HAPPY VALENTINES DAY EVERYONE
Monday, February 13, 2006
Thursday, February 9, 2006
Wednesday, February 8, 2006
Super Trish strikes yet again
This story was contributed by a very, very sexy individual. You know who you are (*wink*)
Please bare in mind that this is just a naughty fiction. The events and characters are not real and it is not my or the authors intention if there is any coincidence in real life (Woah!)
Thank You.
The muscular hunk couldn't believe the stories he was hearing, it was too impossible to accept that a girl was causing such havoc, staking out her undisputed claim as the most lethal fighter on the beach. And yet, the bodies of naked muscular men had been discovered dead in various locations, soundly defeated by someone.
The muscular hunk, who considered himself the king of the beach, knew that the other men had been stripped naked and died violently, whether their necks had been broken or they were strangled to death. What a humiliating end, he thought, to take your last breath naked and erect before a gloating opponent. But, a woman, no way.
That's' what he was hearing, though. It was early morning when he arrived at the beach, wearing a skimpy orange bikini, the bulge of his penis outlined perfectly in profile beneath his suit.
Three naked hunks had been found dead the other week, naked and lined up in a row in a secluded section of the beach. It was embarrassing to try and imagine such a fate, but the hunk in the orange bikini felt his cock straining against the front of his suit as he thought about the possibility of a fight to the death with a beautiful woman. But it could never happen, he scoffed, he'd never lost a fight in his life, so how could he possibly be defeated by a mere woman?
The stories were circulating, though, and they had a ring of truth to them. The woman was said to be hot, shapely and athletic, but with a body that radiated feminine perfection. Word was that her name was Trish, and that after the bodies of
her male victims began showing up, people began referring to the mysterious woman as Super Trish.
Super Trish, my ass, the hunk thought. He'd turn her into Super Trash, if she existed, and then he'd have his way with her, proving his male dominance once and for all as he laid her out before him and forcefully plunged his member into her helpless and waiting pussy.
The beach was empty, but up ahead, the hunk could make out a figure, but he wasn't sure whether it was a man or a woman. He started jogging, his package bouncing in the pouch that served as the front of his suit. As he came closer, he saw that an attractive brunette in a tan string bikini was lying on a blanket, her smooth cocoa-colored skin beckoning him onward.
The hunk stopped and marveled at the girl's shape as she lay on her belly. He was excited that she wasn't wearing a top, and he was getting harder thinking of flipping her over and getting a look at her exposed breasts. His prick was tingling as
he admired her barely covered ass, excitement building so much that he was struggling against the urge to reach down and relieve himself.
He wondered what the large white letters SP on the red blanket that the babe was lying on stood for, as the woman sat up and faced him.
"Can I help you with something?" she asked playfully, noticeably glancing at the growing bulge in his suit.
"I don't need help with anything," the hunk said.
"That's not what it looks like from here," she teased, as she stood up before him.
A flash of annoyance crossed his face, while the front of his suit quivered. Could it be, he wondered, did the SP on the blanket indeed stand for "Super Trish?"
"Are you the one?" he asked, unable to quite accept that this attractive girl might be the one who was creating so much havoc on the beach, conquering one hunk after another.
"Try me," she said seductively, the fingers on her right hand playfully adjusting the string of her bikini.
The hunk wanted her, wanted to possess her, to take her on the spot, to prove his animal male power, both sexually and physically.
He had to have her, he was about to explode. The hunk lunged toward her with outstretched arms but she deftly ducked
under his grasp, slamming her elbow into his ribs as he passed, a sharp crack telling her she had accurately hit her target.
The hunk turned to face her, grimacing, his erect cock sneaking out the right side of his skimpy suit.
"You look like you need relief," she laughed.
The rage was overwhelming, that this girl could dare mock him, he couldn't take it. He swung for her mocking face with a
powerful right, but she easily deflected it with her left arm, then followed up with a sharp right straight into his belly, doubling him over.
He was bent over, holding his gut in pain and anger. The girl grabbed him by the hair and lowering his head, she simultaneously brought her knee up, smashing his nose against it.
"My name's Trish," she said, releasing his hair, as the hunk spun around and fell flat on his belly.
