Author: [johnsm00007] Stories~collected

[johnsm00007]

 

Stories in this collection:

The Olympics

One Day at School: - Ayla & Lars [18 years old]

The Chessplayer


The Olympics
by johnsm00007
_______________________________

There are alot of sports in the Olympics. And all kind of athletes, the tall and the small, the skinny and the bigger ones. And then there are the group that interests some of us.

This happened at breakfast, I had just manage my way out of bed. It's still some days until I will compete, so I live by my motto: no stress. The rooms in the olympic village all have a bathroom, a bedroom and a balcony. Two people share rooms. My roommate left yesterday, he finished a bit earlier than he wished for.

I got down to breakfast, the place to be in the morning. Fresh from a good night's sleep since I now slept alone, I sat down with my boring porrige, juice and coffee. Looking around the world elite athletes were walking around. Usain Bolt sat in a corner not wanting to be disturbed. Phelps tried to nod to Bolt and say hello, but Bolt beeing the biggest star of the games didn't care much about 23 golds. -There must be no competition in swimming, Bolt thaught to himself, if you can win everything.

I went to get another cup of coffee when I ran into one of my team's leader. -Do you have a minute, he asked. Of course, I had an hour if he needed.

-We got a problem, he starts.

-Oh no, I thaught. -Is it something about the race, I asked.

-No, but it involves you. You've got a alone in your room and have a free bed. All our beds are taken, and we have a kayaker coming today for the flatwater sprints. Do you mind sharing your room, it wouldn't mess up your preparations for your own run?

-No, I'm so used at sharing my room, that's ok, I replied. And I really didn't mind. Athletes are used to living close to each others, three days with a newbe would be now problem.

-Well, there's one more thing you should know, she's already in the room I think. And yes, you heard me, it's a girl. One of our new talents, I don't know if you heard about her. Lise Karr. She just turned 17, so treat her nicely.

My heart. My heart... It started beating like I'd just ran 800 meters. Lise Karr. Some people win in lotto, some people survive cancer, I get to share the roome with Lise Karr. Who I had seen in the olympic training facilities back home. Sprint kayak. Half long blonde hair, always smiling and saying hello to everyone. The friendliest girl around. And the sexiest.

I finished my coffee and went to my room. As I walked in I saw her bags by her bed. And I learned one more thing. She might be nice and sexy, but not tidy. It was already a mess. Some shoes were on her bed, a t-shirt by the sink in the bathroom. And the girl was gone.

I went to train, got massage, had something to eat before I went back to my room. Still no Lise, so I turned on some music and started to read. I allways read Dan Brown or something easy when I travel.

Five minutes later the door openes and Lise comes in. I must have started to rain, because she was wet, her hair was wet, her loose sitting jacket was wet and her trousers were wet.

-Hello. So nice to let med stay in your room, she greates me, reaching for a towel. She tries to dry her hair, but she's got some problems because her jacket wont stretch. She then takes off her jacket and stands in the middle of the floor in a wet white t-shirt. This is when I learn one more thing about her. She is big. No, not big - she is huge. Me myself being a middle distance runner, my upper body is skinny. Thats it. I've got a upper body to carry my lungs around. Lisa had a upper body as her working tool.

I was trying to read, but it was impossible. I kept looking at this young girl in front of me drying her hair. Her biceps were dancing under her sleeve. And this is not flexed. I have seen the sprinters, like Dafne who's got quite big arms, but Dafne would look like a skinny little girl next to Lise.

Her pecs were equally impressive. Of course, I thaugt - paddeling is a sport for biceps and pecs. But so big? I wouln't have guessed.

She finishes drying her hair, and turns her back to me. I can see her crossing her hands on her front side, which only means one thing, this is how women take of their shirts. And I was right, she starts pulling her shirt up.

Because the shirt is wet it sticks to the skin and she takes it of really slow. For her it's for practical reasons, for me it's just sexy. And it turns out it's not only her arms and pecs that are huge. Her back is broad as a barn door. Her waist beeing the size of a normal 17 years old girl (almost), her wings under her sports bra are twice as broad. Some call it a V shape. Her back was broad as a W.

-So, Lisa sais, why haven't you turned one singel page since I came into the room? Then she laughs loud -Is the book hard to read? Is Dan Brown to difficult? Or are you watching something else?

Busted.

-Eheheh. Ehehheh. I'm not able to speak a word, this is embarrassing. And if she had asked me to stand up, I would have had a bigger problem.

