Upgrade

[untergr8]

This is one I think of a lot.

I'm flying from O'Hare to LAX for work and make a last-minute decision to upgrade to first class. As I sit in the window seat, I sip my drink as I watch the passengers file past. There are several good looking women who look longingly at the empty seat next to me and I am half tempted to offer one an upgrade. The plane fills up and they are just about to close the door when a large woman rushes in, out of breath. She has on an expensive-looking leather jacket and a light blue silk shirt with a big 70s' style collar.  She smiles down at me. She's wearing a lot of makeup and looks to be about fifty, but her taut jaw and long neck give her a dignity. She hoists her carryon into the overhead I  see her the bottom of her shirt pull up to expose chiseled lower abs and several veins running up past her navel piercing.  She takes off her jacket and I see the enormous biceps stretching her  sleeves, a thick vein visible through the fabric. Her forearms are like a road map, incredibly pumped. Her hands are also corded, but she has long, carefully-tended nails. She sits and I glance down and her legs peeping out from the bottom of her skirt, the swell of the quadriceps and flare of her big calves. "Whew," she says, her voice a crackling baritone. "Didn't think I'd make it."
I try to keep my voice calm. She's wearing a heady perfume, but I also can feel the heat radiating off her. "Missed connection?" I ask.
"Yes. Miami to LA via Chicago, which makes no sense. These fucking airlines. Pardon my French."
"Yeah, the whole spoke and hub thing is a huge drag," I say. Then I hold out my hand. "My name's Ned"
She shakes my hand. I can feel the power and thickness of her as she reaches across. "Nice to meet you. I'm Darcy."
I keep staring at her shoulders. She's much bigger than me, though I doubt she's as tall. "What's in LA, Darcy?"
"Fitness expo. I go every year."
"Do you compete?" I ask.
"I thought about it, but  I couldn't do the diet this year. You know bodybuilding?"
"Oh yeah. You could call me a schmo, I guess. I've loved it ever since seeing That's Incredible when I was a kid. Dark haired woman with muscles. I've been nuts for it ever since."
"Ha!" she says. "That's hilarious. I used to do sessions for a while, but I quit. It was just too much trouble. And some of the men were repulsive."
We talk about bodybuilding and wrestling, about Saradas. I am getting more and more turned on every second.

[untergr8]

This is one I think of a lot.

I'm flying from O'Hare to LAX for work and make a last-minute decision to upgrade to first class. As I sit in the window seat, I sip my drink as I watch the passengers file past. There are several good looking women who look longingly at the empty seat next to me and I am half tempted to offer one an upgrade. The plane fills up and they are just about to close the door when a large woman rushes in, out of breath. She has on an expensive-looking leather jacket and a light blue silk shirt with a big 70s' style collar.  She smiles down at me. She's wearing a lot of makeup and looks to be about fifty, but her taut jaw and long neck give her a dignity. She hoists her carryon into the overhead I  see her the bottom of her shirt pull up to expose chiseled lower abs and several veins running up past her navel piercing.  She takes off her jacket and I see the enormous biceps stretching her  sleeves, a thick vein visible through the fabric. Her forearms are like a road map, incredibly pumped. Her hands are also corded, but she has long, carefully-tended nails. She sits and I glance down and her legs peeping out from the bottom of her skirt, the swell of the quadriceps and flare of her big calves. "Whew," she says, her voice a crackling baritone. "Didn't think I'd make it."
I try to keep my voice calm. She's wearing a heady perfume, but I also can feel the heat radiating off her. "Missed connection?" I ask.
"Yes. Miami to LA via Chicago, which makes no sense. These fucking airlines. Pardon my French."
"Yeah, the whole spoke and hub thing is a huge drag," I say. Then I hold out my hand. "My name's Ned"
She shakes my hand. I can feel the power and thickness of her as she reaches across. "Nice to meet you. I'm Darcy."
I keep staring at her shoulders. She's much bigger than me, though I doubt she's as tall. "What's in LA, Darcy?"
"Fitness expo. I go every year."
"Do you compete?" I ask.
"I thought about it, but  I couldn't do the diet this year. You know bodybuilding?"
"Oh yeah. You could call me a schmo, I guess. I've loved it ever since seeing That's Incredible when I was a kid. Dark haired woman with muscles. I've been nuts for it ever since."
"Ha!" she says. "That's hilarious. I used to do sessions for a while, but I quit. It was just too much trouble. And some of the men were repulsive."
We talk about bodybuilding and wrestling, about Saradas. I am getting more and more turned on every second.

