction would be enough to get him to accept her superiority. She had to show him that she was in charge, so she let him rise to his feet.

But nothing else. Like a wild beast, she leaped over the ruined back of the chair and pounced her hapless prey to the ground. She drove the man down, flat and helpless beneath her, the increase in the force of impact from her momentum, the force behind her leap that came from her mighty thighs was enough to render useless any resistance he might have hoped to put up against her power. He was hers, entirely, and her weight on his back proved it, as she snaked her mighty legs around his midsection and pulled him against her body, forcing him into a powerful, crushing bodyscissors.

She reached out and struck the back of his head, smacking him hard and dazing him with her force, ensuring that there would be no fighting back against what she had planned. Then, she reached for the straps of his singlet and tugged. The fabric, already straining thanks to his generous estimates about sizing, snapped completely and left her with two thin, limp sections of stretchy spandex while his singlet slipped to reveal his chest, still bruised from their first battle.

"UP!" She commanded and enforced her order with pulverizing squeeze of her thighs to his midsection. Unlike that first night, he didn't need to be told twice to understand that orders from his wife were to be obeyed, and he quickly forced himself up to his hands and knees, with her still astride him and clutching her thighs around his body.

"You like this?" She demanded, "You like my legs now? You're the one drooling on all fours, it looks like you're the beast this time. Bark, beast!" she laughed, emphasizing her command with a squeeze of her thighs

Indeed, a beast he was, a beast of burden specifically, and her mighty legs proved it. While he didn't exactly bark, he couldn't resist crying out in pain from her crush, and she decided then to drive her point home. With his mouth open in agony, she stretched out one of the snapped straps of the singlet, and brought it in, locking it into his mouth like a horse's bit.

"Ride, pony, ride!" She commanded and reached back to spank his ass. The added incentive of her thighs was unnecessary this time, as he began to crawl around the room, helpless and grunting against the strap in his mouth. While he walked, she reached back to slap more, time and again striking his ass to encourage him to continue submitting, pulsing her legs to remind him why he must obey, and displaying his humiliation for the even larger than anticipated audience.

She guided him around the room using his ruined singlet like a bit in his mouth. If he had any objections, she didn't allow them to be voiced, silencing them with a tug on his bit, and keeping him too breathless to do too much else with the force of her legs squeezing in on his sides. As she did, she held her head high like a prized rider and watched the faces of the assembled masses, only four present but to her (and she suspected him as well) it felt like the whole world. Her sons friends were smiling with a look of joy and disbelief (and though it was displayed in their parents rather than their face, no small amount of arousal as well,) as she treated her husband like a dumb animal (though of course, he was, he'd insisted he could handle her despite two humiliations, there was nothing wrong with treating a spade as a spade.) Of course, not everyone watching was as thrilled as those three, as she saw her son with his head buried in his hands, trying to avoid the site and yet peaking through his fingers like a kid watching late-night horror to see. Of course, while his face and attitude showed far less excitement, his pants showed more, already growing damp at the tip as the fabric strained to contain his arousal the way the spandex had her husband's weight.

"I know you're loving this," she told him, "I know you always wanted to see my power, and now you get to. And I think I know something else you always wanted to see," she continued, "Something your father's about to get an up-close view of!" She added, and then released, shoving the man to his back before lowering herself over his face.

She pressed her pussy, clad in her pantyhose, down over her husband's face and let him taste the juices that showed she was enjoying this just as much as he refused to acknowledge he was. Whether it was the necessary part of grasping for air or some sort of unacknowledged and unwelcome submission, she felt him open his mouth, and her juices passed over his tongue. He blushed so hard she could feel it from the increase in body temperature at his head.

"How's this, Jim?" She taunted, "Is this what you wanted? Is this enough for you to acknowledge your weakness, or is it still not fair enough for you? Here, how about I make it a little more even?" She asked, and then squeezed her legs again before pitching over to the side, leaving both on their sides, no positional dominance as far as who was on top, but the issue of who was in charge undeniable to even the most casual of observers.

