Bridget's headscissors

Sundays are great. Sunday means I watch football while my girlfriend studies all day at school. As I watched the end of an exciting game, my girlfriend texted me that she was headed back to our apartment a little early so she could go to her parents  house for dinner. I already had plans for the evening so the information, at that time, did not seem to impact me all that much. I was wrong. Horribly, yet wonderfully, wrong.

 

As some background, my girlfriend and I have been together for several years, living together for the past several months. During that time, I have slowly introduced her more and more to my fetish for wrestling and scissors. In the past six months, things have really accelerated. I showed her some clips from Reality Girls Scissors, and she learned quickly. In terms of appearance and physique, she compares quite favorably to Ashley Wildcat or Ariel X. Specifically, she is 5'9, weighs around 130lbs with 23 thighs and 15-16 calves. She is a lifelong athlete who now trains for marathons and triathlons. Her legs are dangerous, and I can share other stories about her recent exploits; however, time to return to the story at hand.

 

I am sitting on our futon watching as the home team is moving down the field in an attempt to force overtime, when my girlfriend (who I will call Bridget for the sake of this story) comes strolling into the apartment.

 

"What are you doing?" she asks casually, knowing full well that I am deep into my Sunday routine of watching real football while cheering for my fantasy football teams.

 

Watching and hoping that Green Bay can force overtime. I need some garbage time points from James Starks or I am sunk,  I reply without looking away from the tv.

 

Briget likes to rest in black high cut gymnastic leotard, and her legs and butt always look so magnificent in that outfit. After my reply, she strolls past the tv into the kitchen and puts our two dogs in the backyard. As she returns to the living room, she stares at me impatiently as though I am delaying her in the middle of an important task. After a couple more seconds and a break in the action, my curiosity gets the best of me.

 

"What's up?"  I ask.

 

"I have to be to my parents in thirty minutes and I am going to sit on your face before I go", she replies with the same casualness you would use when talking about picking up groceries.  Also, I have been studying all day and will not be showering so you know it s going to be sweaty. 

 

(Side note: Bridget is admittedly not that excited by the scissoring and wrestling and participates simply because I enjoy them so much; however, she truly enjoys sitting on my face and it provides a nice tit-for-tat incentive to our exchanges.)

 

Oh really, I did not realize that I signed up for that. The game is almost over if there is not overtime. "Are you in that big of a hurry?" I respond

 

"Not really", she responds. Her thighs look so beautiful yet so deadly.

 

She strolls back across the living room, knowing full well that I am no longer watching the tv. She proceeds to close the blinds and curtains in the room, before turning to face me. She walks over in a deliberate and sensual way before straddling me on the futon and beginning to kiss my neck.

 

"Come on. Can't I at least wait to see if they force overtime?" I protest halfheartedly.

 

"You are over your time. Now it is my time", she whispers in a near growl in my ear.

 

Before I can offer any response, she manipulates the futon so that it changes from the  couch  position to the  bed  position. Then, she slowly pushes me back until I am laying down with my lower legs off the front of the futon and my feet on the ground still. She continues kissing my body working her way back to the neck.

 

This is the part where I play nice, before I play really mean. I don t like waiting, and you know I don t like waiting. When I say I am sitting on your face, you are supposed to lie down and beg me to do so,  she says in between playful kisses and nibbles.

 

Normally, Bridget is not this aggressive. I mean, she can squeeze the absolute hell out of me and she has mastered a number of the moves, but she typically just goes from one move to the next without much banter. My heart was leaping with excitement at this new twist, but at the same time I knew I was probably playing with fire.

 

"I didn t mean to keep you waiting. I just wanted to see overtime", I reply, quite dumbly in retrospect.

 

"I already told you. You are over your time. It is my time now. How about I squeeze you a little before you'll lick my pussy?" she asks in a flirtatious manner.

 

"Sounds good to me gorgeous", I respond, expecting some scissoring foreplay before sex. "How do you want me?"

She stands up and faces me. I am still lying on the futon (extended into a bed) with my back and upper body on the  bed and lower legs off the front with my feet touching the ground. She turns to her left slightly more than 90 degrees so I can see the cut between her thighs and hamstring as she commands me to turn and lie down along the length of the bed. I oblige willingly, lying down on my back completely on the futon now with Bridget standing to my right. She walks the stairs on purpose to make her legs stronger; today, they look especially dangerous.