Lying before her, it was over, the fight, that easy. The hunk was stunned, but he knew he was finished. He crawled across the sand toward the ocean, not quite sure what he was doing or where he could go.
Trish walked majestically beside the broken hunk. As he reached the water, she went down on one knee and ripped his
skimpy suit off, slipping it off his backside and down his leg before tossing it back on the beach.
Nice ass, she thought. And it's all mine.
Trish settled herself on the naked hunk's back, as if she was riding him, which in a sense she was, and jammed his head down under the water with her outstretched arms.
The hunk was bewildered, confused, as his face hit the water. He should be on top of the babe, but she was the one so obviously in control. He felt his hard dick as his body was pushed down against the sandy bottom of the ocean floor. Bitch, he thought. You God damn, bitch! But he was helpless. She was rubbing her superiority in literally, moaning with pleasure as she humped his naked back, grinding her barely covered mound against him, as he tried to futilely buck her off and frantically kicked his legs as water filled his lungs.
A conflicting mixture of feelings were swirling through his hazy brain as his struggles slowed, while her humping pace picked up, her momentum increasing, an orgasm assured, at his expense, just moments away. He was angry and humiliated,his shame battling with his excitement, and though he was unable to breathe, her arms mashing his face down hard against the sandy bottom beneath the water, he felt a rock hard surging in his penis as it pounded against the sand beneath her pulsating drives. What a bitch, it should be me on top, he thought, arrrrrggggh, he tried to hold back, but what did it matter, she had him and he was finished anyway, and then his cock exploded, and she kept riding him, holding his head fast
beneath the water, until she was satisfied that the naked hunk between her legs was quite dead.
Releasing his head, Trish sat up, taking her time, settling down, regaining her breath. She needed to calm herself, to relax.
She stood, glancing down at the naked hunk's dead body floating at the edge of the beach, the water gently lapping underneath his legs, his bare ass bobbing gently about. Trish stretched, then planted her foot on the conquered hunk's ass. There was no need for words, it had all been said with her actions. Besides, the naked hunk was gone, far beyond the sound of her words.
Almost as an after thought, she dragged him out of the water and nudged him over on to his back with her foot. What an honor, and a compliment, she laughed, as she admired his penis still towering erect and jutting up from his lifeless body.
Time to go, she decided. So many bodies and so little time, she giggled, as she glanced one more time at her latest male victim. She scooped up his bikini and slipped it against her thigh beneath the string of her own bikini as she continued lazily down the long stretch of beach without a care in the world.
Please bare in mind that this is just a naughty fiction. The events and characters are not real and it is not my or the authors intention if there is any coincidence in real life (Woah!)
Thank You.
The muscular hunk couldn't believe the stories he was hearing, it was too impossible to accept that a girl was causing such havoc, staking out her undisputed claim as the most lethal fighter on the beach. And yet, the bodies of naked muscular men had been discovered dead in various locations, soundly defeated by someone.
The muscular hunk, who considered himself the king of the beach, knew that the other men had been stripped naked and died violently, whether their necks had been broken or they were strangled to death. What a humiliating end, he thought, to take your last breath naked and erect before a gloating opponent. But, a woman, no way.
That's' what he was hearing, though. It was early morning when he arrived at the beach, wearing a skimpy orange bikini, the bulge of his penis outlined perfectly in profile beneath his suit.
Three naked hunks had been found dead the other week, naked and lined up in a row in a secluded section of the beach. It was embarrassing to try and imagine such a fate, but the hunk in the orange bikini felt his cock straining against the front of his suit as he thought about the possibility of a fight to the death with a beautiful woman. But it could never happen, he scoffed, he'd never lost a fight in his life, so how could he possibly be defeated by a mere woman?
The stories were circulating, though, and they had a ring of truth to them. The woman was said to be hot, shapely and athletic, but with a body that radiated feminine perfection. Word was that her name was Trish, and that after the bodies of
her male victims began showing up, people began referring to the mysterious woman as Super Trish.
Super Trish, my ass, the hunk thought. He'd turn her into Super Trash, if she existed, and then he'd have his way with her, proving his male dominance once and for all as he laid her out before him and forcefully plunged his member into her helpless and waiting pussy.
