From crsgardner@aol.com Sun Dec 31 17:39:57 1995
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Post stories like this! "Twins" (teen, ff/M, wrestling, sex) (1/2)
From: crsgardner@aol.com (CrsGardner)
Date: 31 Dec 1995 17:39:57 -0500
Please post more stories like this. Thanks.
FROM THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS 702-243-7723/8982/9807
TWIN TERRORS
By Kandor
Don Stenhaus' blood pressure rose with the temperature gauge
on his 1988 Ford Escort. He eyeballed the needle as it slowly bobbed
toward the 'H', finally getting so pissed off at it he punched the
instrument panel, succeeding only in cracking the plastic over the
gauges that had been coffee stained a day or two earlier when a cup
lost its balance on the dash and tumbled onto the steering wheel,
spraying the hot beverage everywhere, including the temperature
gauge and Don's balls.
"Fucking car," Don mumbled to himself, and the car, actually,
like it would help. "Fucking piece of shit car. Fucking piece of shit
job. Fucking piece of shit life."
Ordinarily in a situation like this, Don would just turn up the
radio, cranking in some oldies station that suited the mindset of a
traveling salesman in his early 40s. But even that couldn't happen
today, since the fucking piece of shit radio died on him somewhere
outside Tulsa, which he dubbed that "fucking piece of shit redneck
city."
It was a God-awful hot August day as Don tooled down Route
40 in western Oklahoma toward his next stop somewhere in Texas,
which he hoped he'd make by the next business day. But it was
Thursday now, and late at that, with the slant of the setting sun
getting more harsh as he chugged his dying Escort ever onward. He
was giving up hope of calling on his account by Friday and wondered
where he'd stay for the night, and the weekend, from the looks of
things.
"Probably some fucking piece of shit motel," he grumbled out
loud, then checking the temp gauge one more time, adding "If I make
it that far."
Things hadn't looked good from the outset of this trip. He'd left
Chicago promising his girlfriend that things would get better, that
this job, the seventh in four years, would be his last and that he
could, if he put his pecker to the grindstone, as he put it, make a
living out of being a feed salesman, calling on midwestern farm
stores and selling them the latest combination of grain and chemicals
and additives that were guaranteed to fatten a farmer's livestock
while minimizing the chance that those eating the beasts would later
contract cancer. The last part wasn't in the sales pitch he'd spent two
weeks learning in the conference room of a Motel 6 outside Chicago,
but he felt it should be. He smiled at the memory of his new sales
manager going all red in the face when Don offered that unwanted
medical prognostication during the training.
Lorraine had stuck by Don for the last seven jobs and Don had
no clear idea why. She was a pretty girl for her age, which was
roughly his, and had a dynamite body to boot. Don looked in the
rearview mirror for a second and saw a craggy face middle-age man
who'd come a long way to go absolutely nowhere. But Lorraine stuck
by him, despite his asshole tantrums, his rantings and ravings about
the better life he swore was around the next corner, the big account,
that really huge fucker, that would put him on top, or as on top as a
loser like himself could get. Even a saint like Lorraine was getting
tired of waiting, however, tired of hanging around while her
boyfriend (she hated using the word 'boyfriend' when most of her
friends her age were using the word 'husband' or even 'ex-husband)
tried to find himself in a beat-up Ford Escort, a front floor full of
crumpled coffee cups, a seat full of badly-folded maps and a
briefcase full of order sheets and bullshit.
She kissed him goodbye when he left Chicago three days
earlier, but there wasn't much to it, nor to the smile she offered him
with her lips only. He knew he was on the outs with her and maybe
that would be for the best. He'd taken up with her right after his first
marriage dissolved in a haze of booze and accusations, and he knew
she pitied him. But the pity well only runs so deep when the years
stack up behind a woman and he sensed she'd soon pull up her pail
and head for deeper waters.
He wandered off Route 40 somewhere in Texas and got totally
and irreversibly lost. He grabbed a fistful of map off the front seat
and splayed it out over the steering wheel as he drove, reading and
weaving and thanking whatever God that could look down on him
that no cars were coming the other way. Or any way, for that matter.
He was, he thought, shit fucking lost.
The car was steaming and so was Don, so he pulled over so the
both of them could cool off. Checking the map, he figured he was
somewhere in the Oklahoma panhandle, that little strip of land that
looks about a pussy hair wide on the map but a million miles deep if
you're stuck in the middle of it with a car that burns more water
than gas. He got out and popped the hood and jumped back a foot or
two when a mad plume of steam blasted up into his face. He grabbed
a rag from the car and tried to open the cap, but it was too hot. He
looked over his shoulder; in no more than an hour, the sun would set.
The really shitty part was that the sun on the horizon looked to be
the closest sign of life he could see in either direction. He knew he'd
blown calling on anyone else today, he only hoped he could find a
place to stay and get the car fixed in time to make at least one call on
Friday.
The car wasn't cooling down any, so he got back in, figuring
he'd drive until it got good and hot again, stop, cool it off a bit,
and drive again, a stop-and-go cycle that just make take him to where
humans dwelled. But that wasn't going to work, either; he cranked
the engine and it did nothing, not "rrrrr....rrrrrr...rrrrrr...," not
click, not grind, nothing, which to Don's angry ears sounded sure enough
like the little Escort that wouldn't was saying, "You fucking piece of
shit driver, let's see how far you get now."
He got out and slammed the door with both hands, evoking a
tinny slap from the tiny car, then turned around to kick it,
succeeding only in hurting his foot and putting a dent in the door.
Pissed off, he limped up the road in search of life, not bothering to
lock the door or even take the keys, knowing full well that car
thieves, no matter how young and stupid, aren't going to get all hot
over an abandoned Escort.
The slight rise in the road he aimed for shimmered under the
late afternoon sun. He had no idea what was on other side and didn't
much care, although his spirits were lifted only a little when he
noticed a driveway sprouting off to the left, one of those things that
in a more civilized world might be called a dirt road. The driveway
(he knew it was because of the mailbox at the entrance) wound
through a flat chunk of farmland and over a minor hill to what he
hoped was a house and a phone. He broke into a near jog when he
rounded the first corner, the sweat running down his back like a
river. He loosened his tie and couldn't help wondering how stupid he
looked, a middle-aged salesman jogging through the middle of a
fucking Oklahoma farm with a shirt and tie and dress shoes. Very,
very dusty dress shoes.