 

"Scoot to the end. I want your head right next to the edge", she commands. 

 

Again, I comply eagerly anticipating a pleasurable squeeze before some afternoon sex. Bridget had different ideas. The futon is set low to the ground; when I am lying down, I am close to the height of her knees. So the customary  standing reverse hanging off a bed  will not work; however, Bridget has mastered this technique where she does a reverse headscissor and uses her long legs to still reach the ground below. It is quite devastating.

 

On this day, she circles around to the top of the bed and stands with her legs straddling the space just above my head as she leans forward at her waist and places her hands on either side of me near my stomach. I am greeted with the magnificent view of her hamstrings and glutes, with the perfect blend of butt cheeks peeking out through the blue cheekinis. She slowly sways from hip to hip so all her leg muscles dance in an intoxicating way. I hear talking and realize it must be Bridget.

"Too distracted to even pay attention, huh?" she asks, flexing all her leg muscles as she bounces up on her toes. "I know you can't stop looking when I flex like this".

 

She is right. She is simply too beautiful. Way out of my league and her attraction to me makes no sense. And why she would agree to squeeze me and things like that is an entirely different matter.

 

"Are you ready for the squeezing of a lifetime?" she queries as she descends upon my face.

 

While Bridget is very skilled at applying the holds, she still needs help during the initial lockdown. As she lies down on my body and wraps her breathtaking gams around my head for a reverse headscissor, I just lie there and enjoy the view; I do not move a muscle. Usually, I lift my head to make it easier, and Bridget knows this. She closes her legs together and realizes that I have not lifted my head.

 

"Trying to make things difficult for me?" she coos gently, hiding her true intentions of wreaking havoc on my head.

 

"What do you mean?" I reply knowing full well what she wants.

 

"I need you to lift your head".

 

"And if I don't?"

 

"You will just make it worse for yourself", she replies in an uncharacteristically cold tone, another hint that should have made me realize something was out of sorts.

 

"Ready?" she asks as she opens her legs and releases my face from their grip. "Lift your head, nice and tight. One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand, four one-thousand". 

 

I had lifted my head initially before she even finished saying ready but apparently not high enough. I had to raise it as high as possible before she stopped counting. She closed the vice and I was all hers.

 

"I already reminded you that I don't like waiting and yet you continue to play games and waste my time. I don t know why you have to make things harder for yourself. Since I had to count to four before you finally listened, I am going to knock you out four straight times without letting go. Are you ready?" she inquires rhetorically.

 

During her brief speech, my mind and heart are racing. This is what I have always wanted, but have I gone too far? Is Bridget playing a role, or is she really going to unleash on me? Her legs have already knocked me unconscious a number of times and we have to be careful now when she has had too many glasses of wine, but she was never that aggressive about it just sort of detached and matter of fact in her calculated destruction of my carotid artery. This day seems different.

 

Bridget issues her threat about four knockouts and stops talking. Before I can say anything, she is squeezing hard enough to prevent me from talking. I am sure that I am making noises, but they aren t intelligible. Her steel cables called hamstrings are slicing into my jaw while her massive quads and merciless adductors are causing chaos for my neck. The pain is overwhelming, yet the view is incredible. Bridget has the form mastered: using her arms to extend upwards, pressing forward with her toes behind my head, arching her back in just the right way, and teasing me with gyrations of power from her incredible legs and butt. I can t see the dimples that form on the sides of her butt cheeks when she squeezes just right, but I can feel them with my hands and they feel marvelous. My head is so high and tight that my chin is resting on her butt while she tries to send me to dreamland.

 

After what seems like only a few seconds (but simultaneously feels like an eternity), my view starts to stretch and spots are forming. The next thing I know, I am returning from a quick trip to dreamland only to realize that I am still stuck in Bridget s dreaded reverse headscissor.

 

"Welcome back,  Bridget giggles excitedly.  That was like a baby knockout, but I guess we can count it."

