The Raven - Redux

[shamus0013]

Hi All. A while back, I had started a series called "The Raven" and posted it here. As I (and most other genre authors, it seems) are wont to do, I set it down and didn't come back to it for a long, LONG while. I've finally come back to it and I think I've got some fresh ideas to sustain this for at least a little while. I also reworked the first two chapters pretty heavily and I'm posting the first here, so if there's another thread that still contains this story a) please forgive any breach of etiquette this might be and b) feel free to can that one. Without further ado, I present

The Raven - Redux

It was my sister’s birthday, so I had gone to meet up with her at a local Goth club despite some misgivings. It wasn’t exactly my scene and I’m not much of a dancer; but I AM a good brother. So there I was, dutifully scanning the dance floor for any sign of my younger sibling when I spotted the most incredible figure I had ever seen dancing atop a platform across the dance floor. It was hard to make out finer details of the girl’s build in the moody lighting, but she was radiating sensuality, femininity, confidence and most of all, power. I was entranced.

From my vantage, the girl appeared unbelievably built, as though she’d come to life from a piece of Power Girl fan art by an artist who’d further exaggerated her already impossible measurements. Her pale, bare legs seemed to ripple with muscle, each of her thighs looking as big as my ex’s waist. Her long sleeve black bodysuit masked much of the detail of her upper body; still, her arms looked thick and powerful. And the glimpses I got of her profile suggested she was not only busty but incredibly so.

I knew I’d been staring, trying to figure out if I could trust what I was seeing, when the girl made eye contact with me. I froze. Her piercing gaze told me she knew what I’d been doing for the better part of three songs and she did not look happy. Peering into my soul, the girl stretched out her arm and extended her index finger. My heart leapt into my throat. I mouthed ‘Me?’ and pointed at myself as if there were any other options. She nodded, turned her palm up and curled her index finger towards herself.

I briefly debated running, but my legs wouldn’t obey. If those spectacular legs were real, I thought, she might simply leap the 20 feet or so between us in a single bound. In a trance, I walked towards her, an icy chill growing as I realized with each step that the thick, corded muscle was no illusion, the details of her incredible mass gradually becoming clearer with each step. I became certain I was walking towards my fate; she looked like she could cut me in half with a flex of her thighs.
Her platform was tall enough that even when she crouched low she was still a few inches taller than me. Without any ado, she slipped her hands under my arms and lifted me like a toddler. My feet left the floor with a gentle tug as the girl lifted me off the ground using nothing but her massive arms. Though her biceps bunched and swelled beneath her inky long sleeves, her heavily-muscled arms were able to heft my 200 pounds effortlessly.

Her violet eyes bored into my head. “Weren’t you taught that it’s impolite to stare?” she asked; there wasn’t so much as a hint of strain in her voice.

“Yes,” I croaked meekly. My mouth was bone dry; she could have her way with me and there was nothing I could do to stop her.

With me in tow, the mighty ingenue stood back up to her full height, somewhere in the neighborhood of five-feet-seven, and extended her arms a few inches, and examined me as if I were a t-shirt she was thinking of taking home. I took the opportunity to do so as well; she was absolutely gorgeous. With her button nose, big, purple eyes, high cheek bones and full lips, she could have been Stefanie Joosten’s doppelgänger if she grew her hair out past her muscular shoulders and dyed it brown instead of purple. Finally, a smile crept across full lips, dimpling her cheeks just so.

“You’re lucky; I love GIR and you’re really cute when you’re terrified. What’s your name?”

“Wayne.”

“Let’s dance, Wayne.”

The young powerhouse lifted me up high enough for my feet to clear the edge of the platform, set me back down and began to sway yet again. My heart still in my chest, I started to mimic her movements. I was stiff as a board - both in my dancing and my crotch - but my partner seemed to be enjoying herself anyway
After dancing for a couple more songs, the girl pulled me in tight and said, “Let’s get a drink.” She leapt down off the stage and led me to the bar downstairs. The bartender dropped everything when he noticed her, nodded and immediately set two glasses of liquor in front of us.

