Attitude adjustments from aunt joan  pt1. getting to know joan 
By gregnick1@hotmail.com
A woman recalls how her older sister went from bullying schoolgirl to man-beating teen.


Sandy hadn't seen her sister Joan in years. And, although they corresponded
from time to time through letters, and more recently through e-mail, it had
been some time since Sandy had seen her older sister in person. Joan was what
you would call a free spirit. Not anchored by jobs or tied down by permanent
relationships, she roamed the country lapping up experiences that most people
could only dream of.

One day she was touring the country with a motorcycle gang, the next she was
growing an herbal garden with a band of hippies in southern California. And
although Joan lived a very carefree life, there was one thing she was adamant
about, and that was taking care of herself, mentally and physically. She ate
strictly organic foods and was deeply passionate about things like yoga,
meditation and, most importantly, her martial arts.

As passionate as she was about taking care of herself, Sandy also knew that
Joan cared deeply for her and would do anything to help her. And, boy did she
need help now. A few years ago, Sandy made the mistake of remarrying. The guy
moved in with his then 14yo son and proceeded to make life a living hell for
Sandy and her daughter Jenny who was 11 at the time. Luckily the creep left,
but in true bastard form, he vanished leaving his son in Sandy's custody.
Well, like father like son, so the saying goes. Josh was every bit as cruel
and combative as his father. Being dumped by his old man didn't help his
attitude either. And although Sandy tried to be nurturing and supportive Josh
would lash out at her every chance he got. He also was unmerciful with Jenny,
teasing, taunting and relentlessly bullying her. Sandy was unable to defend
herself or her daughter, that's when she decided to call Joan

You see Joan had a certain "flair" for dealing with bullies. She always had.
Even as a child Joan was always standing up to bullies, often times turning
the tables and becoming the bully herself. While Sandy quietly hid in the
background, Joan was always eager to strut her stuff. Aggressive, strong and
athletic she seemed to especially enjoy taking boys to task, and in the poor
areas of rural West Virginia there was plenty of cock-sure boys, plenty of
secluded spaces and plenty of time to kill.

As a young girl Joan "hunted" in the fields, backyards and parking lots of
their rural town, challenging boys on the spot or leading them to secluded
places to fight. They had no idea what they were getting into. And, although
she had no formal training, she instinctually fought like a schooled grappler.
She used her strong legs to wrap up her victims often times inventing arm
locks and choke holds on the spot. "This is a cool one!" she would be heard
saying to her fiends as she had some poor guy wrapped up in her legs while
bending a wrist or a finger. It was always the same, they would come in
flailing like mad and Joan would end up getting them on the ground and
catching them in between her thighs. She would hold them there for long
periods of time, taunting and teasing them watching their faces turning beat
red in pain and humiliation. I remember hearing her saddle shoes squeak
together as she would tighten her feet and power her legs followed by the
equally high pitched squeal of a trapped young boy.

"I'm not letting this one go until I see tears," she would say to her friends.

Or, "I don't have to be home until the street lights turn on, so it looks like
you'll be here for a while!"

Of course the boys would freak, waste even more energy and end up exhausted,
trapped and in tears. One time, she caught a kid picking on me. She wiped the
floor with him after school, using hold after hold, then stripped her sweaty
sock and put in his mouth. She made him carry our books and walk behind us all
the way home with her sock in his mouth. Tears and snot were streaming down
his face. All the other kids were falling off their bikes in laughter. I was
mortified, but Joan set out through the neighborhood like a proud peacock,
taking an extra long time to get home. When we finally got to our house Joan
casually kicked him in the groin causing him to immediately expel the sock.
Then, she did something I'll never forget. She strolled right up to his
kneeling form, put her hands on her hips and jutted them out. With a sadistic
smile she raised her skirt, exposing the edge of her cotton panties and said,

"If you ever pick on my sister again, I'll make you carry something ELSE home
in your mouth. You got it!?"

The bug-eyed kid tore out of there like lightening. It was then that I knew
that this was something more for Joan, something deeply gratifying and
insatiable. I never asked questions and I was happy that in all other aspects
of our lives Joan was just like any other over-protective big sister.

By the time she got to high school Joan was taking martial arts classes for
real. And, although it cost my parents a bit, and it was far out of the way,
Joan was a fanatic. She grew even stronger and more lethal. It was also then,
that Joan started to be more carefree with the erotic feelings that
accompanied her zeal for combat, and I began to see glimpses of it more often.