"It's about fucking time," he muttered to himself, when he
finally spotted a large white farmhouse around another bend in the
driveway. Wheat fanned out from it and the large barn nearby and
all the way up the dirt path to the road.
He jog/walked the last quarter mile to the house, stopping on
the porch to catch his breath before ringing the bell. The sun had
nearly disappeared behind his back as he stood, impatiently waiting
for a hick farmer or his wife to appear at the door. None did, and he
rang again and again, muttering curses to himself before finally
heading around the side of the house to the barn, where he assumed
someone would be.
He was right. The huge front door was slid wide open on its
tracks, at the top of a cement apron outside that had been cracked
from many years of heavy tractors and bad weather running over it.
He walked in, the harsh rays of the setting sun blasting through a
dirty window on the far side of the barn and right into his eyes. He
detected movement. Squinting, he saw someone forking hay into a
stall and took a step forward. The person shifted a bit to the left and
into the beacon of red light that had been coming through the
window, silhouetting itself and causing Don's eyes to pop open and
his throat to work into a loud gulp. Whoever it was was the biggest
goddamn human being he'd ever seen. It was a wall of a man, he
thought, and from where Don stood, only five-feet-four inches off the
Earth, it looked to be nearly touching a massive, ancient crossbeam
above with the top of its head.
"Excuse me, mister?" Don said, taking another step forward into
the dusty gloam of the barn.
"That ain't no mister, mister," he heard a giggling girl's voice
say from behind him. "That's mah sister."
Don spun around and found himself staring open-mouthed at
what his mind instantly deemed the biggest farm girl in the history
of agriculture. Biggest wouldn't do it, he thought as he looked up
until his gaze landed on the beaming, beautiful face of a pig-tailed
blonde smiling down at him. It was bigger than big, it was as huge as
the Oklahoma landscape he'd just covered to get here.
"My...my car, uh, broke down, um, a couple of miles up the, uh,
the road, and I was wondering..." Don stammered, running his eyes
up and down the girl's extraordinary length.
"You a salesman, mister?" another girlish voice said from
behind him, causing him to spin around on his heels to look at the
looming figure he'd seen seconds before.
His eyes adjusted to the darkening interior of the barn as the
figure took a step toward him. Again, he was forced to pull his head
back and up, and again he found himself staring into that face, the
same, exact face that had just spoken to him. His eyes went wide and
his mouth dropped even more: They were twins, Don's mind
whispered, identical, massive twins. And they were drop-dead
gorgeous.
"This here's Bobbi-Jo," the one girl said, stepping around Don,
although she could've just as easily stepped over him, to stand next
to her sister. "Mah name's Betty-Sue. Pleased to meet ya."
Betty-Sue extended a hand that was nearly as big as Don's
head. He took it and watched in awe as the girl's rugged, calloused
fingers closed around his city-boy hand, swallowing it whole in its
powerful grip. Betty-Sue pumped it once, shook it free and it was
immediately replaced with her sister's.
Don stepped back, he had to, to take in the sight of these two
enormous twin girls standing massive shoulder to massive shoulder
in the doorway of the barn that their double images just about filled.
Each wore tight, sleeveless denim shirts that exposed tremendously
long, tanned and muscularly smooth arms. The shirts rode high on
their midriffs to just below their huge, hard breasts, revealing thick
ribs of washboard muscles on their silky bellies. Below, they wore
very tight, very short jean cut-offs, the frayed hems of which barely
contained mile-long thighs that were each as big around as Don's
whole torso. The sun-browned legs tapered down to rocky tubes of
muscled meat that were their calves, all four of which were stuffed
into dirty white socks and low leather work boots. He looked back up
into their smiling, farm-girl faces and the blond-pig tails that framed
each one. He gulped again. The girls giggled.
"Sweet mother of God, they grow them big around here, don't
they," he found himself saying out loud, embarrassed as the words
came out.
"Reckon they do," Bobbi-Jo laughed in Okie drawl, her mouth
cracking open to reveal perfect milk-white teeth. "Heck, we're both
about six-foot-ten and 300 pounds and not even done growin' yet! "
Don's mouth fell open anew. "Uh, just how old are you girls?"
They giggled together and answered together: "15."
"Your parents, are they around?" he asked.
"Mom's gone to town to do some errands," Betty-Sue answered.
"Should be back before long."
"And your dad?"
The girl shifted uncomfortably on their at least size 16 boots.
"Daddy done died a couple of years ago," Bobby-Jo said, looking
down, and then answering the next expected question. "Farm
accident."
Don expressed his condolences and then stammered as he
explained his situation, trying, and failing, to take his eyes off the
gorgeous farm amazons before him as he did. He told them about his
job, his car, where he was from, and asked if they could help.
"If I could just use your phone..." he said.
"Ain't got one," Betty-Sue answered. "But we could haul your car
back here and take a look. We're pretty handy."
"I'll bet you are," Don found himself saying, leering at the
mountains of huge female flesh before him, envisioning them nude
and crawling all over him and ....
He shook the thoughts away and tried to concentrate, which was
made tougher when one of the girls, Betty-Sue, he thought, turned to
hang her pitchfork on a high hook, standing on her toes to do it,
causing those gargantuan calves to ball up in thick knots of jagged
muscle above her socks and boots. Don's eyes shot to them
involuntarily and he heard the other sister giggle again.
"Some kind of legs, huh mister?" Bobbi-Jo asked. "They don't
have legs like that in Ch-eye-cago?"
Don looked at her and managed a weak smile, amused by her
attempt to over-pronounce the city's name.
"No, they don't," he said. "But I tell you, you girls, when you
get
a little older, could make a fortune in the big city as pro wrestlers."
He was again embarrassed by what he had said to girls so
young, especially as he watched them turn to each other with looks
of surprise on their freckled, smooth faces.
"You mean like this?" Bobbi-Jo sang out and descended on him
like an Oklahoma tornado.
She swooped one arm down and around him, easily scooping his
surprised little body into a cradle position across her hard gut. He
yelped as she lifted him higher into a full overhead position, like a
bodybuilder, gripping his leg and shirt front as she did. She started
to spin him around when he whacked his head on the frame of the
barn door some 10 feet or so above the hay-strewn floor.
