Fingers Crushed at Work

Fingers crushed at Work

True Story ‘A’
Ever since I was a kid of 5 years old, I’ve fantasized of being under the full weight of a girl and later, a woman. I literally wanted to be crushed under a female human being.

There were several times when I was sat-on... on my head… on my face and on my stomach. I very much enjoyed the pressure… the warmth… the smells and the darkness of being head or face-sat. Some girls were light and some were quite heavy, but all of the girls, without exception were very experimentive and eager to try something quite new and different.

As I grew into adulthood, my fantasies expanded into ‘crush.’ I became enthralled with the concept of things, living or not, being crushed, knowingly or not, under the weight of a woman. I even became envious of things that were run-over or parked-on unknowingly by a small car driven by an attractive young lady. In unknowing crushings, I often, would ‘assist’ in such ‘crush’ happenings. I placed ‘things’ just in front of or behind a tire of the vehicle. Often such ‘things’ were parts of my body, like my hands, fists and my arms. During ‘knowing’ crushings, I would place myself in a shallow trench and ask the girl to simply drive her small car over me forwards and backwards many dozens of times. She often chose to drive over me slowly or les often, quickly. She often chose my head to run over but never my face. I wonder…

Back to direct crushings. For several years, I worked for an electronics company and became friends with a VERY attractive girl from accounting. Every workday, during our lunchtime, she came back to my office, sat in the only remaining chair in the room and ate our lunches together. In nervous anticipation of her arrival, I often set things up.
First, I placed ‘Crunch’ candy bar under one of the casters of ‘her’ chair, hoping the she wouldn’t notice it.

Second, I placed my paper lunch bag on ‘her’ chair and covered it with my neatly folded jacket. I still could see a part of my lunch bag under the jacket. I’ve also placed several 'goodies' in a few pockets of my jacket.

Third, I placed a ‘black cube’ with two wires protruding from it on the floor near my desk. I told her earlier that this was a pressure-testing unit that was designed for intensive pressure and needed that kind of intense pressure for an effective test.

Ah, I hear foot steps coming down the hall. YES, it’s her… and she’s wearing high heels! I’m hoping that she’s wearing those cherry red pumps with 3½ inch high heel with ¼ inch hard rubber tips.

And there she is, my heart is pounding like a jack-hammer. She’s always smiling… what a beautiful smile… what a gorgeous body! Her name is Sharon, 5’-8” about 135-140#, 37-25-38, bright blue eyes, highlighted blonde hair cut just below her shoulders and perfect well-toned and tanned skin. A perfect example of God’s good architectural work.

Sharon enters my office and closes the door behind her. She places her lunch on the desk where ‘her’ chair is.

She bends down to pick up the jacket on the chair and I quickly but casually say, “Don’t worry about it, it’s wrinkled anyway. I don’t care if you don’t. With that she turns around to face me and sits down hard on the chair… and other things! I hear the candy bar speak it name, ‘Crunch!’ She too hears it, turns around and looks back and down finding the candy bar. She says to me casually with a wink, “It sure is crunched now!” The instant her butt hit the chair; I hear the air rushing out from the chair cushion… as well as from a couple of plastic bags containing parts of my lunch. She must have felt some lumps and bumps but didn't say anything about them. She just wiggled a little to settle her weight in place.

As she sat there, I saw my lunch oozing out of the paper bag under her right thigh. My lunch was being smooshed by her right sitting bone… the maximum pressure point under her! I was actually jealous! I wish it were me being squashed under her! I came big time!

A short while into our lunch, she noticed the ‘cube’ on the floor. It was larger than the one she was used to. She had stepped on other small ones previously and deformed them quite easily with the sole of her shoe, but this one really seemed to intrigue her. She looks at the cube and then at me several times, finally asking, “Well, is that for me too?” “What, oh that, gee, I guess so… if you really want to. As she finished the last bite of her lunch, she eagerly says, “Sure, I’d love to… same drill?”

She rose from ‘her’ chair and took three steps over to the ‘cube’ and raised her right shoe over the ‘cube’. “Like this?” she asks, with her full weight now being supported by my ‘cube.’ “Let’s see…” By now, I’m on my knees in front of her; my face a mere 2” from her creaking shoes. The sole of her shoe was demanding the ‘cube’ yield to its instructions, “Crush under my commanding forces!” But the cube put up a valiant fight and resisted with just minor distortion. It was then that I suggested that we should try the heel to see what its effect would be on the ‘cube’.

Since I was crowding around her right foot, she was unable to see directly what was happening and where her heel was actually positioned. She asked me, “Would you please guide my heel exactly where you want it?” I responded, “No problem.” I guided her heel onto the center of the ‘cube’ and she again mounted the ‘cube’. As her weight was now fully on the ‘cube,’ I got another 'woody' when I noticed the impression on the ‘cube’ from her heel. She asks me, “Do you want me to thrust too?” With a dry throat, I responded, “Sure, let’s try it.” She thrusted about a half-dozen times and then got off. What a fantastic impression on that ‘cube’! Again, I came then and there in my pants!

I had to take things one step further. I turned the ‘cube’ on another axis and asked her to do the same thing again. This time, I placed my index finger on the ‘cube’ and place her heel squarely on my finger. When she was ready, I asked to, “Mount up.” Without hesitation, she kept her hand on my left shoulder and thrusted her beautiful body upwards and onto her one heel and on my one finger. The instantaneous intense pressure she applied to my finger was fantastic… the adrenalin was flowing and it didn’t really hurt all that much… believe it or not! She asks me if I wanted her to thrust and I said, “Please!” Each of her thrusts gave me strong surges of erotic pleasure. I want my whole hand… no, my whole head and face under her!

She said that she enjoyed helping me out and wants to come back to do it again, if I want her to.

After she left, I carefully retrieved my candy bar, my well crushed lunch and the pocket goodies. I ate them all and again exploded in my pants at the end.

The End?


New Member
Apr 21, 2005
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Tell Her . . . She's No Dummy

What's keeping you from telling her exactly what you want? Sher seems quite willing & agreeable! She HAS to be willing to step up on your entire body with those same heels! Give it a chance & "step forward" on this one :) ;-)
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New Member
Aug 19, 2004
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She looks at the cube and then at me several times, finally asking, “Well, is that for me too?”
I keep telling everybody:
Women are a lot smarter, and much more perceptive than many of us would like to give them credit for.
If you think you're concealing some big secret from them- the joke's on you.
Because you're not. They may not always confront, and beat you over the head with it, but they know what you're thinking..
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