“At your service, Mistress Raven,” said the very large man.

“Thank you, Mistress Raven,” I said, taking a sip from my drink. I was almost certain it was a Scottish single malt, and not a cheap one, either.

“You don’t have to call me ‘Mistress Raven,’” she said, giggling slightly. “My name is Lenore.”

“From ‘Eleanor,’ meaning ’torch,’ or ‘light,’ which accounts for the glow in your strikingly purple eyes.”

“Thank you,” she said, her lips breaking into a vibrant smile. “You’re quite disarming when you’re not terrified.”

“Well, my head’s much clearer when I’m not being held three feet off the floor.”

“I should perhaps apologize for my behavior upstairs.”

“It’s quite alright. I was, after all, the one gawking at you.“

“I’m quite used to it now. I have a rather...unusual build and I enjoy wearing revealing clothes.”

“Oh?” I replied. “I should have come on a revealing night.”

“Isn’t my ass hanging out of a bodysuit revealing enough for you?”

“Your ass is glorious, don’t get me wrong, but I’m kind of a boob man,” I said.

“I think I can help with that,” she retorted.

Lenore turned from the bar to face me, took the neckline of he bodysuit in her hands and pulled, slowly tearing apart the front of the spandex top as though it were wet tissue. Inch after inch of her milky-white breasts poured out of the growing opening, free of their confines. Lenore looked as turned on by the display as I was; I could see an impression of her nipples hardening.

“Better?” Lenore asked, a coy smile on her face.

“Uh huh,” I replied. Had I been in a Manga, blood would’ve been spurting unchecked from my nose.

“Typical. Most guys want to see more of my huge, NATURAL rack,” she said with a smile and a wink. “But it takes an awful lot of muscle to tear spandex, and most guys aren’t nearly as enthused about my huge, natural muscles.”

Lenore balled her right hand into a fist and curled it to her shoulder, causing her biceps to swell into an enormous mound of power and pushing the seam of her overfilled sleeve to is limit.

“Jesus, you’re amazing!” I said dreamily. Without even thinking to ask, I began to caress her bulging bicep. I’d have sworn what I was feeling was spandex stretched around a bowling ball; there was simply no give, no matter how hard I squeezed. “How big is your biceps?”

“I’m not really sure, to be honest; I want to say they were 17 inches when I was getting measured for my prom dress a couple years ago, but they’re bigger now. I have a much harder time stuffing them into sleeves now.”

I did a bit of math. “Uh, hang on a sec. If your prom was just a couple years ago, wouldn’t that make you, like, too young to drink?”

“A little,” she replied with a coy smile. “For the next year and a half or so, I’ll just have to continue relying upon my assets.”

“Your ‘assets?’ Is that what the kids are calling them nowadays?”

She giggled.

“I’m more than just tits and ass, I’ll have you know. I’ve been told I have an electric smile.” Lenore proved her point, turning on her bedroom eyes and dimpling her cheeks just so as a smile crossed her full lips. I’m surprised my wooden barstool didn’t burst into flames. She was stunning, yet there was a certain cherubic quality to her beauty. Then she turned and ordered a can of seltzer. Taking the sealed can in her hand, she continued. “But one of the advantages of being this built is that if I want a drink, I almost always get it.”

Without breaking eye contact, Lenore slowly began closing her small hand on the vessel and I quickly realized she was trying to crush it. It was something I’d seen videos of people doing as a show of strength but in every video, the person exploding the container shook it up first or struggled to puncture the aluminum before it finally gave. Lenore simply squeezed and the fizzy water exploded from its container as she crumpled the can with casual ease. Once it looked like a wad of paper ready for the dust bin, she set the aluminum ball down in the puddle on the bar.

“Excellent point.” I gulped the rest of my drink, not sure what to say next. Then, my phone rang. “Shit. Sorry, Lenore, I have to take this. It’s my sister.”

“No worries.”

