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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Twin Terrors
by Kandor (address withheld)
***
A man has car trouble and has to hoof it down a country
road for help, when he happens across a couple of
Amazonian farm girls and their mother. (MFF, orgy)
***
Don Stenhaus' blood pressure rose with the temperature
gauge on his 1988 Ford Escort. He eyeballed the needle
as it slowly bobbed toward the 'H', finally getting so
pissed off at it he punched the instrument panel,
succeeding only in cracking the plastic over the gauges
that had been coffee stained a day or two earlier when
a cup lost its balance on the dash and tumbled onto the
steering wheel, spraying the hot beverage everywhere,
including the temperature gauge and Don's balls.
"Fucking car," Don mumbled to himself, and the car,
actually, like it would help. "Fucking piece of shit
car. Fucking piece of shit job. Fucking piece of shit
life."
Ordinarily in a situation like this, Don would just
turn up the radio, cranking in some oldies station that
suited the mindset of a traveling salesman in his early
40s. But even that couldn't happen today, since the
fucking piece of shit radio died on him somewhere
outside Tulsa, which he dubbed that "fucking piece of
shit redneck city."
It was a God-awful hot August day as Don tooled down
Route 40 in western Oklahoma toward his next stop
somewhere in Texas, which he hoped he'd make by the
next business day. But it was Thursday now, and late at
that, with the slant of the setting sun getting more
harsh as he chugged his dying Escort ever onward. He
was giving up hope of calling on his account by Friday
and wondered where he'd stay for the night, and the
weekend, from the looks of things.
"Probably some fucking piece of shit motel," he
grumbled out loud, then checking the temp gauge one
more time, adding "If I make it that far."
Things hadn't looked good from the outset of this trip.
He'd left Chicago promising his girlfriend that things
would get better, that this job, the seventh in four
years, would be his last and that he could, if he put
his pecker to the grindstone, as he put it, make a
living out of being a feed salesman, calling on
Midwestern farm stores and selling them the latest
combination of grain and chemicals and additives that
were guaranteed to fatten a farmer's livestock while
minimizing the chance that those eating the beasts
would later contract cancer.
The last part wasn't in the sales pitch he'd spent two
weeks learning in the conference room of a Motel 6
outside Chicago, but he felt it should be. He smiled at
the memory of his new sales manager going all red in
the face when Don offered that unwanted medical
prognostication during the training.
Lorraine had stuck by Don for the last seven jobs and
Don had no clear idea why. She was a pretty girl for
her age, which was roughly his, and had a dynamite body
to boot. Don looked in the rearview mirror for a second
and saw a craggy face middle-age man who'd come a long
way to go absolutely nowhere. But Lorraine stuck by
him, despite his asshole tantrums, his rantings and
ravings about the better life he swore was around the
next corner, the big account, that really huge fucker,
that would put him on top, or as on top as a loser like
himself could get.
Even a saint like Lorraine was getting tired of
waiting, however, tired of hanging around while her
boyfriend (she hated using the word 'boyfriend' when
most of her friends her age were using the word
'husband' or even 'ex-husband) tried to find himself in
a beat-up Ford Escort, a front floor full of crumpled
coffee cups, a seat full of badly-folded maps and a
briefcase full of order sheets and bullshit.
She kissed him goodbye when he left Chicago three days
earlier, but there wasn't much to it, nor to the smile
she offered him with her lips only. He knew he was on
the outs with her and maybe that would be for the best.
He'd taken up with her right after his first marriage
dissolved in a haze of booze and accusations, and he
knew she pitied him. But the pity well only runs so
deep when the years stack up behind a woman and he
sensed she'd soon pull up her pail and head for deeper
waters.
He wandered off Route 40 somewhere in Texas and got
totally and irreversibly lost. He grabbed a fistful of
map off the front seat and splayed it out over the
steering wheel as he drove, reading and weaving and
thanking whatever God that could look down on him that
no cars were coming the other way. Or any way, for that
matter. He was, he thought, shit fucking lost.
The car was steaming and so was Don, so he pulled over
so the both of them could cool off. Checking the map,
he figured he was somewhere in the Oklahoma panhandle,
that little strip of land that looks about a pussy hair
wide on the map but a million miles deep if you're
stuck in the middle of it with a car that burns more
water than gas.
He got out and popped the hood and jumped back a foot
or two when a mad plume of steam blasted up into his
face. He grabbed a rag from the car and tried to open
the cap, but it was too hot. He looked over his
shoulder; in no more than an hour, the sun would set.
The really shitty part was that the sun on the horizon
looked to be the closest sign of life he could see in
either direction. He knew he'd blown calling on anyone
else today, he only hoped he could find a place to stay
and get the car fixed in time to make at least one call
on Friday.
The car wasn't cooling down any, so he got back in,
figuring he'd drive until it got good and hot again,
stop, cool it off a bit, and drive again, a stop-and-go
cycle that just make take him to where humans dwelled.
But that wasn't going to work, either; he cranked the
engine and it did nothing, not "Rrrrr... rrrrrr...
rrrrrr..." not click, not grind, nothing, which to
Don's angry ears sounded sure enough like the little
Escort that wouldn't was saying, "You fucking piece of
shit driver, let's see how far you get now."
He got out and slammed the door with both hands,
evoking a tinny slap from the tiny car, then turned
around to kick it, succeeding only in hurting his foot
and putting a dent in the door. Pissed off, he limped
up the road in search of life, not bothering to lock
the door or even take the keys, knowing full well that
car thieves, no matter how young and stupid, aren't
going to get all hot over an abandoned Escort.
The slight rise in the road he aimed for shimmered
under the late afternoon sun. He had no idea what was
on other side and didn't much care, although his
spirits were lifted only a little when he noticed a
driveway sprouting off to the left, one of those things
that in a more civilized world might be called a dirt
road.
The driveway (he knew it was because of the mailbox at
the entrance) wound through a flat chunk of farmland
and over a minor hill to what he hoped was a house and
a phone. He broke into a near jog when he rounded the
first corner, the sweat running down his back like a
river. He loosened his tie and couldn't help wondering
how stupid he looked, a middle-aged salesman jogging
through the middle of a fucking Oklahoma farm with a
shirt and tie and dress shoes. Very, very dusty dress
shoes.