"Ooops, sorry, mister," she laughed, and then rolling him down
her long arms into a frightened ball, said "Here ya go, Betty-Sue!"
With that, she tossed him like a pair of rolled-up socks across
the floor to her waiting sister, who reeled him in with ease, his
scared body bouncing painfully off the twin sister's rugged
midsection. They whooped and hollered and played literal catch with
him for a minute before one of them spiked him into a stall, where
on his way down he figured he would smash his skull open on the
floor below but was pleasantly surprised to find himself bouncing off
a thick blanket of hay.
The girls stepped, not jumped, over the high rails of the stall,
laughing as they came. Don tried to stand, but Betty-Sue dropped
atop him, rolling to her side and clamping her powerful legs around
his body. The massive girth of those farm-girl thighs engulfed his
entire torso, from waist to neck, and she locked up her boots and
leaned up on one elbow to view her scissored prey.
"You mean this kind of rasslin', mister?" she roared in a hearty
laugh, squeezing ever so slightly until Don's air left his crushed body
in a rush.
"Or this kind of rasslin'?" Bobbi-Jo said, dropping to his side to
wrap him up in a headlock, the incredible bulk of her smooth bicep
pinning one ear, the thick rope of her forearm glueing itself to the
other.
Don's eyes crossed, not so much in pain since they weren't
squeezing all that hard, thank God, but from the delirious notion of
being so easily captured by 15-year-old girls. Extremely large,
extremely strong 15-year-old girls, granted, but girls not too long out
of puberty nonetheless.
He wasn't sure if he was hating it or loving it when he heard
another voice, a woman's, boom from the side, "Now, girls, you let
that little fella go before you go to cracking him."
"Aw, Ma, we's just havin' a little fun," Bobbi-Jo said dejectedly,
letting go the headlock.
"Yeah, we weren't hurtin' him none," Betty-Sue drawled,
unlocking those mammoth legs from his guts and standing up.
Don got up and brushed himself off, smiling sheepishly as he
climbed over the stall and into the barn's main entryway, expecting
to see a little leathery old farm woman. He did see a leathery farm
woman. But she wasn't old. And she was most certainly not little. His
neck was beginning to hurt from all the craning back it was doing to
take in the full view of the womanfolk around these parts. As he
gazed ever upward, he gulped even louder then he did when he saw
the woman's daughters: Mom was even taller.
"She's an even seven-feet!" Bobbi-Joe chortled, running beside
her mother where, once her sister took her place on the other side,
she looked nearly dwarfed by the farm matriarch.
The hard-looking, broad-shouldered woman wore a stern look
on a deeply tanned face that was wrinkled by years of hard work
and exposure to the elements. Her dirty blonde hair was streaked
with gray and all of it was pulled back tight behind her head, which
made her look older than the 40 Don later found out she was. She
wore a tight T-shirt and cut-offs that weren't nearly as snug or short
as her daughters', but what skin was revealed was equally if not
more muscular than her amazon offspring. Her calves, Don noticed,
where wickedly long with thick cables of muscle lining the insides.
Her arms were as dangerous looking, ropes of sinew and muscle
dancing in her forearms as she stood with them crossed over her
huge chest.
"What brings you here, mister?" she asked, no sign of a smile on
a amazingly pretty face despite the hardship it showed.
Don started to explain but the girls excitedly cut him off and
told the full story. The mother never took her suspicious eyes off her
visitor as they did.
When they were finished, she said, "Name's Karen. We'll get
your car tomorrow, but for now you're welcome to stay for supper
and spend the night. We got a spare room upstairs you can bunk in."
It was a very friendly gesture expressed in a non-friendly sort
of way, but Don shrugged and thanked her. He silently followed the
form of the three gargantuan women out of the barn and into the
house. He used the washroom, as they called it, to clean himself up
and then stood in the doorway of the kitchen watching the twins
whip up dinner, amazed at the grace and ease with which they
moved about the room of an old home obviously not made for
occupants so large. Don also couldn't keep his eyes off those
miraculously huge bodies, from their rugged arms to those legs, long,
thick and ribbed with muscle, all the way from their boots to the
gloriously-hard mounds of curved flesh that was nearly hanging
from the seats of their too-short shorts.
His surveillance was something that didn't escape their mother's
eyes. After dinner, when the girls were cleaning up and Don sat in
the living room watching a black-and-white TV with bad reception,
Karen sat down hard next to him on the couch.
"I think I know what you mean," Don said with a weak smile,
rubbing his stomach. "My belly's still a little sore."
Karen, for the first time, smiled back at him.
"That weren't nothin', friend," she said, sitting back and
watching the girls work in the kitchen. "I've seen those girls bust
open feedbags just by squeezin' 'em in those legs. They can do some
damage to whatever gets betwixt 'em, lemme tell you."
Don swallowed hard as he watched the girls giggling and
smacking each other with towels in the kitchen. If it weren't for their
overwhelming size and musculature, they could've been any 15 year
old girls anywhere else.
"Girls, better get outside and get things ready for tonight," Karen
hollered. "Boys should be comin' anytime soon."
Karen put her large, leathery hands on her rugged thighs and
pushed off the couch. She turned to face Don.
"You're welcome to turn in whenever you like," she said. "I
reckon you're tired."
As she walked away, Don asked "Get things ready? What does
that mean, if you don't mind my asking?"
Karen didn't turn around, but he swore she was smiling again.
"Come on outside in an hour or so, if you're of a mind to," she
said. "Oughta be interesting to a city fella."
The thought was intriguing for a few minutes, but as the static-
filled screen of the antiquated TV crackled on, he found himself
almost falling asleep. He wandered upstairs and threw himself on his
bed, figuring he'd go outside later to check out whatever it was that
Karen was talking about, but in a matter of minutes, he was out like
a light.
He found himself dreaming of being in an auditorium full of
screaming people. They were cheering somebody on, but he couldn't
quite make out who. Even in his sleepy state, the dream seemed so
real, with the sounds swirling in his head sounding like they were
coming from right outside his window until the noise grew so loud it
woke him up with the realization that it was indeed coming from
right outside his window.