-It's ok. I understand if you are impressed. I get the same reaction all the time. To the newspapers I say I want a olympic god medal, but I don't know what that feels like. I do know what it feels like to impress boys. And that I like.

She then turns around. And as I thaught I had seen it all, I see her abs. Who would have thaugth that a kayak gal needs abs like that?

-Your abs, I say, as if I had tourettes. It just came out of my mouth. Your abs! -I repeted.

What about my abs, she says. She places her right hand on top of her upper right ab. -Look - this little thing fits in my hand. And look, all the other little rocks also fit in my hand. I guess you want to check if you have bigger hands than I do? Her hand is going up and down caressing her abs. I'm still not able to pronounce a single word. Then she goes to the bathroom.

She takes a shower and after 20 minutes she's back in the room wearing clean clotes, a new pair of pants and a clean pullover.

-I'm sorry, she says, I started to think about the fact that you're not a kayaker. You see, in our camps, we all have upper bodies like this, so it's not a big deal. Sorry, I'm only 17, can I use that as my excuse?

-No problem, I say. -But I have to say I'm really impressed. Do really everyone have muscles like yours?

-No, not really, only the boys. The girls are a litte smaller. But since I'm so young, I don't have the lungs to feed my big muscles with oxygen, so in competition we're about equal.

-Maybe I can help you with some breathing, I say. That's what I do for a living. I'm breathing.

The rest of the night I thaught her some breathing technices. When you're at olympic level, the difference between the 10 best in a sport is so small, that one detail adjustment can make a enormous differense.

-So if you win, what will you give me, I ask.

-Wait and see. I don't have money, so I'll speak with my sponsors.

[Jeremy Lightning]

I think it's a good start, it has potential to be very good, I think the thing I like the most is the potential for Lisa to be dominant in her sport, that's something I love seeing, a younger specimen of muscular perfection being so good at her sport that she leaves everyone in the dust. Will that happen with Lisa? Don't know, but I'm hoping. k+!

[johnsm00007]

The next day Lise gets up early. It's already her raceday. After lunch I see that Lise is through to the semi finale. So I get on the bus to the water stadion just in time for the race. As an athlete I'm allowed into the goal zone. After the race Lise has to wait for the second semi to see if her time is good enough for the finale.

-When Lise walkes by I screame -Come on. This will be OK. Then she comes over to me. -I'm so nervous, she sais, I don't want to be with the others because I get so emotional if I don't reach the finale. Just then the results from the other semi arrives. Lise is through, sharing the time and must paddle in lane 9 in the finale.

She screms of happiness. -Breathe, I remind her. -Breathe!

A while later the final is on. I watch the start on the big screen. Lane 1, some ginger girl from the UK. Lane 2, 3 and 4 a girl from Australia, Bulgaria and Venezuela. Lane 5 the big favourite, Ana from Austria. She smiles to the camera, you see her muscles are tensed and ready to perform. Lane 6, 7 and 8, I didn't notice them. Because in lane 9 - a buff 17 years old girl who is in the finale agains all odds. Her traps standing out of her shirt. Her biceps bigger than any other of the girls.

The start signal goes, Lise is fast and after 50 meters she's on thrid place, half a boat lenght behind lane 5. -Breathe, breathe I scream, knowing she can't hear me. Then I see it, she adjusts her head, just like I told her to.

I can see her biceps fully flexed as the ore eats the water. Then she starts caching up on the leader. 50 meters to go. Lane 5 is out of breath. Lise passes and is in the lead. 40 meters, Lisa has a speed that is unreal compared to the rest. When she reaches the goal line, she is two boat lengths in front of number two. Olympic gold medal!

Celebrating she raises her hands over her head and flexes. Her biceps make her head almost look small. And the ore just snatches in two pieces. She dissapears in the jungle after the race, the cermonie, press, and of course doping control.

Late in the evening I was, not surprising, in bed reading my difficult book. Lise walks through the door, her clothes are dirty after a long day, I jump over her bed and give her a big hug, trying to feel as much as possible of her back muscles.

-I was breathing, she tells me. I won! I won!

She goes to the bathroom. I hear she's filling up the bath tub with water. I see her gold in her bed and look at it.

-Hey. Lise tries to get my attention from the bathroom. Hey, there's a dirty t-shirt on my bed, I need it tomorrow, can you come in here with it?

I find the shirt and go towards the door. -The door is open, she says. I walk in with her shirt, Lise is in the tub - the water is hot and foamy. -Thank you, she smiles, just like I've seen her smile in the papers and on the stadion earlier today.

