Intern-al Damage

Pam was our office intern one spring, and until summer rolled around, I scarcely gave her a second look. I mean, she was a nice kid and all (I say kid...she was 25 or so, but I'm 45, so to me, she's a kid), but not all that hot looking. She had a fairly decent face, nothing special, wild brown hair and a nice smile, but she always wore baggy clothes so I couldn't really get a handle on what her figure was like. And besides, in the '90s politically correct office atmosphere, even if a girl has a drop-dead gorgeous body, woe be you and your company's liability insurance should you dare take notice.

Then the weather got warm and Pam shattered my existence. It's that simple. I came in one day and saw her sitting at her desk in a sleeveless t-top, and around her legs she had the sweater she always left around the office. The air-conditioning had kicked in and it was always chilly in there when that happened.

I sat across from her at my desk, and when she reached over for something on hers, she popped this insanely sexy triceps shot, a nice dent in the back of her upper arm that showed she'd been working out. My eyes widened and my cock gave a little tug in my pants when she reached under the desk for something and the biceps of that arm rolled under her tight, white skin. And I actually let out a little animal sound and my dick went into full alert when she lifted up the sweater to scratch one of the most muscular calves I've ever seen in my life.

I couldn't believe me eyes, as she lowered the sweater over that leg. This was a woman who just had a baby six months before, in better shape than most woman at any time in their lives. It got worse as the weather got warmer and she took to wearing those sleeveless tops, and especially these little short skirts that showed off her incredible legs. Pam had always told me she was a top track star in high school and still loved to run, and it showed.

Her legs were white (she never tanned, she said, afraid of the cancer risk), creamy and ruggedly muscled, thick balls of meat rippling above slender ankles and these long, lean and downright dangerous looking thighs that were always etched in muscle, on top, at the sides, in the back, even if she was just sitting there doing nothing. She had a hard-lined tomboy's body, is the best way to describe it. She'd walk around with this ungainly, almost manly gait, that was not at all feminine, a wide-legged sort of walk that on her, was incredibly sexy.

One day it got to me in a big way as she sat talking on the phone, playing with her hair with one hand, the muscles in her biceps bulging, the sinew in her forearm flowing sexily under her tight skin. She had her right leg crossed over the left, pushing her already short denim skirt up higher on her thick thighs, a crevice of muscular separation running down the side.

And as she was bouncing that top leg off the bottom, she'd curl her toes on the bottom foot, rocking up her calf meat above the short white sock she wore. She was driving me fucking stark raving mad, and I had to say something. During a break in the cafeteria later, I had my chance as we both stood near the back wall, away from everyone else.

"Pam, I hope you don't mind me saying this, but for a woman who just had a baby a few months ago, you look incredible," I said admiringly. "I mean it, whatever you're doing to stay in shape, keep doing it."

Pam smiled a wide smile. She liked the compliment, I could tell. She thanked me, as I expected. But what she said next I never expected in a million years.

"Yeah, my legs are getting back to the way they were before," she said, rolling her right foot up on its toes, popping a calf flex that rolled up the muscle on that sexy white lower leg. "Of course, Roger my husband isn't all that nuts about it, since his neck was just about healed from the last time we wrestled."

My cock twitched. I had to pursue this.

"Wr...wrestled?" I asked. "You and Roger wrestle? Seriously?"

Pam smiled, that wide, innocent smile.

"Yeah, we wrestle.... well I wrestle, mostly Roger suffers," she said, rocking that calf in an almost subconscious rhythm.

"Suffers, how?" I asked. I had no idea, but the curiosity was killing me.

"IN my headscissors," she said matter of factly. "I have killer legs."

I found it hard to breathe. And I found it just plain hard: My cock swooped up high and hard in my pants and I had to bend over a bit to hide it.

"Killer legs?" I asked. "Headscissors? I'm not sure I follow."