"It's about fucking time," he muttered to himself, when
he finally spotted a large white farmhouse around
another bend in the driveway. Wheat fanned out from it
and the large barn nearby and all the way up the dirt
path to the road.
He jog/walked the last quarter mile to the house,
stopping on the porch to catch his breath before
ringing the bell. The sun had nearly disappeared behind
his back as he stood, impatiently waiting for a hick
farmer or his wife to appear at the door. None did, and
he rang again and again, muttering curses to himself
before finally heading around the side of the house to
the barn, where he assumed someone would be.
He was right. The huge front door was slid wide open on
its tracks, at the top of a cement apron outside that
had been cracked from many years of heavy tractors and
bad weather running over it. He walked in, the harsh
rays of the setting sun blasting through a dirty window
on the far side of the barn and right into his eyes. He
detected movement. Squinting, he saw someone forking
hay into a stall and took a step forward.
The person shifted a bit to the left and into the
beacon of red light that had been coming through the
window, silhouetting itself and causing Don's eyes to
pop open and his throat to work into a loud gulp.
Whoever it was, was the biggest goddamn human being
he'd ever seen. It was a wall of a man, he thought, and
from where Don stood, only five-feet-four inches off
the Earth, it looked to be nearly touching a massive,
ancient crossbeam above with the top of its head.
"Excuse me, mister?" Don said, taking another step
forward into the dusty gloom of the barn.
"That ain't no mister, mister," he heard a giggling
girl's voice say from behind him. "That's mah sister."
Don spun around and found himself staring open-mouthed
at what his mind instantly deemed the biggest farm girl
in the history of agriculture. Biggest wouldn't do it,
he thought as he looked up until his gaze landed on the
beaming, beautiful face of a pig-tailed blonde smiling
down at him. It was bigger than big, it was as huge as
the Oklahoma landscape he'd just covered to get here.
"M-my car, uh, broke down, um, a couple of miles up
the, uh, the road, and I was wondering..." Don
stammered, running his eyes up and down the girl's
extraordinary height.
"You a salesman, mister?" another girlish voice said
from behind him, causing him to spin around on his
heels to look at the looming figure he'd seen seconds
before.
His eyes adjusted to the darkening interior of the barn
as the figure took a step toward him. Again, he was
forced to pull his head back and up, and again he found
himself staring into that face, the same, exact face
that had just spoken to him. His eyes went wide and his
mouth dropped even more: They were twins, Don's mind
whispered, identical, massive twins. And they were
drop-dead gorgeous.
"This here's Bobbi-Jo," the one girl said, stepping
around Don, although she could've just as easily
stepped over him, to stand next to her sister. "Mah
name's Betty-Sue. Pleased to meet ya."
Betty-Sue extended a hand that was nearly as big as
Don's head. He took it and watched in awe as the girl's
rugged, calloused fingers closed around his city-boy
hand, swallowing it whole in its powerful grip. Betty-
Sue pumped it once, shook it free and it was
immediately replaced with her sister's.
Don stepped back, he had to, to take in the sight of
these two enormous twin girls standing massive shoulder
to massive shoulder in the doorway of the barn that
their double images just about filled. Each wore tight,
sleeveless denim shirts that exposed tremendously long,
tanned and muscularly smooth arms. The shirts rode high
on their midriffs to just below their huge, hard
breasts, revealing thick ribs of washboard muscles on
their silky bellies.
Below, they wore very tight, very short jean cut-offs,
the frayed hems of which barely contained mile-long
thighs that were each as big around as Don's whole
torso. The sun-browned legs tapered down to rocky tubes
of muscled meat that were their calves, all four of
which were stuffed into dirty white socks and low
leather work boots. He looked back up into their
smiling, farm-girl faces and the blond-pig tails that
framed each one. He gulped again. The girls giggled.
"Sweet mother of God, they grow them big around here,
don't they," he found himself saying out loud,
embarrassed as the words came out.
"Reckon they do," Bobbi-Jo laughed in Okie drawl, her
mouth cracking open to reveal perfect milk-white teeth.
"Heck, we're both about six-foot-ten and 300 pounds and
not even done growin' yet! "
Don's mouth fell open anew. "Uh, just how old are you
girls?"
They giggled together and answered together: "15."
"Your parents, are they around?" he asked.
"Mom's gone to town to do some errands," Betty-Sue
answered. "Should be back before long."
"And your dad?"
The girl shifted uncomfortably on their at least size
16 boots.
"Daddy done died a couple of years ago," Bobby-Jo said,
looking down, and then answering the next expected
question. "Farm accident."
Don expressed his condolences and then stammered as he
explained his situation, trying, and failing, to take
his eyes off the gorgeous farm amazons before him as he
did. He told them about his job, his car, where he was
from, and asked if they could help.
"If I could just use your phone..." he said.
"Ain't got one," Betty-Sue answered. "But we could haul
your car back here and take a look. We're pretty
handy."
"I'll bet you are," Don found himself saying, leering
at the mountains of huge female flesh before him,
envisioning them nude and crawling all over him and...
He shook the thoughts away and tried to concentrate,
which was made tougher when one of the girls, Betty-
Sue, he thought, turned to hang her pitchfork on a high
hook, standing on her toes to do it, causing those
gargantuan calves to ball up in thick knots of jagged
muscle above her socks and boots. Don's eyes shot to
them involuntarily and he heard the other sister giggle
again.
"Some kind of legs, huh mister?" Bobbi-Jo asked. "They
don't have legs like that in Ch-eye-cago?"
Don looked at her and managed a weak smile, amused by
her attempt to over-pronounce the city's name.
"No, they don't," he said. "But I tell you, you girls,
when you get a little older, could make a fortune in
the big city as pro wrestlers."
He was again embarrassed by what he had said to girls
so young, especially as he watched them turn to each
other with looks of surprise on their freckled, smooth
faces.
"You mean like this?" Bobbi-Jo sang out and descended
on him like an Oklahoma tornado.
She swooped one arm down and around him, easily
scooping his surprised little body into a cradle
position across her hard gut. He yelped as she lifted
him higher into a full overhead position, like a
bodybuilder, gripping his leg and shirt front as she
did. She started to spin him around when he whacked his
head on the frame of the barn door some 10 feet or so
above the hay-strewn floor.