The beach was empty, but up ahead, the hunk could make out a figure, but he wasn't sure whether it was a man or a woman. He started jogging, his package bouncing in the pouch that served as the front of his suit. As he came closer, he saw that an attractive brunette in a tan string bikini was lying on a blanket, her smooth cocoa-colored skin beckoning him onward.
The hunk stopped and marveled at the girl's shape as she lay on her belly. He was excited that she wasn't wearing a top, and he was getting harder thinking of flipping her over and getting a look at her exposed breasts. His prick was tingling as
he admired her barely covered ass, excitement building so much that he was struggling against the urge to reach down and relieve himself.
He wondered what the large white letters SP on the red blanket that the babe was lying on stood for, as the woman sat up and faced him.
"Can I help you with something?" she asked playfully, noticeably glancing at the growing bulge in his suit.
"I don't need help with anything," the hunk said.
"That's not what it looks like from here," she teased, as she stood up before him.
A flash of annoyance crossed his face, while the front of his suit quivered. Could it be, he wondered, did the SP on the blanket indeed stand for "Super Trish?"
"Are you the one?" he asked, unable to quite accept that this attractive girl might be the one who was creating so much havoc on the beach, conquering one hunk after another.
"Try me," she said seductively, the fingers on her right hand playfully adjusting the string of her bikini.
The hunk wanted her, wanted to possess her, to take her on the spot, to prove his animal male power, both sexually and physically.
He had to have her, he was about to explode. The hunk lunged toward her with outstretched arms but she deftly ducked
under his grasp, slamming her elbow into his ribs as he passed, a sharp crack telling her she had accurately hit her target.
The hunk turned to face her, grimacing, his erect cock sneaking out the right side of his skimpy suit.
"You look like you need relief," she laughed.
The rage was overwhelming, that this girl could dare mock him, he couldn't take it. He swung for her mocking face with a
powerful right, but she easily deflected it with her left arm, then followed up with a sharp right straight into his belly, doubling him over.
He was bent over, holding his gut in pain and anger. The girl grabbed him by the hair and lowering his head, she simultaneously brought her knee up, smashing his nose against it.
"My name's Trish," she said, releasing his hair, as the hunk spun around and fell flat on his belly.
Lying before her, it was over, the fight, that easy. The hunk was stunned, but he knew he was finished. He crawled across the sand toward the ocean, not quite sure what he was doing or where he could go.
Trish walked majestically beside the broken hunk. As he reached the water, she went down on one knee and ripped his
skimpy suit off, slipping it off his backside and down his leg before tossing it back on the beach.
Nice ass, she thought. And it's all mine.
Trish settled herself on the naked hunk's back, as if she was riding him, which in a sense she was, and jammed his head down under the water with her outstretched arms.
The hunk was bewildered, confused, as his face hit the water. He should be on top of the babe, but she was the one so obviously in control. He felt his hard dick as his body was pushed down against the sandy bottom of the ocean floor. Bitch, he thought. You God damn, bitch! But he was helpless. She was rubbing her superiority in literally, moaning with pleasure as she humped his naked back, grinding her barely covered mound against him, as he tried to futilely buck her off and frantically kicked his legs as water filled his lungs.
A conflicting mixture of feelings were swirling through his hazy brain as his struggles slowed, while her humping pace picked up, her momentum increasing, an orgasm assured, at his expense, just moments away. He was angry and humiliated,his shame battling with his excitement, and though he was unable to breathe, her arms mashing his face down hard against the sandy bottom beneath the water, he felt a rock hard surging in his penis as it pounded against the sand beneath her pulsating drives. What a bitch, it should be me on top, he thought, arrrrrggggh, he tried to hold back, but what did it matter, she had him and he was finished anyway, and then his cock exploded, and she kept riding him, holding his head fast
beneath the water, until she was satisfied that the naked hunk between her legs was quite dead.
Releasing his head, Trish sat up, taking her time, settling down, regaining her breath. She needed to calm herself, to relax.
She stood, glancing down at the naked hunk's dead body floating at the edge of the beach, the water gently lapping underneath his legs, his bare ass bobbing gently about. Trish stretched, then planted her foot on the conquered hunk's ass. There was no need for words, it had all been said with her actions. Besides, the naked hunk was gone, far beyond the sound of her words.