He pulled himself out of bed and walked across the room to look
outside. There, next to the barn, was a makeshift wrestling ring, a
heavy bed of straw doubling as the mat, with posts in the corners
and ropes strung between them. On either side were a couple of
dozen people, men and women, shouting at the goings-on inside the
ring. And what was going on inside the ring made Don rub his eyes in
amazement ."I want to tell you somethin', mister," she said quietly but
in an intimidating way as she leaned over until her face was inches
from his. "My girls are a little, well, adventurous, if you knows what
I mean. They like to rough it up with boys and sometimes they get
carried away. I'm of a mind to stop it when they get like that, but
girls will be girls. I was the same way, so I guess I got no quarrel
with the way they turned out. I'm just tellin' you to be careful when
you're playing with those girls."
One of the twins, Bobbi-Jo from what he could tell, was squared
off against a young man, a farm boy, he guessed, who although he
was massive and muscled in his own right, looked downright small
next to his opponent. She had her thick left arm laced around his
neck in a brutal headlock. Betty-Sue stood off to the side, outside the
ring, and on the other side, also outside the ropes, was another young
farmer, who looked to be about the size of a bull, only with less neck.
The girls both wore what they had on earlier, and the men were
stripped down to just jeans, revealing broad chests and flat bellies,
chiseled to farm-work hardness.
Refereeing the affair was Karen, staked out in the middle of the
ring watching one of her daughters easily contain her opponent.
Bobbi-Jo worked the headlock like a pro, wringing the young man's
neck, snapping the hold up and down, j amming the side of his arm-
trapped face into the ribs of her stomach muscles.
"Give it up, Billy, give it up now!" the girl grunted, powering
down the hold. Karen circled them both, awaiting a submission. "You
know you don't want my big legs in on this!"
Somehow, Billy broke the hold and managed to sneak behind
Bobbi-Jo and snake on a bearhug. The lad's huge arms cut into the
girl's sides and he even managed to lift her off the ground as he
squeezed. The crowd went wild. Don squinted; clenched in the
waving fists of most members of the audience, he saw money. He
laughed to himself.
"So this is what the folks around here do for entertainment," he
said.
He threw his clothes on and walked downstairs to check things
out more closely. By the time he got out the door and made his way
to ringside, Bobbi-Jo had tagged off to her sister, who had taken the
farm boy to the hay from behind, engulfing his head in a sea of thigh
muscle. She had her rugged calves crossed on his naked chest and
was squeezing him so hard, the kid's face was barely visible and
what was was rapidly turning blue.
"Howdy, mister," one older guy said to Don as he stood next to
him watching the match. "You must be the guy Karen said was stayin'
over."
Don chatted with the man for a few minutes and found out that
Friday night "rasslin"' matches, as he called them, were regular
occurrences on the farm, had been for a couple of years, ever since
the twins started shooting up like mutant beanstalks. The man said
that in the two years since the matches had been going on, the girls
had rarely lost, just enough to keep folks coming and betting. But the
boys and men from area farms kept trying, he said, because lost
pride was a big thing in the country and they always came back in
an effort to reclaim it.
"Karen didn't always approve of things, but with the bettin' and
all, and farmin' ain't bein' what it used to, well, the money comes in
handy, I reckon," he said, watching Betty-Sue let go the scissors to
pick up the barely-conscious man in an over-the-shoulder
backbreaker hold.
Don watched in fascination as the boy screamed his submission
and Betty-Sue dropped him with a thud to the hay far below. Bobbi-
Jo ran inside and Karen stood, the proud mother and referee, holding
up the twins' hands in victory as the crowd either groaned or
cheered, depending on where their money was. The girls saw Don
and ran to the side of the ring, slapping their big hands on his back.
"Whatcha think, mister?" Bobby-Sue said, laughing. "Think we
got what it takes to be big time pro rasslers back in Ch-eye-cago?"
Don smiled and a bell went off in his head, just as Karen rang a
real one across the ring. The girls giggled and skipped away to start
the last match of the night. The tag team twins were taking on a new
pair, two surly looking guys from a farm down state, Karen
announced. They weren't as big as the last couple of guys, but just as
muscular.
It didn't matter. The girls won their two-out-of-three fall match
in less than 10 minutes. Bobbi-Jo started by taking her man down
with a thundering drop kick that the poor bastard never saw coming,
moving her 300 pound muscled bulk across the ring like greased
lightning. From there, she lifted him high overhead and pressed him
for a minute before twirling him around in an airplane spin and
dumping him across one kneeling thigh for a backbreaker that would
have had him submitting if she didn't drop him down and slam on a
flat bodyscissors. As her massive thighs rippled in the spotlights that
flooded the makeshift ring, she easily wrenched a screaming
submission from him.
Bobby-Sue did her man in in even less time, clamping a full
nelson on her victim and putting enough pressure on to snap the
head off a less capable opponent. Three vicious bodyslams later and
a double hammerlock applied to him as he lay belly down in the hay,
her kneeling over his head, chewing it in her squatting thighs, and it
was all over but for Karen counting their winnings.
As the crowd made its way back to the variety of rusted pickup
trucks that clogged the driveway, Don approached the ladies of the
farm.
"Karen, these girls are really something," he said, eyeing the
giggling girls as they toweled the sweat off their massive bodies
before heading inside to shower.
"Yeah, I guess I learnt them pretty good," she said as she knelt
to tie a boot lace. "I used to be a pretty fair rassler myself in my
day."
"Exactly," Don said, seizing the moment. "You know, Karen, I
have some connections with fight promoters back in Chicago, and
with the right kind of marketing..."
Karen rose up slowly to her full seven-foot height and glowered
down at Don with a suspicious glare, stopping the little man's speech
cold.
"Promoters?" she drawled. "You mean like rasslin' promoters?"
"Well, yes," Don said nervously, looking way up at the big
woman. "I'm telling you, this farm-girl shtick would be a big, big
seller. Forget this Friday night at the fights crap, I'm talking tours all
over the country."
Karen raised an eyebrow. Don had her hooked. He reeled her in.
"With you there with them, of course," he quickly added. "I
know the girls love farming and all, but there's a lot of money to be
made here."
"They love rasslin' more, I think," Karen said, a slight, wistful
smile on her lined face. "Might be good for 'em to get outta Oklahoma,
I guess."