"Ooops, sorry, mister," she laughed, and then rolling
him down her long arms into a frightened ball, said,
"Here ya go, Betty-Sue!"
With that, she tossed him like a pair of rolled-up
socks across the floor to her waiting sister, who
reeled him in with ease, his scared body bouncing
painfully off the twin sister's rugged midsection.
They whooped and hollered and played literal catch with
him for a minute before one of them spiked him into a
stall, where on his way down he figured he would smash
his skull open on the floor below but was pleasantly
surprised to find himself bouncing off a thick blanket
of hay.
The girls stepped, not jumped, over the high rails of
the stall, laughing as they came. Don tried to stand,
but Betty-Sue dropped atop him, rolling to her side and
clamping her powerful legs around his body. The massive
girth of those farm-girl thighs engulfed his entire
torso, from waist to neck, and she locked up her boots
and leaned up on one elbow to view her scissored prey.
"You mean this kind of rasslin', mister?" she roared in
a hearty laugh, squeezing ever so slightly until Don's
air left his crushed body in a rush.
"Or this kind of rasslin'?" Bobbi-Jo said, dropping to
his side to wrap him up in a headlock, the incredible
bulk of her smooth bicep pinning one ear, the thick
rope of her forearm gluing itself to the other.
Don's eyes crossed, not so much in pain since they
weren't squeezing all that hard, thank God, but from
the delirious notion of being so easily captured by 15-
year-old girls. Extremely large, extremely strong 15-
year-old girls, granted, but girls not too long out of
puberty nonetheless.
He wasn't sure if he was hating it or loving it when he
heard another voice, a woman's, boom from the side,
"Now, girls, you let that little fella go before you go
to cracking him."
"Aw, Ma, we's just havin' a little fun," Bobbi-Jo said
dejectedly, letting go the headlock.
"Yeah, we weren't hurtin' him none," Betty-Sue drawled,
unlocking those mammoth legs from his guts and standing
up.
Don got up and brushed himself off, smiling sheepishly
as he climbed over the stall and into the barn's main
entryway, expecting to see a little leathery old farm
woman. He did see a leathery farm woman. But she wasn't
old. And she was most certainly not little. His neck
was beginning to hurt from all the craning back it was
doing to take in the full view of the woman folk around
these parts. As he gazed ever upward, he gulped even
louder then he did when he saw the woman's daughters:
Mom was even taller.
"She's an even seven-feet!" Bobbi-Joe chortled, running
beside her mother where, once her sister took her place
on the other side, she looked nearly dwarfed by the
farm matriarch.
The hard-looking, broad-shouldered woman wore a stern
look on a deeply tanned face that was wrinkled by years
of hard work and exposure to the elements. Her dirty
blonde hair was streaked with gray and all of it was
pulled back tight behind her head, which made her look
older than the 40 Don later found out she was.
She wore a tight T-shirt and cut-offs that weren't
nearly as snug or short as her daughters', but what
skin was revealed was equally if not more muscular than
her Amazon offspring. Her calves, Don noticed, where
wickedly long with thick cables of muscle lining the
insides. Her arms were as dangerous looking, ropes of
sinew and muscle dancing in her forearms as she stood
with them crossed over her huge chest.
"What brings you here, mister?" she asked, no sign of a
smile on a amazingly pretty face despite the hardship
it showed.
Don started to explain but the girls excitedly cut him
off and told the full story. The mother never took her
suspicious eyes off her visitor as they did.
When they were finished, she said, "Name's Karen. We'll
get your car tomorrow, but for now you're welcome to
stay for supper and spend the night. We got a spare
room upstairs you can bunk in."
It was a very friendly gesture expressed in a non-
friendly sort of way, but Don shrugged and thanked her.
He silently followed the form of the three gargantuan
women out of the barn and into the house.
He used the washroom, as they called it, to clean
himself up and then stood in the doorway of the kitchen
watching the twins whip up dinner, amazed at the grace
and ease with which they moved about the room of an old
home obviously not made for occupants so large. Don
also couldn't keep his eyes off those miraculously huge
bodies, from their rugged arms to those legs, long,
thick and ribbed with muscle, all the way from their
boots to the gloriously-hard mounds of curved flesh
that was nearly hanging from the seats of their too-
short shorts.
His surveillance was something that didn't escape their
mother's eyes. After dinner, when the girls were
cleaning up and Don sat in the living room watching a
black-and-white TV with bad reception, Karen sat down
hard next to him on the couch.
"I think I know what you mean," Don said with a weak
smile, rubbing his stomach. "My belly's still a little
sore."
Karen, for the first time, smiled back at him.
"That weren't nothin', friend," she said, sitting back
and watching the girls work in the kitchen. "I've seen
those girls bust open feedbags just by squeezin' 'em in
those legs. They can do some damage to whatever gets
betwixt 'em, lemme tell you."
Don swallowed hard as he watched the girls giggling and
smacking each other with towels in the kitchen. If it
weren't for their overwhelming size and musculature,
they could've been any 15 year old girls anywhere else.
"Girls, better get outside and get things ready for
tonight," Karen hollered. "Boys should be comin'
anytime soon."
Karen put her large, leathery hands on her rugged
thighs and pushed off the couch. She turned to face
Don.
"You're welcome to turn in whenever you like," she
said. "I reckon you're tired."
As she walked away, Don asked "Get things ready? What
does that mean, if you don't mind my asking?"
Karen didn't turn around, but he swore she was smiling
again.
"Come on outside in an hour or so, if you're of a mind
to," she said. "Oughta be interesting to a city fella."
The thought was intriguing for a few minutes, but as
the static-filled screen of the antiquated TV crackled
on, he found himself almost falling asleep. He wandered
upstairs and threw himself on his bed, figuring he'd go
outside later to check out whatever it was that Karen
was talking about, but in a matter of minutes, he was
out like a light.
He found himself dreaming of being in an auditorium
full of screaming people. They were cheering somebody
on, but he couldn't quite make out who. Even in his
sleepy state, the dream seemed so real, with the sounds
swirling in his head sounding like they were coming
from right outside his window until the noise grew so
loud it woke him up with the realization that it was
indeed coming from right outside his window.