Almost as an after thought, she dragged him out of the water and nudged him over on to his back with her foot. What an honor, and a compliment, she laughed, as she admired his penis still towering erect and jutting up from his lifeless body.
Time to go, she decided. So many bodies and so little time, she giggled, as she glanced one more time at her latest male victim. She scooped up his bikini and slipped it against her thigh beneath the string of her own bikini as she continued lazily down the long stretch of beach without a care in the world.
-The End-
Monday, February 6, 2006
Duncan vs Kirsty - The Screwdriver Bow
by duncan s
As I started to lose consciousness I tried to recall how I had managed to get into this deadly hold, known as the Screwdriver Bow.
Minutes ago I held Kirsty, a buxom blonde wrestler wearing a one piece thong leotard that was next to transparent, in a lady-taming cunt stretch. Having wrestled her to the mat on her back, I stood holding one of her smooth skinned legs against my hip, lifting her butt off the mat. I gripped that leg tightly and placed the ball of my foot against her thrusting pubic mound. My leg bent I started to straighten it. She moaned as the pressure on her mound increased. Then I dropped back to the mats, the pressure suddenly maxing her out. She scream and slapped the mats but I would not let go, gasping as I pressed harder.
Amazingly she did not submit. The pain must have been overwhelming but it just seemed to fuel her. She pushed herself up on her elbows, then her hands, then gripped my ankle and with incredible strength of mind pulled my foot our from between her legs. I tried to reapply the hold but within seconds I was turned onto my front by the same foot that I used to grind her vagina.
I slapped the mats as she turned the hold around. She had not let go of my foot and she was bending my leg back, towards my head, bowing my back painfully. I lifted my head and saw that she had shuffled around to my head, pulling my leg back over my body, arching my back into a ‘C’. A foolish thought on my part as she immediately grabbed my head by the scruff of the hair, holding me in tension whilst she brought her legs forward so that she was sitting on her butt, her legs spread in a V either side of me.
I felt her thighs close around my head, muffling the sounds of her gasps as she pulled me into the position. I pictured the position: face down in her crotch, my leg bent back over my body. My hands clawed at her legs - with each squeeze I spasmed and slapped at them uselessly....
With her other hand she reached down my trunks and grasped my already erect cock. I begged, through muffled moans, for her not to continue. I slapped the mats in submission, which she did not accept. Her hand roughly worked my cock like she was milking a cow, each yank seemed to bury my head deeper within her thighs and crotch, each thrust seemed to bend my back further. The Screwdriver Bow.
The last thing I remember is the barest of touches of her breasts against my back, and my ensuing orgasm. The convulsion was enough to take my last gasp and my back spasmed me into unconsciousness, my hand still trying to tap out against her rippling thighs.
END
As I started to lose consciousness I tried to recall how I had managed to get into this deadly hold, known as the Screwdriver Bow.
Minutes ago I held Kirsty, a buxom blonde wrestler wearing a one piece thong leotard that was next to transparent, in a lady-taming cunt stretch. Having wrestled her to the mat on her back, I stood holding one of her smooth skinned legs against my hip, lifting her butt off the mat. I gripped that leg tightly and placed the ball of my foot against her thrusting pubic mound. My leg bent I started to straighten it. She moaned as the pressure on her mound increased. Then I dropped back to the mats, the pressure suddenly maxing her out. She scream and slapped the mats but I would not let go, gasping as I pressed harder.
Amazingly she did not submit. The pain must have been overwhelming but it just seemed to fuel her. She pushed herself up on her elbows, then her hands, then gripped my ankle and with incredible strength of mind pulled my foot our from between her legs. I tried to reapply the hold but within seconds I was turned onto my front by the same foot that I used to grind her vagina.
I slapped the mats as she turned the hold around. She had not let go of my foot and she was bending my leg back, towards my head, bowing my back painfully. I lifted my head and saw that she had shuffled around to my head, pulling my leg back over my body, arching my back into a ‘C’. A foolish thought on my part as she immediately grabbed my head by the scruff of the hair, holding me in tension whilst she brought her legs forward so that she was sitting on her butt, her legs spread in a V either side of me.
I felt her thighs close around my head, muffling the sounds of her gasps as she pulled me into the position. I pictured the position: face down in her crotch, my leg bent back over my body. My hands clawed at her legs - with each squeeze I spasmed and slapped at them uselessly....