"Let's talk to the girls about it right now," he said, starting for
the house.
He suddenly felt the biggest hand he'd ever felt in his life clamp
on his shoulder.
"Not tonight," Karen said, walking ahead of him, casting him in
darkness with her huge shadow from the bright spotlight. "The girls
need their rest. Chores tomorrow."
And that was that. She went in and showered after the girls and
From crsgardner@aol.com Sun Dec 31 17:47:08 1995
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: "Twins" (teen, ff/M, wrestling, sex) (2/2)
From: crsgardner@aol.com (CrsGardner)
Date: 31 Dec 1995 17:47:08 -0500
bring.
***************************************************
The cock crowed at dawn, which woke Don briefly before he
went back to sleep until awhile later he heard the grinding of a
tractor coming up the driveway. He groggily went to a window and
looked out to see Karen at the wheel of a beat-up John Deere, his
little Ford Escort in tow. Crowding on the hood were the twins,
laughing and waving to Don when they spotted him in the window.
He waved back and wondered if the Escort's shocks could take it,
since the entire front of his vehicle was covered by the massive
asses and legs and combined 600-pound bulk of the teen girls.
He dressed and went downstairs. The girls pulled a suitcase out
of the back and tossed it to him.
"Better change into somethin' more sensible, Mr. Stenhaus,"
Karen said, swinging her long legs off the tractor to the ground. "Lot
of chores to be done, and you'll be doin' your share."
"I...I will?" he asked weakly, clutching his suitcase.
"You bet," she said, unhooking his car from the John Deere. "You
eat here, you stay here, you work here. Fair trade?"
"But, uh, I don't know anything about farming," he offered in
mild defense.
Karen smiled. "You know how to use a shovel?" she asked,
nodding her head toward the barn.
"You don't mean...
"Shovelin' shit's the same as shovelin' dirt, friend," she laughed,
the first time she'd done that since he got to the farm. "Just smells
worse."
The girls giggled and Don looked at them. It was shaping up to
be a brutally hot day, and they were dressed for it. They had on
skimpy tank tops, which revealed even more brawny, muscled arms,
back, shoulders and bellies, and the tight cutoffs they wore today
above their usual socks and work boots were shorter than ever. He
turned to walk back inside to change.
There were few highlights of the day, which was one of the
longest of Don's life. He shoveled cow shit for what seemed a smelly
eternity, and then languished in the fields for most of the rest of the
day, picking whatever it was that needed to be picked and weeding
around the rest of it until his city-boy hands were a pink mass of
blisters-in-waiting. The highlights came when he would walk back to
the house for a shot of coolness from a garden hose and was treated
to the site of the twins leaning into his engine, fixing the water
pump. As they bent way over to look inside, the firm, sweet cheeks
of their gloriously hard asses hung from the seats of their sinfully
short shorts in delicious, milky orbs, about the only part of their
massive bodies that wasn't tanned. And later, when they were
getting a drink themselves and playfully turned the cold water on
each other, their thick nipples exploded from their muscled tits
through their white tank tops until it looked like they could hang a
pitchfork from each one. Don found himself rubbing his hardening
crotch as he watched them, only to be stopped by the burning pain of
his newly-acquired blisters.
When the day was finally done, just before sunset, Don sat with
what he hoped was his business future on the steps of the house. He
decided to broach the pro wrestling subject and was barely into it
when the girls jumped up excitedly.
"Oh, maw, can we do it, can we pleeeeease!!" Bobbi-Jo gushed
over Don's surprised shoulder to where Karen had been standing in
the doorway listening the whole time.
He turned to look at her. He thought she'd be pissed, but she
was smiling. It was a wary smile, but a smile nonetheless.
"Mebbe we'll talk about it later girls," she said, turning to walk
into the house. "Right now, everybody git cleaned up for supper."
Don was suddenly aloft and realized in their excitement, the
girls had each grabbed an arm and lifted him high on their mighty
shoulders.
"Pro rasslers, ain't that grand? ! " Betty-Sue roared.
Don laughed and put his hands down on the muscled caps of
their shoulders for balance, strangely excited by the ride. His fingers
had never felt anything so hard in his life, until he realized that
might not include his dick, which had turned rocky in his shit and
dirt-stained pants as the girls danced him around the yard. They
dumped him to the ground where to Don's surprise and delight,
Bobbi-Jo straddled him with her long legs, her intensely hot crotch
rubbing on his. Her eyes bugged out as she felt what he had there.
"Ooo, Mr. Stenhaus, you liked our little ride, didn't ya?" she
teased, her blue eyes sparkling as she pumped her ass on his groin.
Don went dry in the mouth and rested his hands on her pulsating
thighs.
"Not now, girls," he heard Karen roar from the door. "Let the
man rest a spell, for heaven's sake."
Don nearly snapped his neck looking from the big girl dry-
humping him on the lawn to the doorway where Karen stood, fully
expecting the woman to come out and break him in half. But she
didn't seem to mind. And neither did he, at least not until Betty-Sue
pulled her sister off the little man and toward the house.
"Time enough for that later, Bobbi-Jo, let's go clean up," she
giggled, turning to laugh as the site of Don struggling to get up and
hide the bulge in his pants at the same time.
The girls and their mother showered before Don, and when he
came out for supper, he noticed they'd changed into T-shirts and
tight jeans, the supreme snugness of which made him think that this
is one family that gets the most for their fabric dollar. The girls'
bodies rippled even through their clothes and Don couldn't keep his
eyes them, especially considering the crotch ride Bobbi-Jo had given
him earlier. They were making him horny as hell, but he had no idea
what to expect from them, or even if he should. He saw them as his
ticket to the big time, their massive legs ready to scissor submissions
from any opponent while it all squeezed some hefty dollars from
promoters and the general rasslin'-lovin' public.
So when they all turned in for the night, he figured it was for
the better. He didn't want to get caught with his hand or anything
else in the twins' cookie jar which could put the damper on any deal
with their mother. Besides, he was dog-tired from working on the
farm and was sound asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
When next he awoke, he felt a stinging sensation on his ass, and
what struck his sleepy mind about this was not only the needle-like
feeling on his butt, but that he was naked. He wasn't when he went
to bed.