He pulled himself out of bed and walked across the room
to look outside. There, next to the barn, was a
makeshift wrestling ring, a heavy bed of straw doubling
as the mat, with posts in the corners and ropes strung
between them. On either side were a couple of dozen
people, men and women, shouting at the goings-on inside
the ring. And what was going on inside the ring made
Don rub his eyes in amazement.
"I want to tell you somethin', mister," she said
quietly but in an intimidating way as she leaned over
until her face was inches from his. "My girls are a
little, well, adventurous, if you knows what I mean.
They like to rough it up with boys and sometimes they
get carried away. I'm of a mind to stop it when they
get like that, but girls will be girls. I was the same
way, so I guess I got no quarrel with the way they
turned out. I'm just tellin' you to be careful when
you're playing with those girls."
One of the twins, Bobbi-Jo from what he could tell, was
squared off against a young man, a farm boy, he
guessed, who although he was massive and muscled in his
own right, looked downright small next to his opponent.
She had her thick left arm laced around his neck in a
brutal headlock.
Betty-Sue stood off to the side, outside the ring, and
on the other side, also outside the ropes, was another
young farmer, who looked to be about the size of a
bull, only with less neck. The girls both wore what
they had on earlier, and the men were stripped down to
just jeans, revealing broad chests and flat bellies,
chiseled to farm-work hardness.
Refereeing the affair was Karen, staked out in the
middle of the ring watching one of her daughters easily
contain her opponent. Bobbi-Jo worked the headlock like
a pro, wringing the young man's neck, snapping the hold
up and down, jamming the side of his arm-trapped face
into the ribs of her stomach muscles.
"Give it up, Billy, give it up now!" the girl grunted,
powering down the hold. Karen circled them both,
awaiting a submission. "You know you don't want my big
legs in on this!"
Somehow, Billy broke the hold and managed to sneak
behind Bobbi-Jo and snake on a bear hug. The lad's huge
arms cut into the girl's sides and he even managed to
lift her off the ground as he squeezed. The crowd went
wild. Don squinted; clenched in the waving fists of
most members of the audience, he saw money. He laughed
to himself.
"So this is what the folks around here do for
entertainment," he said.
He threw his clothes on and walked downstairs to check
things out more closely. By the time he got out the
door and made his way to ringside, Bobbi-Jo had tagged
off to her sister, who had taken the farm boy to the
hay from behind, engulfing his head in a sea of thigh
muscle. She had her rugged calves crossed on his naked
chest and was squeezing him so hard, the kid's face was
barely visible and what was rapidly turning blue.
"Howdy, mister," one older guy said to Don as he stood
next to him watching the match. "You must be the guy
Karen said was stayin' over."
Don chatted with the man for a few minutes and found
out that Friday night "rasslin"' matches, as he called
them, were regular occurrences on the farm, had been
for a couple of years, ever since the twins started
shooting up like mutant beanstalks. The man said that
in the two years since the matches had been going on,
the girls had rarely lost, just enough to keep folks
coming and betting. But the boys and men from area
farms kept trying, he said, because lost pride was a
big thing in the country and they always came back in
an effort to reclaim it.
"Karen didn't always approve of things, but with the
bettin' and all, and farmin' ain't bein' what it used
to, well, the money comes in handy, I reckon," he said,
watching Betty-Sue let go the scissors to pick up the
barely-conscious man in an over-the-shoulder
backbreaker hold.
Don watched in fascination as the boy screamed his
submission and Betty-Sue dropped him with a thud to the
hay far below. Bobbi-Jo ran inside and Karen stood, the
proud mother and referee, holding up the twins' hands
in victory as the crowd either groaned or cheered,
depending on where their money was. The girls saw Don
and ran to the side of the ring, slapping their big
hands on his back.
"Whatcha think, mister?" Bobby-Sue said, laughing.
"Think we got what it takes to be big time pro rasslers
back in Ch-eye-cago?"
Don smiled and a bell went off in his head, just as
Karen rang a real one across the ring. The girls
giggled and skipped away to start the last match of the
night. The tag team twins were taking on a new pair,
two surly looking guys from a farm down state, Karen
announced. They weren't as big as the last couple of
guys, but just as muscular.
It didn't matter. The girls won their two-out-of-three
fall match in less than 10 minutes. Bobbi-Jo started by
taking her man down with a thundering drop kick that
the poor bastard never saw coming, moving her 300 pound
muscled bulk across the ring like greased lightning.
From there, she lifted him high overhead and pressed
him for a minute before twirling him around in an
airplane spin and dumping him across one kneeling thigh
for a backbreaker that would have had him submitting if
she didn't drop him down and slam on a flat body
scissors. As her massive thighs rippled in the
spotlights that flooded the makeshift ring, she easily
wrenched a screaming submission from him.
Bobby-Sue did her man in, in even less time, clamping a
full nelson on her victim and putting enough pressure
on to snap the head off a less capable opponent. Three
vicious body slams later and a double hammerlock
applied to him as he lay belly down in the hay, her
kneeling over his head, chewing it in her squatting
thighs, and it was all over but for Karen counting
their winnings.
As the crowd made its way back to the variety of rusted
pickup trucks that clogged the driveway, Don approached
the ladies of the farm.
"Karen, these girls are really something," he said,
eyeing the giggling girls as they toweled the sweat off
their massive bodies before heading inside to shower.
"Yeah, I guess I learnt them pretty good," she said as
she knelt to tie a boot lace. "I used to be a pretty
fair rassler myself in my day."
"Exactly," Don said, seizing the moment. "You know,
Karen, I have some connections with fight promoters
back in Chicago, and with the right kind of
marketing..."
Karen rose up slowly to her full seven-foot height and
glowered down at Don with a suspicious glare, stopping
the little man's speech cold.
"Promoters?" she drawled. "You mean like rasslin'
promoters?"
"Well, yes," Don said nervously, looking way up at the
big woman. "I'm telling you, this farm-girl shtick
would be a big, big seller. Forget this Friday night at
the fights crap, I'm talking tours all over the
country."
Karen raised an eyebrow. Don had her hooked. He reeled
her in.
"With you there with them, of course," he quickly
added. "I know the girls love farming and all, but
there's a lot of money to be made here."