With her other hand she reached down my trunks and grasped my already erect cock. I begged, through muffled moans, for her not to continue. I slapped the mats in submission, which she did not accept. Her hand roughly worked my cock like she was milking a cow, each yank seemed to bury my head deeper within her thighs and crotch, each thrust seemed to bend my back further. The Screwdriver Bow.
The last thing I remember is the barest of touches of her breasts against my back, and my ensuing orgasm. The convulsion was enough to take my last gasp and my back spasmed me into unconsciousness, my hand still trying to tap out against her rippling thighs.
END
Wednesday, February 1, 2006
Super Trish (Conclusion)
Trish was getting off on her feeling of power as she stood with a leg on each side of the naked hunk who lay dead on his belly,
the muscular cheeks of his ass glistening under the sun. The shaggy haired hunk coming at her, the front of his jockstrap type
bathing suit bulging to the point where it looked as if his cock would burst out, hesitated, looking at Trish with indecision, which only increased her confidence and excitement.
She loved it, what he must be thinking and wondering, He had seen her efficiently take apart with ease his two buddies, who were now dead, stripped naked in defeat, complete defeat in a fatal fight with a sexy woman in a skimpy bikini bottom. How humiliating it must feel to be so defeated by the opposite sex, Trish thought, as she tried to imagine her two previous victims frantic with fear and sexual longing before all went black and they were finished, beautiful naked male bodies now consigned to oblivion.
Just as she suspected, pride overwhelmed fear and the shaggy haired hunk made his move, but Trish was more than ready. He charged and suddenly stopped short when Trish's leg shot out and caught him right in the stomach. He doubled over, the tip of his cock slipping above the front of his mini-suit, and he was grimacing, as Trish's left leg came round and clipped him hard in the side of the head, knocking him over. Trish smiled with delight, as the hunk lay in the sand groaning and moaning. She surveyed his firm buttocks which were almost in full view as his jockstrap bathing suit only had a thin strip of fabric running down the crack of his ass.
Trish reached down and grabbed his suit's waistline by the back and flipped the hunk over onto his back, his cock now fully exposed, standing upright and trembling, the pouch containing his appendage now down around his thighs. Looking down into his eyes, Trish was almost overwhelmed with her sense of superiority, relishing in the sexual frustration reflected in his face, knowing that he had accepted his inevitable defeated and was begging for her to allow him to please have what would be the greatest orgasm of his life.
No problem, Trish decided, lying down and moving his head up toward her crotch, as she used her legs to tighten the scissors hold around his neck. She was on an angle, resting her head on her right arm, gazing at his trembling dick, pre-cum surrounding its head. What a myth, she laughed to herself. Men, it was hard to believe that anyone could seriously think of a
penis as a formidable weapon. She had more than proved that the shaggy haired hunk was no match for her, but she wasn't sadistic, she felt he deserved relief.
Without releasing his neck from the inescapable vice of her legs, Trish shifted position and with one hand cupping his balls, she stroked his erect throbbing cock with her other. He was groaning with a combination of pain and the anticipation of complete pleasure. Trish was in complete control, bringing him to the brink and then denying him release. Then, finally realizing it was getting late and she had other places to be, she quickened the pace until he hunk screamed with ecstasy and a geyser of cum squirted out of his dick, falling back down and spreading across his belly.
Trish wondered why he thought he was safe, curious that he would ever think that she would spare him. How ridiculous. She
tightened her legs, squeezing and closing his windpipe, relaxing as she watched his legs kicking wildly, then slowing their movement, and then it was over, another dead hunk whom she could add to her list.
She stood up and sighed with satisfaction. One last thing, she thought. She strutted over to her first victim, the dark haired hunk who had previously been wearing a yellow suit and dragged him across the sand until his naked corpse lay next to shaggy hair. Then she repeated the same move with victim number two, the blond naked hunk.
Trish admired their muscular bodies. Amazing, all three still had cocks erect and jutting up, almost as if in homage to her superiority. Three dead cocks, she laughed, all due to her. They certainly messed with the wrong girl, with the outcome Turning out much different than they could have ever expected.