"It's simple, really," Pam said by way of casual explanation of how she nearly decapitates her husband every time she wrestles him. "I have very strong legs, and when you use your legs to squeeze someone's head, it's a headscissors, you use your legs like scissors. Well, my headscissors really hurt Roger, sometimes I knock him out. I can't help it, I'm very competitive and kinda get carried away."

I was dumbfounded. Here was this young woman, very athletic to be sure, but looking all the world like a rather average young mother, telling me how she knocks her husband out in her legs.

"And...he lets you?"

"Well, no, not really, but he has no choice I just like to rassle around, you know what I mean," she said, flashing that wide smile at me.

"Trouble is, I hurt his neck and that keeps us from wrestling. Well not really, I still get him in bodyscissors, but then again, I bust his ribs every so often. I guess I don't know when to stop sometimes!"

My head was reeling.

"Poor Roger," I said, my mouth dry. "So what do you do if you can't beat him up?"

Pam blushed and she looked away, then answered, "Well, sometimes I wrestle his friends, but even they don't like it anymore."

I looked down at those legs. Pammy saw me and laughed. "Hey, watch this," she said with a smile. "Guys seem to get a kick out of it."

She thrust her right leg out, which hiked up her short skirt even higher on her amazingly thick thigh. Then in a move that damn near made me cum in my pants, Pam started a violent wobble of the slab of muscle that was her quad, slapping it from side to side and then rocking the entire vibrating mass to a sudden snapping stop, punching a hard flex with such intensity, the force of soft tissue turning to stone actually created a distinct snapping sound as the muscle caused what can only be described as a miniature sonic boom. Her thigh thundered to a bulging stop.

"Funny huh?" she said, hands on hips, as she repeated the move with the other leg. "Roger calls it 'Pammy's thigh-quivering dance of death'! Isn't that a riot?"

She saw my open-mouthed stare and smiled. "They all get that way...I guess you're a leg man, huh?"

I couldn't answer, just nod, and stare at those legs. Pammy bit her lip as if debating whether to continue, then did: "Uh, would you maybe...tell me if I'm out of line, but would you maybe, like to, um, wrestle with me?"

My eyes bugged wide, going from her legs to her face, to her legs and up again. "I think I would...I'm not sure...I guess so....shit, Pammy, those legs..."

She smiled.

"Come on over around 7," she said, walking away on the bounce of her rocky calves. "And don't eat too much, I'd hate to squeeze it out of you."

I was at her house at 6:30. She laughed as Roger answered the door in a neck brace and walking with a limp. He shook his head at me.

"I can't believe you agreed to do this, I'm warning you, it won't be pretty," he said. "But come on in. No one believes her - or me - until it's too late."

Pammy was still dressed the way she was at the office and laughed as she stood before me doing the quivering thigh dance for me again. I whimpered. Roger sighed.

"Let's go, you two...or rather, let's go, Pammy," he said, leading the way to the basement.

There was a wide open area lined with mats in the cellar, and a makeshift wrestling ring built there. It was Roger who built it - at Pammy's request, she said, a few years ago. She climbed inside and beckoned me to follow.

"Gotta warn you, Paul, I, uh, might get carried away when I'm winning," she said innocently, looking at my confused face. "It's just that, well, beating up guys makes me...."

"Horny, it makes her horny," Roger said from the side. "She may end up using you for her own pleasure. She hopes you don't mind."

"Well, I don't, but do you?" I asked him.

He pointed to his neck and said, "What choice do I have?"

I was seriously reconsidering my options when suddenly I laying flat on my back on the mats, courtesy of a flying drop kick from Pammy. As I struggled to sit up, she vaulted over behind me and wasted no time in latching those thick thighs to my ears, pulling me back to embrace my face with a thunderous headscissors. She leaned up on her hands and yelled out a loud, "YEAH!" as she throbbed her thighs into my captured skull.

"Give up??" she screamed, the words I could barely make out so full of thigh were my ears. "Submit???"