-I need to have it cleaned for tomorrow, I forgot the other t-shirt, and tomorrow there's some sponsor meeting. Can you help me? She begges.

-Yes, I'll run to the washing machine, I'll be back in an hour.

-No no, I don't want you to use the machine. She removes some foam so I can see her rock hard abs.

-I'm might be only 17, but in some ways I'm quite old fashioned. I want you to clean the shirt on my washboard. She puts her hands on her washboard and move them up and down, illustrating how to use a washboard. She lets one finger follow the deep line in the middle up and down. -I think they can do the job. This time she is not wearing her sportsbra, but beeing so eager to put my hands on her abs, I also don't notice that she is naked.

I put her shirt in the water. Gently I start washing her shirt on her abs First slowly. It feels like a metal board with soft skin. The abs are nice tanned with a clear tanline because of her bra.

I clean and Lise clearly likes what I'm doing. With my right hand I keep on cleaning and my left hand is free to move around. I reach for her right biceps. At first she doesn't notice it, but when she feels my han squeezing her biceps she flexes and suddenly my fingers slips of. It's just too big to hold on to.

-Ok, I think the shirt is clean now, she says. She takes the shirt and squeezes water out of it. It really makes her muscles twist and move. I go back to my bed. Happy.

By the way, I was not the only one who went back to my bed.

[johnsm00007]

The next day we both go to the sponsor meeting. Noone was interested in me, so I was just walking around chatting with whoever was around. Lise is the one everyone will speak with.

-Hey, hey. I hear the same hey as the day before. -Come over here! I see Lise in her t-shirt some meters away.

I walk over. -He's the one who made me win, he thaugt me some breathing technices that I used in the finale. She was speaking to a group of sponsors, mostly middle aged men with a lot of money.

She is excited, pointing and explaining the men about training and paddeling.

One of the old med looks at her and asks -I don't get this. Breathing. Isn't it about power?

-Yes, but muscles need oxygen to work, Lise says, and without hesitation she just pulls of her shirt and flexes her right biceps. With her left hand she points to her mouth, showing that the air goes in there, points to her lung region and breathes. With every breath her abs contract and expand, if I didn't know better I would have thaught she was flexing. But she was just breathing.

The man's mouth dropped open, really impressed of what he sees. Finally one more speachless than me.

I walk over and join the conversation. -Thanks again, Lisa says. She is not wearing her sports bra, but a much smaller bikini top. I only want to caress her, put my hands all over, feel her back muscles, her abs, her traps and her pecs.

-So what is your next goal, the man asks her. -First I'll go swimming. Maybe my new breathing has made me a better swimmer? Then I'll go home - train harder, better, more. Put on some more muscles. And I'll teach my little sister everything I know, maybe she'll be the next olympic hero of the family?

The guy from Nelo kayak asks if they can take some promotion pics with her gold and her boat. Since I don't have anything better to do I follow to the boat house. Lise in her t-shirt is lifting the boat, the photographer is running around taking pictures from all angels.

-Didn't you show som incredible guns in the sponsors room, he asks Lise. We need some muscle photos as well.

Lise is not hard to ask - she removes her shirt and again wearing her bikini. -Wait, I need a pump, she says. She goes to the door opening and pulls her self up a couple of times. -I don't get a real pump of this, she says. Since I am standing right next to her, she asks me to climp onto her back. Then she walks over to the door again, grabs the top of the door. I put my hands on her biceps and my feet around her waist. Then she goes. Slowly she pulls herself up. the photo guy comes running. I think he's filming now. One pullup. One more. I feel her biceps as she pulls herself up and lets herself down. By the thrid her muscles are shaking, but she get all the way up. The fourth is too much, she only gets up to her forehead, not her cheek.

-Good, my arms are pumped. She flexes, and her biceps grows bigger than they were after the race. -No I need to pump my abs. She grabs the top of the door and puts her feet out in a L position. -I need some weight here, she tells us.

-Lets put the boat on her feet, it will be some nice pics. After playing around, there were lots of good pics with her and she is really pumped. -We just need the last photos, the photographer says. -Why don't you compare bodies? Two olympians, two bodies.

I know how this will be, I will be outmuscled by a girl. I take of my shirt and I look like a kindergarden boy next to Lise.

When flexing biceps, she stands behind me. On the photo her biceps is so much bigger that I just want to change sports.