"This should be fair, right?" She asked, and brought her head down until she was only inches from his undeniably stiff cock. "Here you go, Jim, fair position, you can use your weak flabby legs if you want too. Are you ready? One... Two... THREE!" She announced and then started to crush on his head with all the force her mighty legs would allow her, squeezing him so hard that his cries of agony were audible even through her muff, and the expelled soundwaves vibrated to her deepest points. She'd been loving this so far, but that vibration proved more than she had anticipated or was capable of handling, and she arched her back and cried out, the orgasm coming suddenly and powerfully, like a ground-shaking earthquake in a previously peaceful area.

Indeed, an earthquake was an excellent metaphor, as her thighs shook as she came, tensing up to squeeze his head tighter, which naturally made him scream louder, and then, of course, brought her orgasm on harder as well. It continued for nearly a minute before she finally calmed, leaving her out of breath for the first time in any of their fights.

"Oh, wow, Jim," she said, her voice dripping with poisoned honey, "You have no idea how good that feel. You haven't made me cum like that since 1999." She chuckled, "Really, baby, that was great. Please..." Her smile grew, "Let me return the favor!"

And with that she reached down, and grasped the bulge in his singlet, beginning to squeeze and pulse along it with her hand, but no such warm-up was necessary. Her husband was more than ready, and she quickly dropped the foreplay to move on to the main event, grasping his shaft and letting the singlet act as a lubricator as she quickly jerked over his shaft, squeezing her thighs around his head to silence any objections. He began to squirm like he was trying to alleviate the pressure, but twenty-three years of marriage to the arrogant horny prick had taught her all she needed to know about how to make his body dance for her. Soon, she had him leaking like a faucet in her hand, helpless against the combined assault of her well-practiced hand, his silky singlet, and of course the mighty thighs he had secretly dreamed about for decades. She could have made him blast now, if she wanted, turned her husband into a minute man in front of her son and his friends, but that would have been far too pleasant. Men barely lasted with her, studs or not, thanks to her mighty core and legs, so she didn't see much humiliating about making him blast. She would rather make him scream.

Of course, she had already, but it had been muffled by her might, and who wouldn't have screamed in the face of what she was doing? Arrogant pricks like her husband prided themselves not just on stamina, but on their stoicism, on always 'being strong' and 'being a man' no matter what happened. She couldn't even remember how many times she'd heard the foolish phrase "men don't cry," for him, so what better way to destroy his ego than by bringing him to public tears from agony and ecstasy at once?

As she sped up her attack, her son stepped in to try to save his father's pride, "Okay, uh, guys, I think you should probably go now," he said, and she looked up at him, not slowing down for an instant from her attack.

"Oh, please, Jay-Jay, like they managed to reach 18 without seeing something like this. Seeing a man get a handjob won't hurt them. Honestly, considering that your father's stupid masculine arrogance got him INTO this mess, I'd go as far as to call this educational, what do you think honey?"

"GAHHHHHHHH!" He answered as she released the clutch on his head just enough for him to speak, but found the attentions too overwhelming to form any sort of coherent statement. She smiled as she clutched her legs tight again, burying him screaming against her ass and smiling.

"Well, I'll let you know if he has anything else to say, don't worry. But for now, this is my house - MY HOUSE!" She repeated with swift jerks that made the man beneath her shake and gasp, and she felt tears starting to slick up her pantyhose, "And I say they're welcome to stay. If they want to go, that's up to them, not your arrogant weakling of a father OR his premature-ejaculating mama-fetishizing son!" She declared, then smiled up at the group, "So, do you want to stay, or are you going home? I can give you a ride as soon as I'm done with this project." She smiled and flicked her thumb over his pre-leaking tip to make him cry out.

