Search Results for "head"

Windmills 2.2
(Story: FinQ, Artwork: MadMax)

'Kiss my calves.' I did so. Worshiping the hard muscles and running my hands along her smooth, waxed shins. We repeated the process for her hamstrings and her quads. I could not get enough of her powerful legs. The large muscles and the perfect, smooth skin being the absolute quintessence of female power and my wife total superiority to me. 'Yes, we have definitely found your talent now...' She grabbed my hair and gently led me, crawling, over to the sofa, where she sat down, hiking her short skirt up as she did and pulling my face in-between her thighs. She let me get very close to her panties, before crushing my head, brining my advance to an abrupt stop. 'You want it do not you Smith. You want to lick and kiss my sweet sex. Oh God I bet you would give absolutely anything right now for me to let you kiss me there. Tell me.' 'Yes Miss Jones. I would give anything to lick and kiss your sweet pussy' 'Then beg for it.'

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.

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

Amy stepped out of the doorway, her massive, half-naked, golden tan body rippling with muscles. She was dressed in her favorite 'little schoolgirl' uniform, an outfit that left little to the imagination. Small black schoolgirl shoes adorned her feet, as white socks wrapped their way up her huge calves (barely able to cover their diamond hard shape). A way too-tight schoolgirl blouse was tied just below her chest, almost unable to contain her breasts. Her visible washboard abs, rippling with muscle, flexed as she softly breathed in and out. Around her waist was a tiny skirt that barely covered her massive tree trunk thighs. Teddy bear panties were visible underneath the skirt, starting to get slightly damp with arousal. Her face was made up to look young: rosy cheeks and a brilliant white smile. Her always-present pigtails hung from either side of her head, and bounced as she strode over to the man behind the desk.

Rough sex at the gym part 2
(Story: Arnoldziffel1, Artwork: Tan Yk)

A fitness girl throws caution to the winds and makes a chalenge. Her feeble punches did nothing. Then the beating began. Punches to her face, a full nelson that almost killed her, and then her head was pounded into the ground. This was brutality expressed in anger, with a side order of brain damage.

Pizza Girl part three
(Undisclosed)

Today I was attacked again - the guy wanted the money I was carrying. He was waving a knife around, but it was a dinner knife and he looked really stupid with it. "OK, OK," I said, "My life isn't worth the cash I'm carrying, it's on the bicycle, I'll just get it." But also on the bicycle was my hockey stick, and that's a yard long. I unclipped it, and swung at his head, as one does. He ducked, of course, but I caught him a good one on the shoulder. He yelled "Bitch" and came at me with the knife, but I got him on the left ear with the second swipe of my stick, and he staggered. Why a hockey stick, you might be wondering. Because a baseball bat looks like a weapon, but a hockey stick looks like sports equipment. Which it is, and I've had plenty of practice with it. So he was still coming at me with his cutlery, so after I'd bounced my hockey stick off his left ear, I did a follow through, spun round and smashed my weapon into his right ear. Now he was dazed, but he still had his knife, so I lined up carefully and whacked his right hand, cracking his knuckles and causing him to drop the blade. Now he was disarmed, I suppose I could have just got on the pizza bike and rode off, but my blood was up and I wasn't going to stop now. The standard strike with a hockey stick is, of course, to the shins, followed by an "Oops, sorry about that!". So I took careful aim, raised the stick and brought it down as hard as I could. There was a satisfying "Crack!" and I knew that my assailant was finished. So I put my hockey stick back on its bracket, got on the pizza bike and rode off into the sunset. Or I would have, but it was night time so I rode off into the moonlight.

The Black Burqa illustrated, part six
(Undisclosed)