-Lets go swimming, she drags me to the pool were we walk straight in. Phelps, probably still mad after beeing turned down by Bolt is standing by the start blocks with his incredible upper body. When he sees Lise he comes over. -Wow, that's one hell of a body, what distance do you swim?

-I'm not a swimmer, Lise explains. But thanks.

-Your muscles make me look small. Do you swim at all?, Phelps is still in awe.

-Yes, but since you're here, do you want to race? What about 200 meters? What's the wold record?

Phelps replies. -The record is 1 minute 42. Freestyle. 1 minute 52 for girls.

-I should be able to swim at 2 minutes and 30. So lets say. If you don't beat me by half a minute since you're not in race mode, I win.

-OK, I'm on. Phelps agrees.

In the background the swim referees are having a meeting and they ask if we want to use the automatic clock. Olympic full standard.

They both get ready. Lise has never started from start blocks before. Phelps is ready.

3-2-1. I get the honour of starting. And off they go. Or swim.

200 meters are two full laps. Phelps swims like a maniac, but Lisa is surprisingly right behind. On the second lap they are side by side. 25 meters to go and Lise speeds up, just like in the kayak race. She clocks in, far in front of Phelps. The time is 1 minute 50. It would have been a new world record! Phelps swims away, we don't see him anymore in the Olympics. Years later he will give a interwiev telling he left Rio in shame after losing a bet.

Lise was of course happy as she came out of the water. -Who wants to wash my bikini tonight, she smiles to me.

I hope the olympics will last longer.

[Jeremy Lightning]

Love it! Again, really love the idea of a female athlete beating male athletes in their disciplines, so seeing her beat Michael Phelps gave me a lot of joy! k+!

[phil123]

Olympics are over - but there will be world championchips etc. as preperation for the next Olympics.

Please keep going

[johnsm00007]

I forgot to tell you what happened next. Lise, as I said, came out of the water as the new "world record holder" in swimming.

-I think I stick to kayak, she tells me. -That seems like a real sport!

She dresses, smiles at the jugdes who have been trying to find the mistake with the time measurement system, but there were no mistake, the producing company told them. They had controlled the race using super camera which is correct. -If this was competition, it would have been a real record, but for the women.

The shirt is moist and on some spots it clungs to her skin. You can see the bikini top through the fabric. And her left biceps is really visible. Which is nice, because I walk on her left hand side. Since I want to ask her something, I grab her biceps, pretending to grab it just to get her attention. -Lise, I have to say, I'm not the kind of guy to naturally say nice things to people, but I'll have to admit, that swimming was great. You really, you really...

-What, Lisa looks at me at asks - what? And why are you squezzing my biceps?

I hadn't noticed, but I was still holding her biceps. Or should I say touching it, because it's so big it's hard to get a good grip. Lise just flexes a little and my hand slips off. -Ok, with your strenght, you wouldn't hurt me anyways... Lets go.

We leave the swimming area, but we must have gone through the back door, because we were not on the main arena street. It was a dark alley with garbage and a little scary. Suddenly I heare a gun shot and throws myself to the tarmac. I was trying to save Lise too, but she stands solid like a statue.

From down at the tarmac she actually looks like a concrete statue, one of thoose muscular, powerstatues you would erect in places where you want to show power. Maybe I should call a statue maker and tell them who to use as model? Enough about statues. And erecting.

Lise laughs loud. -Did that scare you? People shooting? You know where you are? It's the shooting range, lets go inside.

Inside it's dark and quiet. Noone is speaking a word. Not even whispering. Pang. Pang. Pang. Pang. Pang. Pang. Pang. Pang. Pang. Pang. The guy shoots ten times, 99 points. Then we see the sign, it's only training, and in three minutes there will be a break for half an hour. So we just wait in the corner. Three minutes later we hear the bell and everyone puts the weapons down. The cleaners do their jobs. The "athletes" go to the coffee bar.

We decide to go for a cup of coffee as well. With the fresh brewed hot americano we sit down at one of the tables, the two guys and the girl are wearing the british and dutch team uniforms. Even in the cafe it's dark and hard to see each other.

We speak for a while, then the conversation comes to the shooting sport. -So you, what are you doing, they ask me. -Oh, I'm a runner, I say.

-Then the dutch turn to Lise and ask her too, -What gun do you have?

Lisa laughs loud and answers, -I haven't got a air gun. I don't have guns for this kind of competition, what can I say, it's more like guns to show... She flexes her biceps and says "welcome to the gun show".