Darcy tries to order a drink from the flight attendant, but the woman tells her that she can serve her after we're airborne.  Darcy tries to argue, saying she could really use a drink. "Anything. It doesn't matter."
"I'm sorry," says the flight attendant. "Sir, I need to take yours, too."
I hand it to Darcy. "Take mine. I always order a double Beefeater when I get on the plane. I've barely touched it."
"Thanks," she says, and gulps it down, closing her eyes as she holds it up for the clearly miffed stewardess.
"Does flying make you nervous, Darcy?"
She laughs. "Can you tell? No, seriously, flying scares the hell out of me. All heights. I took two Xanax right after I checked in. I'm just waiting for them to kick in."
"Uh oh. You probably shouldn't have had that drink," I say. "Not good to mix them."
"Honey," she says, "I probably weigh more than you do. I can handle it."
As the planes rolls onto the runway, she places her sweaty hand on mine, gripping it while keeping her eyes closed. The top three buttons of her shirt are undone and I can see the chiseled striations of her pectorals. She has substantial breasts, but the augmentation looks relative minor. Most of the mass of her chest looks to be muscle. I have a raging erection pressing against my pants.
The engines begin to roar. Her hand squeezes mine, harder and harder. I place my other hand on top of hers.  "Easy, Tiger," I say. "I need that hand."
She opens her eyes and smiles. "Sorry," she says. "How about you talk to me?"
"My pleasure. Can I ask you about your training?"
"I guess, but I'm more curious about you. I always wondered what guys like you find so attractive about muscle women. And don't tell me it's a mommy thing. I never buy that shit."
"You know, Darcy, I've done a lot of thinking about it. I love how it looks, for one. Muscles are beautiful on men or women. But when men body build, they lose something . They looks sort of ridiculous. When women do it, it looks great. They seem like they're... well, superior to other women. I don't mean in competition shape necessarily. I mean a woman who has a lot of muscles has had to work really hard for them. Nobody can buy that. It's an uncommon strength, I guess. Plus it's sexy as hell to me."
She is smiling at me again, but it seems different. Softer. "You're really eloquent. That is very well put."
"And look. We're airborne now." I pull down the window shade. "And you don't have to think about it at all."
The flight attendant comes by again and Darcy ordered a double rum and tonic, smiling at me. "When in Rome," she says.
"I'll have the same,"  I say.
The drinks come. We chat about training. She has recently started crossfit, loving the purity of the movements. "If I was ten years younger, I'd compete."
"How old are you?" I ask.
"Fifty three."
"Holy crap. I would have pegged you mid-thirties."
"Very sweet of you, honey, but you're a lying sack of shit. It's okay. I am fine with my age. When I was younger I got my pro card, and that meant a lot of steroids. I was much bigger then. But I'd have to say, I'm probably stronger now."
That was when I realize who she is. "Holy shit. You're Darcy Czotich. I recognize you now. Your hair used to be blonde and short."
"Hey!" she says. "My name's Jorgens now. I got married. And divorced. But I kept the name. I always hated my last name." She is getting broad in her gestures, slurring a bit. "How about you? You married, Ned?"
"I am."
She makes an elaborate pout. "That's too bad, Ned. Not every day I meet a schmo who  isn't a creep."
"It is too bad," I say. Then, feeling the rum, "Can I ask you something?"
She smiles. "I can read your mind." She flexes her arm and I feel it.
"My God." It's the size of a football, but hard as a slab of redwood. She reaches her hand across her chest and notices me looking at her pecs. She flexes, then grabs my bicep and gives it a squeeze. I tense it up and she presses down hard. I keep it up as long as I can, but she's much stronger.
"You do it now," she says into my ear. I grip as hard as I can. She tenses her arm and I might as well be pressing a marble statue. I can't help but moan. "Oh, you like that?" She leans over and whispers into my ear, "I am so wet right now." She crosses her legs and runs her free hand beneath them, bringing the glistening fingers up under my nose. I smell the overpowering musk of her pussy.  She extends her arm behind me and pulls me toward her, the finger still under my nose. My hand falls into her lap as she crushed me into her hardness and I feel the solid legs.  I run my hand up to her waist and try to squeeze it as though I am tickling her, but her side is as hard and solid as her arm. Her mouth covers my ear, the tongue flicking it.
"I don't care that you're married, Ned."

[untergr8]

This is one I think of a lot.