He looked around and realized he was lying nude in the middle
of the outdoor ring, the light of a bright, mid-summer moon in his
eyes, the cool night air brushing his cock. Looking up he saw the
twins looking down at him. They wore smiles - and nothing else. He
realized they must have carried his sleeping form down to the ring
and stripped him bare.
"We just wanted to show you the kind of rasslin' we really like
to do," Bobbi-Jo said, and then it was lights out for the little feed
salesman from Ch-eye-cago.
With the grace of a large jungle cat, she reached down and
scooped him up in her rugged arms, curling him to her chest and
mashing one thick, muscled tit into his face. Don couldn't breathe as
he flailed, his little hands stinging as he bounced them off the
towering teen's back and shoulders. She laughed and pulled him
away from her tit a bit to let him catch his breath.
"Suck it," she glowered down at him. "Put that titty in your
mouth and suck on it!"
Don obeyed, his wide-open eyes glued to the beaming blue ones
of the amazon who held him, his wide-open mouth suckling the
creamy tit that filled it. He reached up to cup it to his lips and was
hard pressed to have his fingers make any dent at all in the thick
muscle of her breast. He put one arm behind her and ran his hand
down the swell of her long back where his stretching fingers barely
touched her magnificent ass.
Bobbi-Jo laughed as she pulled his sucking face away from her
chest with a popping sound before curling him up and tossing him to
Betty-Sue, medicine ball style. The other amazon teen easily hoisted
him overhead, holding him aloft by a hand to the throat and another
high on his thigh, the strong grip just millimeters from his throbbing
cock. Betty-Sue looked up at it and laughed.
"Guess you ain't afraid of heights, huh Mr. Stenhaus?" she
giggled.
She then dropped him across her brawny shoulder, his lower
back smashing into the muscled cap of it as Betty-Sue bounced him
up and down in a painful backbreaker hold like the one she'd made
the farm boy submit to the night before. Now Don knew why. His
back felt like it would snap over the muscled fulcrum of the massive
girl's rippling shoulder and he bellowed out his submission.
Betty-Sue laughed and flipped him over and slid him down until
his agonized face was staring at her wild blonde bush. Her strong
arms effortlessly held him tight to her body as she did.
"Time for some night chores, Mr. Stenhaus," Betty-Sue growled,
slightly spreading her huge legs as she stood. "Now get in there and
do your duty!!"
She held him with one hand and with the other, reached down
and rudely stuffed him face first up and into her cunt, holding him
tightly there by slamming her majestic thighs around his ears. Don
was at once overwhelmed by the pain of her tree-trunk thighs
rippling in muscular magnificence on his trapped head and by the
searing heat of her pussy as it baked his face. He was at first unsure
what to do, but Betty-Sue reminded him of his mission by tensing
the thick cables of her inner thighs around his face. He couldn't see a
thing, as his entire head was trapped in the suffocating embrace of
the gigantic teen girl's legs, but he knew exactly where his mouth
was by the moist heat swamping his lips. He snaked his tongue out
and deeply into the folds of her young twat and was rewarded by a
slight lessening of the scissor pressure on his skull so he could
penetrate her deeper still. Don's tongue flew up and down the
dripping gash of his amazon tormentress, slapping against her
bulbous clit on the upstroke and slicing high into her hole as it came
down. He counted himself a talented pussyeater and was pulling out
all the stops for the one he was now being force fed. He grabbed the
monumental thighs that scissored his face into her cunt and was
again amazed by the girth and solidity of them. His fingers made the
long trip around them and up where they tried sinking into the lush
flesh of her powerful, jutting ass, but the muscles in her football-
hard rump were set in silky stone as the big girl hunched her crotch
forward and down, riding his trapped face like a cowgirl on a
bucking bronco.
She came with a wash of sweet pussy juice all over his face until
he thought he would drown in the stuff. As she let up slightly to
allow him in deeper, it was only then that he realized the whole time
he'd spent eating her, his stiff dick was being rubbed in the muscled
tits between which they were trapped. Betty-Sue continued to grind
her tireless twat into his mouth while grabbing his ass and humping
her thick boobs around his throbbing cock.
His ass suddenly stung and he realized Bobbi-Jo had entered the
match by roundly slapping his naked ass. He tried to scream but the
sounds were muffled by the rock-hard sponges of Betty-Sue's
relentless thighs. She finally let his head pop free as she kept up the
titty fuck on his dick.
"C'mon, Betty-Sue, when's it gonna be mah turn?" Bobbi-Jo
whined, smashing his sore ass even harder as her sister laughed.
Without warning, the twin that held him dropped him like a
stone to the hay far below and as he sat up, his ass stinging from the
spanking and the spikes of straw jamming his butt, he saw the
sisters tag off like pro wrestlers. Betty-Sue strode off to the side and
in the moonlight, Don saw the red marks on her inner thighs where
his head was scissored, and a thick layer of her pussy juice streaking
down over them.
He had no time to recover. Bobbi-Jo hoisted him over her big
shoulders and airplane spun him to the ground again. Grabbing an
arm, the big girl whipped him into the tight ropes where he
rebounded back towards her even faster than he went in. He couldn't
slow himself, not even as he saw her sailing toward him, her huge
feet at head level in an astoundingly accurate flying drop kick. The
bottoms of her massive feet slapped his face like it had been hit with
a rock, and he snapped off his own feet to land with a thud flat on
his back. She dropped heavily atop him, snaking her long,
ridiculously muscular legs around him for a grapevine hold, snapping
her thick ass down until it felt like she'd rip his legs from the hip
sockets. Adding to the agony of that hold, she draped her huge tits
over his face and smothered him in their sweaty embrace. He tried to
submit but his crying words could barely be heard from the fleshy
cover of her hard chest, and what words of submission Bobbi-Jo
could hear, she just smiled and ignored.
With a grunt, Bobbi-Jo then rolled over to her back, her
moaning victim between her spread legs which she violently
slammed shut around his ribs. He put his head back and howled in
pain as the beautiful blonde grit her pearly-white teeth and went to
work slicing his sides in the muscled blades of her scissoring legs.
"I..give..up.." Don gasped, eyes shut tight against the pain.
