Whose thigh is it anyway? 
By barbunny3111@yahoo.com
A girl's muscular thighs play a decisive, deadly role in The Crussian Roulette Squeeze


Comments, feedback and criticism will be gladly appreciated:
barbunny3111@yahoo.com

She silently approached the couch. He was sleeping on it, flat on his back,
his shoulders are peacefully leaning on the armrest in a way that made his
head hover in the air alongside the couch. Nicole made every effort not to
wake him up. Not yet. She got closer to Bill, her enormous thighs trying not
to make too much noise as their inner muscles brush against each other, only
not to disturb his siesta.

It was a tough day for Nicole. They have made a pretty fierce film today. Her
huge thighs had a lot of training on tom's head, while she squeezed his
cowardly head from every possible angle. They called the film 'Squeeze and the
City'. Well, it was tom's idea to name the movie that way, and his head paid
for his mistake big time. Or, more accurately, big thigh. They played her most
favored game, hide-and-seek. She was resting on a chair, her vast thighs were
raised up in the air to both sides of his head while he was sitting on the
floor underneath her legs. Whenever he was resting his head backwards, she
simply closed her bulky thighs together on his insubstantial head, her calves
getting close to one another in front of his frightened eyes, and the sheer
mass of her thighs evidently was causing his head to disappear in between them
without even having to cross her ankles. It was like magic. When Nicole's
thighs were separated, his head was unquestionably leaning on her crotch for
everybody to see, but when her egotistic thighs began to constrict the space
between them, his male head began to be molded by the thighs that confined his
skull. He called it magic time. Every time the back of his head made a
touchdown on her crotch, her thighs took it a squeeze further with their
power. Well, after several head evaporations, she thought they'd better call
it hide-and-squeeze. Every time her arrogant thighs hid his head in between
them, she ingenuously started to squeeze with her thighs, massaging the sides
of his head, her legs parallel to the ground. She raised her right thigh a
bit, bringing it over her left thigh, his head is inadvertently resting in
between, all the while keeping the pressure on and making his prone head to
lean to the left. Then, after a few good old shakes, she brought her right
thighs back down, lifting her left thigh on top of the right one, causing his
head, with the rest of his upper body, to lean to the right, to her thighs'
complete satisfucktion. The amazing sounds of cervical suction, to cite tom's
own definition afterwards, were 'breath-taking' quote unquote, or rather
squeeze unsqueeze.

Nicole came closer to Bill, her manager. His head was almost domesticated by
her demanding thighs by now. She recalled how on the first day she entered his
studio, he tried to talk her out of there, why does she have to get involved
with such a troublesome business? She was too beautiful and soft for the part
he sought on the Dallas Morning News classifieds. Her blue eyes, black hair
and delicate face were much too tender for the job. Until she slowly lifted
her long skirt up her huge legs. An inch at a time, his eyes couldn't believe
what was the obvious. She wasn't only powerfully qualified for the job. She
WAS the job. She wore no panties, gradually exposing her small bush for him.
After all, a head in the thigh is worth two in the bush. Nicole remembered how
his eyes widened in consternation when he saw the enormity of her thighs, how
she wanted to point at her proud thighs with her finger, but then she decided
it wasn't necessary. Why do people point at their wrists when they ask what
time it is? She thought to herself. I know where my watch is! Do I really have
to point at my thighs now, when I see this Bill staring at them, not able to
digest the simple, obvious fact that they could digest his whole body if they
only wanted to? She came now right next to his head. Facing the couch, Nicole
parted her thighs, placed them to each side of his slumberous face in a way
that made Bill's nose rest confidently a mere two inches from her crotch, and
smiled.

The whole filming season wasn't easy for Nicole's thighs. Both she and Bill
felt how they enormously grow after every movie, when his head was plainly put
in between her thighs, able to feel and experience the pressure the latest
victim had to endure. But, as careful as her hazardous thighs tried to be,
there were also tragic, unavoidable accidents. It goes without squeezing that
you cross that bridge only when you come to it. In the recently
thighs-deceased Jeff's case, she has crossed those ankles when her crotch has
come, powerfully. It was Jeff's enlightenment to call the film 'Whose thigh is
it anyway?' The main squeezenario of the game was played by Nicole and three
of her squeezemates. Jeff was positioned in the middle of the studio, on a
revolving apparatus, he was on his knees, his head is tilted forward in
anticipation. Nicole wanted to name the piece 'The Crussian Roulette Squeeze',
knowing the crucial decision the four squeezettes took, to go hard on his head
this time with their eight thighs, was literally Putin his life in danger. But
eventually she accepted Jeff's request to call the film 'Whose thigh is it
anyway?' After all, it might be his last request. He has made his bed, now he
should be squeezed in it. He put the cover on his eyes, and spun the Crussian
Roulette gadget, as he was preparing himself for the worst, while in the same
time hoping for the worst, too. The four of them were lying on their back on
the wall-to-wall carpet in the studio, their eight legs extended high in the
air, not obstructing the course of the Roulette, in suspense of the squeeze to
come.