"They love rasslin' more, I think," Karen said, a
slight, wistful smile on her lined face. "Might be good
for 'em to get outta Oklahoma, I guess."
"Let's talk to the girls about it right now," he said,
starting for the house.
He suddenly felt the biggest hand he'd ever felt in his
life clamp on his shoulder.
"Not tonight," Karen said, walking ahead of him,
casting him in darkness with her huge shadow from the
bright spotlight. "The girls need their rest. Chores
tomorrow."
And that was that. She went in and showered after the
girls and bring.
The cock crowed at dawn, which woke Don briefly before
he went back to sleep until awhile later he heard the
grinding of a tractor coming up the driveway. He
groggily went to a window and looked out to see Karen
at the wheel of a beat-up John Deere, his little Ford
Escort in tow. Crowding on the hood were the twins,
laughing and waving to Don when they spotted him in the
window. He waved back and wondered if the Escort's
shocks could take it, since the entire front of his
vehicle was covered by the massive asses and legs and
combined 600-pound bulk of the teen girls.
He dressed and went downstairs. The girls pulled a
suitcase out of the back and tossed it to him.
"Better change into somethin' more sensible, Mr.
Stenhaus," Karen said, swinging her long legs off the
tractor to the ground. "Lot of chores to be done, and
you'll be doin' your share."
"I...I will?" he asked weakly, clutching his suitcase.
"You bet," she said, unhooking his car from the John
Deere. "You eat here, you stay here, you work here.
Fair trade?"
"But, uh, I don't know anything about farming," he
offered in mild defense.
Karen smiled. "You know how to use a shovel?" she
asked, nodding her head toward the barn.
"You don't mean...
"Shovelin' shit's the same as shovelin' dirt, friend,"
she laughed, the first time she'd done that since he
got to the farm. "Just smells worse."
The girls giggled and Don looked at them. It was
shaping up to be a brutally hot day, and they were
dressed for it. They had on skimpy tank tops, which
revealed even more brawny, muscled arms, back,
shoulders and bellies, and the tight cutoffs they wore
today above their usual socks and work boots were
shorter than ever. He turned to walk back inside to
change.
There were few highlights of the day, which was one of
the longest of Don's life. He shoveled cow shit for
what seemed a smelly eternity, and then languished in
the fields for most of the rest of the day, picking
whatever it was that needed to be picked and weeding
around the rest of it until his city-boy hands were a
pink mass of blisters-in-waiting.
The highlights came when he would walk back to the
house for a shot of coolness from a garden hose and was
treated to the site of the twins leaning into his
engine, fixing the water pump. As they bent way over to
look inside, the firm, sweet cheeks of their gloriously
hard asses hung from the seats of their sinfully short
shorts in delicious, milky orbs, about the only part of
their massive bodies that wasn't tanned.
And later, when they were getting a drink themselves
and playfully turned the cold water on each other,
their thick nipples exploded from their muscled tits
through their white tank tops until it looked like they
could hang a pitchfork from each one. Don found himself
rubbing his hardening crotch as he watched them, only
to be stopped by the burning pain of his newly-acquired
blisters.
When the day was finally done, just before sunset, Don
sat with what he hoped was his business future on the
steps of the house. He decided to broach the pro
wrestling subject and was barely into it when the girls
jumped up excitedly.
"Oh, maw, can we do it, can we pleeeeease!!" Bobbi-Jo
gushed over Don's surprised shoulder to where Karen had
been standing in the doorway listening the whole time.
He turned to look at her. He thought she'd be pissed,
but she was smiling. It was a wary smile, but a smile
nonetheless.
"Mebbe we'll talk about it later girls," she said,
turning to walk into the house. "Right now, everybody
git cleaned up for supper."
Don was suddenly aloft and realized in their
excitement, the girls had each grabbed an arm and
lifted him high on their mighty shoulders.
"Pro rasslers, ain't that grand? ! " Betty-Sue roared.
Don laughed and put his hands down on the muscled caps
of their shoulders for balance, strangely excited by
the ride. His fingers had never felt anything so hard
in his life, until he realized that might not include
his dick, which had turned rocky in his shit and dirt-
stained pants as the girls danced him around the yard.
They dumped him to the ground where to Don's surprise
and delight, Bobbi-Jo straddled him with her long legs,
her intensely hot crotch rubbing on his. Her eyes
bugged out as she felt what he had there.
"Ooo, Mr. Stenhaus, you liked our little ride, didn't
ya?" she teased, her blue eyes sparkling as she pumped
her ass on his groin. Don went dry in the mouth and
rested his hands on her pulsating thighs.
"Not now, girls," he heard Karen roar from the door.
"Let the man rest a spell, for heaven's sake."
Don nearly snapped his neck looking from the big girl
dry-humping him on the lawn to the doorway where Karen
stood, fully expecting the woman to come out and break
him in half. But she didn't seem to mind. And neither
did he, at least not until Betty-Sue pulled her sister
off the little man and toward the house.
"Time enough for that later, Bobbi-Jo, let's go clean
up," she giggled, turning to laugh as the site of Don
struggling to get up and hide the bulge in his pants at
the same time.
The girls and their mother showered before Don, and
when he came out for supper, he noticed they'd changed
into T-shirts and tight jeans, the supreme snugness of
which made him think that this is one family that gets
the most for their fabric dollar.
The girls' bodies rippled even through their clothes
and Don couldn't keep his eyes them, especially
considering the crotch ride Bobbi-Jo had given him
earlier. They were making him horny as hell, but he had
no idea what to expect from them, or even if he should.
He saw them as his ticket to the big time, their
massive legs ready to scissor submissions from any
opponent while it all squeezed some hefty dollars from
promoters and the general rasslin'-lovin' public.
So when they all turned in for the night, he figured it
was for the better. He didn't want to get caught with
his hand or anything else in the twins' cookie jar
which could put the damper on any deal with their
mother. Besides, he was dog-tired from working on the
farm and was sound asleep as soon as his head hit the
pillow.
When next he awoke, he felt a stinging sensation on his
ass, and what struck his sleepy mind about this was not
only the needle-like feeling on his butt, but that he
was naked. He wasn't when he went to bed.