I'm flying from O'Hare to LAX for work and make a last-minute decision to upgrade to first class. As I sit in the window seat, I sip my drink as I watch the passengers file past. There are several good looking women who look longingly at the empty seat next to me and I am half tempted to offer one an upgrade. The plane fills up and they are just about to close the door when a large woman rushes in, out of breath. She has on an expensive-looking leather jacket and a light blue silk shirt with a big 70s' style collar.  She smiles down at me. She's wearing a lot of makeup and looks to be about fifty, but her taut jaw and long neck give her a dignity. She hoists her carryon into the overhead I  see her the bottom of her shirt pull up to expose chiseled lower abs and several veins running up past her navel piercing.  She takes off her jacket and I see the enormous biceps stretching her  sleeves, a thick vein visible through the fabric. Her forearms are like a road map, incredibly pumped. Her hands are also corded, but she has long, carefully-tended nails. She sits and I glance down and her legs peeping out from the bottom of her skirt, the swell of the quadriceps and flare of her big calves. "Whew," she says, her voice a crackling baritone. "Didn't think I'd make it."
I try to keep my voice calm. She's wearing a heady perfume, but I also can feel the heat radiating off her. "Missed connection?" I ask.
"Yes. Miami to LA via Chicago, which makes no sense. These fucking airlines. Pardon my French."
"Yeah, the whole spoke and hub thing is a huge drag," I say. Then I hold out my hand. "My name's Ned"
She shakes my hand. I can feel the power and thickness of her as she reaches across. "Nice to meet you. I'm Darcy."
I keep staring at her shoulders. She's much bigger than me, though I doubt she's as tall. "What's in LA, Darcy?"
"Fitness expo. I go every year."
"Do you compete?" I ask.
"I thought about it, but  I couldn't do the diet this year. You know bodybuilding?"
"Oh yeah. You could call me a schmo, I guess. I've loved it ever since seeing That's Incredible when I was a kid. Dark haired woman with muscles. I've been nuts for it ever since."
"Ha!" she says. "That's hilarious. I used to do sessions for a while, but I quit. It was just too much trouble. And some of the men were repulsive."
We talk about bodybuilding and wrestling, about Saradas. I am getting more and more turned on every second.

Darcy tries to order a drink from the flight attendant, but the woman tells her that she can serve her after we're airborne.  Darcy tries to argue, saying she could really use a drink. "Anything. It doesn't matter."
"I'm sorry," says the flight attendant. "Sir, I need to take yours, too."
I hand it to Darcy. "Take mine. I always order a double Beefeater when I get on the plane. I've barely touched it."
"Thanks," she says, and gulps it down, closing her eyes as she holds it up for the clearly miffed stewardess.
"Does flying make you nervous, Darcy?"
She laughs. "Can you tell? No, seriously, flying scares the hell out of me. All heights. I took two Xanax right after I checked in. I'm just waiting for them to kick in."
"Uh oh. You probably shouldn't have had that drink," I say. "Not good to mix them."
"Honey," she says, "I probably weigh more than you do. I can handle it."
As the planes rolls onto the runway, she places her sweaty hand on mine, gripping it while keeping her eyes closed. The top three buttons of her shirt are undone and I can see the chiseled striations of her pectorals. She has substantial breasts, but the augmentation looks relative minor. Most of the mass of her chest looks to be muscle. I have a raging erection pressing against my pants.
The engines begin to roar. Her hand squeezes mine, harder and harder. I place my other hand on top of hers.  "Easy, Tiger," I say. "I need that hand."
She opens her eyes and smiles. "Sorry," she says. "How about you talk to me?"
"My pleasure. Can I ask you about your training?"
"I guess, but I'm more curious about you. I always wondered what guys like you find so attractive about muscle women. And don't tell me it's a mommy thing. I never buy that shit."
"You know, Darcy, I've done a lot of thinking about it. I love how it looks, for one. Muscles are beautiful on men or women. But when men body build, they lose something . They looks sort of ridiculous. When women do it, it looks great. They seem like they're... well, superior to other women. I don't mean in competition shape necessarily. I mean a woman who has a lot of muscles has had to work really hard for them. Nobody can buy that. It's an uncommon strength, I guess. Plus it's sexy as hell to me."
She is smiling at me again, but it seems different. Softer. "You're really eloquent. That is very well put."
"And look. We're airborne now." I pull down the window shade. "And you don't have to think about it at all."
The flight attendant comes by again and Darcy ordered a double rum and tonic, smiling at me. "When in Rome," she says.
"I'll have the same,"  I say.
The drinks come. We chat about training. She has recently started crossfit, loving the purity of the movements. "If I was ten years younger, I'd compete."
"How old are you?" I ask.
"Fifty three."
"Holy crap. I would have pegged you mid-thirties."
"Very sweet of you, honey, but you're a lying sack of shit. It's okay. I am fine with my age. When I was younger I got my pro card, and that meant a lot of steroids. I was much bigger then. But I'd have to say, I'm probably stronger now."
That was when I realize who she is. "Holy shit. You're Darcy Czotich. I recognize you now. Your hair used to be blonde and short."
"Hey!" she says. "My name's Jorgens now. I got married. And divorced. But I kept the name. I always hated my last name." She is getting broad in her gestures, slurring a bit. "How about you? You married, Ned?"
"I am."
She makes an elaborate pout. "That's too bad, Ned. Not every day I meet a schmo who  isn't a creep."
"It is too bad," I say. Then, feeling the rum, "Can I ask you something?"
She smiles. "I can read your mind." She flexes her arm and I feel it.
"My God." It's the size of a football, but hard as a slab of redwood. She reaches her hand across her chest and notices me looking at her pecs. She flexes, then grabs my bicep and gives it a squeeze. I tense it up and she presses down hard. I keep it up as long as I can, but she's much stronger.
"You do it now," she says into my ear. I grip as hard as I can. She tenses her arm and I might as well be pressing a marble statue. I can't help but moan. "Oh, you like that?" She leans over and whispers into my ear, "I am so wet right now." She crosses her legs and runs her free hand beneath them, bringing the glistening fingers up under my nose. I smell the overpowering musk of her pussy.  She extends her arm behind me and pulls me toward her, the finger still under my nose. My hand falls into her lap as she crushed me into her hardness and I feel the solid legs.  I run my hand up to her waist and try to squeeze it as though I am tickling her, but her side is as hard and solid as her arm. Her mouth covers my ear, the tongue flicking it.
"I don't care that you're married, Ned."