My sister, as it turned out, wanted to change the venue on me, having just arrived at a bar a few blocks down the street and ignoring my pleas to come to the club I was at. I hung up and turned back to Lenore.

“Looks like my sister wants to meet at this bar down the street and since it’s her birthday, I’m pretty much obligated to go. Would you, uh, like to maybe come down and meet my sister?” I asked hopefully.

“I’m meeting some friends here for a night of dancing. However, I have no plans for tomorrow night if you’d like to meet up.”

“Fuck yeah!” I said, slightly embarrassed at the amount of enthusiasm I’d thrown into my response. “I mean, if you’ve got nothing else going on.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you here tomorrow at 8.” She extended her hand toward me.

“Uh, yeah. See you then,” I said, taking her small hand in mine. We shook and I left the club trying not to show my disappointment at her parting gesture.

“Wayne!” I heard as I walked past the alley next to the club. I looked up from my phone and saw Lenore standing on a stoop at the club’s backdoor, beckoning me to her. I walked over to her perch, now trying to contain my excitement.

Lenore was just tall enough on her perch to put her taut, cobblestone abs at eye level, the definition etched into the vacuum-sealed bodysuit that covered her waist. She smiled, reached over the handrail, gathered a handful of my leather jacket and lifted, performing a flawless, leisurely dumbbell curl with my full 200 pound frame. I searched her face for any sign of effort, and found only her dazzling, placid smile.

“Holy shit, Lenore! How strong are you?” I gasped.

She giggled. “Insanely. If that will be an issue, now is the time to say something.”

“No, no! Not at all! I’m perfectly fine with that. More than fine, actually, I-”

Lenore brought me to her soft, full lips to cut off my sputtering. For a minute, we engaged in a kiss so hungry, wet and passionate I worried I was going to explode before she finally extended her arm a few inches and ended the kiss. She looked like she’d enjoyed the kiss, I noted, momentarily biting her lower lip, nipples showing her spandex top.

“Good. I’d hate to miss out on more of that.”

“Me too.” What can I say? It was hard to think with a throbbing hard-on and the hottest girl I’d ever seen holding me several feet in the air with one hand.

“Now, hand me your phone and I’ll give you my number.”

I did as she requested; she tapped out her number and a text message on my phone, completely ignoring the 200 pounds suspended from her other arm. The teenaged titan finished her message, took a selfie of the both of us and gave my device back.

“Tomorrow night, eight o’clock?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

The hulking beauty winked and gently set me back on the ground and we parted ways a last time.

[Jeremy Lightning]

I love this story, as a fan of lift and carry, I enjoyed how easily the girl was able to lift and carry the 200 pound guy. I wish the author was still writing, I think this needs a sequel or two. k+!

[shamus0013]

Stay tuned. I'm not done.

[Jeremy Lightning]

Stay tuned. I'm not done.

Awesome, I look forward to it! k+!

[draight]

I always really liked this story, I’m glad to see you working on it again.

[Lupus753]

I hope to see what her max lift is.

[shamus0013]

We met at the goth club as planned the following evening but stayed for just a single drink - one I desperately needed the moment I spotted Lenore sauntering towards me. Clad in a pair of tight, threadbare black jeans and black bralette that looked two cup sizes too small, her astonishing figure was on full display. Her mouthwatering breasts spilled out the top and sides of the undersized cups, jiggling with every stride.

Of course, the tiny top also exposed the rippling musculature of Lenore’s upper body. The nineteen-year-old seemed somehow larger than she had the night before with her broad, powerful delts, bulging biceps and triceps and marbled abs unbound by spandex; I felt dwarfed in her presence, despite my six-inch height advantage.

We found a spot down the street that looked suitable for chat, ordered a bucket of beer and a plate of loaded nachos and found a seat near the dartboards. It was easy to forget Lenore was nearly a decade my junior as we talked. She had a keen intellect, was self-assured but not self-serious and was mature beyond her years. The age difference didn’t bother her, either, she said; I wouldn’t be the oldest guy she’d ever dated. Lenore just wanted to sure I knew that she was focused on college, not a long-term relationship. She also evinced a great sense of humor, laughing readily at my silly witticisms and firing more than a few of her own. She was also flirty and fun, vivacious, even warm.

