Holy shit! I would love to feel a bodyscissors that was as tight as you just described. I really have no ideal how long I could stand it but I’d sure like to find out.
Thank you for this amazing story!
My husband told me to go ahead inside and that he would be right behind so I unlocked the front door and entered our living room. I was shocked to a rather handsome man sitting on our couch looking at his phone and drinking water from one of our cups. Before I could ask him who the hell he was I heard our car start. My husband was driving away leaving me with this stranger.
"He'll be back," the man said, "he's just going to catch a movie."
He stood up and I could see that he wasn't wearing a tank top, it was a wrestling singlet. It was incredibly revealing on him. The light created subtle shadows between his pecs, the shadows revealed sinew lines. It was my singlet, the gold colored one. I liked it because it had more contrast than the darker ones. My eyes migrated down, his serratus was clearly visible as were all eight of his abs and even a little of his obliques. His endowment was just as impressive as the rest of him. At the bottom of the singlet the vertical ripples of his quads showed through the spandex and just below the singlet was evidence that the spandex didn't lie.
Throwing a singlet at me he said, "put this on."
Let's just be clear, when a man like this shows up in your living room and tells you to put on a singlet, you put on the fucking singlet. I started to leave the room to change in privacy and he cut me off, telling me that he wanted to watch.
Depression had seen to it that my once better than decent body was now very average and I felt insignificant next to him but he didn't seem to mind as I changed. He even smiled a bit.
He wasn't a body builder, at least he didn't look it. His body was a lot more built than your average endurance athlete, maybe 30% thicker than Michael Phelps, but he was still intimidating to look at.
"Where are you mats?" he asked.
"Down stairs" I said, more sheepishly than I've ever heard myself.
"Then let's go"
I rolled out the mats and got on my knees, ready to slap and fist bump to start our match but he stopped me.
"That's not why I'm here." He said, "I heard it's your birthday. Your husband wants me to do to you what he knows you want but he's unable to provide."
I could feel my face flush in embarrassment. I didn't like talking about this kink, it's the only one I have which I feel is too weird, too out of the ordinary. I've had my wrist up people's butts, put needles into their skin, electrocuted them, tied them up, all kinds of twisted things and taken almost everything I've ever dished out but this, this kink is just too strange. It's part of why I get depressed, it's so tied up in my deepest desires and I have no outlet and am just so scared to talk about it even within my kinky circle of friends. I even remember how terrified the first time I was when I asked my husband to do it. He obliged but wasn't into it which killed it for me. I felt even a little bit betrayed that he would tell this complete stranger my deepest, darkest secret.
I wanted to yell. I wanted to kick this man out of my house. I wanted to just run away, make it all end but before I even could he had wrapped his legs around me and rolled me onto my back. His legs straightened across my stomach as I attempted a sorry pushup. It wasn't a hard scissor at first but it continued to tighten by the second, slowly more and more intense. The hotness in my cheeks seemed to change at the pressure in my face seemed to go up a little bit.
It didn't stop, those legs just kept getting tighter. I could hear the tendons in his legs pop a little but under the strain but those legs just would not yield. I always thought I had no limit to how much I could take, after all I had crafted many very intense self squeezing techniques over the years, but if I had a limit he was approaching it inch by inch. The worst part was that he was taking so damn long to get there. That slow ramping was consistent like a blood pressure cuff but I had no idea how far it would go.
He found it, he found my tapping point. It was finally too much so I tapped on his leg and he paused for a second at that pressure.
"No" he said and started going deeper into the squeeze.
I began to panic and climbed to my hands and knees, struggling to break his grip but he didn't even loosen. He was squeezing and holding his own weight up and it didn't appear he even noticed. I pushed on the wall and was able to get myself all the way upright on my knees which seemed to make it worse because I could feel his whole weight torqueing me, the angle of his legs on my guts had not changed one bit and I fell over on to my back. He just rolled with me as if nothing happened, still slowly ramping up his cruel squeeze.
My arms began to desperately push on his leg to relieve the pressure but they were like a literal vice, steel plates on my abs, inhumanly solid.
When I said it, it was supposed to be a yell, but what came out was a pitiful wimper. Mind you, I had to have been trapped for at least ten minutes. "Don't you tire?"
He smiled and leaned in to whisper, "no, I don't."
That was true, he didn't tire. It took 15 minutes before I found out roughly just how hard he could squeeze. I was light headed four minutes before I discovered that bit of torture. We had reached the point where he was ready to just torture me. He had already taken me well above my limit and when he loosened up he was still above that limit. Sometimes he pulsed, sometimes he rolled his leg into my diaphragm, sometimes he did little waves, and sometimes he flexed. I wanted out insanely bad but apparently my dick didn't agree. He noticed it, smiled and that's when he decided to show me what real pain was.