I spend the rest of the flight in a state of nervous agitation. My cock is as hard as it's ever been, a fact that does not escape Darcy's notice. She's excited too, occasionally reaching to squeeze my hand. Our conversation continues. She tells me of the early days when she would do shoots for WPW magazine, train at Gold's, her friendships with Kay Baxter and Rachel McLish. I tell her the truth about my marriage, admitting that we've actually been separated for a few months and that my wife has been seeing another man.
At this she smiles, her teeth very white against the red lipstick. "You're not a bad looking guy, Ned. How about this. When we get to LA, why don't you come to my hotel? I'll make you feel better. I promise." I am about to protest when she darted her hand over and gave my erect cock a squeeze. "You'll be jacking off to this anyway. Why not experience the real deal?"

When it comes time to land, she gets nervous again. After the flight attendant makes her last pass to make sure we are buckled in, Darcy puts her jacket in her lap and tugs my hand over between her legs. "Rub my clit, Ned. Take my mind off this."
I push my hand down between the tight elastic and the hard abs, past the bristles of her pubes and felt the largest clit I've ever come across. It ias easily big as my thumb. I push down on the base and she closes her eyes, smiling. A rush of hot liquid engulfs my hand. She pust her lips to my ear. "I always wear a maxi pad because my clit is so sensitive I usually orgasm about ten times a day. I've had three on this flight."
I rub harder. The veins on her chest stand out. I keep rubbing until we land. Her face is red and her chest is heaving.
Once safely on the ground, she stands up and takes down her suitcase. Again I get treated to the chiseled lower abs and navel piercing. "Is this black one yours?" she asks.
"Yeah."
She pulls it down with one hand. I feel another surge of horniness when I remember how heavy my bag is, containing my computer and work stuff as well as gym clothes, toiletries and the other detritus of travel. I stand up walk behind her, amazed at the width of her shoulders. The flight attendant gives us a dirty smile. "Thanks for flying with us today," she says.
Darcy doesn't miss a beat. "Oh it was my pleasure, honey."
She's a powerful walker. I am mesmerized by the chiseled diamonds of her calves as she moves them, the muscles shifting beneath the stockings. We pass through security and I follow her to a lightly populated concourse. She goes to the family restroom and opens the door.
"I'll wait for you," I say.
She raises her eyebrows and then garbs my lapel, pulling me in after her. She bolts the door and grabs me, lifting me off the ground and jamming her tongue into my mouth, pushing me against the wall while she kisses me. She continues to hold me pressed against the wall and uses her right hand to undo my belt and pants. Then she steps back and removes her coat and unbutton her blouse while I kick off my shoes and step out of my pants, my cock springing out as I pull off my underwear.
"Yum," she says, tugging off her skirt.
"My god," I say, looking at her legs. They're cut like she's about to step onstage, the quads massive and defied, a tesserae of veins encircling the hard muscles. Her upper body is not as cut, but the muscles are still massive. She gives me a smile and hits a double biceps shot, the hard peaks jutting upward to press against the flare of her forearms. "I have come so many times looking at your photos," I say.
 "That's sweet. Now shut the fuck up and give me your cock."  She jumps onto the counter and spreads her legs. I walk toward he and her legs pull me in hard, my dick proceeding me. It touches her sopping pussy. I go up on my toes and insert it. I have never felt anything like it. The grip is like her hand, but wet and everywhere at once. Her legs pull me in and she moans, lifting me off the ground. I put my hands on the massive shoulders, hard as granite beneath the soft and yielding skin. She thumps back and forth harder and harder, biting her lip and looking into my face. I run my hand over her massive arms. She lifts one of her tits and my mouth goes to it, my hand caressing her upper pec, the fibers like a steel mesh. I feel my whole body shake as I start to come, chills staring in the balls of my dangling feet. She stands up, hands under my ass cheeks. I wrap my legs around her as she continues to work me in and out, my orgasm almost making me faint. She keeps pumping me, her pussy so tight that it's almost painful.
When I am finally exhausted, she pushes me away, then grabs each of my wrists and puts them over my head. "Try to get away, Ned."
I do, but it's no use.
"I know what guys like you want," she says. "This is just a teaser. Let's go to the hotel now."
I nod. "Whatever you want," I say.