I tried to talk but the inner pincers of Pammy's gripping thighs corded around the sides of my neck and pushed my windpipe close. I couldn't speak, couldn't whine, couldn't scream, couldn't beg for mercy - and she knew it. She lowered her butt to the mats and then rammed them up again, tearing her muscular thighs into my skull. Up and down she went, rippling her scissors on tighter and tighter until I felt the plates of my cranium grind against each other. My hands foolishly pawed at the socked juncture of her steely calves and then slipped away as I felt my consciousness leave me; Pammy had scissored me unconscious.

When I awoke, my ribs were burning. I looked down and saw those socked calves locked again, this time at my crotch, as Pam sat behind me encircling my lower ribs in her thighs for a brutal bodyscissors. She leaned back on her hands and punched down the hold. I felt my ribs bend to the breaking point.

"Please....P...Pam.....stop...I...give..." I stammered and then could say no more as my breath left me on the next clutching crush of Pammy's iron limbs.

Roger watched from the side of the ring, a glazed look on his face: "I warned you, but would you listen? No."

Then the sharp pain of breaking bone rocketed through my sides as Pammy scissored her way to snapping one rib, then another. I screamed in pain, which only made it hurt worse. I couldn't believe this sweet young mother - with legs of steel - was doing this to me, a co-worker, actually her superior, since she was only an intern. She nearly busted a third rib, when she finally released me and I slumped forward in agony. But not for long.

"I always forget to work my calves when I wrestle," she said as calmly as if she'd said she forgot her shopping list on the way to the store. "Let's try this."

She stood and got me to my knees, straddling my hanging head in those iron calves. She stepped over my neck and let them clutch it from the sides, my face sticking out the backs of her legs. I fell to my stomach to try pulling my head out of that hunky lower leg vice but Pammy thickened up. I grabbed the meaty muscle of her calves and tried to yank them apart, but only felt the girth of those amazing pipes get bigger and harder in my hands. I pulled at her socks and she laughed. Then the pain increased 10 fold as she not wound one foot around the other to complete the scissored connection, rippling her calves even harder into the crushed membranes of my neck. My voice squeaked out of me in unintelligible gibberish.

"Oh, man, you're fucked now," Roger said, grimacing at the sight. "It's bad enough when she locks the ankles in a headscissors, your head is all that way away from where they're joined. But in the calves, man, your fucking neck is just inches away from ground zero, where she locks 'em together and really puts on the pressure."

He wasn't telling me anything I couldn't feel. The pain was incredible as Pammy's insanely muscular calves tore into my neck, taking me to the brink of sleep. When I finally did go under, I found out later, she didn't stop squeezing and had instead bent her legs slightly and then snapped back up straight to punish me with a half dozen thundering calf ripples, my unconscious body twitching like a rag doll caught in a blender. It's a wonder I didn't die, Roger wondered later. So did I.

This time when I awoke, I was face down on the mat - and in Pammy's pantied pussy. She was right, beating men did make her horny, and this was really throwing me off, this usually prim and proper girl around my office now undulating her slim hips and ramming her meaty thighs off my ears in a grinding scissor embrace as she rubbed her pussy into my nose and mouth.

"Yeah, baby, mmmmmmmm....that's it, that's it, Pammy's gonna cum soon, all over your mouth!" she screamed, now pulling her panties aside to wash my face in the hairy wetness of her pulsating pussy. "MAKE ME CUMMMMMM!!!!"

I tried to slip my tongue out inside her, but the scissor was too tight, the grinding girth of her thighs actually pulling my tongue away. But that didn't matter, what was fueling her orgasm engine wasn't me eating her anyway, it was her brutalizing my face with the sweaty mulch of her pussy. Pammy ground her way to one thigh-throbbing, head-splitting orgasm, cascading her cummy cunt wash down my throat and locking up her calves above my back to pour on the involuntary pressure of her titanic cum crusade. I didn't get to see, or feel, her finish. I'd passed out again by then.

