tagFetishScissor U.

Scissor U.


I'd come to Gamba University for research for my company. My business done in the afternoon, I scanned the campus center bulletin board in search of something to do that night, maybe catch a game, a movie, whatever.

"Sisters Unite!" one small poster screamed at me. "Come listen to strong women speak about their power! All welcome."

It looked intriguing. I'd always had this thing for strong women, physically or emotionally, and I thought this little feminist get-together might be cute, fun and a great place to meet some college hottie and get laid if I played up the angle of a middle-aged man sympathetic to their cause. Liberals fuck more than conservatives, I'd always found, and though a conservative myself I didn't mind a little political agenda switching if there was pussy on the line.

I walked into the gathering at 8 p.m., held in the basement lounge area of a girls' dorm. It was dark, collegiate dark, black walls, a little black stage, dim lighting, like a coffeehouse I guessed it was when not in use by male-bashing lesbians. The stock looked good; about 10 women in all, the majority hot and young, with a couple requisite porker lesbo types leading the feminist event, hailing "women of power in a man's world!" and that sorta bullshit.

I sat in the back, by the bar, all the women seated in sofas or chairs before me. I helped myself to the cheese tray as I watched and listened to various girls get up and prattle on about women's rights, men's inhumanity to females, all the usual left-wing, college-minded claptrap.

Ginny got up to speak, a rather shy looking blonde, tall and thinnish in blousy shirt and tight jeans, but packing a gorgeous ass. She spoke of how she was always put down by men in school and how joining this little dyke enclave (my words) at college has "empowered" her, or some such thing, the usual pop psych terms young people with nothing but college to do push on people they think should know better and are determined to tell them so.

"Hey, good to see a male here," I heard a voice say, looking over to see a really cute little redhead slide onto the stool next to me and chomp some cheese and crackers. "What brings you here, have a child at school?"

"No, just here on business, thought I'd see what was going on and I must say I am taken by the intelligent discourse I've heard so far, makes me proud to know colleges are still a hotbed for radical and worthwhile debate," I lied through my teeth, eyeballing the girl, named Rita, in her tight white t-shirt, short plaid skirt and dark sandals, her creamy, freckled legs fairly glowing in the dim light. "You folks are young, idealistic and determined, and I laud you for that."

"Why thank you," Rita smiled, extending her hand, me introducing myself. "Phil, it's so good to hear a man say that, it really is."

"Rita," I gushed as sincerely as I could while casting a downward glance in seeming humility but which was actually a ruse to catch a gander of her surprisingly muscular thighs that were giving me a woody, "I, like you, am a member of the human race, my gender is secondary."

She beamed. "Wow, Phil, that is so cool," she cooed, sitting closer now, me doing likewise. "I'm impressed."

"No, it's me who's impressed, Rita," I continued, moving in for the knockout. "Hey, after this, wanna grab a veggie burger or a carrot shake somewhere and solve the world's sexist woes?"

The blatant attempt to woo her into my sexual fold nearly made me blanche, but she took it like a fish takes the worm, and later I hoped it would be my worm she'd be taking. She could spout all the feminist diatribes she wanted so long as I got to get between those luscious legs of hers, most of which were exposed now as she turned on her stool which caused her skirt to ride higher on those resplendent thighs.

"Mmmm, that sounds good, I know a good place," Rita said, tapping my upper thigh as she hopped off the stool; it's always a good sign being touched near the cock by a woman, no matter how skewed her views. "My turn to speak, you stay here and listen."

Something in her command that I stay made me instantly hard as I watched her sashay toward the stage and sit on a small couch there, mike in hand, legs crossed and one giant calf flared across the other as she spoke. Damn, this chick must be heavy into sports with gams like those, I figured.

I nibbled some more cheese as she blathered on about empowerment and not enabling men in their quest to keep down the sisterhood and of wrestling her brothers when she was younger...wait a sec, I thought, did she say wrestling?

"And my brothers learned the hard way to NOT fuck with a determined, empowered female!" Rita shouted, green eyes flashing, her red-haired bob in back bouncing as she spoke to the cheering group, however small. "They were sexist and I SQUEEZED their sexism away, so much so that one is now working for the National Organization for Women and the other is GAY!!!"

Gay? NOW? What the fuck was she talking about, I thought, looking sideways at the stage where now Rita stood, exhorting the crowd, telling them how she'd beat up her brothers wrestling and any other man who crossed her and presented himself as "a sexist pig!"

And upon delivering those words, Rita looked right at me and worse yet, pointed, all heads turning disapprovingly toward me as I sat in the back trying to get really small and succeeding only in pointing to myself with a "who, me?" look, a dibble of cheese stuck to my upper lip.

"He tried hitting on me, can you believe it, tried to have sex with a girl young enough to be his daughter at a feminist rally!" Rita shouted, snarling on the word 'sex' like she'd said 'cancer' or something equally ugly, as the other women booed, the fat lesbian couple looking especially annoyed, their fat lips curled in a sneer. "He tried to tell me he approved of what we're doing, that he's proud of us, but all he wanted, all ALL men want...is to get between...."

