Eager to begin, I headed straight for the gym. Normal hours were from noon to ten p.m. I posted a notice on the door explaining that we'd be closing for a couple of days and unloaded grandpa's tool chest from my trunk. I spent the rest of the day tearing down drywall, dragging weights and old equipment out the back, measuring rooms, and sketching out a drawing of the new gym.
When I returned to grandma's that night for dinner, she told me that Mrs. Fabian had called and congratulated her on the line of credit and her gentlemanly grandson. I smiled to myself and hit the shower.
Grandma had cooked up a couple of pounds of chicken and some brown rice, along with broccoli and tomatoes. I shoveled it up. After clearning the table, grandma sat down next to me. She clasped my hand in her two little hands.
"I love you so much, Frank," she whispered. "Thanks so much for everything."
"It's nothing, Gran," I answered. "I've always thought about running my own shop. And this is a great opportunity."
Gran smiled and squeezed my hand. We chatted about family and San Pietro while she sipped her coffee.
"Well," I said after a half our or so of conversation. "Gramps still have his bench and weights in the garage."
Gran nodded brightly.
"Time for me to hit the stack!"
I pulled off my tank and changed into shorts and tennis shoes. In the garage, I uncovered grandpa's old weight set and started working out. I had just started a set of super heavy squats when grandma opened the door and walked in. I smiled at her and bent with the bar across my shoulders. I was really trying to work my thighs deep and hard.
Grandma, smiling, sat on opposite me and watched.
I grunted through my set and dropped the weights on the stand.
"You know," grandma said. "Your gramps and I used to work out together. Right here. Our own private gym."
She laughed and I mopped my forehead and chest with a towel. Grandma stood.
"Here, honey, let me get your back."
I stood straighter and felt grandma gently wiping my back.
"Good lord," she sighed. "Look at those traps."
Laughing, I flexed. I felt her small hands flutter across my upper back.
"Tom would be so proud," she said as she returned in front of me.
I looked at her. She had on a sleeveless training top and a pair of nylon shorts. I could see she was in great shape. Her waist tucked into her hips and her thighs were thick with muscle. Her braless breasts still rode high and proud on her chest.
"Hey," I said. "I'm gonna move to my chest press. Wanna spot me?"
Grandma nodded and I lay back on the bench, gripping the bar above me. She stood just above my head. I looked up at the bar and then backward toward grandma. Her luscious thighs were only inches from my head. She looked down at me with a smile.
"Ready?" She asked.
I nodded and lifted, while she rested her hands lightly on the bar. There is someting sexual about weightlifting: straining, flexing, pumping muscles; sweat; exertion. As I pushed the bar up and down and felt the burn spreading out from my chest and shoulders, I kept my eyes on grandma's thighs. So firm and full. Milky white, smooth skin. Before I knew it, my cock had started to stir in my shorts.
I grunted and pushed the weights more slowly, enjoying the hard effort to raise them upward and lower them. With a final surge, I pounded out my last rep and dropped the bars into their stand.
"Wow," I said, breathing hard. "That was maximum weight."
Gran smiled. "Sit up, baby. Let me wipe you down."
I sat up and grandma began running a towel around my shoulders and across my back. I felt her cool hands on my upper back.
"Lord," she sighed. "You are getting so thick back here."
I smiled. "Thanks."
"What's next?" Grandma asked.
She walked around to the front of the bench. I could see her starting to flush along her upper chest.
"Just some quick shoulder raises. Spot me?"