It was somewhat sudden but it wasn't another little burst and release. No, it was a clamp and hold. My hands began to slap at his legs and I tried to yell, "tap, tap, tap!" but what came out was just the last bit of air I had left.
Fun little fact, it's easy to take a deep breath and hold it but try holding your breath out sometime.
Yeah, there was more panic. It was like drowning. Terror, thrashing, and then.... I suppose you might call it acceptance... or maybe I was just high. I couldn't tell you, I was way too out of it. I started to tingle everywhere. I didn't seem to have full control of my limbs and that's when he touched me.
Unlike his legs, his hand was gentle on my balls, just rolling them around. He moved my hand onto his own genitals. I had forgotten that he was wearing my favorite singlet. God, I love spandex. I loved the feeling of his hands on me just as much as I loved the feeling of my hand on him. My other hand had come up and began to feel his legs. Even in my high state I could feel every ripple and it was just as nice when my hand went over the leg of the singlet.
I was so drunk. He squeezed my balls and they hurt a bit but I didn't mind. Truth be told, I liked that too. It was almost as if my husband had told him everything. My head was so swimmy now that it was hard to hold up. I became aware that not only did my legs tingle, they were getting a little cold.
He gave me another long full powered squeeze but this one wasn't as bad as the last. I liked it. I could feel the pressure growing in my groin. It reminded me of the feeling just before my first orgasm. My eyes rolled back and honestly, I couldn't tell you if I blacked out for a moment or not. He crushed my balls hard to bring me back though, well, as back as I could be at that point.
I could feel that I was barely hanging on to consciousness and it would appear that's exactly where he wanted me. He was like a cat playing with a mouse before it ate it. I would start to go out and he would wake me by crushing my balls.
Later on I would be washing the cum off my stomach but I really don't remember having an orgasm or feeling wet till after we were done. Maybe it was that first time I started to go out, I have no idea. I actually really don't care that much. No orgasm could compare to this.
I lost track of time but eventually he did let me go and just lay there with me. Holding me in his beautiful arms and stroking my hair. I don't remember ever being so tired and yet so comfortable, so fulfilled. It was the best birthday present I ever got.
Liao51 (0)
8/03/2019 4:21 AMHoly shit! I would love to feel a bodyscissors that was as tight as you just described. I really have no ideal how long I could stand it but I’d sure like to find out.
Thank you for this amazing story!
ChrisWrestling (43 )
8/03/2019 3:14 AMThis is a work of fiction, anyone care to change that?
ChrisWrestling (43 )
8/03/2019 3:12 AMMy husband told me to go ahead inside and that he would be right behind so I unlocked the front door and entered our living room. I was shocked to a rather handsome man sitting on our couch looking at his phone and drinking water from one of our cups. Before I could ask him who the hell he was I heard our car start. My husband was driving away leaving me with this stranger.
"He'll be back," the man said, "he's just going to catch a movie."
He stood up and I could see that he wasn't wearing a tank top, it was a wrestling singlet. It was incredibly revealing on him. The light created subtle shadows between his pecs, the shadows revealed sinew lines. It was my singlet, the gold colored one. I liked it because it had more contrast than the darker ones. My eyes migrated down, his serratus was clearly visible as were all eight of his abs and even a little of his obliques. His endowment was just as impressive as the rest of him. At the bottom of the singlet the vertical ripples of his quads showed through the spandex and just below the singlet was evidence that the spandex didn't lie.
Throwing a singlet at me he said, "put this on."
Let's just be clear, when a man like this shows up in your living room and tells you to put on a singlet, you put on the fucking singlet. I started to leave the room to change in privacy and he cut me off, telling me that he wanted to watch.
Depression had seen to it that my once better than decent body was now very average and I felt insignificant next to him but he didn't seem to mind as I changed. He even smiled a bit.
He wasn't a body builder, at least he didn't look it. His body was a lot more built than your average endurance athlete, maybe 30% thicker than Michael Phelps, but he was still intimidating to look at.
"Where are you mats?" he asked.
"Down stairs" I said, more sheepishly than I've ever heard myself.
"Then let's go"
I rolled out the mats and got on my knees, ready to slap and fist bump to start our match but he stopped me.
"That's not why I'm here." He said, "I heard it's your birthday. Your husband wants me to do to you what he knows you want but he's unable to provide."