For instance, she started straddling her victims now as a way to finish them
off, or as she called it "schoolgirl pinning". Now that she could incapacitate
a young man fairly easily, she didn't have to clamp down on them to hold them
in place. She could easily exhaust them, put them on their backs and straddle
their chests. She would secure their arms in the crooks of her knees leaving
her hands free to do what she wanted; tweak their noses, cover their mouths,
make them eat a little grass or, most humiliating of all, do nothing! She
would casually apply make-up or primp her hair as if she were waiting at a bus
stop. All the while leaving the poor guy clamped between her thighs. She once
carried on a whole study session with one of her girlfriends while trapping a
guy in a high straddle. Of course they giggled the whole time, put make-up on
his face and ended up making him do their homework.

Eventually she started "riding high" as she called it; sliding higher to sit
on a poor bastard's neck, stuffing his chin against her crotch and forcing his
head back. This was the ultimate pin. Hands on hips, she would lightly pump
the guy's throat with her crotch forcing grunts and squeals from his trapped
face. "How's that feel?" she would coo, getting only a gurgled reply. She was
taking to wearing short shorts and high skirts that exposed her strong legs
and sightings on "her perch" became more and more common. So common that she
had to go outside of our little town to find willing participants. I had heard
a story about how she crashed a party in a neighboring town and took a
well-known loudmouth down in the backyard. She spent the remainder of the
night sitting on him with her sundress covering his face. She'd pull back the
dress every so often to poor a beer on his face then cover him right back up.
All the while, curious girls would fetch her drinks and ask her questions.
Once and a while Joan would pull back the hem of her dress so the girls could
tease the hapless guy.

"Hey Steve, having a good time at the party? How's the view?" they would say
mischievously.

Joan would reach between her thighs and lightly tap his cheek

"I guess he doesn't feel like talking right now, girls" she would reply.

"Ok, bye Steve. See you later." The girls would wave to him as Joan slowly
lowered her skirt to cover up his pleading eyes.

When the party was over, she knocked him out in a scissor hold and mockingly
wrote her name and number on his forehead in lipstick. He never called but a
bunch of the girls did asking for "pointers".

I felt bad for some of the guys. How humiliating it must have been. She pinned
me once for fun, and it was really no fun at all. She had on a skirt and I
could feel the warmth of her crotch as it choked my neck. My arms were trapped
and I remembered her clamping her thighs around my ears making me deaf to the
world. As I looked up at her beaming face I thought, "Wow, this is how it
feels for these guys? It must be so emasculating." She put me down for only a
minute. I could only imagine what it would be like to be trapped down there
for an hour in some deserted wooded path. The sun is setting and, even if
you're throat weren't being compressed; no one would hear you scream if you
could. Your arms have gone numb and she's staring down at you with a half
smirk and no sign of letting you up.

I often wondered if she had everÉ? The temptation would be too great. Just to
move up and settle down. Heck, even I thought about it from a bystander's
perspective. I mean you've got the guy there at your mercy, why not? That
wasn't me at all, but it was Joan, as I soon found out.

We were all milling around in our basement one summer; few of my nerdy
friends, my younger brother, who was luckily far too young for Joan to bother
with, and a loser distant cousin of mine Chad who had recently been kicked out
of the army. Chad had developed the annoying habit of milling around our
house, eating our food and being a general pest. Our parents pretty much left
us to fend for ourselves in the summer, so there was no real "supervision".
Chad was being particularly caustic to my friends that day and saying
inappropriate things in front of my little brother. I asked him to stop a few
times but he talked right over my mousey voice. I think he was a little
stewed. The situation seemed hopeless when I suddenly heard the side- door
open. "Yes!", I thought. "Perfect timing."

Being a "brains over brawns" kinda girl, I slyly called out hello to Joan. My
plan worked and Joan started to descend the stairs. She had been working out
and was dressed in a tight pair of track shorts, sneakers and a cut off t. She
was flushed with perspiration and toweling herself off. Chad instantly took
notice.

"Hey Cousin," he said. "Long time no see. You've done some growing."

"Yeah, what's that supposed to meanÉCharles, is it?" she said unimpressed.

"It's Chad," he replied. "And it means you look good. Come on can't you take a
compliment?"

Even though he was an immature jerk, Chad was pretty good looking which is
probably why my friends and I endured his presence a little longer than we
should have.

"Thanks Chad. Now, I think you better take off. It's obvious you've been
drinking and I don't want ya down here with my kid sister and brother."