Bobbi-Jo laughed and suddenly let up. The lessening of all
pressure caused Don to fall forward and he felt an intense white heat
envelop his cock, which was as hard as it ever had been, despite the
pain and humiliation. His dick had sliced into Bobbi-Jo's boiling cunt
up to the balls as she let up the scissors squeeze and he was amazed
at both the feeling of it and by the way a groan of exceptional
pleasure involuntarily escaped from him.
"Not too much, now," the girl giggled and slammed her legs back
together so violently Don heard the thick calves slap above his back.
At once, he was pulled from the volcano of her pussy and found
the gripping pain return to his battered sides. Bobbi-Jo kept up the
pleasure and pain routine, letting go the scissors to allow him to fall
deep into her hot cunt only to squeeze him tight again, pulling him
from the only place on earth he wanted to be.
"C'mon, Bobbi-Jo, lemme at him!" he heard Betty-Sue crow from
behind.
He was suddenly free and at the end of Bobbi-Jo's long arm as
she whipped him across the ring to where her sister was waiting, big
legs spread, sitting on a corner post. Don's face slammed into the
moist bush of the big girl and like a mousetrap, her deadly thighs
smashed shut around his head. His entire face was buried in Betty-
Sue's dripping pussy as his hands clung to the muscle-bumpy thighs
that held him there. His tongue shot out instinctively to service her
again and she threw her head back and moaned, the ponytailed
blonde hair brushing the post behind her.
Suddenly he felt a hand brutally tearing at his hair and as his
face was pulled from the sloshy grip of Betty-Sue's cunt, he heard
Bobbi-Jo lament, "Hey, you've had your fun, now it's mah turn!!"
The wrestling teenage amazon easily tossed Don to his back
in the hay. He looked up and saw Bobbi-Jo do a pair of back hand-
springs that delivered her with a crushing thud atop his abused
face. She was facing his feet and her mammoth ass swallowed up his
entire head as she ground her anxious pussy down into his mouth. He
lapped up at it as his hands gripped the pulsating hamhocks that
were Bobbi-Jo's pinching buttocks, his nose sucking for air between
them. She rode his face hard, snapping her big hips, lashing his
licking mouth with her gushing gash. Stretching her long legs out
behind her, she captured his head in the nutcracker grip of her
titanic upper thighs, the ribbed muscles on the insides lining his jaw
and face with pain and pleasure. He opened his terrorized eyes and
could only see the sexy swell of her gigantic, shapely ass as it
engulfed his face. He licked and sucked and chewed for dear life.
Suddenly, his throbbing cock was enveloped in a new wet heat
and he realized Bobbi-Jo was devouring it with her moaning mouth.
For a girl so young, she was sexually experienced well beyond her
years as she slapped a massive hand around his quivering joint to
jerk off the spit-slicked tool into her aching lips. Don ate her with
renewed vigor and within minutes found his face drenched with the
girl's love juices. When she finished wriggling out her orgasm, Bobbi-
Jo sat up and splayed her legs out wider, his nose and eyes all but
disappearing up her thick, hungry ass.
"Oh, Mr. Stenhaus, I ain't never been done like that before," she
hissed, slowly dragging her dripping sex back and forth across his
butt-buried face. "I think you deserve a little re-ward ! "
With that, she slithered off his mouth, spun around and spiked
her hot pussy with his trembling love stick. She sat on him, her big
hands planted on his bucking belly for balance, and let him have at
her, his hips driving up to go deeper inside her. He was beside
himself in pleasure and could barely believe what was happening to
him, but before he could clear his head and concentrate on the
gorgeous giant riding him like no woman had ever ridden him
before, his vision was again blocked, along with his breathing, as
Betty-Sue jumped onto his vacant face.
The sisters rode him in tandem like a pair of well-trained
animals. Bobbi-Jo's scalding snatch gobbled his cock, her hips
snapping with seamless motion atop him as her sister duplicated the
movement on his face. His shaking hands first caressed the gigantic
thighs that straddled his waist and then shot up to roam the wide
expanse of the muscled ass that was grinding his head into the hay
blanket of the wrestling ring. And then the girls switched, high-
fiving each other in a tag-team slap as they did it, his cock and head
again engulfed in searing farm girl pussy. Back and forth they went
and Don felt himself wanting to come and never wanting to come and
lost complete track of how long it was all going on.
Then regretfully, he was free, but his regret was soon replaced
by pleasure as the two girls knelt beside him, Betty-Sue strapping a
calloused but sexy strong hand on his crank to jerk him off with wild
abandon as Bobbi-Jo not-too-gently cupped his aching balls in one of
hers.
"Give it up, Mr. Stenhaus, show us what you can do," Betty-Sue
breathed huskily.
He didn't have to be told twice. His belly went into a huge knot
and he felt his orgasm explode from deep within him. He let out an
animal cry and as Bobbi-Jo's tight fingers squeezed his nuts and
Betty-Sue's hand blurred in a blinding display of handjob prowess,
he bucked his hips and shot three feet straight up in the air. He and
the girls watched in awe as the jet of come fountained high in a
creamy arc and splashed in thick strips along Betty-Sue's sinewy,
pumping forearm. He shot high again and again until he could shoot
no more and both girls' maddening grips eased a bit, Betty-Sue's
hand a shiny sheet of his juice as she continued to slap his shrinking
dick up and down until it slid from her fist with a squishy plop. She
looked at her sister and laughed; a dollop of come had spotted her
forehead right between the eyes, which Betty-Sue graciously leaned
forward to lick off. Bobbi-Jo giggled and began rubbing the thick
cream into her sister's well-worked forearm as Don watched the
whole thing with nothing less than complete, satisfied awe.
"Sweet Jesus, girls, I...I never..." he said, unable to finish. He
flopped to his back, exhausted.
"We rassle purty good, don't we Mr. Stenhaus?" Bobbi-Jo said
with a laugh.
"Yeah, we good enough to make a livin' from it?" Betty-Sue
hissed, lifting her shiny fingers to her lips for a quick lick.
"Oh, shit, yes," Don babbled, raising up to his elbows. "Just give
me a little time to work out the details and I'll..."
"Mr. Stenhaus ! ! " Karen barked from outside the ring where
she'd been watching for God only knew how long, Don feared. "May I
remind you that these girls have chores to get up for in a few
hours?"