“Really, I’m just the girl next door,” she replied after I remarked on her surprisingly sunny demeanor.

In an odd sort of way, I saw her point. She really did come off as a fun, approachable, kind of nerdy girl who also just happened to be gorgeous and built like a bustier, more muscular version of Power Girl. Still, I felt compelled to remark, “I haven’t lived next door to any girls who could curl me with one arm.”

“I said ‘more or less.’”

“Fair point,” I conceded. “Honestly, I admire the amount of work you must put in to get in that kind of shape.”

Lenore giggled. “Not nearly as much work as you might think; I hit the genetic lottery with my parents. Well, largely my mother, although both she and my dad gave me a copy of the MSTN deletion, so at least he contributed to my size if not my strength; that and pretty much everything else comes from my mom.”

I was puzzled by her last statement but didn’t get a chance to call her on it before she continued.

“Anyhow, I fell in love with strength training when I was a junior and because of my MRMH, I went from noticeably buff to near-bodybuilder in no time; and I got obscenely strong, too. I’ll never forget the look of shock on my dad’s face the first time I told him I’d maxed out the weights in our home gym. Luckily for me, his NFL salary allowed him to pour plenty of money into custom equipment - and my wardrobe. I still hit the weights whenever I’m home, but I don’t train NEARLY as much since I moved out. Thankfully, I don’t have to worry about atrophy, although I’d probably be less intimidating to guys if I did.”

“Who says you’re intimidating?“

“Uh, pretty much everyone.”

“I don’t see it.” That was a total bluff; Lenore’s beauty alone was enough that I wouldn’t have considered approaching her, to say nothing of her incredible build.

Lenore pushed back from the table, sauntered over, pulled my chair back like it was empty and straddled my legs. Lenore was heavier than I’d expected even with all the muscle she’d built and I must’ve made a face as she lowered herself onto my lap.

“Didn’t think I was this heavy, did you? I’m not even putting all my weight on your lap! I’m exceedingly solid and my muscles are incredibly dense. Just feel my abs.” Lenore’s midsection turned into a brick wall as I ran my fingers over her silky skin. “You could punch me, kick me, hell, even break a cue stick across my abdomen and barely leave a mark. I could toss you around like a rag doll, have my way with you and there’s almost nothing you could do to stop me.”

I knew she could probably snap me in half with a flick of her wrist but I was determined to keep up the charade. “Whatever. You’re still too cute to be intimidating, with your little button nose and those dimples you get when you smile.”

“‘Too cute,’ huh? How about now?” In a move that would have made Lou Ferrigno proud, Lenore descended into a crab flex that brought out all of the definition of her mega-muscled upper body, her delts, bis, tris, even her pecs and traps bulging in concert. The girl relaxed a bit then repeated her move with a little growl. Her effort paid off too well for the overburdened bralette, though, and the band exploded apart. Lenore covered her breasts before they could fall from the cups and stood up.

“I don’t suppose there’s any way of salvaging this,” she said as she turned her back to me. There wasn’t. The seam of the pull-on bralette was shredded.

“Unless we can find a sewing kit, it’s a loss. Let me give you my shirt.”

“Why thank you, kind sir.”

I took off my button-down and handed it to my date, reassuring myself that the shirt left a little room on me even with an undershirt on and the spandex-infused cotton made it pretty forgiving. My optimism faded quickly when Lenore came back to the table.

I had no idea how, but the muscle girl had fastened the buttons across her expansive bust. Her mighty pectoral shelf thrust her enormous breasts forward, pressuring the elasticized cotton and the threads that held the buttons, opening gaping windows to the soft flesh belief. her nipples etched their contours deep into the fabric. The rest of the shirt was faring better, if only slightly. The pretty teen’s frame was narrow enough that, thanks to my half-foot height advantage, the copious muscle on her delts could only fill up the shoulders of the shirt, not stretch it. At her side, Lenore’s massive upper arms just brushed against the sleeves, hinting at the extraordinary strength beneath. Any movement that brought her monstrous biceps to life managed to ripple the elasticized material.

