My last year of high school, my dad took me down to the basement for "men talk". The excuse was the fact that my parents found out I was having sex with my then girl friend, and mom insisted he should do it. But he didn't care much about his son gifting him an unwanted grandkid or acquiring an STD or whatever; no, he was really drunk, and he just wanted to finally unload his secret. Well, mom's secret, really... so we sat on the gym bench - my dad was into fitness, and had a really impressive setup installed - and he talked for over an hour, straight. Nothing much about me and my sexual activities - something I was over the moon about, but regarding which I could have really used some grown-up advice, mind you! - but rather about him and mom. I learned a lot about my mom that day, but it was nothing a young son should learn about his mother - certainly not from his drunken dad...
I've had a thing about her for many years; it was the sight of her in a summer dress, with her amazing tits almost spilling out, that fed my first jerking-off session, ever (and many since). She was a very pretty woman, with a scathing sense of humor which I thought was very cool. She was on the large side, a bit heavy-set, which I always thought explained why we never went to the sea, or her preference for large, flowing dresses - now I found out there was another reason...
Things were never the same after that "talk"; I used to be close to my mom, but now I avoided her (never talked to my dad much, anyway), and when I got accepted to several schools, I chose one in California, just to be as far away from home as possible. My parents were divorced soon after I left home; my dad did say that he was only staying for MY sake. After that I didn't see much of him, but I did go home for holidays. I never talked with my mom about that... thing... but we did get to talking a lot on the phone. She seemed to be taking the divorce rather well; she went back to work - lots of stories about all the assholes there! - but the thing that seemed to give her joy was the fact that she started working out in the basement gym, seemingly really getting into it. She didn't date or anything - well, nothing she would tell me about, anyway.
Right after graduation I landed a job at an international construction company, and went directly overseas, spending almost two years in the middle-east, never coming home for a visit. But when I got offered a promotion, and had to go back to visit company HQ in Chicago, I decided to stay with my mom, in Evanston. I did a lot of thinking, while overseas, and figured it was a chance to fix our relationship. I was really thinking about her a lot - even when with my girlfriend at the time, she was on my mind, a lot. She wasn't on social media, and she wouldn't send me any pics, but she said she was building up mass like crazy. My girlfriend - a Turkish girl - was an amature bodybuilder, and I found it really turned me on. And I was thinking about my mom, down in the basement, pumping those irons, and, yeah - it got me excited. That was actually the reason I eventually broke up with Meral - thinking about my mom as I was fucking her was getting to be too much. And, yeah, that thing my dad told me was always on my mind, but... I was getting used to the idea. And I really wanted to see my mom. She sounded glad when I called her to say I'd be visiting, and told me she'd come and pick me up, which sounded very encouraging.
When I saw her at the airport it was quite a shock. She looked pretty amazing for her 44 years - she had always been a beautiful woman, and her ash-blonde hair was cut in a sort of funky short style that really suited her. But she seemed much bulkier than I remembered her - huge, really, even taking into account her heavy winter coat - and at first I thought she had put on a lot of weight; but her still-pretty face had no sign of fat, and when I hugged her it was obvious even through her heavy clothing that it was not fat - she felt really muscular! Apparently she was not exaggerating when she told me about the gains she was making...!
I complimented her on this as we were driving home. She smiled happily. "Told you! I really like it, and it looks like I have just the right genes for it. I've been working out 6 times a week for almost 18 months, now!" I whistled, impressed. "It's not that I didn't believe you, it's just that I never took you for the athletic type, mom. Good on you!" I was really impressed - but I had no idea just HOW MUCH she had changed...
I woke up late, the next morning, still jet lagged. I went down to the kitchen, where mom was making breakfast. She was wearing a large t-shirt over sweatpants, but I could tell that her back and shoulders were really wide. It made me forget for a moment about that other... thing.
"Wow, mom, you really weren't kidding about those gains! Your shoulders look crazy wide!"
She smiled proudly. 'Well, you ain't seen nothing yet! Take a look at this." She rolled up her left sleeve, revealing a very ripped, very powerful-looking arm. I touched her bare arm and was amazed by the tightness and muscularity of her biceps. And then she curled her arms; Her biceps exploded into raw pumped muscles atop her meaty triceps. Her flesh was iron hard. Her egg shaped bicep was HUGE - way bigger and stronger than mine. "So, was that girlfriend of yours anything like this?" I laughed in disbelief. "God, no, mom, I've never SEEN anything like this!" I let go of her arm after trying in vain to squeeze it. "Mom, this is unbelievable! Your arm, it's... well, HUGE!"
She smirked. "God had nothing to do with it, just a lot of hard work and dieting!" She put her right hand on her bicep, stroking it lightly. "This puppy is almost 17 inches when pumped!" She looked at my own reedy arm. "So, what about you? Your muscles seem to be half the size they were in high school! All those years of living the good life in the desert, with the girlfriends and the Baklava and the Knafeh..." she rubbed my arm, roughly. "You've gotten too soft!"
"Com'n, mom, that's not fair...!" I tried to jerk my arm away, but she seemed to be in a playful mood. She suddenly grabbed me by my arms, her large hands completely surrounding my soft biceps. Veins jutted out of her sinewy forearms as she tightened her grip on each of my biceps and slowly, unbelievably, started to lift me in the air... My mom was an inch shorter than my 5'11", But in a matter of seconds my feet were dangling a foot off the ground...!
"Mom, what are you doing?" I shouted, alarmed.
She laughed affectionately, putting me down. "Just kidding, Jacky..."
My face probably showed my feelings of fear and embarrassment, as mom hugged me, saying: "I'm sorry, it's just been so long and I've missed you so much - and I guess I do feel a little resentful about... well, look, baby, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you..."
I was feeling all sorts of feelings - embarrassment, confusion, regret - and something else, that I couldn't quite pin down... maybe it had something to do with my mom manhandling me - or maybe it was the feeling of her breasts as she hugged me - as well as that... other thing that I felt rubbing against my thigh... I tried to recover. "It's alright mom. Don't feel bad, I over-reacted."
Mom perked up. As she got back to the food on the counter, she asked me over her bulging shoulder, smiling mischievously: "So tell me, Jack. Does this make you feel scared, your mom being stronger than you?"
This made me really uncomfortable, but I tried to be an adult about it. "I don't know mom. Yeah, maybe I AM scared a bit... But I can adjust."
She turned and looked at me levely, her face serious. "Is my strength the only thing that's scaring you?"
I gulped. I was not ready for that talk, not yet. "Look, mom, I have a long day ahead of me. We'll talk tomorrow, OK?"
She smiled again. "Sure thing, son. Go get them!"