Don tried to leap up but was driven back by the pain in his head
and ribs and by sheer sexual exhaustion. The teens, however, leaped
to their feet, where they helped up their victim.
"Karen, Jesus, I'm sorry, but I...I..." he stammered as he stood
sheepishly between the twin towers of powers who were smiling
girlishly.
"I warned you that my daughters sometimes get a little carried
away," Karen said evenly, stepping over the ropes, holding closed her
long flannel nightgown. "You and I need to have a little talk."
Don watched as she gave a barely noticeable nod to her
daughters, who giggled girlishly and vaulted easily over the ropes to
run inside, their massive backsides jiggling in fleshy undulation as
they did, leaving Karen to stare down, way down, at the naked feed
salesman standing in the middle of the makeshift wrestling ring.
"Uh, I don't know what to say, Karen, but they sort of got me out
here and I didn't even know it until I was awake and then I was in
between those legs and under their, uh, well, it didn't seem real, like
it wasn't really happening, at least not until you got here," Don said
in a pause-free rush, trying to explain something he could not
understand himself, in a manner that would keep the seven-foot tall
middle-aged farm amazon standing in front of him from tearing him
in half and feeding him to the hogs.
He couldn't think of anything else to say and then suddenly
noticed he was standing there, naked, with his hands out to the side.
He also noticed Karen's dark eyes riveted to his focal point, which
was beginning to swell with renewed life, for some reason. His hands
shot down to cover himself up, which prompted the slightest of
smiles to cross Karen's stern lips.
"I understand, Mr. Stenhaus," she said, folding her big arms
across her bigger chest, her nightgown riding up a bit to reveal the
untied workboots she'd hastily thrown on when the commotion from
outside had woken her up. "I told you, my girls sometimes get
carried away. I was young once, too. I guess that's somethin' they
just got from their mother."
"Not to mention their good looks," Don found himself saying as
smoothly as possible.
Karen's eyes softened a bit, and she smiled.
"You're a salesman, all right," she said, turning to hold up the
ropes so he could step through. "But don't forget, I grew up around
bullshit, so I knows what it smells like."
"No, no, really, I mean it," Don tried as he ducked under the
ropes that Karen then let down to step over easily. And he did mean
it. The big woman had spent a lot of years in the sun and rain and
snow and it showed, but it showed sexy, especially in the sensual
glow of the moon, Don suddenly realized.
Karen noticed Don was walking a little gamely, and said "The
girls sure can do a job on a fella, can't they?" as she reached down to
sweep him under one long, insanely strong arm to carry him in the
house.
She easily hoisted him over a shoulder and made her way up
the stairs. Walking past the girls' bedroom, she heard them giggling
and hushed them to get to sleep. And then she kept walking, right
past Don's bedroom, and into her own where she rolled him off her
shoulder and onto her bed. She closed the door behind her.
"Mr. Stenhaus," she began, standing in the frame of the door,
filling it as the moonlight streamed through the window to light her
rugged, pretty face. "Your car is fixed and you don't owe us nothin'.
Come mornin', you can just pack up and leave. My girls'll be sad to
see you go, but that's the way it is. I know you made promises to
them, talkin' about a career in rasslin' and all, and you may have
somethin' there, I don't know. I do know I don't expect to ever see
you again, and I guess that's all right. You got your business to attend
to, we got ours. If the girls never leave the farm, well, that's just the
way it is, and I don't hold you to no dream you may have put in their
heads."
"No, Karen, honestly, I have connections with fight promoters,
and I think this can work," Don said, kneeling up on the bed, his
hands falling away from his dick that he didn't even know he was
stiff again and had been since Karen hoisted him across her shoulder.
"I'll be back, I promise you."
Karen smiled as her gaze drifted south from his imploring eyes.
"Come what may, Mr. Stenhaus, come what may," she said,
slowly peeling her flannel nightgown off her broad shoulders to let it
fall in a crumpled heap around her booted feet, revealing seven feet
of massive, muscled body that the years had treated exceptionally
well despite the rigors of farming.
Don gulped. He watched the muscles tense in her rugged body
as she strode toward the first man that had been in her bed since her
husband died. He lay back as she towered over him, straddling his
little body with her brown, mile-long legs.
"We'll talk about my daughters' future in the mornin'," Karen
breathed huskily, leaning down to Don's disbelieving face as her silky
buttocks brushed his straining cock and skirted his belly as they
traveled up to their final destination of his face. "In the meanwhile,
you up for one last chore?"
He was. And more than once. too.
*******************************************
The girls helped him pack in the morning, as their mother stood
leaning in the doorway in her ratty flannel nightgown, looking as at
peace with herself as she had in years, the girls thought looking back
at her.
They ate breakfast and talked business and when it was time to
go, Don collected a goodbye kiss from each twin as they leaned into
where Don sat behind the wheel of his Escort.
"I'll be back soon, girls, you just let me work my connections
back in the city," he said, gunning the engine which sounded better
than it ever had. "Within a year - hell, maybe six months, you're
gonna see some big changes in your lives, believe me."
He looked beyond them to where Karen stood, the red ball of
the morning sun rising over her brawny shoulder.
"And you, too, my dear," he smiled. "I'm telling you, I'll be
back."
Karen softly smiled and walked to the car.
"Like I said, Mr. Stenhaus, come what may," she said, flipping
his business card between her long, strong fingers. "But if you get my
girls all fired up on what turns out to be nonsense, I'll come lookin'
for you in that big city of yours. And I'll find you. You don't wanna
make me or my girls mad."
She leaned in to give him such a long, lingering kiss that the
girls got to whooping and hollering behind her as she did. Don took a
long breath when she finally broke off and jumped a bit as the girls
slapped the roof of his little car.
"Oh, I'll be back, ladies, you can make book on that," he said to
himself, watching them wave goodbye in his rearview mirror and
sticking his own hand out the window to return the gesture. "I know
a goldmine when I'm caught in one."
He headed the little car out to the road and headed back to the
highway that would return him to Chicago. His mind raced with
possibility until he looked beside him and saw the list of sales calls
he was supposed to make this week.
He laughed as he balled it up in his fist and shoved it happily
out of his open window.
FROM THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS 702-243-7723/8982/9807