Search Results for "Ben"

Happy Hormones Crip Walking 2
(Story: DTM, Artwork: Jupiter 1)

The tour far ahead of them, Amy and her mother decided to make their own way across the university. Past quiet walkways and well-manicured lawns, the tall women continued to draw attention. Amy, in particular, loved to draw more of it. Whether it was flexing her rock-hard calves walking past a group of guys, or pressing her huge melons together with her arms while she asked someone for directions, she always got her desired reaction (stares of longing for her perfectly-built body). Her favorite activity was bending over at the waist after 'accidentally' dropping her handbag, giving an unwitting guy behind her a direct view of her amazing bowling ball glutes. She would then turn her head, give her ass a playful smack and blow a kiss sure to leave an erection as the two women would continue on and laugh.

The Black Burqa illustrated, part five
(Undisclosed)

The Black Burqas go worldwide The problem was this. Even the most muscular Black Burqa, like Naamah, looked like any other woman in a burqa; that was the whole purpose of the garment. And no-one could tell who was wearing a black burqa as a fashion statement, and who was one of the muscle queens that could terrorise any man unlucky enough to find himself embraced by her thighs. But then something unusual happened. The Black Burqas have a web site, so that people can contact us and apply to be an official Black Burqa. We won't take just anyone who applies. You have to be able to bench press 300 kilograms, which neatly eliminates all men, as well as all women who don't have the musculature that every Black Burqa should have. This is prominently stated on the blackburqas.com web site. Of course, that web site is banned in most countries. I stood at the "incoming" area at the airport wearing my best black burqa. I noticed that men edged away from me nervously, but the women seemed to like being nearby. I didn't have to wait long before the flight from Chicago disgorged its passengers, and Phillida was obvious, because she was the only woman getting off that flight wearing a dark blue burqa. I stepped forward. "Phillida Watkins, I presume?" and we both laughed. "Coffee first," I said, and we went to the ridiculously over-priced airport coffee shop. "Your husband allows you out without a guardian?" she asked. I snorted. "Raafid allows me to do whatever I tell him to allow, He's tasted the crushing grip of my thighs, and he doesn't want to ever feel that again. But," I continued, "tell me about you."

SportsBook 702
(Artist: Venice Beach Studios)

In this drama, the strong and sexy LILLY ICE runs into her INTERN SESSIONEE after he inadvertently lights his cigarette with her winning sports ticket. As he makes excuses Lilly gets pissed then decides to take him down and severely punish him. With powerful athleticism the blonde powerhouse puts her muscles to good use and immediately chokes him into submission with a crushing neck scissors. After taking his breath away she refuses to let him breathe and smothers him in many different ways before finishing him off with a multitude of scissors holds and spine bending figure fours, crushing the life out of him. From such sexiness comes such deadliness.

Respect all, fear nun - part six
(Undisclosed)

Respect all, fear nun - part six We use 100 pound weights, because if you only use 50s, you get a very crowded bar. Hilde had four on each side, so she was pushing 800 pounds steadily up and down. And then I realised. She had meant kilograms, I did a quick calculation in my head - double it and add ten per cent, and the 450 came to - oh my giddy aunt! "Nine ninety," I told Nora, "she's topping out at 990 pounds. Not even you can do that." "Eight twenty is my current best clean and jerk," she said, "she's pushing a thousand." A thousand pounds, of course, is the hope and prayer of every St Hilda's nun. It's a nice round number - five disks on each side of the bar. Nora eyed her enviously. "I wonder what they use instead of Septadecaherbis", she mused, "and whether I can try it?" "Ask her," I grumped. Nora grabbed my rosary after compline. "We need to talk," she said, and showed me a small bottle. "What is it?" I asked, curiously. "She calls it Siebzehnkraut," Nora said. I sniffed it cautiously, it didn't smell like Septadecaherbis. "I'm going to try it," Nora announced. "Nora! You shouldn't! You don't know how it will react with you." Nora shook her head, and said "990 pounds. I'm so there." A week went by. Pray and lift, pray and lift. We were happy, the offsprings were happy and the dogs were ecstatic - it doesn't take much to make a dog happy. Nora was dosing on Siebzehnkraut, and I was measuring her biceps every day. By the end of the week, she'd put on half an inch to 26 1/2, and her bench press had gone from 670 to 710. It looked like Siebzehnkraut was the real McCoy. I talked to Hilde. "Can we get more of your Siebzehnkraut?" I asked bluntly. "Ab naturlich," she smiled. "I will der mutterhaus schreiben." Well, that was easy. I thought I'd have to twist her arm a bit to get her agreement, and I was pretty sure that her arm was much too big for me to twist. And while we were waiting for the package from Germany to arrive, Hilde shared her own supplies with it.