Waking up this time, I was treated to the sight of Pammy's creamy white ass, muscular hollows on the sides of each cheek, inches from my face, my nose trapped in the clammy vice of her pulsating butt meat. She'd taken me in a reverse facescissors, 69 style, and was opening and closing the vice of her thighs on my head, chewing me up her ass higher each time. Down at her end, she was tugging at my soft cock which didn't stay soft for long once I'd come around. The pain of her scissors notwithstanding, the pleasure her hand and soon her velvety mouth was giving my cock overrode all agony sensors and my prick ballooned to its proud full length. Pammy moaned around it, sucking it deep in her throat, before pulling off and slowly jacking me off in one hand, squeezing my nutsack in the other. Using both hands, she was milking me.

"Fuck, Pammy, that's sooooo good," I croaked from the continually quivering mass of thighs and ass that was masticating my face and head. "Don't stop..."

"Oh, I won't, not for a long, long time," she hissed. "Right Roger?"

"Huh?"

My question was answered a minute later when Pammy's constant stroking and occasional nibbling of my cock head resulted in a monstrous load corkscrewing up from my toes and out of my mind, a ball-busting explosion of cum that Pammy with moaning mouth swallowed greedily.

"UNNNNNNGHHHHH!!!!" I screamed out in one low moan both from the pleasure of the orgasm of my life and the pain that was coursing through my jaws and skull as Pammy thickened down her vibrating thigh meat to punish and pleasure me all at once. It seemed like I was cumming for a full minute before my ass finally flopped back to the mat, a cramp in each butt cheek from holding them off the ground for so long. I waited patiently for Pammy to stop stroking my cock. She didn't.

"Uh, Pammy..." I moaned from the meaty embrace of her thighs and ass, which she was now hunching down hard on my face, my nose locked inside the milking membrane of her asshole, my lips talking right into her cunt. "I'm done...please...stop..."

"You told me NOT to stop, remember?" she laughed, sucking the head of my cock in her mouth, causing a brutal tickling sensation that any man who's shot his load well knows. "Well, I'm not."

I saw Roger standing there shrugging. "She won't stop, either, not until you cum as much as she can take."

I screamed. Pammy tightened up. She stroked harder. Miraculously, my cock stayed hard and a good feeling returned. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. Roger read my mind and shook his head.

"Trust me, after the next one, you'll be begging for her to stop," he sighed. "It won't help."

He was right. About five minutes of Pammy's lovingly sucking mouth and tirelessly pumping hand coaxed load number two from my overworked cock knob, and after she gobbled it all down, she smacked her lips and went back for more. By maintaining a firm grip on my dick base, she kept it up and fairly hard, which I never thought possible at my age and especially after two such thoroughly ball-draining blowjobs that she'd just given me. But Pammy worked my prick like a pro, her entire body slippery with sweat, but not slippery enough for me to slip my head out of the endless headscissor she held me in. My hands mauled her ass, pulling at her muscular cheeks, feeling silky wet steel in my fingers, and all it accomplished was putting my nose even deeper inside her sweat-ringed asshole. I tried to go soft, thought all manner of non-sexual thoughts, but my mind couldn't help but return to Pammy Present as she milked a third load from me and amazingly, a fourth and fifth.

And after two and one half hours of being locked in my little office intern's thick-thighed embrace and giving up seven loads, she finally let me go and rolled off, shaking the cramps from her thighs. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't see. My jaws were locked up tight from 150 minutes of constant scissors and ass pressure. By the time I could finally sit up, I had to lay down again, the shooting pain in my neck forcing me back to the mats.

Pammy laughed and straddled my chest with her strong legs, that short skirt riding up on her sweaty, well-used thighs. She leaned over and whipped the neck brace off a grimacing Roger and fit it around my neck, smiling.

"Since it looks like you're gonna be my new squeeze toy, you may as well get to use this," she said, hands on hips. "At least until I find a new toy!" There's a lot of guys in my office, I thought to myself as Pammy slid up to cover my moaning face in the hammy hamstrings on the backs of those plank-hard thighs. I hoped she'd find one pretty damn soon.