She looked down with great dramatic flourish at her legs, holding the mike aside and opening her thighs.

"THESE!" she barked loudly and then slammed her beefy thighs back together with a resounding splat, the other women cheering and clapping, smiling as they looked at her, snarling as they looked back at me.

"Phil, you really wanna get between my legs?" Rita shouted, pointing at me again, sitting on the couch, legs crossed, then shouting like an evangelist working a crowd. "That what you want, to get between these legs?"

I was flummoxed. Yes, I wanted to get between her legs, but no, I didn't want to get between the legs of a clearly insane and inflamed feminist. For all I knew, she was wearing a razorblade diaphragm. It's one thing to be humiliated and go home with your cock between your legs, quite another to go home with, well, NO cock between your legs.

"Uh, Rita, you got it all wrong, I assure you," I said nervously trying to hide the lie, gathering my coat as I stood and not noticing two five-by-five women on either side of me, the aforementioned portly lesbo couple. "But I should go, you carry on your good work here..."

I've been manhandled before; there was the time in the Navy on leave two huge Marines in a bar held my arms as a buddy used my face for a punching bag. But the grip I found my arms in now was stronger. I looked over at Ike and Mike, as I somehow named them at that instant, tiny, fat women with short spiked hair of various colors glaring at me - and holding my arms more tightly than those two hulking Marines had.

"Uh, ladies, what're you doing?" I asked nervously as they started shuffling me to the stage, the others cheering - and Rita sat waiting, a smirk on her pretty, freckled face.

They grunted and escorted me to the stage, tossing me to the couch next to Rita, who shuffled aside a bit, then leaned over to talk to me, the women quieting down to hear.

"Phil, it's OK," she said soothingly, making me think this had been a joke and checking my watch to make sure it wasn't April 1. "I think admitting a problem is half the battle don't you??"

I nodded quietly, having no fucking clue what the problem might be except for the bruises on my forearms from Ike and Mike, who each stood at the ends of the couch, arms crossed and glaring straight ahead, like a porcelain pair of squat lesbian sentries.

"And your problem is you want to get between women's legs without thinking of them as women, you just think of them as meat garages for your dick, right?" she said so bluntly and accurately that I continued nodding and wondering if I'd been hypnotized into revealing my true self.

"Well, good, good," Rita said gently, sitting back, that top leg crossed, that beefy calf flared meatily across her top knee as she bounced her leg as if she were sitting in class. "For that revelation, you shall have reward. And do you know what that is?"

I shook my head, hands in my lap like a naughty child being condescended to by the school principal.

"You get to be between my legs!" she said brightly. "Would you like that?"

I nodded furiously now, an idiotic smile on my face, my manhood swelling slightly in anticipation of what I instantly fantasized would be a mass orgy, me fucking all the women - minus Ike and Mike - on stage, a great, gyrating mass of female flesh and one male to satisfy them all at which point they'd hail me a chauvinistic hero and sex god. It's how my mind works.

"Very well," she cooed seductively, sitting back against one arm of the short couch, me turning from my post leaning against the other to face her. "Come 'n get it..."

I heard the women in the audience ooh and ahh as I licked my lips and leaned forward as Rita, looking all feminine and receptive, spread her short, muscular legs, revealing a thick reddish thatch of downy pubic hair, the gentle folds of her cunt revealed beneath. God love feminists and their dislike of undergarments made by men, I thought to myself as I got closer.

"And take THIS you fucking sexist PIG!!!"

Somewhere between the word 'PIG' and the onset of the pain in my skull, I knew I should've perhaps kneed Ike and Mike in their testicle-impaired groins and made a run for the door, but now it was too late. Rita had launched herself at me, legs spread, my face mashing into the downy mulch of her pussy as her mammoth thighs crashed against the sides of my head, she coming to rest on her ass on the couch having captured my skull in the embrace of her insanely powerful legs. If the crowd cheered, I couldn't hear it, only a dull murmur as my ears were packed tight with Rita's muscular thighs and the sound of my own hair being ground against my skull.

The pain was otherworldly. I looked up into Rita's eyes, saw her glaring at me, a despotic smile on her face, her barking into the microphone presumably some feminist drivel about women taking back their power as she gyrated her slim hips and bore down with her thighs in an never-ending undulation, hips snapping, thighs quivering, my head mercilessly scissored between them. My hands shot to the sides of her thickly padded thighs and were amazed to find them so rock hard and unyielding. I tried pulling them apart to no avail. I screamed into the now sweaty maw of her cunt. The vibrations tickled her and without letting the audience see, she winked down at me and continued to squeeze hard, making me scream more, the vibrations continuing.

My strength was rapidly waning as I truly feared Rita's tireless thighs would vibrate so savagely, my head would implode or be sheared off my shoulders. I opened my mouth to bite down, my last desperate attempt to free myself. Suddenly, I felt her hand pulling my hair as her thighs loosened ever so slightly and she looked down at me.