 

Baby knockout, what does she mean. My head disagrees strongly. My neck disagrees even more vehemently, but I am already strapped in for this ride. Bridget immediately clenches back down at full force, and I begin tapping immediately and forcefully. I haven t even gathered my senses and she is trying to send me right back to dreamland. Honestly, I am starting to panic somewhat, but in the back of my head I am still thinking   this is Bridget, how bad can it be. I think that was my final though before the second trip to dreamland.

 

As the darkness fades and my vision returns, I realize that I am still trapped between Bridget s massive and intimidating legs. My hands are tingling like I cannot believe, and the tingling seems to extend to my entire body. Back to back reverse headscissor knockouts and she did not even release the hold! It is like a dream but I am snapped back to reality in a hurry.

 

Bridget must have loosened her grip somewhat because my head is back down on the bed, but her legs are squeezed tightly against my skull to prevent my escape. This is my predicament when I return from dreamland the second time.

 

"That was a little bit better, but still not quite good enough. I tell you what. I am feeling generous. How about you lift your head and turn it like you showed me, and I will only knock you out one more time instead of two?" she asks, again sending pulses of tension through her incredible groups of leg and butt muscles.

 

The  turn  she is talking about is a little maneuver to apply more pressure directly to the carotid. I cannot claim credit for this innovation. Another contributor to this site provided the tip on one of his stories about wrestling his girlfriend. Anyway, the  turn  works as follows: for a reverse headscissor with your chin resting on/near the woman s butt and facing directly ahead, you turn your head to the left or right 45 degrees, so that your chin is now resting on one of the butt cheeks. Similarly, for a front headscissor where your chin is resting on the pelvic bone of the woman, you would turn your head to the left or the right 45 degrees so that your carotid artery under your jaw is more exposed. It is sort of difficult to explain, but it works like a charm. Bridget can knock me out in seconds with far less effort that would be required otherwise.

 

"Are you really going to knock me out again?" I ask still recovering from the first two knockouts and somewhat scared of experiencing a third in such a short amount of time.

 

"Absolutely, and you are lucky that I am only doing one more. Now lift your fucking head and turn it before I change my mind", she replies coolly and deliberately. Then adds,  "Ok?" with an irresistible yet chilling giggle, similar to those employed by Andi the superstar from Reality Girls.

 

What choice do I really have? I can't say no. This is my dream, or so I thought. I lift my head and place my chin on her butt, before turning it to the right as instructed. I feel the methodical squeeze begin immediately. I place my hands on her butt on caress the large dimples forming on the sides of her cheeks. She is talking but I cannot hear a word she is saying. Later I would find out that she was backing out of her promise to only knock me out once.

 

She stops talking. Now the real squeeze begins. The pressure is unbelievable. I don t even have time to register the pain as the third knockout comes far too quickly and easily. I have no idea how long Bridget kept squeezing, or how long I was out. My last vision is of two gorgeous mounds of glute muscle balling up underneath blue cheekinis as my head is lifted higher off the bed.

This time, my body hits a new level of tingling when I wake up. I am legitimately in a panicked state at this point. I am completely disoriented and very confused. I look up to see the smiling face of my merciless tormentor. While I visited dreamland, Bridget had repositioned herself to a SGP except that my hands were near my stomach. To make matters worse (better?), she had also exploited my moment of weakness to handcuff my wrists together in front of my stomach. (Yes, we keep handcuffs around the apartment. It is what it is.) She must have stashed them nearby during her initial entry into the room. Clever girl.

 

While intrepid to an extent, I am also beyond horny at this point. I start kissing her inner thighs and begging her to sit on my face.

 

"Please sit on my face. I will do anything you want. You have earned it",  I beg.

 

"I know, but I am not done with you. I promised four knockouts and four it will be. All that is left is to decide the position. So pick the position", she orders.

 

"No. No more. I don t really want to get knocked out again. Three is enough. Just sit on my face instead; you can even keep the handcuffs on".

 

"Blah, blah, blah. I said pick the position. Stop stalling and stop making me wait", she snaps back. "And of course, the handcuffs are staying on. Like that was even an option. So which position will be your undoing?"

 

My head is still pounding and my vision is cloudy. I am not sure I even want to be squeezed anymore and this is supposed to be my fetish. I start thinking about the positions: front, straight, figure-4. Before I can pick a position, Bridget starts to reposition herself. She stops straddling my face and starts to slide down my body. When she begins to turn around, I get really nervous.