“It’s a bit snug, but I think it’ll hold. What do you think?” she asked, looking pleased with herself.

“Yeah, I guess it’ll make it through the night. But I wouldn’t be heartbroken if you flexed out of if curling me.”

“That’s so cute!” exclaimed Lenore, bursting into a wide smile and giving me a peck on the cheek. “You’re not even heavy enough to give me a good warmup! Want to play darts?”

“Okay, but I play in a league.”

“I’m pretty kick ass at Cricket.”

Lenore was good but I was better. I managed to trounce my opponent in the first game, closing the board in just eight rounds, a personal record. For our second game, I thought I might try and impart a little of my technique on my date. I showed her how to square up with her shoulders perpendicular to the board and how to use her wrist properly when throwing. She fared better but was still unable to overtake me. Still, she wanted another rematch.

“I’m gonna beat you if we’re here all night!” she pouted.

By the third game, the beer we’d been plowing through was starting to catch up with me; of course, Lenore was showing no ill effects. I was starting to pull away nonetheless and lining up to start my next turn when I was hit on the side of my face by something small and hard traveling fast enough to sting. I turned towards the direction from which the object struck me and saw a smirking Lenore. Was more of her cleavage visible?

“Did you throw something at me?” I asked her.

“No.” I watched Lenore for a moment. Her smirk grew. She drew in a deep breath. “Oh,” she said. Another breath, another inch of jiggling cleavage bared. “Oh my.” Pop. “I’m SO sorry, Wayne. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

Lenore bit her bottom lip, brought her hands together at her waist and pressed her incredible breasts together. I creaked something akin to a yes and her “trust me, I’m innocent” smile returned.

The game quickly devolved into a contest of distractions, Lenore and I each working to one-up each other. I might have been more upset had most of her techniques not involved her mammoth breasts in some way. I managed to learn more about her, though, through our attempts at throwing each other off, such as the fact that she was perfectly ambidextrous, had 20/1 vision and wasn’t worried about being impaled by a steel-tipped dart.

After countless rounds, I had but one mark to make on the bull’s eye. “This is it, stud,” said my date, sauntering up to me. “One more dart and you can end this in a three game sweep. I think you need a good luck kiss.”

Lenore pulled me into her and began to kiss me hungrily. With her right hand on my butt, she used her chorded left arm to press me against her tightly enough that I was having a hard time drawing a full breath. She pulled it off her shoulder and guided it down to the center of her mammoth right breast as her moist, delicious lips caressed mine urgently. She pressed my hand against the soft flesh and began to knead; it took all the willpower I could muster to keep what was turning into a priapism from exploding. Lenore finally broke the kiss off after perhaps a minute and let me go; as I started to tip back on my heels, one of the teenager’s titanic arms shot out and caught the front of my shirt.

“You all right there, champ?” she asked, holding me steady with just her one power-packed arm.

“Uh huh,” I responded dreamily. I took a moment to shake the cobwebs from my head and then returned to the line to take my shot where, not surprisingly, I barely managed to find the board.

I decided revenge was in order. As Lenore lined up the third shot of her next round, I crept up behind her and pinched her butt. Lenore gasped and launched the dart with an astonishing amount of power, blowing the missile cleanly through the open door of the dartboard cabinet.

“Did you just pinch my ass?” she roared, whipping around to stare at me with fire in her eyes.

I almost vomited.

I tried to answer but could only make incoherent noises as Lenore stalked me. I tried thinking of options as I backed away, but my mind was filled with images of the gorgeous muscle beast beating me into a thin red paste. I finally hit the wooden railing enclosing the dartboard area and Lenore clamped her hands on either side of me.

“Scared?” I heard the railing crack and splinter as Lenore brought more and more of her ungodly strength to bear.
I could only nod mutely.