"You bite me, you die," she said simply, then reattached her voluminous thighs in full throttle against my head, my mouth now open and feeling the oily folds of her young cunt mashed into my teeth. Which I didn't move.

With what little strength I had left, I torqued my body in an attempt to wrest myself free of Rita's clinging thighs but succeeded only in spinning myself around, now plopping to the floor in front of the couch, Rita's thighs now wrapping my head in a scissor from behind, her sandaled feet locked and resting on my chest. My hands went to her chiseled calves and wedged between them to try prying them open, succeeding only in getting caught in their grip. Now she had me scissored around the head in her thighs and my hands in her calves. The only weapons I had left were my feet, which I could do nothing with but kick into the air - and my voice. I screamed loudly, my mouth finally free of the muffocating clamp of her pussy.

"STOP!!! PLEASE!!!" I begged, eyes shut against the pain, a thin torrent of tears escaping the corners of them and pooling up against the silky seam of her thigh and my face. "Rita...stop...please....I'm sorry...."

"Aw, he's sorry, do we CARE that he's sorry!" I heard her say through the massive clamp of her steely thighs.

I tilted my head back ever so slightly and saw her now almost hunched over my head, head cocked, hand to her ear in a theatrical motion that meant she was listening for the response of the crowd. Which I hoped would be 'yes'. It wasn't.

"NO!" they cheered, as Rita bore down with such sudden savage scissoring fury I thought for sure she'd decapitate me and my head would roll to the stage to the cheers of the crowd, Ike and Mike using it as a soccer ball before the two alleged females kicked it outside into a snow bank to be forgotten until spring.

"WHAT DO WE WANT?" I heard Rita scream, throbbing her thighs with renewed savagery on the word 'want', and upon hearing the crowd chant "EQUALITY," screaming "WHEN DO WE WANT IT?"

And predictably, the crowd bleated "NOW!" upon which exhortation Rita thickened her already ridiculously good-sized thighs in a renewed blast of scissor power, asking the same question, getting the same answer, over and over and over until I passed out cold in the snapping frenzy of the feminist coed's lethal legs. I awoke sometime later to find myself on the couch, on my back. I heard gentle swishing sounds. Turning to the side, my neck ached terribly and my head pounded, my jawbones afire from the savage compression of the evening courtesy of Rita's thundering thighs. I looked over and Ike and Mike were sweeping up, the rest of the crowd gone. They noticed me and glared. I grimaced and sat up.

"You OK?" I heard Rita ask softly from behind where she stood at the back of the couch.

"Jesus Christ!" I groaned, trying to stand and being made to slump back to the couch from the pain in my shoulders on up. "What the fuck, Rita, I mean what the fuck?"

"Hey, sometimes you gotta make an example to make your point, ya know?" she laughed, jumping effortlessly over the back of the couch to sit next to me. "They eat this shit up and me using a scissors like that on a guy really drives the message home."

"So...so I was just a guinea pig, a stage prop for your little feminist rant?" I asked angrily, barely able to speak from the throbbing pain in my jaws.

"Yeah, pretty much, why, you got a problem with that?" Rita laughed, sitting back, that big calf flared again as she crossed her hard legs, propping her head against the L-shaped thumb and forefinger of one hand, the elbow of that hand on the arm of the couch, a pretty casual pose for a girl who was moments ago facing a possible life sentence for injuring a man in her thighs. "You got between my legs, didn't ya?"

"I...I gotta go," I groaned, standing up and wincing in pain as I tried to put my coat on. "It's been...different."

She stood to face me and it was then I realized how small she was, maybe 5-5 to my six-one. But stepping back and seeing her humungous thighs flared out from her little skirt made my head ache anew.

"Uh, just one more thing," Rita said as I noticed Ginny, the skinny, shy blonde I'd seen speak earlier step from the shadows before me, stopping me in my tracks as she stood, smiling nervously.

"Ginny here wants to learn a few of my scissor tricks, give her a little shot of self-esteem," Rita said as I turned to look at her, then back at Ginny, who peeled off her tight jeans to stand in white panties, white knee socks and saddle shoes, looking for all the world like an innocent schoolgirl and not a Scissor University specialist, as she apparently wanted to become.

"Ginny, no," I said sadly, looking into her soulful eyes as she slowly walked, backing me toward the couch where I tripped and fell backwards, my head slamming into the waiting thighs of the seated Rita that slammed shut with a meaty slap against my moaning head.

"Take the body, Ginny, like I explained," Rita growled, throbbing her thighs against my skull, my head thick with fear and agony. "Nice and tight, the bodyscissors it's called. Lock up, squeeze down and let 'em rip, baby!"

Ginny giggled and sat down beside me, lacing her long, slender legs around my middle, her surprisingly powerful thighs knifing into my guts until my breath left me, one hand pawing her legs, the other Rita's.

I twisted my head slightly to one side, then the other, just before I passed out in the leggy clamp of the two women. There at either end stood Ike and Mike, at sentry position, a slight smile on their fat lesbian faces. Without their pants on.

It was going to be a very, very long night.

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