I could feel my face flush in embarrassment. I didn't like talking about this kink, it's the only one I have which I feel is too weird, too out of the ordinary. I've had my wrist up people's butts, put needles into their skin, electrocuted them, tied them up, all kinds of twisted things and taken almost everything I've ever dished out but this, this kink is just too strange. It's part of why I get depressed, it's so tied up in my deepest desires and I have no outlet and am just so scared to talk about it even within my kinky circle of friends. I even remember how terrified the first time I was when I asked my husband to do it. He obliged but wasn't into it which killed it for me. I felt even a little bit betrayed that he would tell this complete stranger my deepest, darkest secret.
I wanted to yell. I wanted to kick this man out of my house. I wanted to just run away, make it all end but before I even could he had wrapped his legs around me and rolled me onto my back. His legs straightened across my stomach as I attempted a sorry pushup. It wasn't a hard scissor at first but it continued to tighten by the second, slowly more and more intense. The hotness in my cheeks seemed to change at the pressure in my face seemed to go up a little bit.
It didn't stop, those legs just kept getting tighter. I could hear the tendons in his legs pop a little but under the strain but those legs just would not yield. I always thought I had no limit to how much I could take, after all I had crafted many very intense self squeezing techniques over the years, but if I had a limit he was approaching it inch by inch. The worst part was that he was taking so damn long to get there. That slow ramping was consistent like a blood pressure cuff but I had no idea how far it would go.
He found it, he found my tapping point. It was finally too much so I tapped on his leg and he paused for a second at that pressure.
"No" he said and started going deeper into the squeeze.
I began to panic and climbed to my hands and knees, struggling to break his grip but he didn't even loosen. He was squeezing and holding his own weight up and it didn't appear he even noticed. I pushed on the wall and was able to get myself all the way upright on my knees which seemed to make it worse because I could feel his whole weight torqueing me, the angle of his legs on my guts had not changed one bit and I fell over on to my back. He just rolled with me as if nothing happened, still slowly ramping up his cruel squeeze.
My arms began to desperately push on his leg to relieve the pressure but they were like a literal vice, steel plates on my abs, inhumanly solid.
When I said it, it was supposed to be a yell, but what came out was a pitiful wimper. Mind you, I had to have been trapped for at least ten minutes. "Don't you tire?"
He smiled and leaned in to whisper, "no, I don't."
That was true, he didn't tire. It took 15 minutes before I found out roughly just how hard he could squeeze. I was light headed four minutes before I discovered that bit of torture. We had reached the point where he was ready to just torture me. He had already taken me well above my limit and when he loosened up he was still above that limit. Sometimes he pulsed, sometimes he rolled his leg into my diaphragm, sometimes he did little waves, and sometimes he flexed. I wanted out insanely bad but apparently my dick didn't agree. He noticed it, smiled and that's when he decided to show me what real pain was.
It was somewhat sudden but it wasn't another little burst and release. No, it was a clamp and hold. My hands began to slap at his legs and I tried to yell, "tap, tap, tap!" but what came out was just the last bit of air I had left.
Fun little fact, it's easy to take a deep breath and hold it but try holding your breath out sometime.
Yeah, there was more panic. It was like drowning. Terror, thrashing, and then.... I suppose you might call it acceptance... or maybe I was just high. I couldn't tell you, I was way too out of it. I started to tingle everywhere. I didn't seem to have full control of my limbs and that's when he touched me.
Unlike his legs, his hand was gentle on my balls, just rolling them around. He moved my hand onto his own genitals. I had forgotten that he was wearing my favorite singlet. God, I love spandex. I loved the feeling of his hands on me just as much as I loved the feeling of my hand on him. My other hand had come up and began to feel his legs. Even in my high state I could feel every ripple and it was just as nice when my hand went over the leg of the singlet.
I was so drunk. He squeezed my balls and they hurt a bit but I didn't mind. Truth be told, I liked that too. It was almost as if my husband had told him everything. My head was so swimmy now that it was hard to hold up. I became aware that not only did my legs tingle, they were getting a little cold.
He gave me another long full powered squeeze but this one wasn't as bad as the last. I liked it. I could feel the pressure growing in my groin. It reminded me of the feeling just before my first orgasm. My eyes rolled back and honestly, I couldn't tell you if I blacked out for a moment or not. He crushed my balls hard to bring me back though, well, as back as I could be at that point.
I could feel that I was barely hanging on to consciousness and it would appear that's exactly where he wanted me. He was like a cat playing with a mouse before it ate it. I would start to go out and he would wake me by crushing my balls.
Later on I would be washing the cum off my stomach but I really don't remember having an orgasm or feeling wet till after we were done. Maybe it was that first time I started to go out, I have no idea. I actually really don't care that much. No orgasm could compare to this.
I lost track of time but eventually he did let me go and just lay there with me. Holding me in his beautiful arms and stroking my hair. I don't remember ever being so tired and yet so comfortable, so fulfilled. It was the best birthday present I ever got.