She cracked a smile. “And here I thought I couldn’t intimidate you.”

“Guess I was wrong.”

“You really are quite brave,” she said, her smile widening. “I like that. Let’s get out of here.”

Lenore retrieved the stray dart, which was embedded in the brick wall up to the barrel, grabbed my hand and practically dragged me to the bar to pay for the tab. Just as I was getting ready to hand the bartender my debit card, I noticed a sign on the bar that read, “Think You Can Arm Wrestle? Beat Jack and Win a Free Tab!” Naturally, I asked the keep what that was all about.

“Here’s the deal. Our bartender, Jack, is a six-time world champion arm wrestler. Anyone who can beat Jack, I give him a $100 bar tab for the night," said the bartender, pointing at the guy washing dishes.

“Wanna see if you can clear our tab for tonight?” I joshed.

“That could be fun,” she replied.

“Wait a second. YOU’RE going to arm wrestle Jack?” asked the bartender, looking at Lenore with incredulity.

“For a free tab? Why not? I’m in good shape.”

The bartender shrugged his shoulders. “Jack! We got a challenger.”

Jack lumbered over to where we were standing. He was a few inches taller than I and absolutely huge. His upper arms were gigantic, perhaps a bit larger than Lenore’s, straining the cuffs of his polo’s sleeves; I could make out his pecs through the distended chest of the shirt. I didn’t think I could have beaten him using both my arms against one of his.

“Who, this guy?” he scoffed, pointing at me.

“No, actually. It’s her,” the bartender replied.

“Seriously?” Jack quickly scanned Lenore. “I got eight inches and a hundred pounds her.”

He turned around to walk back to the sink.

“What’s the matter? Scared of getting beat by a girl?” Lenore chirped.

Jack whipped back around. “Scared of breaking you, maybe. I’ll tear your fucking arm off if I’m not careful.”

“Lenore, I was just playing. You don’t have to do this,“ I chimed in, worried that Jack might actually be able to do what he said.

“I’ll be fine, Wayne.”

“I think you should listen to your boyfriend, sweetheart,” Jack said.

“And I think you should show a little respect,” barked Lenore. “If I’m anyone’s sweetheart, it’s surely NOT yours. My friends call me Lenore, but you may address me as Mistress Raven.”

Jack’s face empurpled.

“It’s your funeral, girly,” he spat. “I’m NOT going easy on you.”

The enormous man slammed his elbow onto the bar hard enough to rattle glasses. Lenore gently set hers opposite Jack’s and placed her hand in his.

“Okay,” the bartender said, placing his hands on top of the hands of the competitors. “When I count to three, I’ll lift my hands and you can start.”

The bartender’s hands flew off those of the combatants, and the back of Lenore’s hand started moving towards the bar. While it should have signaled Jack taking over the match, something was off. Though he appeared to be forcing Lenore’s hand down, the huge man was beet red, quaking with effort; the young muscle girl just looked distracted. In fact, she seemed to be scanning the liquor bottles behind the bar.

“I think I’d like a whiskey. Want a drink, Wayne?” she said.

I was stunned. “Uh, sure. But, um, do you maybe want to finish the match first?”

“Oh!” Lenore exclaimed, as though she hadn’t even considered it. She turned to me and their hands froze. “I was going to sip on a glass and hang out for a moment, but I suppose I could just finish up quickly if you’d like”

“Is that some sort of fucking joke?” Jack retorted through clenched teeth as Lenore held off his advance with appalling ease

The bartender looked at Jack. “What the hell are you doing, Jack? Take her down!”

“I’m doing my damnedest! How the fuck are you doing this?” asked Jack as Lenore raised their arms back to ninety degrees effortlessly.

“I’m just much, much stronger than you. I’m really muscular, after all; not that you can see my great, big arms under these sleeves. If you used BOTH hands, you just might get it pumped enough to stretch the sleeve. Wanna give it a shot?”

“Fuck you! I’m no goddamned cheat!” spat Jack.

