"One more rep Sarah", John shouted in my face. I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes as I somehow found a last reserve of energy to straighten my arms. What felt like pure agony burned across my chest and biceps as I pushed the weight up for him one final time. I felt my abs tense and finally that flow of endorphins hit me as my arms straightened, I opened an eye and looked at his face. The tears in my eyes clouded my vision, but I could see his pride, as he took the weight from me and put it safely back.
"That was fucking awesome babe", he exclaimed, as he leant over and helped me sit up. "I am so damn proud of my little muscle girl."
Muscle girl I thought, yeah right, I was eighteen and we had only been dating for a couple of months. Physically I was as far removed as a muscle girl as you can get. Short with very feminine curves but maybe carrying a couple of pounds too many. He was an aspiring bodybuilder who worked as a doorman at the bar I served at. John was a few years older than me, and my first real serious boyfriend. I had moved into his flat after only a few short weeks together.
My entire fitness regime before we met had been based on sitting in lycra smiling at the muscular boys in the gym, but now after only a few weeks, he had convinced me to actually start lifting weights in the gym too.
I grinned at him, or at least I think I tried, my entire body still shaking from lifting my new personal best five times in a row. He stepped closer to wrap a strong arm around me, and as he held me, I could feel the hardness in his gym shorts resting on my chest. Wow, I thought, as the hard length pushed against one of my nipples, guess he really did appreciate my efforts. I put my arms round his broad back, his pronounced muscles hard like steel in my hands.
"Thanks...", I breathed heavily, sweat pouring from my brow, "I just...", I tried to say as he lifted me up to my feet.
"Don't say a word Sarah," he said softly, "you're doing so well".
As he held me, I looked over the gym and felt crushed.
Across the large community run gym was his Mum, effortlessly curling 100 pound dumbells in front of the mirror. Her biceps swelled hypnotically, before the triceps exploded again - it looked like they were fighting under her tanned skin. Her lycra clad body looked as pristine as when she had entered the gym an hour earlier. Turning slightly I looked at the benchpress I had just completed, damn - I was literally killing myself lifting the same as she curled with one hand.
She had turned fifty only a few weeks ago, but her body was like that of a woman half her age. Her blonde hair short and cropped in a severe bob, a deep tan that accentuated her muscular physique and a Celtic-inspired tattoo that ran from the side of her abs and down one leg.
Breaking away from him I limped to the change rooms. Ashamed of my thin, tiny body I wrapped myself in a towel and hung my head wanting the world to swallow me up. Sat on my own in the changing room for around twenty minutes, whilst my boyfriend and his Mum finished their work out. I thought about my body in comparison to hers, the stillness and quietness of the room helped me to focus my thoughts.
I started to think about John, my boyfriend, straining to lift the heaviest weights he could manage. His face turning red, as he strained every sinew.
I thought about Amanda, his Mum, encouraging him, before she picked up the same weight and matched his reps. Her ice-cold expression not changing as she robotically banged out rep after rep. The striations of her pecs, visible through the tight crop top she wore, each rep pushing her muscles tighter against her clothing.
I thought of them standing next to each other flexing their arms in the mirror. Her perfectly cut biceps, splitting like an anatomical drawing. Her fawning gaze at John's big biceps.
I thought of those little looks they gave each other...
"Get some focus Sarah", I told myself. "You're an eighteen year-old woman with a fantastic slender figure. You could have your pick of the guys in the bar. You have a gorgeous boyfriend, your work is going well, and life is good."
I removed my sports bra and put it in my bag, bending down I unlaced my shoes, and pulled my shorts and panties off. Giggling, I grabbed my breasts and thought "have that Amanda, why have pecs when you can have proper titties!" and walked to the showers.
I looked at the two shower cubicles, and then the large communal area. "Damn it", I thought, "I'm not hiding away". And turned on the water in the communal shower.
I heard the door to the gym slam open and right on cue thirty seconds later Amanda walked into the communal shower. She pulled her tight lycra off and threw it in the corner, flexing her arms and grunting slightly as her hand squeezed her own thigh
She didn't say a word, as she stood a couple of feet to my right, with her back to me. The water was cascading from her head and running down the thick trapezius muscles that seemed to pull her shoulders apart. The water then coursed down and seemed to fly off her lats, leaving her ass almost dry.
Taking her shower gel, she reached behind herself and started to massage the soap into the small of her back. Her triceps pumping like pistons as she worked the soap in.
I was transfixed. I was used to seeing John's muscular body, but this seemed stronger, bigger more erotic. I had never thought of her like that before.
I don't know why, but I took a step forward and with the flat of my hand I rested it on her muscular ass. It didn't move, as I tried to squeeze my hand around her ass cheek, my painted finger nails digging into the granite like muscle.
It felt like time stopped, my hand on her muscular ass, the warm water from the shower cascading from her body and splashing my bare breasts and face. I was so close to her that I could smell the soap on her huge fifty year old body.
What the hell was I doing.
I could feel the muscles in her ass tense, her glutes contracting, and hardening, my finger nails sliding on the wet skin.
"I'm sorry", I blurted, quickly pulling my hand away. I could feel my face reddening with embarrassment. Before I was able to even think about stepping back, she spun round and grabbed my wrist and bent it backwards, dragging me towards her. The water from the shower deflected from her showers and sprayed my face, I could feel an agonising pain in my hand and whelped pathetically.
Through partly closed eyes, I could make out of the outline of her nipples, which were level with my eyes. "Sarah", she purred softly, "did you just touch my ass?" Her hand tightened slightly on my wrist and I could see her bicep start to harden. She kept the pressure steadily increasing, her fingers gradually pulled my hand back.
"No!", I exclaimed, "well yes, but..." Damn my hand really hurt.
She continued to steadily push my wrist back with her left hand, her left pec tightening and striating as she increased her pressure. I could now feel real pain in my wrist, and tried to pull my hand away, but she kept me held tightly.
"Yes, you did." For the first time her ice like demeanour lightened and she smiled. "Did you want to worship these muscles?". She ran her right hand lightly over her eight pack abs before flexing her arm. The water ran like small rivers down her toned abs, before escaping over the hairy mound of her pussy.
"No", I said quietly, afraid to look into her eyes, and trying to stop gazing at her pussy.
I didn't want to worship her, did I? She was huge and ripped, permanently looking like she had just stepped off a national bodybuilding stage. But I was straight, I didn't find her sexually attractive. I mean, I appreciated her dedication. I fancied some abs on my body, but me and Amanda getting it on - no way! If I wanted muscles, I would feel up my boyfriend John. Maybe that was it, after all I loved his muscular ass too.
