How to Weather the Legs of Heather
(Fine) -
A Christmas Story
By Kandor
OK, here's the only way to avoid brain damage in the legs of Heather "She's soooooooooo" Fine: Don't go! . Do not see her! Do not allow those legs to close around you by totally avoiding her. It is THE only way.
Gentlemen, I'm telling you, in this 'The Year of Scissoring Dangerously' (four head-cracking sessions in the last six months), Heather Fine provided the most painful lethal legs lesson yet. I've gushed about the others (Cynthia of Chicago, Cheryl Harris, and Lora Ottenad), and they are magnificent scissor demons in their own right, ... but for sheer agony and complete neck-snapping torture, Heather is the queen!
She is not a big woman, like 5'-6" or so, but those thighs, my GOD, those thighs, thick, flaring pads of muscle, huge outer hunks of flesh that literally hang out on the sides like muscular cliffs. Chiseled calves and silky skin complete the look.
From the outset, I was a goner. She first sat on my back and I swore she was going to give me a massage or something, maybe soften me up; but no, she rolled me to my back, between those legs, and snaked on a full-bore body scissors that literally took my breath away. I'm a big guy (some say 'a fat fuck', but I'm not going to split hairs) at 6 feet, 220 or so; but she got those relatively short legs around my guts so tight I thought they were a pair of muscle-bound Christmas ribbons. She had them flat around my belly and back and much to my credit (some call it stupidity) I refused to give up. And my body refused to breath. The pythonic pressure was overwhelming; I'd lose a little air, the thighs would close tighter and deny me access to any more. But when she turned me a bit and wound those hammering hams around my short ribs - goodnight, lights out, got to go, must say "I GIVE!!!!" and tap out lest she break something. And then it got worse (better?).
She unleashed the thigh brigade on my head and neck. She would catch me in a classic head scissors, from behind, those twin towers of thigh power on my ears, and that I could endure for awhile, but then she'd slip her hands under my chin to pull my head back and force those iron limbs alongside my neck. No way to resist that, no way at all, especially with her uncanny fucking adductors tearing into the sides of my neck like two undulating steel cables, squeezing so god damn hard, not only was it going to put me under, it was actually grinding my neck bones to boot!! I lost count of how many times she did this to me and how many times I gave up. What made things even more interesting was that occasionally, she'd tie up my hands with her arms while her thighs devoured my head. I couldn't tap out, and with those milky white tubes of death scissored around my head like shrink wrap, punching at my jawbones, I couldn't even talk, couldn't utter a fucking sound, so there was no way to signal my submission, other than to go completely limp and die. Which damn near happened, I swear.
I'm telling you, 10 minutes into the hour, I was fearing for my life. I mean it. I know she wouldn't kill me, but with those thighs wrapped around my skull squeezing what seemed to be the life out of me, I knew it wouldn't take more than 30 seconds of full-bore scissoring for her to snap my neck, fracture my skull, permanently seal off the blood to my brain, or do a lethal combination of the above. At times, my submissions were frantic, I was that fearful of permanent damage or death. Really. It was fucking awesome.
You got to be twisted to love this shit and during the times she was grinding me in those meaty pipes, thighs snapping and quivering from the scissor effort, I knew if I was going to die, I was going to SCISSOR HEAVEN because I was getting a little of it right there in a Boston hotel room!!! Oh, and did I mention face-sitting? Sweet mother of all things sexy, just when I thought it couldn't for a moment get any better, or more painful; Heather, sweet, redheaded and evil Heather, jumps on my tormented smile and sits on a happy face! I've been face-sat before, but she is something else, not caring if you breathe, sitting up only occasionally to allow you to draw a breath, taunting you with "You better hold your breath now, cause you won't be getting any for awhile," and then plunking that meaty 'rumpus delectus' back down on your face. It was, on a scale of 1-10, a 145.69, no shit!
By the time we were through, I was barely awake. My eyes were puffy and bloodshot, my fucking nose was throbbing and redder than W. C. Fields' after a two-week bender, she was that brutal with her face-sitting frenzy, and even my lips, I'm not kidding, my fucking lips were swollen from the constant pressure of her thighs around my neck forcing the juices up and into my skull. Amazing, just amazing!!!
As I said, for sheer pain, Heather is tops, followed closely by Cheryl Harris, who's legs are probably as strong. Cynthia of Chicago has GREAT legs and devastating scissors, but not like Heather's; then again, for sheer dominance and attitude, nobody's better than Cynthia. And for size and musculature of the thighs, Lora has to lead the league.
All in all, a wonderful experience, one that had my head throbbing the rest of the day and my neck sore to this writing, some four days later. I saw her on Monday, today's the holiday. Was it worth the money? Merry Christmas to ME!!! You bet your ass it was!!
That's all from Scissor Central, boys.
Kan
P.S.
To Kandor: Thank you, thank you, thank you. Your narrative of the Heather
experience made my day. I'm in nothing like good enough shape to weather the
scissors storms you've been through, but the vicarious experiences created by
your excellent graphic descriptions provide a lot of pleasure in the reading.
Keep surviving the ladies' lethal legs; and, most of all, keep writing about
your experiences. Happy holidays to all the positive contributors to this board.
Heather can be contacted at 212-316-2503 or by her email at foxymuscle@msn.com.