“Then why does it feel like you’re trying to crush my hand, hmm?” Lenore asked sweetly. “It’s cute but it’s not going to work. I’d squeeze back but I might accidentally break something; then you’d accuse ME of cheating. You SURE you don’t want to use both arms?”

“Fuck off!” he almost literally spat.

Lenore shrugged and gently lowered his hand onto the bar.

“Fuck this shit!” shouted Jack as he stormed off to the kitchen.

“Two glasses of your finest single malt Scotch, please,” Lenore said to the shaken barman.

He filled two glasses he’d set on the counter, spilling liquor as his hands shook, then poured himself a full glass.

“Jesus, lady,” said the barman, slugging the glass down and pouring another. “I’ve never seen anyone even come close to beating Jack before. How the hell’d you dominate him like that?”

“Like I said, I’ve got an awful lot of muscle under my sleeves,” Lenore replied and pumped the arm she’d used to destroy her opponent a couple times. Her monstrous muscle ballooned far more than it had during the match, stretching the sleeve drum tight. With one last flex, the tumescent bicep tore apart the seams loudly enough to be heard over
the music. Lenore looked at me with a smile and gave me a wink.

“Holy shit!” yelped the bartender.

“This is about as big as I can pump my biceps on my own. Give it a squeeze if you like.”

He accepted her invite, probing and pressing, but he couldn’t get her stone arm to budge. “Could-could he have beaten you with both hands?”
Lenore gave him a smile. “Honestly? Not even if you’d helped.”

The bartender walked away shaking his head. Lenore and I finished our drinks, she slung me over her shoulder and walked out of the bar like she was carrying a jacket.

-

"Looks like we're taking the stairs,” I said to my date, throwing down the “Out of Order” sign hung next to the elevator in my apartment building.

“What’s the matter? Afraid of a little exercise?” teased Lenore.

“It’s not that. It’s just that I live on the sixth floor.”

“I could carry you up if you like.”

“Seriously? Up six flights of stairs?”

Lenore smiled and scooped me up in her bulging arms like I was a rag doll. "Comfy?"

"Uh huh. Let me know if you need a break."

"I think I can manage," said Lenore through a laugh as bounced me in her arms a few times.

The smile never left Lenore’s beautiful face as she launched herself up the stairs as if unbounded by gravity, reaching each of the twelve landings in two or three leaps; and she wasn’t even winded when we got to my door!

Lenore pounced the moment I had the door unlocked, hoisting me by my seat in one of her arms and opening the door with the other. It was easy enough for her to find the couch in the small one bedroom even as we were making out and she lowered me onto the seat before climbing onto my lap. The wood and springs groaned as the muscle girl’s knees sank deep into the cushions on either side of me.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” I gasped as Lenore took a breath. I playfully squeezed her enormous thighs; they were solid oak.

“It’s so refreshing to meet a guy who appreciates my body,” she said and leaned back. “I absolutely love being this strong.”

Lenore theatrically spread her arms out to her sides, curled her hands into fists and raised them to her shoulders. I watched in awe as the muscles of her upper arms bunched into humongous mounds of power, the seams of the left sleeve now popping as the teenager’s biceps swelled. She flexed once more, her enormous upper arms splitting the top of the sleeves with their girth while the hole in the seams grew. I was painfully hard, but Lenore wasn’t finished.

“It’s a shame I was so self-conscious when I first got to high school. God, can you imagine how much bigger and stronger I’d be if I’d started training two years earlier?”

The mega babe stood up and turned around, her beautifully rounded glutes in my face, placed her hands on her full hips and spread her elbows out to either side. The shirt could only hang on for moment before her lats tore a window open down the center. She then took either side of the shirt in her hands and casually pulled it apart and off her incredible body. Then she did another lat spread, showcasing not just her muscled shoulders but the sides of her bountiful breasts visible even beyond her back. It was the sexiest, strongest striptease I’d ever seen.

