Hi
This is the sequel to my earlier story series which now finds the lead, Lawrence, in college and deals with his reconnection with his bodybuilding friends mother. Hope everyone enjoys it as it rolls out. I'm going to break this series up into smaller chapters for digestibly.
Please comment with feedback - if you like. Thanks again for taking a look.
(All characters over 18yrs old)
Mrs. Jones: The College Years Part 1
Prologue
After the Jones’ left town. Life went on.
After high school, my soccer skills were decent enough to get me a scholarship to a good college a bit up the road from where I grew up. But after the incident at the hospital and the soccer game, I never saw Mrs. Jones again, but the image of her was burned fresh into my mind.
Her cradling me, her powerful tanned biceps pressing into me, as she carried me to the ER. The way her legs and calves looked in her skin-tight shorts the night at the soccer game. It was an image I could never forget.
And although I tried hard to, those images stayed with me.
Arriving at college had been a blast. I was happy for the space and when my parents dropped me off, and I got to meet my roommate Roger who was a cool dude but obsessed with video games – I got my class schedule, and my life got underway.
I even started dating a girl. Her name was Lizzy Gerber.
A fellow soccer player, Lizzy was fun and full of energy. She was tall and athletic. A lanky body, perfect for sprinting down a soccer field. But it wasn’t hard to, in my mind compare her albeit unfairly, to the physical perfection Mrs. Jones had achieved with her prize-winning physique.
Sure Lizzy’s long legs looked killer in soccer shorts, but I couldn’t help flashback to how Mrs. Jones legs had looked, like marble carved out of living bronze with the blown out insertions that some deluded artist would have never thought to create.
In comparison to Mrs. Jones Olympian physique, Lizzy was very much, of this earth. Despite the years of soccer playing, her legs remained chicken leg skinny and even though she was quite athletic, she seemed to carry a perennial layer of baby fat around her hips and stomach. The impression she gave when she stripped down to her panties when we’d fool around looked a bit like an egg jammed on top of two Popsicle sticks. But we had fun, and we began dating seriously after a few hookups.
That wasn’t to say the idea of FBBs had in any way left my imagination.
After meeting Mrs. Jones my paradigm as far as what I found to be an ideal body for a female had shifted. I’m not sure if female bodybuilders would have ever come on my radar, but they were definitely on there now. And I quickly became an expert on spotting any hint of muscle definition on a female when I was out in public.
A set of bulbous thighs set off an alarm bell in my brain. Invariably those only usually led to squat old ladies who seemed to stay on their feet for too long.
There were a few occasions. One day coming out of K-Mart I spied a woman, early 20s, pretty face, big brown eyes, jogging by in a sports bra and short shorts. Her stomach was ripped to shreds with only the kind of definition an athlete could get, and her arms and shoulders were visibly well muscled. She jogged past, her blonde ponytail bobbing tantalizing along her chiseled back. I tried to follow her quickly, but my family hustled me into the car to go.
One divine shot of grace came in the form of Rose, a substitute gym teacher at our school. Word quickly spread that the new recruit of the gym dept. was also an ‘amateur bodybuilder.’ At an assembly one day, I spotted her, curly hair and unfortunately not particularly attractive with lousy adult acne. But as the assembly cleared out, I stood up, and although she was wearing a bulky sweatshirt over her upper body, partially obscuring my view, I caught a glimpse of her lower body on which she sported a set of skin-tight leggings. I followed her out of the auditorium hovering closely behind, but not too close to let off a stalker alert. I could see the telltale flexations of a pair of well-built quads and split diamond calves peeking out of her high tops. But after subbing for a month or so, word spread that she had left and gone to another school located on the West Coast. Most probably to be closer to the hardcore bodybuilding subculture of Los Angeles.
Another sighting came in college. Lizzy and I had been dating for a few months or so… We had gone over to a friend’s room who lived in a different dorm for a few beers and to smoke some, well you can guess – Pretty soon we were flying pretty high and had the full-on munchies set in so we piled into the car and headed out to the supermarket nearby.
I was floating through the aisle stacking our shopping cart with pretzels and cookies lost in a cloud of weed smoke. That’s when I heard Liz—stop short…
‘Fuck, Lawrence dude… check them out –‘
She jabbed in my side and pointed to the cashier at the front of the store. And right then I saw them. Two massive bodybuilders unloading their cart and checking out.
They were a couple, African American, he was huge. Obviously pro level and wore a tight tank top, his arms so big and ripped they actually blocked my view of the cashier. But it wasn’t him I was looking at. It was the girl standing next to him. An obvious bodybuilder herself. She was pretty with high cheekbones and her long hair gathered under a baseball cap
But dear lord, it was her body that stopped me in my tracks. She was wearing a tight black spandex dress revealing her massive muscular arms and big thick delts which gave her waist a tiny, tiny appearance. The dress exposed her back which rippled with muscle as she helped her boyfriend unload their cart.
It was late Saturday night, and this dou was obviously restocking, their cart was piled high with package after package of frozen chicken breasts, dozens of cartons of eggs and enough gallons of to water hydrate an army. Or maybe just them.
The entire store was watching them. They moved slowly and deliberately. The cashier seemed to be nervous around them. He was quiet, but I noticed she was talkative and friendly to the cashier, appearing to put her at ease. I stood frozen. The weed was clouding my brain, but I couldn’t help but watch them –
Unbeknownst to me, Lizzy ran up beside me. ‘Look at them – ‘ she said slapping my arm. This time they spun around having obviously heard us. Lizzy dumbly stared. I tried my best to look at some stupid magazine at the counter, but they had obviously heard us. Thee dude stared daggers at me, but the woman started smiling, maybe that’s what she did. Her natural women’s instinct offsetting her man’s more aggressive nature.
They went back to their check out.