First was Brenda. Jeff's head was pausing right in front of her thighs after
the spinning, and they wasted no time in responding to the opportunity. They
immediately encircled the hapless head that was in their vicinity, and
squeezed. He put his hands on the broad thighs that were insatiably guzzling
his gullet down, and inspected their muscles in order to try and guess whose
thigh is it. Anyway. If he got the thighs' owner accurately, she should have
unclamped her thighs off his head, and spin the Roulette again. But, if the
unfortunate-for-head occasion occurs, and he incorrectly identifies the
thighs, she is powerfully empowered to crush his already-in-place head to the
thighs' fullest, and he loses the right to sue her in the event that something
bad happens. Well, something bad happened. Jeff was so sure that he would be
able to recognize the crushing thighs, that he agreed to participate. It was
Emma, another squeezette, who started laughing while his head was locked up in
Brenda's thighs. It changed the odds to one out of three, Nicole recalled. It
never stopped to amaze her. Why is it that when you're driving and looking for
an address, you turn down the volume on the radio, and while he was squeezed,
looking for the thighs, Emma could not control herself? Well, Jeff found out
it was Brenda quite easily.

Next, his head stopped adjacent to Emma's thighs, which were probably the
biggest of the four of them, though not the most muscular. That title was
unquestionably Nicole's. Emma simply brought her huge thighs forward to both
sides of his poor head, and started to close them inwards together, shrouding
his whole head in the vise without even squeezing. You could see how terrified
he was by the way his hands were tumultuously fumbling Emma's thighs. It
looked like he was afraid for his life, groping her overflowing thighs from
all sides, knowing well that his best shot to get free and stay alive was not
to try to prise them apart, but rather to guess whose they were. The simple
reality was that the longer he tried to identithigh whose thigh is it, the
more likely it was that the very same thighs will put him out, rendering him
unable to name the thighs, and thus, or rather thughs, proceeding to the
sexecution. The minute he passes out, it becomes passing away, cause the
thighs don't know, or rather don't care why he hadn't name the owner. They
simply keep on squeezing till they touch each other, a head between them or
not. Fortunately for him, he silently uttered 'Emma', causing her to
wholethighedly open her thighs. Emma looked at the spiritless head that was
still resting in between her thighs, expecting him to pull his head right away
from the perilous, unsafe spot, not understanding why his face just laid
there, though he obviously was still alive. It never stopped to amaze Nicole.
Why do we look in our handkerchiefs after blowing our nose? What do we expect
to see there? Well, the vision that was recuperating between Emma's parted
thighs, looked much like a used thighkerchief.

Nicole couldn't comprehend how come Jeff could tell the thighs' owner in the
subsequent squeezes, and then, all of a sudden, she realized that he was
somehow gauging the distance in every spin, and hence knowing the thighs.
Well, Nicole thought to herself while the Crussian Roulette spun again, her
mountainous thighs aching for a squeezed head between them, if Mohammed will
not come to the mountain then the mountainous thighs will go to Jeff's head
and address the issue, in addition to addressing his head. Jeanie might be out
of the bottle, but his head is absolutely not going to get out of her thighs,
or out of the deathlock, so to squeeze. So when his head came close to her
thighs during the next spin, her left thigh reached out for his head, stopping
his spin, and preventing him from going further. Then she simply brought her
right thigh, together with her right to squeeze, and encircled his head, her
force-to-be-reckoned-with thighs enveloping his skull and it wasn't CNN's
'meet the press anymore', it was meet the pressure. She has felt a strange
feeling of ending, of expiration, someone is gonna die here, and it surely
wasn't going to be her. Her immense thighs were crushing what's in between
them like there was no yesterday, building up to a crushcendo, and squeezing
the poor male that was about to be sacrithighced on the female panthigheon.
She looked at her thighs, and saw how attractive and lovely they were, even
sterile, the head that was squeezed between them notwithstanding. She
remembered thinking 'why do they sterilize needles for lethal injections?'
while her lethal thighs prepared themselves for the absolute outcome, or more
accurately, betweencome. She kept on saying to herself 'where there's a
squeeze there's a pay', and the main component on his body that's going to
pay, is his head. No strings attached. Well, there were definitely thighs
attached. To his head.