I gazed into the hypnotic glory that was Lenore’s chest when she turned around. Perfectly symmetrical in size and shape and topped with nipples just a tad smaller than I might have expected given her size, her breasts, like the rest of her, were simply magnificent; their teardrop shape was enough to let anyone who saw them know they were natural, but they needed very little support as far as I could tell. And just like the rest of her, at least so far as I’d seen, there wasn’t a blemish or scar to be found.

“You are absolutely flawless,” I gaped.

Lenore blushed for the first time since we’d met. “I’m hardly ‘flawless’,” she said with genuine modesty. “Just a little out of the ordinary.”

She propped her knees on either side of me once again and kissed me hungrily.

“Your turn,” she said, gathering a couple handfuls of my undershirt. I felt like a Christmas gift being unwrapped as Lenore gently tore the front of the shirt open. I wasn’t good at hauling myself out of bed to get to the gym regularly, but Lenore seemed to appreciate the muscle I had built, running her hands along my pecs and smiling. “Nice to meet a guy with a little meat on him.”

“As long as it’s enough for you, I suppose,” I replied.

“Don’t be self-conscious, Wayne. I usually steer clear of jocks and muscle-heads; they’re too competitive and their egos are too fragile to handle a girl who’s stronger. Honestly, you’re in better shape than most of the guys I hook up with.”

“And you’re definitely in better shape than any of the girls I’ve hooked up.”

“Oh, I know,” she winked. “But I’m not hard everywhere.”

She brought my hand to her breast, which looked small in comparison; it was not a feeling I was accustomed to. I squeezed and fondled, marveling at their softness amidst the stone that was the rest of Lenore. Her nipple quickly grew turgid as I massaged and I couldn’t resist licking the soft flesh of her huge breast.

“Mmmm, YES!” moaned Lenore, further encouraging me. I continued to kiss and lick the mound until I finally reached the peak of her stoney nipple.

“OH GOD, YES!” she cried as I licked, sucked and nibbled. After a few moments, she pried me off her breasts, stood up and peeled off her jeans. Lenore’s clean-shaven sex dripped with her juices. “I need you inside me!”

I disrobed as quickly as I could and Lenore straddled me once again, positioning me with her powerful arms and impaling herself on my shaft with a delighted gasp. Her copious juices made the unusual tightness of her pussy all the more pleasant. I alternated kissing her neck and breasts as her cries of joy grew louder, driving myself as deep inside Lenore as I could from the angle. Finally, the young powerhouse wrapped her arms under my ass and began pulling me into her even faster than I had been going; I soon quit even trying to thrust on my own and let her take control, holding on to her enormous breasts as I kissed her neck as she was pistoning me in and out of her, crying “Fuck me!” over and over.

“Oh god, I think I’m gonna come!” I shouted. Lenore let go and held me up with just one arm, flexing the other. That sent me over the edge; I exploded, coming harder than I had ever before.  That seemed to spur Lenore. My orgasm subsiding, Lenore started ramming me back into herself using only one arm this time as her other settled on one of her nipples. I took my cue and began working on her other breast.

Her cries quickly built to a crescendo. She crashed forward, grabbing the top of the couch back with one hand and the back of my head with the other, squeezing me to the point of near suffocation against her breast and bucking wildly and practically soaking the cushion. One last shudder and I heard Lenore’s fingers push through the upholstery on the back of the couch as she loosened her grip on my head.

“God DAMN, I can’t remember the last time I was fucked like THAT!” Lenore said, still panting lightly. “You ok?”

“I’m doing fine. How about you?”

“Mmm, I’m phenomenal!” she replied. “We are going to have a TON of sex, Wayne.”

[Jeremy Lightning]

Great seeing a new chapter of this story, I have been a fan since I first read it, I loved how strong Lenore was in the first story, and I like how strong she was in this story, I would've loved to see Jack use both arms, and I loved that she knew she could take Jack and the bartender on both at the same time, such strength! Great scene with her carrying him up 6 flights of stairs, and then the sex was very nicely described as well. I enjoyed myself greatly reading this! k+!