[untergr8]

In the taxi she unbuttons her shirt and takes my hand, rubbing it over her hard abs, down to her enormous clit, and back. She presses her arm behind me  and pulls me close, jamming that hot tongue into my mouth , biting  my lip. I feel the concrete solidity of her arm behind me, the strength of it as she crushed me into her. Her free hand runs down to my erect cock and squeezes just as the cab pulls beneath the foyer. She slips out the door, leaving me to pay the fare. The cabby comes around and pops the trunk, pulling out the bags. I start to pick them up, but Darcy grabs my wrist and shakes her head. "They'll send the bellboy out. Let's check in."

I look at her under the lights. Her shirt is unbuttoned and I see the cut muscles of her torso standing out in sharp relief, a mesh of veins sliding beneath the skin. She gives me a grin, and for a moment I can see what she looked like as a young woman. We walk through the lobby, her open shirt billowing behind her, the huge muscles of her back shifting and bulging under the blue silk. The hotel clerk looks at her like she's from Mars, but other than his covert staring seems normal. Darcy gives him her card.
"One or two keys?" he says.
"Oh one, I think," she says. "We won't be going anywhere." She pinches my ass so hard that I wince, then runs toward the elevator, pulling me along after her.
As the elevator door closes, she places her hands on my chest, pushing me against the side of the car. The heat of her, the smell, the fierce strength. "I am going to wear you out," she says. "And then I will wear you out some more."
"Will you... will you crush me?"
She gives me a wicked smile. "I'll do more than that."

[untergr8]

She leads me down the hallway, walking with an exaggerated hip sway. Her calves are cut and veiny. We get to the door and she shoulders me against the wall, grabbing my stiff cock with her right hand while inserting the key card. She grabs my lapel and pulls me into the room, kicking the door closed with her foot. As she had in the elevator she pulls me toward her. I feel the immense power of her arms, the hardness of her body. I  try to assert myself a little, run my hands over her shoulders. They feel so solid, the muscles bunching and flexing. I kiss her  and she again lifts me without effort, carries me over to the bed and flings me down. She tugs off my shoes. I unbuckle my belt and she pulls my pants off, then my underwear. My cock stands at stiff attention.
'Oh, I like that," she says, then runs her hands under my legs. She pulls me toward her and lifts my legs into the air.  She takes my cock in her mouth, sucking and running her tongue along it while her iron fingers knead my ass. I see the thick veins of her arms and chest, the muscles of her forearms.
"Please," i manage to say. "Strip. I want to see that body."
She looks up through the thick makeup. Her eyes are bloodshot and her skin is rough, but her mouth is a miracle. She smiles around my dick and then pops me out.  "Not yet," she says. "You have to earn that."
And with that she pulls me off the bed. I hit the floor with a thump that knocks the wind out of me. Before I can say anything she squats over me, her wet pussy closing around my cock and sucking it up like a vacuum cleaner. I moan, the feeling unlike any I have ever had.  Her hands press down on my shoulders as she bends to kiss me again, her pussy undulating in waves, tighter and tighter, almost to the point of pain.  I reach up to squeeze her bicep. It feels like a football until she tenses it, and then I can't press it at all, the fibers metal-hard.  "Rub my clit," she whispers, so I slide my hand down the hard abs to  her clit, now engorged to the size of my thumb. She moans and squeezes harder.
"You're hurting me," I say.
"Oh, am I?" she smiles, then grabs each of my wrists, easily forcing my arms over my head. "Why don't you try to get away then?" She bites my neck. "Come on. I'm waiting."