"Uh, i-if it's all the same to you, Mrs. W" Nate answered, "We're enjoying the show."

There were some hushed murmurs of agreement. The show. She hadn't entirely thought of it like that, she'd just thought of what it would do to her husband's ego to be on display, but a show was what it was, and not just a show of her husband's foolishness and powerlessness, but her own beauty, glory, and sexual skill.

'Mmm, show, is it?" She asked, laughing, "I like the sound of that. But I've never felt like a solo act, so if you don't mind," She licked her lips, taking in the moment of admiration, "Alright, baby," she smiled, "give these boys a show!" She declared and speeded up her pumping until she was practically punching him in the gut with every downward thrust and spraying his pre into the air with every pull upwards. In the face of such an attack, her husband didn't have a prayer, his cock throbbed, leaked, and then began to blast cum into the air, creating a milky fountain of seed that fired in an unending display, spurting up in a wild mess and staining her hand and his new, already ruined singlet.

"Did you know if you really push a man, he can cum a lot longer than normal?" She asked, "Guys usually just like to settle and pull out, but you can actually get a few more spurts if you force it. Here, let me SHOW YOU!" She announced and began to jerk harder still, refusing to let his cock slow down or his body rest from her crushing assault on his manhood. His screams into her pussy were so loud that it sounded like a normal helpless cry despite the muffling, and his orgasm built once again, before dying down after a few more pulses.

"Aww, Jim," she sighed, as she looked down at her cream-covered hand, finally releasing his face so all could see the tears flowing down his cheeks, "Look at this, you just got this outfit, and it's already ruined. And you got your cum all over my hand!" She laughed, "I'm sorry about the mess, boys," she told her audience, "Don't worry, he'll clean it up," She told them, and leaned down, wiping her completely cum-sopping hand off on her husband's tear-soaked face.

"Always clean up your messes," she told them, and looked down at her husband, "And as for you," she said, "You need to stop making them... This is completely soaked!" She laughed, and quickly stripped off the singlet, before balling it up the way he did her clothes whenever he tried to 'help' with laundry, and stuffing it into his mouth, pushing it into his throat and rendering her husband completely nude in front of their audience. Whimpering, weeping, broken, coated in cum and being forced to suck his own seed from his singlet, just about the only thing about the man that wasn't a worthy target of mockery was the size of his cock, which even softening post-orgasm was still a reasonable girth, if not quite the monster that her son's was. Of course, while she had enjoyed the girth, the softening was not in her plans for the night.

"Now sometimes," she smiled, continuing her 'education' of the young man, "A man hasn't quite had enough... EVEN if he thinks he has..." She added, giving a quick and dismissive kick to her whimpering and weeping husband, "And in times like that, there can be no other option but to let him between your legs. Of course..." She chuckled, "Jim and I have been doing that a bit different from most couples," she laughed, and slipped down to scissor her legs around his body once again.

She felt her husband's shaft stiffen against her thigh and pressed in harder. He may have been exhausted from his orgasm (and likely dehydrated when you factored in the tears) but her mighty legs were not to be denied. She began to pulse on his cock, not full-on trying to crush his hips and pelvis with her might, more just trying to get him back to full hardness and use her beautiful legs to get the man between them to blast. She heard him attempting to say something, she couldn't be sure what it was thanks to the cum-coated singlet stopping his voice, but it hardly mattered anyway. Whether he was trying to plead for more or for her to stop, she had control of him now, and she would dictate the pace.

Soon, despite his weakened and exhausted state, his cock reached its full strength once more, throbbing against her thigh. Not that she had any intention of stopping or even slowing down in her work on his shaft just because he was hard, after all, simply leaving him hard would be embarrassing, but making him blow once more in front of everyone? That was the level of humiliation she was yearning for, and that she would need to put an end to his fantasies of resisting her. Soon, she felt him twitching under her, his cock on the very edge. It was time to crush his manhood - Literally AND figuratively.