"Those high powered rifles can go straight through even Kevlar" he told me. "Yes," I agreed. Actually, I was surprised that no-one had guessed that we'd kitted out our women with steel plate armour - armour much heavier than an ordinary man could carry. And that steel armour, weighing about a hundred pounds would deflect an AR-15 round. We knew this, because we'd tested it. "But what if the shooter had gone for a head shot?" That was certainly a possibility, but gun training was to aim for the centre mass, because a head is a much smaller target. "If he'd gone for a head shot, it would certainly have been "Goodnight Gracie", but we sent in three Black Burqas, and even if one was killed, it would be a good trade for the lives of the thirty off springs that he was holding hostage." "That's incredibly brave," said the interviewer. "We're women," I replied. "And we're mothers. off springs are the purpose of our existence. You'd need to be a mother yourself to understand, but here's a simple way to put it. The female of the species is more deadly than the male." I continued. "Men talk. Men negotiate. Men compromise, and while that is appropriate for many purposes, when it comes to off springs, there is no doubt, no hesitation and no compromise. Our Black Burqas had one and only one purpose. If the police had tried to stop them, they would have been swept aside. If one had been shot then the other two would have continued to rescue those off springs." "The shooter was in a real mess when the police went in, wasn't that excessive?" he asked. I repeated, "There is no compromise. No negotiation. Anyone who threatens our off springs, gets the immediate white-hot fury of the female of the species. In this case, what happened exactly was, a punch to the belly to incapacitate him and double him up, a knee lifted to meet the face coming down and break the nose and teeth, and a double-fist rabbit punch to knock him out and lay him flat on the ground. And when a Black Burqa delivers that triple whammy, the recipient is knocked cold for the next several hours. And if it's delivered too hard and the guy dies, then we're not going to weep for him, he threatened our off springs with death." "And if in the course of taking down an active shooter with a gun, he gets injured, then I'm not going to apologize to him. Even if he loses a few fingers when the gun is seized and is unable to fire a gun in future, then that's just a consequence of his decision to pick up a gun and kill our off springs."

The Black Burqa illustrated, part one
(Undisclosed)

My name is Ayesha. I am a pious Muslima, married to Raafid, my four off springs are Maryam, Gamali, Nasif and baby Kaadiha. I wear the veil, because I am a modest woman. I'm not smart like my friend Sfiyah. She seems to know everything. I read my Quran, and I'm still rather ignorant, unskilled and often I don't understand what people are saying. But I'm happy. At least, I was happy, until Raafid decided that he didn't like my cooking. To be honest, I don't blame him - cooking is one of the many skills I've never mastered. My food comes in two varieties, soggy or burned. So for the last two years, we've been at loggerheads. First, he spoke to me and told me to improve my cooking. I asked "How?" but he didn't have an answer. Then he tried to punish me by not joining me in bed. That's supposed to be a punishment? And when neither of those worked, he started beating me. They say that what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. That seemed to be true for me - I noticed that I was thickening in the places where the blows landed. And it was hard muscle, protecting my body from Raafid's rod. He kept it hanging on a hook on the wall, and I knew that when he took it down, I was in for another beating.

Babette the boxer
(Story and Artwork: Diana the Valkyrie)

Babette is a very pretty and very tall girl. At six feet seven inches, she towers above most men. But what she has in inches, she lacks in brainpower. When she leave college, she gets a couple of low-paid jobs, until she accidentally find that she has a talent for boxing, because she has small, hard fists and a very long reach. Babette can smack a man in the head long before he can reach any part of her. She meets Marty, who acts as her manager, and supervises her training, including building up her muscles. The story culminates with a boxing match against Victor, who gets totaly destroyed in a very short time.

Policewoman
(Story and Artwork: Amazon Lover)

Tim is challenged to armwrestle a policewoman; she turns out to be stronger than he is. Terri is 5'11" tall, weighs 155 pounds of solid muscle, and her measurements are 39EE-24-36 She told him that she enjoyed his humiliation, and then suggested that the wrestle. Her body scissors crushes him easily, she pins him with her straddle. This was followed by a full nelson, a surfboard and a head scissors. tim was really wiped out! Artwork by legendary artist MadMax.

Vicki's revenge
(Undisclosed)

Bruce hasn't seen Vicki for 12 years, when she was 13. She's changed since then, changed a lot. She's now 25 years old, 6'4" tall, 225 muscular, solid pounds. Beautiful face, large breasts, Short wavy blond hair, piercing blue eyes. He asks her out on a date; two people who cause trouble in the restaurant, are waiting for them outside. Vicki disposes of them in less than a minute. The next day, Bruce watches Vicki in the gym. Then she challenges him to wrestle; reluctantly he accepts. Big mistake. She dominates him totally, with overhead lift-and-drop, bear hug and reverse head scissors. Finally, Vicki gets the revenge she's been anticipating for 12 years, as she puts him over her knees and spanks him. Tears of humiliation run down his face, but his cock is still hard, and Bruce loses control.