"Hold on," he said standing up a bit woozily. "I'm family, and your parents
said I could mi casa, su casa any time I wanted."

"You're barely family, and I'm telling you out. Now beat it," my sister
responded coldly.

"No, I'm sorry. I'll just stay and be quiet," Chad said, suddenly switching to
nice guy tactics.

Joan was peeved and everyone knew what was going to happen next. My younger
brother bolted. He really didn't like seeing this kind of thing go down. My
friends and I stayed and sort of curled up on the couch.

Joan strode confidently up to Chad and out of nowhere buried a fist into his
solar plexus. Chad doubled over putting a steadying hand on Joan's shoulder.
She wasted no time in seizing it and twisting it painfully, forcing him down
to his knees. Joan further twisted the arm and stepped over at catching the
elbow between her legs. She pulled up on the arm and used her crotch as a
leverage point. She was now standing to the side of Chad facing away from him
with her ass basically at his ear and his arm bent up at a painful angle. She
held the arm up with one hand and put her other hand on her hip.

"Are you gonna leave?" She demanded.

"Make him kiss your ass, first!" I blurted out of nowhere. I had no idea where
that came from, or what had come over me. Joan rolled her eyes at me. She was
obviously tired and wanted to get this over with, take a shower and relax.

"F-f-fuck you, Bitch," Chad stammered.

"Wrong answer," replied Joan and bent her knee shooting the heel of her shoe
up into his throat. She gave him three lightning kicks.

"Gack, Gack, Gack!" went Chad and collapsed face down in a heap at her heals.
Joan knelt down next to him and pulled his head up by the hair.

"I asked you politely to leave and you didn't. Now, you CAN'T leave can you?"

"Oh boy, He was in for it now. He could be in for a marathon session down here
in the basement," I thought.

Joan straddled his head facing his feet. She slid forward, shot her legs back
and scooped up Chad's head to fit it snugly between her thighs. She propped
herself up on her hands and arched her back. The back of Chad's head was
crammed against her ass it was being lifted up and back. Wow, her thighs were
strong! Her shorts had slid up her hips even further and she was glowing in
perspiration. Beads of sweat started to roll off of her stomach and chest and
plop down on the back of Chad's shirt.

My friends and I sat wordlessly. It was all happening right there in front of
us, like our own private show, and for the first time I got it. It was so
sensual; the position of the bodies, the show of power, the control. In
forcing guys between her legs, Joan was using the essence of her womanhood to
trap and dominate them. Of course, it took me some time to articulate those
feeling. All I knew now was that I felt a little tingly.

Joan was now rhythmically pumping her thighs slowly sending Chad into
dreamland. We could hear her breathing now as she bit her lower lip and looked
back over her shoulder to survey her handy work. Chad's hands had slipped from
Joan's upper thighs and gone slack against the floor. Still Joan held him
there gradually slowing down her tensing legs until they were just pulsing
around his head. It reminded me of the boa and the mouse we had in our science
lab. She loosened her thighs and let Chad's head thud to the floor face first.
She sat back up and perched herself on the back of her head.

"Throw me my towel," she said to one of my friends.

She sat back and wiped her self off as if she had just done a few reps on the
leg machine at the gym.

"Ok guys, show's over. Sandy, why don't you take your friends up to your
room."

None of us moved. I was devastated. Just when I was getting into it, Joan was
pulling the plug on me. After all those years of sitting dutifully in a patch
of grass or on a tree stump while Joan finished torturing some poor guy, she
was kicking me out now.

"Come on, let's go," She said shooing us away, "I'll take care of him."

We reluctantly got off the couch and headed upstairs. When we got to the top,
I had an idea.

"Why don't you guys just go. I should stick around while we clean up this
Ôfamily' matter. I'll call you later."

The girls strode off and when I was sure they were gone I ducked behind a bush
next to the house. Behind it was a basement window with a half drawn curtain.
It was a little uncomfortable, but I managed to squeeze in and stay well
hidden as I peered through a crack in the curtain.

I had a perfect view of Joan and the comatose Chad. Joan had stood up and was
wiping her legs off. When she was done, she bent down and flipped Steve over
on to his back. She stood astride him for a bit, contemplating his sleeping
form. Then, as if performing a dance for an absent audience, she slowly
stripped down her shorts to reveal sopping wet, skin-tight panties. I covered
my mouth to stifle a gasp.

