She flung the massage parlor's doors wide open and put her hands on her hips. Everyone turned.
"It - it's Anne the Axe!" one of the patients whispered.
The woman with her hands on her hips smirked. She was beautiful. Stunning. And very, very tall - easily over six-feet in her heels. Yet it was more than her long legs and flawless face: This smirking goddess exuded a throwback-brand of brash, feminine beauty - like a Hollywood siren from the 1950s.
"Why do they call her Anne the Axe?" a patient whispered back.
"Dude... you must be new to town!"
Anne Anderson - or, as the kids called her, "Anne the Axe" - walked confidently to the reception desk, her hips swaying from side-to-side. She was dressed conservatively - on paper, at least. A stylish business jacket, thin black sweater, heels and designer slacks - nothing out of the ordinary. But her body was making the outfit anything but conservative: Anne was built like a schoolboy's fantasy. She was no longer in her twenties, but the sexy, intimidating woman was packed with curves - and sweet Jesus, her chest...
WOW.
"So solly! We closed for day! Come back later!" said the receptionist. She pointed to the clock; it was 5:05 p.m.
"You're closed for everyone else - but I assure you, you'll stay open for me!" Anne snapped. "Tell Kim it's an emergency. My back is killing me!"
The towering woman ran her fingers through her strawberry blonde hair and glared at the receptionist. All of her manerisms were so forceful - like she was used to ruling with an iron fist.
For good reason: She was a high school teacher. 14 year veteran, senior-year math. But she was so much more than that:
Anne Anderson was a legend.
Anne the Axe had taught at the local high school ever since she graduated from college. With her huge tits and curvy frame, an entire generation of the town's 18-year-old boys had grown-up lusting after her. She was their #1 teenage fantasy; having wet dreams about her was practically a rite of passage. One wise guy said that Miss Anderson was responsible for spilling more seamen than an iceberg!
Each year, a new army of 18-year-old adolescents would grovel at her feet. Every Valentine's Day, she received more cards, flowers and chocolates than she could ever hope to carry. And if she ever wanted to induce a heart attack, all she had to do was lean way, way down... and watch the kids stare bug-eyed at her cleavage. It was such a thrill for the unmarried teacher: The future CEOs, doctors, lawyers and tycoons of America - and SHE would always be the one who got away. All they would EVER get was an eyeful of her mouthwatering cleavage - and a lifetime of masturbatory material.
When a boy had a question, one of her most wicked indulgences was leaning ALL the way over, so her breasts hovered right by their eyes, and watching their faces would turn fire engine-red. Then... they rushed off to the bathroom with their hands in their pants...
Wacking-off to Miss Anderson was the school tradition.
All the students DREAMED of seeing her tits. They fantasized over what they looked like. The topic was discussed daily at every cafeteria table: "Dude!! I'll bet they're HUGE!!" "Of course they're huge! I bet they're also super-firm!" "I think she's 36 D!" "Nah, she's at least 38 F!"
Everyone had a different theory about what her true bust-size was. The pros and cons were debated Lincoln/Douglas-style in the boys' locker room before every P.E. class!
No exaggeration.
All the red-blooded boys dreamed of touching her - of exploring every inch of her glorious body. They dreamed of FUCKING HER over and over again - and conquering the legend...
Conquering Anne the Axe would be like... well, it would be like being the first man on the moon! Only BIGGER! So each year, a new class of kids plotted like super villains. Some even VOWED that they'd be the one to finally penetrate her! There was almost a reverse "sword-in-the-stone" quality to their boasting.
None of their vows came true, of course. Don't be absurd! The Queen wouldn't let herself be seduced by a lowly peasant! No matter how many times the poor peasant tried...
Anne the Axe deftly sidestepped the boys' sophomoric attempts to separate her from her clothes, or photograph her in the buff, or learn her private measurements. Still, they plotted: One 18-year-old kid put mirrors on his shoes in an attempt to look up her dress. Another was caught trying to hide a webcam in the faculty bathroom. Another tried to sucker her into joining the "Bra of the Month" club, in a feeble attempt to learn her bust-size! But she always saw through their silly ploys.
Then... vengeance was hers! And NOBODY was more vengeful than The Axe!
Miss Anderson was a dominatrix masquerading as a high school teacher.
The kids called her "Anne the Axe" because she was as scary as a battle axe; it was NOT a term of endearment. She had a malicious wit and a sadistic sense of humor, and wasn't above using sexual innuendo to embarrass a student: "Class, Mr. Smith's report was short, thin and inadequate. From what I hear, that's also an accurate description of something else!" "Class, Miss Jones' essay was flat and underdeveloped. I nearly confused it with her... oh, never mind!"
She could destroy you overnight.
Once, she had the star football player expelled for sexual harassment. It's the most famous Anne the Axe tale of them all. According to the urban myth, she kicked the QB in the nuts when he exposed himself - and then laughed at the size of his tiny little prick as he was carried away! The humiliated boy lost his college scholarship AND his "lady's man" reputation.
But that's another story.
The receptionist didn't know any of this. She barely spoke any English and couldn't figure out why this tall, angry woman was bossing her around like an unruly schoolgirl:
"Listen to me, young lady. Kim was my student. I left a message on her cell phone. Tell her I'm here. Now!"
"No - no - I solly -"
"Pardon the pun, and I don't mean to be culturally insensitive, but be like those sticks you eat with and CHOP CHOP!! Go find Kim! Meanwhile, I'll get ready in the massage room. There's not much time - the charity gala is in four hours, and she NEEDS to relieve my back pain!"
Miss Anderson was asked to guest-model a $17 thousand evening gown at the school's annual fundraiser, and knew she would be on her feet - in those uncomfortable high heels. Her back would be in excruciating pain. This was the drawback of being so top-heavy: Her chest got her lots of attention, but also did a number on her back.
While the receptionist was still babbling in Korean, Anne opened the door and marched right past her.
"No - no - no!! I solly!! We closed! You no come in!"
Anne ignored her and kept walking.
The receptionist didn't know what to do, so she ran to the janitor for help...
When Miss Anderson got to the massage room, she turned on the light. Very bright; her eyes instinctively blinked to readjust. The massage table was ready for the next patient: There was a clean sheet of paper on top, a towel to cover herself, and a bench for her clothes.
Anne proceeded to undress: First she slipped off her sleek business jacket. She had just bought it last week (from Italy). Typically, she didn't wear jackets... but she had recently injured her back and put on a little bit of weight. Her jacket helped hide her, um... excesses.
Especially the "excesses" around her hips and ass.
She pulled her tight black sweater up over her head. The sexy teacher's gigantic tits were snug and secure in a VERY sturdy, extra-supportive bra, but her cleavage was STILL spilling over! Miss Anderson squeezed her breasts in her hands and smiled. The most famous tits in town.