He looked around and realized he was lying nude in the
middle of the outdoor ring, the light of a bright, mid-
summer moon in his eyes, the cool night air brushing
his cock. Looking up he saw the twins looking down at
him. They wore smiles - and nothing else. He realized
they must have carried his sleeping form down to the
ring and stripped him bare.
"We just wanted to show you the kind of rasslin' we
really like to do," Bobbi-Jo said, and then it was
lights out for the little feed salesman from Ch-eye-
cago.
With the grace of a large jungle cat, she reached down
and scooped him up in her rugged arms, curling him to
her chest and mashing one thick, muscled tit into his
face. Don couldn't breathe as he flailed, his little
hands stinging as he bounced them off the towering
teen's back and shoulders. She laughed and pulled him
away from her tit a bit to let him catch his breath.
"Suck it," she glowered down at him. "Put that titty in
your mouth and suck on it!"
Don obeyed, his wide-open eyes glued to the beaming
blue ones of the Amazon who held him, his wide-open
mouth suckling the creamy tit that filled it. He
reached up to cup it to his lips and was hard pressed
to have his fingers make any dent at all in the thick
muscle of her breast. He put one arm behind her and ran
his hand down the swell of her long back where his
stretching fingers barely touched her magnificent ass.
Bobbi-Jo laughed as she pulled his sucking face away
from her chest with a popping sound before curling him
up and tossing him to Betty-Sue, medicine ball style.
The other Amazon teen easily hoisted him overhead,
holding him aloft by a hand to the throat and another
high on his thigh, the strong grip just millimeters
from his throbbing cock. Betty-Sue looked up at it and
laughed.
"Guess you ain't afraid of heights, huh Mr. Stenhaus?"
she giggled.
She then dropped him across her brawny shoulder, his
lower back smashing into the muscled cap of it as
Betty-Sue bounced him up and down in a painful
backbreaker hold like the one she'd made the farm boy
submit to the night before. Now Don knew why. His back
felt like it would snap over the muscled fulcrum of the
massive girl's rippling shoulder and he bellowed out
his submission.
Betty-Sue laughed and flipped him over and slid him
down until his agonized face was staring at her wild
blonde bush. Her strong arms effortlessly held him
tight to her body as she did.
"Time for some night chores, Mr. Stenhaus," Betty-Sue
growled, slightly spreading her huge legs as she stood.
"Now get in there and do your duty!!"
She held him with one hand and with the other, reached
down and rudely stuffed him face first up and into her
cunt, holding him tightly there by slamming her
majestic thighs around his ears. Don was at once
overwhelmed by the pain of her tree-trunk thighs
rippling in muscular magnificence on his trapped head
and by the searing heat of her pussy as it baked his
face. He was at first unsure what to do, but Betty-Sue
reminded him of his mission by tensing the thick cables
of her inner thighs around his face.
He couldn't see a thing, as his entire head was trapped
in the suffocating embrace of the gigantic teen girl's
legs, but he knew exactly where his mouth was by the
moist heat swamping his lips. He snaked his tongue out
and deeply into the folds of her young twat and was
rewarded by a slight lessening of the scissor pressure
on his skull so he could penetrate her deeper still.
Don's tongue flew up and down the dripping gash of his
Amazon tormentress, slapping against her bulbous clit
on the upstroke and slicing high into her hole as it
came down.
He counted himself a talented pussy-eater and was
pulling out all the stops for the one he was now being
force fed. He grabbed the monumental thighs that
scissored his face into her cunt and was again amazed
by the girth and solidity of them. His fingers made the
long trip around them and up where they tried sinking
into the lush flesh of her powerful, jutting ass, but
the muscles in her football-hard rump were set in silky
stone as the big girl hunched her crotch forward and
down, riding his trapped face like a cowgirl on a
bucking bronco.
She came with a wash of sweet pussy juice all over his
face until he thought he would drown in the stuff. As
she let up slightly to allow him in deeper, it was only
then that he realized the whole time he'd spent eating
her, his stiff dick was being rubbed in the muscled
tits between which they were trapped. Betty-Sue
continued to grind her tireless twat into his mouth
while grabbing his ass and humping her thick boobs
around his throbbing cock.
His ass suddenly stung and he realized Bobbi-Jo had
entered the match by roundly slapping his naked ass. He
tried to scream but the sounds were muffled by the
rock-hard sponges of Betty-Sue's relentless thighs. She
finally let his head pop free as she kept up the titty
fuck on his dick.
"C'mon, Betty-Sue, when's it gonna be mah turn?" Bobbi-
Jo whined, smashing his sore ass even harder as her
sister laughed.
Without warning, the twin that held him dropped him
like a stone to the hay far below and as he sat up, his
ass stinging from the spanking and the spikes of straw
jamming his butt, he saw the sisters tag off like pro
wrestlers. Betty-Sue strode off to the side and in the
moonlight, Don saw the red marks on her inner thighs
where his head was scissored, and a thick layer of her
pussy juice streaking down over them.
He had no time to recover. Bobbi-Jo hoisted him over
her big shoulders and airplane spun him to the ground
again. Grabbing an arm, the big girl whipped him into
the tight ropes where he rebounded back towards her
even faster than he went in. He couldn't slow himself,
not even as he saw her sailing toward him, her huge
feet at head level in an astoundingly accurate flying
drop kick. The bottoms of her massive feet slapped his
face like it had been hit with a rock, and he snapped
off his own feet to land with a thud flat on his back.
She dropped heavily atop him, snaking her long,
ridiculously muscular legs around him for a grapevine
hold, snapping her thick ass down until it felt like
she'd rip his legs from the hip sockets. Adding to the
agony of that hold, she draped her huge tits over his
face and smothered him in their sweaty embrace. He
tried to submit but his crying words could barely be
heard from the fleshy cover of her hard chest, and what
words of submission Bobbi-Jo could hear, she just
smiled and ignored.
With a grunt, Bobbi-Jo then rolled over to her back,
her moaning victim between her spread legs which she
violently slammed shut around his ribs. He put his head
back and howled in pain as the beautiful blonde grit
her pearly-white teeth and went to work slicing his
sides in the muscled blades of her scissoring legs.
"I...give...up..." Don gasped, eyes shut tight against
the pain.
Bobbi-Jo laughed and suddenly let up. The lessening of
all pressure caused Don to fall forward and he felt an
intense white heat envelop his cock, which was as hard
as it ever had been, despite the pain and humiliation.