 

"What are you doing?  I ask nervously".

 

"You took too long, so I picked for you. I picked the reverse. You might be scared, but I know deep down it is your favorite. Just remember: you like this. When you wake up, I will be sitting on your face and you will begin pleasuring me".

 

Damn, she is sexy. What have I done? Is she too dangerous now?

 

"Seriously, Bridget, we don't have to do this. Let s just go in the bedroom and I will let you sit on my face for days". 

"Stop whining. It is already done". 

 

With that statement, Bridget has completed her turn and is now facing away from me and straddling my stomach. She begins to slowly back her beautiful butt up my chest and towards my face. She keeps flexing and relaxing her gluts as she does so. Before I realize it, she is reverse straddling my face and wrapping her incredible legs around my head.

 

Fear takes over and I lie my head down flat. I really don t want to get knocked out again. My hands are still tingling from the last time, and the handcuffs aren't helping. I think my face is tingling. Or am I imagining things? My jaw is throbbing. Is that why my face is tingling? I m close enough to the edge that I can actually sort of lower my head beneath the edge of the bed. I do so to try to avoid the merciless grasp of Bridget s legs. She starts slamming her legs together repeatedly, smashing my face in the process and following each slam with a squeeze. With each successive slam, she squeezes a little longer and a little harder.

 

After I am not sure how many slam-squeezes, I start tapping feverishly. Of course, my wrists are handcuffed and my hands are trapped beneath Bridget s body; so, my taps do not accomplish much.

 

Bridget ignores my taps but pauses long enough between slams to state:  "You know what you need to do. Be a good boy". 

 

I obey. I lift my head and turn it slightly to the side.

 

"Higher". 

 

I comply.

 

"Turn your head more".

 

Again, I obey: anything to make the squeezing stop. I am so disoriented at this point.

 

"Now, good night baby", she coos.

 

The squeeze builds slowly and methodically. I am so weakened at this point that I begin tapping instantaneously. I am probably trying to beg though I doubt I could have produced intelligible words or phrases. I am sure that I even whimpered or made other pitiful noises of suffering as the vice-like grip of Bridget s death trap crushes everything in its path.

 

She stops the buildup, well before her highest pressure but well after my pain level is immense. She holds this pressure for what I imagine to be hours, days, or even weeks. She is just toying with me, experimenting with her ability to push me over the edge. I would imagine that a couple tears have been squeezed out of my eyes at this point; Bridget s squeeze can have that effect.

 

Finally, she mercifully ratchets up the pressure. I say mercifully because I would have given anything to end the pressure and the pain. I see the room fading away from me like I am falling into a deep steamer trunk, and then everything goes black.

 

I must have been out for a while. Even Bridget looks afraid when I wake up. Everything tingles. And I mean everything. Where the hell am I? Oh, it is my apartment. What the hell happened? Oh, Bridget knocked me out again. My senses start to sort themselves out. I realize that both of my arms are fully extended, still constrained by the handcuffs. It takes conscious effort to compel my arms to relax.

 

"What the hell did you do to me?" I ask Bridget.

 

"Too much?" she asks sweetly, returning to the Bridget that I normally deal with.
 

"I don't know", I reply quite honestly.  I think that was amazing. 

 

As I finish my statement, Bridget pulls a crotch of her leotard aside then her vagina descends on my face.

 

"Good. Now it is my turn!"

Women vs men mixed martial arts is the sexiest of UFC actions in the world! When clothed woman beats a naked man it looks funny, sexy and really cool! Any gymanst, ballet dancer or female swimmer is a perfect athlete, let ballerina put her dance leotard on and we will see who is stronger - woman or man! Especially if they are colledge teens who fights each other in high school combat arena. Female advantage is her outfit, long sleeved gymnastics leotard or onepiece racing swim suit with t-back, it protects her feminine body and makes a girl more confident when her male opponent must fight nude, he has no chances against lady clad in sexy legless bodysuit. Female fighter defeats him with easy, just one swift kick in the balls and big muscle strong male begs her for mercy, scrambling under her feet like a real whimp! What a power of female legs - he can't resist and must worship and lick a feet and combat boots of his mistress who have defeated him with ballbusting attack!

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