The Black Burqa part five
(Undisclosed)

The Black Burqas go worldwide The problem was this. Even the most muscular Black Burqa, like Naamah, looked like any other woman in a burqa; that was the whole purpose of the garment. And no-one could tell who was wearing a black burqa as a fashion statement, and who was one of the muscle queens that could terrorise any man unlucky enough to find himself embraced by her thighs. But then something unusual happened. The Black Burqas have a web site, so that people can contact us and apply to be an official Black Burqa. We won't take just anyone who applies. You have to be able to bench press 300 kilograms, which neatly eliminates all men, as well as all women who don't have the musculature that every Black Burqa should have. This is prominently stated on the blackburqas.com web site. Of course, that web site is banned in most countries. I stood at the "incoming" area at the airport wearing my best black burqa. I noticed that men edged away from me nervously, but the women seemed to like being nearby. I didn't have to wait long before the flight from Chicago disgorged its passengers, and Phillida was obvious, because she was the only woman getting off that flight wearing a dark blue burqa. I stepped forward. "Phillida Watkins, I presume?" and we both laughed. "Coffee first," I said, and we went to the ridiculously over-priced airport coffee shop. "Your husband allows you out without a guardian?" she asked. I snorted. "Raafid allows me to do whatever I tell him to allow, He's tasted the crushing grip of my thighs, and he doesn't want to ever feel that again. But," I continued, "tell me about you."

Octavia part one
(Undisclosed)

I'm six feet tall in my bare feet, and two hundred pounds of hard muscle; I can bench three times my weight. And I don't hide my light under a bushel. Everything is on display, and a lot of guys like that. My impressive body drives men crazy, and crazy men do crazy things. And I encourage the crazy. My hobby is to find men who are nutty as fruitcake, or if they aren't, I push them that way. And when they're one squawk short of a cuckoo, I take a trophy and dump them. Would you like to hear about some of the absurd things I've done; or rather, the crazy things that men do with a bit of encouragement from a woman with massive muscles?

The Misunderstanding
(Story: Demented20)

When college student Ben joins a prestigious fashion club at his school, he thinks he's hit the jackpot, as its members are filled with beautifully buff and sexily strong young girls; though his excitement soon turns to concern when it's revealed that they all think he's gay, and are opening up to him in new and interesting ways, ways that make Ben continue to play this part and enjoy such attention, though fearful that one day his act will be discovered, and the wrath of these powerful Amazon girls will be turned onto him!

The Misunderstanding (Part 2)
(Story: Demented20)

When last we left Ben, his fate was in the hands (and thighs, and biceps, and pecs) of four gorgeous young Amazons, none of them too happy with his deceiving ways, so they administer their own unique (and Very Sexual) form of "punishment" that he must endure in order to rejoin their club; all but one that is, whose feelings were hurt the most, and who Ben cares for the deepest! A very Fun and Sex-filled tale, that would make us All wish we had college friends like these.

Lesley - dominant in the gym and as a dominatrix
(Story: Diana the Valkyrie)

The next morning, I was still alive. I wasn't sure that this was good - my dick felt like it had been sandpapered. With a coarse grade. And hammered with a mallet, put into a bench vice.

The Black Burqa part five
(Undisclosed)

The problem was this. Even the most muscular Black Burqa, like Naamah, looked like any other woman in a burqa; that was the whole purpose of the garment. And no-one could tell who was wearing a black burqa as a fashion statement, and who was one of the muscle queens that could terrorise any man unlucky enough to find himself embraced by her thighs. But then something unusual happened. The Black Burqas have a web site, so that people can contact us and apply to be an official Black Burqa. We won't take just anyone who applies. You have to be able to bench press 300 kilograms, which neatly eliminates all men, as well as all women who don't have the musculature that every Black Burqa should have. This is prominently stated on the blackburqas.com web site. Of course, that web site is banned in most countries. I stood at the "incoming" area at the airport wearing my best black burqa. I noticed that men edged away from me nervously, but the women seemed to like being nearby. I didn't have to wait long before the flight from Chicago disgorged its passengers, and Phillida was obvious, because she was the only woman getting off that flight wearing a dark blue burqa. I stepped forward. "Phillida Watkins, I presume?" and we both laughed. "Coffee first," I said, and we went to the ridiculously over-priced airport coffee shop. "Your husband allows you out without a guardian?" she asked. I snorted. "Raafid allows me to do whatever I tell him to allow, He's tasted the crushing grip of my thighs, and he doesn't want to ever feel that again. But," I continued, "tell me about you."