Nicole recalled how she kept the pressure on, her terrible thighs relentlessly
kneading the damaged head between them, his hands helplessly trying to disjoin
the thighs, thinking 'why don't those horrible thighs sue my head in a normal,
regular court of law? Does my head not deserve a common, ordinary trial? Why
instead my head gets charged in a court of thighs?'

The thighs slowly started to cut through his gullet, intensithighing the
awesome pressure in a way that put his inconsiderable head on the cutting
edge. Or, on a second squeeze, on the cutting thighs. She felt so good, her
commodious thighs squeezing the victim that was lying facedown between them,
crushing him from the living to only-thighs-know-where, when all of a sudden
it began. The squeezematic shuddering started to overwhelm her thighs, there
were seismic waves, like the vibrations from earthquakes that travel through
the earth, the thighs-applied pressure traveled through his mutilated head as
if it ranked 9 on the Richter magnitude scale. In the few seconds that Nicole
sensed he had left before her thighs finish him off, she brought her thighs
closer to her torso, accompanied by the male head that was trapped in between
them. She raised her own head, her arms resting on her nape in a way that
exhibited both of her huge biceps authoritatively for the world to admire.
Their heads were a few inches apart, his is still stuck in between her
prodigious thighs. Nicole looked at him, smiling into his contorted face,
saying "oh darling, I love you so much. Well, not because you're so great, but
because of the three different kinds of thrills my robust thighs get when they
enjoy a soon-to-be-defunct male ensnared in between'em. One" Nicole said,
wrenching her monstrous thighs back to their upward, overhead starting
position, and crossing, for the first time, her ankles above his head. She
smiled at him while simply starting to squeeze the life out of him, heels over
head, then pulling his head back with her thighs to where her face was
adjacent, her arms still flexing behind her head. "Is the squeezesational
impression my miraculous thighs make on your compressed face, while they press
it to their fullest advantage. I hope you can still feel the mounting pressure
they generate. Well, can you, Jeff?. Two" Nicole again pushed her massive
thighs backwards together with their imprisoned head, beginning to straighten
her legs, causing his inferior head to lose space, distributing his mangled
face into a different, smaller configuration than it used to be. She kept the
pressure on, molesting his traumatized face from all sides, when abruptly she
convinced his brainsqueezed head to come closer by simply yanking her inflated
thighs next to her face, saying "is the sincere fact that we're making a film
now. I want you, Jeffry, to look straight at the camera, yea, like that. You
know they always say cheese when they take pictures. Well, when my big-hearted
thighs take heads, in between them, they usually say squeeze. And three"
Nicole said, bringing her murderous thighs once more to the starting position,
up an squeezing, his abject head has no choice but to follow the thighic
movements. She began doing circular, revolving motions with her thighs,
jerking his excruciatingly suffering head from side to side while dungeoning
it in the center of the awesome thighish pressure. Nicole then lurched her
thighs back to where her pretty face was, smiling at him, saying "you have
seen the death film we did last year, Jeff, haven't you? It was called
'squeeze and let die'. The fine line between my imperious thighs, the very
same line your head is comfortably nestled in now, was brilliantly called 'The
Deadline' by the latest victim. To think that the best ideas those casualties
can come up with, are made while my inspiration-provoking,
concussion-producing thighs are squeezin'em. It's amazing. He used to call it
concrushion. Jeff? Jeff?"

Nicole suddenly realized she was daydreaming those past films, while Bill was
still asleep on the couch between her thighs. And then, the astonishing,
unimaginable happened. Her gargantuan thighs made the instinctive, startling
move all by themselves, closing...

End of part one. Part two is in the squeezing. Fans should help molding it, in
addition to molding Bill's face. Custom-made stories are available at
barbunny3111@yahoo.com just tell me what you like, and I'll tailor a story.