His dick had sliced into Bobbi-Jo's boiling cunt up to
the balls as she let up the scissors squeeze and he was
amazed at both the feeling of it and by the way a groan
of exceptional pleasure involuntarily escaped from him.
"Not too much, now," the girl giggled and slammed her
legs back together so violently Don heard the thick
calves slap above his back.
At once, he was pulled from the volcano of her pussy
and found the gripping pain return to his battered
sides. Bobbi-Jo kept up the pleasure and pain routine,
letting go the scissors to allow him to fall deep into
her hot cunt only to squeeze him tight again, pulling
him from the only place on earth he wanted to be.
"C'mon, Bobbi-Jo, lemme at him!" he heard Betty-Sue
crow from behind.
He was suddenly free and at the end of Bobbi-Jo's long
arm as she whipped him across the ring to where her
sister was waiting, big legs spread, sitting on a
corner post. Don's face slammed into the moist bush of
the big girl and like a mousetrap, her deadly thighs
smashed shut around his head. His entire face was
buried in Betty-Sue's dripping pussy as his hands clung
to the muscle-bumpy thighs that held him there. His
tongue shot out instinctively to service her again and
she threw her head back and moaned, the pony-tailed
blonde hair brushing the post behind her.
Suddenly he felt a hand brutally tearing at his hair
and as his face was pulled from the sloshy grip of
Betty-Sue's cunt, he heard Bobbi-Jo lament, "Hey,
you've had your fun, now it's mah turn!!"
The wrestling teenage Amazon easily tossed Don to his
back in the hay. He looked up and saw Bobbi-Jo do a
pair of back hand-springs that delivered her with a
crushing thud atop his abused face. She was facing his
feet and her mammoth ass swallowed up his entire head
as she ground her anxious pussy down into his mouth. He
lapped up at it as his hands gripped the pulsating ham-
hocks that were Bobbi-Jo's pinching buttocks, his nose
sucking for air between them.
She rode his face hard, snapping her big hips, lashing
his licking mouth with her gushing gash. Stretching her
long legs out behind her, she captured his head in the
nutcracker grip of her titanic upper thighs, the ribbed
muscles on the insides lining his jaw and face with
pain and pleasure. He opened his terrorized eyes and
could only see the sexy swell of her gigantic, shapely
ass as it engulfed his face. He licked and sucked and
chewed for dear life.
Suddenly, his throbbing cock was enveloped in a new wet
heat and he realized Bobbi-Jo was devouring it with her
moaning mouth. For a girl so young, she was sexually
experienced well beyond her years as she slapped a
massive hand around his quivering joint to jerk off the
spit-slicked tool into her aching lips. Don ate her
with renewed vigor and within minutes found his face
drenched with the girl's love juices. When she finished
wriggling out her orgasm, Bobbi-Jo sat up and splayed
her legs out wider, his nose and eyes all but
disappearing up her thick, hungry ass.
"Oh, Mr. Stenhaus, I ain't never been done like that
before," she hissed, slowly dragging her dripping sex
back and forth across his butt-buried face. "I think
you deserve a little re-ward ! "
With that, she slithered off his mouth, spun around and
spiked her hot pussy with his trembling love stick. She
sat on him, her big hands planted on his bucking belly
for balance, and let him have at her, his hips driving
up to go deeper inside her.
He was beside himself in pleasure and could barely
believe what was happening to him, but before he could
clear his head and concentrate on the gorgeous giant
riding him like no woman had ever ridden him before,
his vision was again blocked, along with his breathing,
as Betty-Sue jumped onto his vacant face.
The sisters rode him in tandem like a pair of well-
trained animals. Bobbi-Jo's scalding snatch gobbled his
cock, her hips snapping with seamless motion atop him
as her sister duplicated the movement on his face. His
shaking hands first caressed the gigantic thighs that
straddled his waist and then shot up to roam the wide
expanse of the muscled ass that was grinding his head
into the hay blanket of the wrestling ring. And then
the girls switched, high-fiving each other in a tag-
team slap as they did it, his cock and head again
engulfed in searing farm girl pussy. Back and forth
they went and Don felt himself wanting to come and
never wanting to come and lost complete track of how
long it was all going on.
Then regretfully, he was free, but his regret was soon
replaced by pleasure as the two girls knelt beside him,
Betty-Sue strapping a calloused but sexy strong hand on
his crank to jerk him off with wild abandon as Bobbi-Jo
not-too-gently cupped his aching balls in one of hers.
"Give it up, Mr. Stenhaus, show us what you can do,"
Betty-Sue breathed huskily.
He didn't have to be told twice. His belly went into a
huge knot and he felt his orgasm explode from deep
within him. He let out an animal cry and as Bobbi-Jo's
tight fingers squeezed his nuts and Betty-Sue's hand
blurred in a blinding display of handjob prowess, he
bucked his hips and shot three feet straight up in the
air. He and the girls watched in awe as the jet of come
fountained high in a creamy arc and splashed in thick
strips along Betty-Sue's sinewy, pumping forearm.
He shot high again and again until he could shoot no
more and both girls' maddening grips eased a bit,
Betty-Sue's hand a shiny sheet of his juice as she
continued to slap his shrinking dick up and down until
it slid from her fist with a squishy plop. She looked
at her sister and laughed; a dollop of come had spotted
her forehead right between the eyes, which Betty-Sue
graciously leaned forward to lick off. Bobbi-Jo giggled
and began rubbing the thick cream into her sister's
well-worked forearm as Don watched the whole thing with
nothing less than complete, satisfied awe.
"Sweet Jesus, girls, I...I never..." he said, unable to
finish. He flopped to his back, exhausted.
"We rassle purty good, don't we Mr. Stenhaus?" Bobbi-Jo
said with a laugh.
"Yeah, we good enough to make a livin' from it?" Betty-
Sue hissed, lifting her shiny fingers to her lips for a
quick lick.
"Oh, shit, yes," Don babbled, raising up to his elbows.
"Just give me a little time to work out the details and
I'll..."
"Mr. Stenhaus!" Karen barked from outside the ring
where she'd been watching for God only knew how long,
Don feared. "May I remind you that these girls have
chores to get up for in a few hours?"
