The “dropped change” trick leads to hand crush 7 min read

Long time lurker here, but never posted before. Since as early as I can remember, I’ve always wanted crushed, pinned and/or trampled under women’s shoes, and as I became a teenager, also under their tires. I have several 100% real experiences that I will start to write up and share here on TrampleStories. This one is about 15 years ago now.  It was a true experience – at least as true as I can remember from back then.

Everyday after middle school, I would walk the 15-20 minutes to our home. Both my parents worked and often weren’t home until much later, so I had quite a bit of independence and leeway to myself. As you grow older, women see you less and less as a ‘cute little kid’ and instead as a something to be weary of, and the opportunities to get crushed drastically reduced. E.g. no more playing under the table and easily getting crushed. However, new avenues are opened up, carparks and shops for instance

I developed several ‘approaches’ to getting my hand crushed by a woman’s car without anyone ever knowing. Let me write about just one of those experiences today, and a quite ingenious one if I say so myself. I’ll endeavor to write the other ones, including another one that went horribly wrong soon.

I spent weeks thinking of different ways to get my hands crushed, this is one of the better ones. Bearing in mind, it only works for a certain age, etc. I’d loiter around the front of the mall, waiting for an attractive woman with a trolley to exit. (If they have a trolley this gives me enough time) and then track them as they walk back to their vehicle. I also only do this if their car is far away from the entrance, and ideally against a hedge or something to block the view.

If everything works, then I make a beeline as they are loading up the groceries. They then return their trolley to the bay, as I ‘balance’ along the curb in front of their car (Acting like a silly teenager) but low and behold I accidentally dropped my pocket money conveniently under the passenger side of the car.

Ideally they see all of this occur, and by the time she returns the conversation goes something like this: “Sorry to bother you, miss! Is this your car? I’ve accidentally dropped my pocket money down there’ pointing to the passenger side.’ And act a little sad/pouty. “If you reverse back slowly I’ll grab it before someone takes it!

To date, this has always worked. “Sure, sweetie, just be careful” or “Sure, stand well back though”

So, on this particular afternoon, I followed my usual game plan. A beautiful lady, tight jeans, black top and boots with a block heel strolled out with her trolley. Bingo I thought! Watched her as she walked back to her car. I had a fairly good idea of cars, this one was a Chevy Suburban, something about a woman controlling such a big powerful car made this all the more exciting for me. Logically you would think that a big car is heavier and hurts more, but the much bigger wheels seem to help distribute the weight around more, its cars with the low profile/sports car looking tires that hurt the most.

She finished loading up the trunk, and I was now walking kind of in the hedge/garden at the front of her car, we were in the back corner of the parking lot, so I was confident nobody would be walking past at that moment. I saw in the corner of my eye she was returning, so I pretended to loose balance and let go of my few coins. Once on the ground I sneakily placed a few coins under her car just in case she did look.

She saw what happened, “Awww, are you OK?” she asked rushing over.
“All good” I smiled as I stood up and brushed myself off, ‘Just dropped my pocket money under your car”
“oh”

“But if you reverse back slowly, I grab it’ I suggested.
‘Sure, just stand clear, I wouldn’t want to run you over’ she laughed.
Little did she know… During our brief interaction, I could see her up close now. Probably early 40ies, the tiniest signs of wrinkles around her eyes, but the definition of a MILF.

She walked around to the driver’s side, and climbed up, I saw the car drop every so slightly as I now bent down beside the car. My heart was beating so fast and hard that I could feel it in my throat, and I didn’t realise how big her car was until now. Kneeling down, the tire was almost as tall as me, the front guard was over my head. She couldn’t see a thing.
The engine roared to life, and I heard electronic buzz of the front passenger window winding down.

“I can’t see, are you right for me to go back, darling?’ she inquired, her voice dripping with care and compassion over the engine.
“Yep, I’ll well clear” I lied back.

In reality, my hand was on the asphalt, a couple inches behind her huge wheel, shaking in anticipation. I heard the click of the trans, as it shifted into reverse and I felt like I was going to explode in anticipation and nerves.
The monstrous tire rolled backwards quite slowly, and effortlessly up onto my hand. She was going much slower than anyone had before, I could almost see as the weight squeezed the blood out of the fingers one at a time, which was immediately compressed into the road surface. I imagined her sitting in her SUV above me, beautiful ass planted in the seat, heeled boots effortlessly controlling the pedals that are causing so much suffering beneath her. I was about to cum in my pants right then and there, but the tire stopped moving, pinning my hand!

“Did you get them all, darl?” she inquired, oblivious to the situation under her wheels.

“Yes, thanks” I said through gritted teeth, desperate to maintain the demeanor of a boy not being crushed under a wheel, waiting for her to continue reversing away. She was just kindly checking before leaving.
No.

I heard the transmission shift again, as I remained pinned. Panic set in. Is she getting out? Will she see me? The next 20 seconds, felt like an eternity. Nothing happened. She stayed in.

What if someone walks past? My mind started racing. My hand was hurting, but it was the worry of permanent damage that worried me more. And I need to hide these marks from my parents too. I started feeling helpless.
With each heartbeat, the pain was intensifying, I was started to see white and go dizzy. My hand was sending waves of pain through my body now.
“Miss! I’m missing one more, could you move back a bit please?” I yelled, my only chance for escape.

“Umm, one sec” she replied, sounding preoccupied.
I could feel sweat dripping off my face, yet I felt deathly cold, I felt so helpless. But then, I heard that shift again.
The wheel slowly moved back further, and my hand somehow hurt even more as blood returned. The tread of her tire was perfectly transferred to my hand, in an array of red and yellow marks.
I stood up, and thanked her through the open window, hiding my crushed hand.

A phone.

She was texting, while I was nearly dying under her wheel. That’s insane I thought.

But it also turned me on more than anything.

“Hot day, you look stuffed?” she said, glancing up from her phone momentarily at my exhausted face.

“ yeah it is, thanks for your help” I mustered to reply as I walked off.
I examined my hand, it was already turning bruised colors, each of my knuckles were grazed and the parts where the fingers touch, if you help your hand flat, was completed red. Blood was pooling under the skin.
It took nearly two weeks for that to disappear. Somehow I managed to hide it from my family.

But the memory lasts forever.