Taking one last look at her three conquests lying naked in a row, Trish blew them a farewell kiss, before gathering her belongings up and heading toward her car. As she began the drive home, she hoped that the defeated hunks were discovered by a woman, a woman seeking seclusion at the beach like she had been. She wondered how long the hunks would remain hard. She also wondered if the imaginary woman who discovered their bodies would ever think that it was possible that the three muscular men, lying dead in all their glory, had been killed by a woman, a woman whose name was definitely "Super Trish."
the muscular cheeks of his ass glistening under the sun. The shaggy haired hunk coming at her, the front of his jockstrap type
bathing suit bulging to the point where it looked as if his cock would burst out, hesitated, looking at Trish with indecision, which only increased her confidence and excitement.
She loved it, what he must be thinking and wondering, He had seen her efficiently take apart with ease his two buddies, who were now dead, stripped naked in defeat, complete defeat in a fatal fight with a sexy woman in a skimpy bikini bottom. How humiliating it must feel to be so defeated by the opposite sex, Trish thought, as she tried to imagine her two previous victims frantic with fear and sexual longing before all went black and they were finished, beautiful naked male bodies now consigned to oblivion.
Just as she suspected, pride overwhelmed fear and the shaggy haired hunk made his move, but Trish was more than ready. He charged and suddenly stopped short when Trish's leg shot out and caught him right in the stomach. He doubled over, the tip of his cock slipping above the front of his mini-suit, and he was grimacing, as Trish's left leg came round and clipped him hard in the side of the head, knocking him over. Trish smiled with delight, as the hunk lay in the sand groaning and moaning. She surveyed his firm buttocks which were almost in full view as his jockstrap bathing suit only had a thin strip of fabric running down the crack of his ass.
Trish reached down and grabbed his suit's waistline by the back and flipped the hunk over onto his back, his cock now fully exposed, standing upright and trembling, the pouch containing his appendage now down around his thighs. Looking down into his eyes, Trish was almost overwhelmed with her sense of superiority, relishing in the sexual frustration reflected in his face, knowing that he had accepted his inevitable defeated and was begging for her to allow him to please have what would be the greatest orgasm of his life.
No problem, Trish decided, lying down and moving his head up toward her crotch, as she used her legs to tighten the scissors hold around his neck. She was on an angle, resting her head on her right arm, gazing at his trembling dick, pre-cum surrounding its head. What a myth, she laughed to herself. Men, it was hard to believe that anyone could seriously think of a
penis as a formidable weapon. She had more than proved that the shaggy haired hunk was no match for her, but she wasn't sadistic, she felt he deserved relief.
Without releasing his neck from the inescapable vice of her legs, Trish shifted position and with one hand cupping his balls, she stroked his erect throbbing cock with her other. He was groaning with a combination of pain and the anticipation of complete pleasure. Trish was in complete control, bringing him to the brink and then denying him release. Then, finally realizing it was getting late and she had other places to be, she quickened the pace until he hunk screamed with ecstasy and a geyser of cum squirted out of his dick, falling back down and spreading across his belly.
Trish wondered why he thought he was safe, curious that he would ever think that she would spare him. How ridiculous. She
tightened her legs, squeezing and closing his windpipe, relaxing as she watched his legs kicking wildly, then slowing their movement, and then it was over, another dead hunk whom she could add to her list.
She stood up and sighed with satisfaction. One last thing, she thought. She strutted over to her first victim, the dark haired hunk who had previously been wearing a yellow suit and dragged him across the sand until his naked corpse lay next to shaggy hair. Then she repeated the same move with victim number two, the blond naked hunk.
Trish admired their muscular bodies. Amazing, all three still had cocks erect and jutting up, almost as if in homage to her superiority. Three dead cocks, she laughed, all due to her. They certainly messed with the wrong girl, with the outcome Turning out much different than they could have ever expected.
Taking one last look at her three conquests lying naked in a row, Trish blew them a farewell kiss, before gathering her belongings up and heading toward her car. As she began the drive home, she hoped that the defeated hunks were discovered by a woman, a woman seeking seclusion at the beach like she had been. She wondered how long the hunks would remain hard. She also wondered if the imaginary woman who discovered their bodies would ever think that it was possible that the three muscular men, lying dead in all their glory, had been killed by a woman, a woman whose name was definitely "Super Trish."
The End
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