‘Fuck look at her arms.’ Lizzy said.
Shit. That did it. I just about came right there in line. She tugged at my arm.
‘Yeah – they are ripped.’ I said trying my best to seem ‘calm’ about the situation.
Soon Lizzy was back staring at a magazine as the bodybuilders had moved on and out of the store.
Later, as we piled into the car, I got another shot to see the two gym addicts. Across the lot, you couldn't miss them. Him, massive, piling gallon jugs of water into the car with ease. But it was her who was the most eye-catching, quickly lifting the same weight her large vein covered biceps straining, but her beautiful featured seeming to in no way show the strain. A single hair never out of place.
Lizzy spotted them to –
‘Look at the bodybuilder’ she said again.
Fuck! Even just her calling them out felt like it was bringing me a step closer to blowing a load. We watched them finish loading. Lizzy cracked open a bag of Pirates Booty she had purchased and started shoving it in her mouth.
‘I think I’m going to do that Lawrence. Start bodybuilding, huh?’
She said. Fuck… again, it felt like I was closer and closer to blowing one. This was my fantasy. Maybe I could get Lizzy into the gym with me on campus, who knows, after four good years of training – I could be walking around with my own Junior Mrs. Jones on my arm as we hit graduation.
‘Yeah… but I don’t know. I’m just kidding. Actually, I think it’s kind of gross.’
And there, my hopes were dashed. Deflated. Lizzy shoved another handful of Pirates booty into her mouth.
That night when we fucked, and I should feel bad, as Lizzy peeled off her flowery underwear, I closed my eyes and brought back that mass of woman in the parking lot. As I closed my eyes and plunged myself deep into Lizzy, I couldn’t help but imagine. Lizzy’s frail, freckled arms transforming into the woman’s hard arms. Her thin back sprouting the thick lats and her sagging hips and buttocks transforming into the women’s massive rock hards orbs of glutes. In fact, as I closed my eyes, I could summon up the hardness I had felt so many years ago of Mrs. Jones’ jutting rock hard musculature forming under my hands. I came within moments. Crashing down next to Lizzie.
‘You were on fire.’ She said rolling over, taking a pull off the vape next to the bed. I groaned as Lizzy got up and got a grape soda out of my mini fridge I clooked her dimple ass, the sag already to starting to set in and the slight ripple of cellulite gathering even at this young age. Is this what the rest of my life had in store? Lizzy was a great girl, she was fun and outgoing, and she seemed to like me – but I just couldn’t imagine a life where I was destined to remain forever unable to culminate my desires.
And as I adjusted to life on campus - I thought as far as my personal life, I was saying goodbye to the dream of ever actually having someone like Mrs. Jones back in my life again.
So you might ask where was Mrs. Jones during all this? After leaving town, I was able to keep abreast of what she was up to as this was the birth of the internet. I remember how my finger first quivered as I typed her name into the search bar on my parents’ old computer. After scrolling through a few names, a real estate agent from Sacramento and the widow of a World War 2 vet, I found her – Jinni Jones professional female bodybuilder. She had won a few shows, and her picture was included. My god. Time seemed to have no effect on her, I popped open image after image of the Divine Mrs. J on stage – her lat spread, thickly muscled thighs jutting out from her minuscule waist, embarrassing a poor competitor who looked at least a decade and a half younger than her on stage at a local show. Images from the posedown showed Jinni, a wide, inviting smile curling across her pink lips, her perfect white teeth offset against her coco-dark skin, literally owning this woman, who was a few inches taller than her, but looked like a twig as Mrs. Jones bounced her thickly muscled, vein-riddled bicep under the poor woman’s chin. A comparison of back shots continued to show the devastation – The thick mass of Mrs. Jones back loomed large like a silverback gorilla every single inch of the curved mass clearly visible under the under the stage lights. Mrs. Jones closest competitor looked like a grade schooler who was sent to play against the pros.
And I couldn’t help but imagine, this poor being’s drive home with her husband. Maybe it was his idea for her to do this, try a bodybuilding show, but here she had been clearly shown up by her physical superior. The woman looking down at her perfectly adequate toned arms. Later, as they fucked the husband imagining, Mrs. Jones, wife and mother, in place of his consolation prize.
And things continued like that, I was able to chart Jinni’s progress, even stumbling across a video recording on a shitty camera of her giving in an interview after a contest win. Framed above the neck, just her perfect all American features smiling, a few locks of hair falling in her eyes, as she talks about balancing a son, a husband, three hours training, two hours of cardio, meal prep tanning and training clients, like the superwoman she was. The only hint of her inhuman musculature, her thick traps, and neck which climbed into the frame, hinting at the superhuman mass below. And fuck, I was able to just come right to that, that’s the power she had, a video of her talking about grilling chicken and packing it in Tupperware was sexier to me than any porn film I had ever watched. I quickly burned the interview on a disc and hid it away for my use.
But that was two years ago, soon after that contest, all word of Mrs. Jones stopped. And the case went cold. I’d try searching her name. Her full name, her family, but it seemed like there was nothing new. I’d experienced this before with some other FBBs I was fans of. The sport is brutal and, and after a time in the sun, many seem to just disappear, perhaps out of modesty, maybe embarrassed about what their fans might say if they saw them without their superhero physiques, looking oh so human.
And that’s what I had assumed happened to Mrs. Jones. She had retired merely to return to life as a mom and a housewife. And in some ways I was okay with that, Mrs. Jones was my real life superhero, but I don’t know if that is why I kept thinking about her, she just had this way about her that made you instantly feel relaxed, she was still the coolest adult I had ever met and the only person who treated me like I had something to say. When she focused on you, you felt like you were the center of the world.
But maybe she was finally truly, gone. I had given up hope of ever seeing her again in the flesh.
That is until… One day –