Chad was starting to come to and he meekly put up his hands in some sort of
half-assed defense. Joan stepped up toward his head and brushed them aside
like gnats. His arms fell to the ground and Joan slowly descended on him. "The
schoolgirl pin!" I thought. Though I had seen it performed a hundred times
there was something different about this one. My voyeurism for one thing and
the fact that Joan had gone out of her way to strip down, something she never
would have done in public.

She expertly settled into position, hooking his arms in the crooks of her legs
and sliding her mound under his chin. She tied back her hair and put her hands
on her hips. The classic pin. She was mouthing a few words to him, ones that I
couldn't hear. I'm sure it was a one-sided conversation though, as I didn't
see Chad responding. At one point she shook her index finger at his nose like
a mother lecturing a small child. She emphasized her point buy pumping her
hips and plastering Chad's head to the floor.

Then she did it. After all these years. I knew it! Joan shifted forward and
planted herself right over Chad's nose and mouth. I could here him let out a
muffled cry. She was actually doing it, sitting on his face! A big smile
settled across Joan's face. She planted herself there for a bit with her hands
resting on her thighs every so often lifting up an inch to give Chad some air.
She toyed with him a while, sitting and lifting. She threw her head back and
sighed deeply every time she plopped back down on him. After awhile she
wiggled in tighter and started to slide back and fourth. It didn't take a
genius to figure out what she was doing. Her grinding became more rapid as she
squeezed her thighs. Her hands drifted up under her shirt and cupped her
breasts. Her humping had become furious now and I could here poor Chad's head
bouncing off the carpeted floor. Suddenly, she threw her head back and let out
a cry, and for the first time I saw her hard exterior soften. She slumped down
with her eyes closed and spasmed with aftershock. She closed her eyes and
regained her breath as she lightly caressed Chad's face with her panty-covered
vagina. Someone could mistake it for a tender moment had they not seen the way
she had savaged him a moment ago.

Then, as if suddenly remembering a cake she had in the oven, she snapped out
of it and looked down at Chad. She released the grip of her thighs and slid
back to his chest. It looked like Chady-Boy was out again. She lightly tapped
him on the cheek and giggled when he started to come to.

She happily sprung up to her feet. As Chad began to muster, Joan quickly undid
her tennis shoes and threw off her socks. She vaulted over to retrieve her
shorts, put them on and skipped back to Chad just as he was starting to sit
up. With a foot to the chest she pressed him back down to the basement floor.
Joan stood over him with her foot on his chest smiling. She said something to
Chad that I couldn't make out, but I quickly inferred it's meaning when I saw
Joan put her foot over his face. He reluctantly started to kiss the bottom. He
tried turning his head, but Joan playfully tapped his cheek with her soles.

"Come on!" I heard her sing out sweetly. "Come on! You're not going anywhere
until you do!" she chirped. She switched to the other foot and Chad dutifully
slobbered it with kisses.

Joan laughed joyously then bent down to take his hand. Chad slowly got up and
they started to head up stairs. Being kinda trapped, I hunkered down further
in the bushes and tried to stay absolutely quiet. They headed out the side
door and I saw that Joan wasn't actually holding his hand. She had a painful
wristlock on him and was leading him to the driveway with a big smile. I
listened in and caught the tail end of what Joan was saying.

"Éyou were great! Come on, can't you take a compliment?" she said mockingly,
staring right at Chad who had his head bent to the ground.

Chad just grunted and wiped his face which was completely slicked over with
Joan's juices. Joan released the hold and sent Chad packing with a little kick
to the rear. He stumbled down the driveway while Joan stood with hands on hips
watching him go. For the rest of the day she was in a great mood, cheerily
cooking dinner for my brother and I and chatting up a storm. My brother was
clueless, but I couldn't get those images out of my head.

As I sat reflecting in my kitchen twenty years later, I wondered if that had
been Joan's first time or tenth time. Who knows? The years went on and she set
out to explore and I wondered how many broken men she had left in her wake.
God, they're might be a hundred guys out there who have suffered the same
fate. Some, perhaps, enjoying it.

Anyway, back to business. Joan was on her way to help her yet again. Sandy
thought about something Joan had said when she explained her situation to on
the phone. She said, "He's how old? Sure, it sounds fun. It will make me feel
like a girl again." Imagining what Joan had in mind, Sandy wondered if she
made the right decision. Quickly she dismissed it. It was time this kid
learned a lesson. Just then a taxi pulled up in the drivewayÉ

To be continued.