Don tried to leap up but was driven back by the pain in
his head and ribs and by sheer sexual exhaustion. The
teens, however, leaped to their feet, where they helped
up their victim.
"Karen, Jesus, I'm sorry, but I...I..." he stammered as
he stood sheepishly between the twin towers of powers
who were smiling girlishly.
"I warned you that my daughters sometimes get a little
carried away," Karen said evenly, stepping over the
ropes, holding closed her long flannel nightgown. "You
and I need to have a little talk."
Don watched as she gave a barely noticeable nod to her
daughters, who giggled girlishly and vaulted easily
over the ropes to run inside, their massive backsides
jiggling in fleshy undulation as they did, leaving
Karen to stare down, way down, at the naked feed
salesman standing in the middle of the makeshift
wrestling ring.
"Uh, I don't know what to say, Karen, but they sort of
got me out here and I didn't even know it until I was
awake and then I was in between those legs and under
their, uh, well, it didn't seem real, like it wasn't
really happening, at least not until you got here," Don
said in a pause-free rush, trying to explain something
he could not understand himself, in a manner that would
keep the seven-foot tall middle-aged farm Amazon
standing in front of him from tearing him in half and
feeding him to the hogs.
He couldn't think of anything else to say and then
suddenly noticed he was standing there, naked, with his
hands out to the side.
He also noticed Karen's dark eyes riveted to his focal
point, which was beginning to swell with renewed life,
for some reason. His hands shot down to cover himself
up, which prompted the slightest of smiles to cross
Karen's stern lips.
"I understand, Mr. Stenhaus," she said, folding her big
arms across her bigger chest, her nightgown riding up a
bit to reveal the untied work boots she'd hastily
thrown on when the commotion from outside had woken her
up. "I told you, my girls sometimes get carried away. I
was young once, too. I guess that's somethin' they just
got from their mother."
"Not to mention their good looks," Don found himself
saying as smoothly as possible.
Karen's eyes softened a bit, and she smiled.
"You're a salesman, all right," she said, turning to
hold up the ropes so he could step through. "But don't
forget, I grew up around bullshit, so I knows what it
smells like."
"No, no, really, I mean it," Don tried as he ducked
under the ropes that Karen then let down to step over
easily. And he did mean it. The big woman had spent a
lot of years in the sun and rain and snow and it
showed, but it showed sexy, especially in the sensual
glow of the moon, Don suddenly realized.
Karen noticed Don was walking a little gamely, and said
"The girls sure can do a job on a fella, can't they?"
as she reached down to sweep him under one long,
insanely strong arm to carry him in the house.
She easily hoisted him over a shoulder and made her way
up the stairs. Walking past the girls' bedroom, she
heard them giggling and hushed them to get to sleep.
And then she kept walking, right past Don's bedroom,
and into her own where she rolled him off her shoulder
and onto her bed. She closed the door behind her.
"Mr. Stenhaus," she began, standing in the frame of the
door, filling it as the moonlight streamed through the
window to light her rugged, pretty face. "Your car is
fixed and you don't owe us nothin'. Come mornin', you
can just pack up and leave. My girls'll be sad to see
you go, but that's the way it is. I know you made
promises to them, talkin' about a career in rasslin'
and all, and you may have somethin' there, I don't
know. I do know I don't expect to ever see you again,
and I guess that's all right. You got your business to
attend to, we got ours. If the girls never leave the
farm, well, that's just the way it is, and I don't hold
you to no dream you may have put in their heads."
"No, Karen, honestly, I have connections with fight
promoters, and I think this can work," Don said,
kneeling up on the bed, his hands falling away from his
dick that he didn't even know he was stiff again and
had been since Karen hoisted him across her shoulder.
"I'll be back, I promise you."
Karen smiled as her gaze drifted south from his
imploring eyes.
"Come what may, Mr. Stenhaus, come what may," she said,
slowly peeling her flannel nightgown off her broad
shoulders to let it fall in a crumpled heap around her
booted feet, revealing seven feet of massive, muscled
body that the years had treated exceptionally well
despite the rigors of farming.
Don gulped. He watched the muscles tense in her rugged
body as she strode toward the first man that had been
in her bed since her husband died. He lay back as she
towered over him, straddling his little body with her
brown, mile-long legs.
"We'll talk about my daughters' future in the mornin',"
Karen breathed huskily, leaning down to Don's
disbelieving face as her silky buttocks brushed his
straining cock and skirted his belly as they traveled
up to their final destination of his face. "In the
meanwhile, you up for one last chore?"
He was. And more than once. too.
***
The girls helped him pack in the morning, as their
mother stood leaning in the doorway in her ratty
flannel nightgown, looking as at peace with herself as
she had in years, the girls thought looking back at
her.
They ate breakfast and talked business and when it was
time to go, Don collected a goodbye kiss from each twin
as they leaned into where Don sat behind the wheel of
his Escort.
"I'll be back soon, girls, you just let me work my
connections back in the city," he said, gunning the
engine which sounded better than it ever had. "Within a
year - hell, maybe six months, you're gonna see some
big changes in your lives, believe me."
He looked beyond them to where Karen stood, the red
ball of the morning sun rising over her brawny
shoulder.
"And you, too, my dear," he smiled. "I'm telling you,
I'll be back."
Karen softly smiled and walked to the car.
"Like I said, Mr. Stenhaus, come what may," she said,
flipping his business card between her long, strong
fingers. "But if you get my girls all fired up on what
turns out to be nonsense, I'll come lookin' for you in
that big city of yours. And I'll find you. You don't
wanna make me or my girls mad."
She leaned in to give him such a long, lingering kiss
that the girls got to whooping and hollering behind her
as she did. Don took a long breath when she finally
broke off and jumped a bit as the girls slapped the
roof of his little car.
"Oh, I'll be back, ladies, you can make book on that,"
he said to himself, watching them wave goodbye in his
rearview mirror and sticking his own hand out the
window to return the gesture. "I know a goldmine when
I'm caught in one."
He headed the little car out to the road and headed
back to the highway that would return him to Chicago.
His mind raced with possibility until he looked beside
him and saw the list of sales calls he was supposed to
make this week.
He laughed as he balled it up in his fist and shoved it
happily out of his open window.
END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 66