The dutch girl's jaw drops before she comes to herself. -Yes, that's definitly not a air gun, it's more like cannons! The English guy spills his coffee in his lap seeing the girl. Lise, being a nice girl runs for napkins. -Holy cow, is she for real, he asks me when she's gone.

Lise comes back, they were out of napkins, she sais. But like allways it seems when there's a problem, she grabs her shirt. I thaugt to myself, yes, she's taking it off again, I couln't get enough of that show. But she didn't.

Instead she grabs the bottom of the shirt and just tears of a piece of the fabric like other people tear a napkin in two. She gives the peace of shirt to the guy and he drys himself. Even though, for a well trained eye, he was doing something else.

As Lise sits down I see that she had taken a bit of the shirt, not in the bottom, but really right in the front, the hole was the size of a medium smartphone. She was leaning backwards in the chair so I looked straight on her abs. Or not really her abs, but on the trench going down in the middle of her stomack.

-I wonder what she can put between her abs and make it stay there?, I thaugt. A pen? A lighter? A smartphone? I was daydreaming about her abs when the bell rang, five minutes to the end of the break.

-So what do you do with your guns?, the dutch girl asks.

-Normally I paddle. What would you do with guns like this? Lisa replies.

-Hm, I want to see which gun is stronger, come here, we walk over to the rifles. -This is my training rifle, she explains. The barrel is solid cast steel that's made for not giving an inch, even under extreme conditions. I've got a new rifle for the post olympics, I'll show you.

She places the rifle on a stand that will keep it in acurate position. See, now I target for the 10 points, she shoots and hits the ten points ten out of ten times.

-Are you able to bend the barrel just a little, so when I target the then, I'll hit the nine? That should be a real challange.

Lise looks at the rifle and sais, -yes, but you have to unload it first.

She grabs the barrel that is disconnected from the rest of the gun to avoid damage. Lise holds it, it's heavier than she had imagined. Then she start applying power. Her biceps are getting a real pump and she's not even able to bend her arms up because her biceps are too huge. What really catche my eye that I haven't noticed yet are her underarms. It's like seeing a thick electric cable beeing twisted and turn, it 's like a circus of syncronized movements under her skin. Her traps and delts are so pumped and visible from the front side, and they push her shirt half way up her abs.

I'm so busy watching Lise that I don't notice what she's been doing to the barrel. Than she stands up and it turns out she has made a loop on the barrel. -This should be it, she states. Lets try it.

It's connected to the rest of the gun, the girl asks us to step back since noone knows how the weapon will react to the loop. Then she shoots, the bullet hits the target. Then she shoots nine more. Then we walk over to see the results. Only perfect nines.

-You wanted a nine, not a ten, so I made it hit the nine, Lise giggles. -How? How? How did you do that?, the Englishman in Rio asked. I could hear it on his accent when he talked, that he was an Englishman in Rio.

Again it's one of theese moments Lise shows that she's only 17 and naive. -I just twisted it, she answered. -I guess my guns are better than your guns, she states, and we head out.

-Dou you think I would be a better shooter than a swimmer, she asks walking out.

-I don't know, I say. Lets just get out on the street. -Suns out, guns out...

[Jeremy Lightning]

Love it, I think that she could do anything better than anyone, I would really love to see her test that, shooting, sprinting, biking, skiing, have her test all of the Olympic contests and see how she could do, I would personally love it if she set unofficial world records in each event. But that's just me. k+!

[johnsm00007]

One Day at School: Ayla and Lars
by johnsm00007
_________________________________

I just want to tell you about what happened to me one day at school. I'm 18, I sit in the middle of the classroom, I do my homework, I speak to people but never tell them any secrets about myself. I'm one of the guys in the class you'll never remember in 18 years when you start naming who was in your class. And that's the way I want it to be.

So this day, it was a tuesday in September, the summer was over, autum was comming. The sun was shining, but the temperature was lower so we all had left the shorts in the closet and put on long sleeved shirts. It was after lunch so everyone were a little unconcentrated and we were having geography. The teacher came in, a old guy about 60 years old, just waiting to leave for pension. -Today we'll have a different day, he starts, you are all going out for 30 minutes to find things related to geography, I've got som papers here, you can open them when you leave the school yard and search for the thing written. You'll pair up two and two.

As the pupil noone saw, I was just standing there when everybody left, alone. Then the door opened and Ayla walked in, she was late for class so it would have to be the two of us. We left and read the paper where it said clay.

-Where do we find clay, Ayla asked me. I looked in the air because I couldn't look her in her eyes. Ayla was standing there wearing jeans, a hoodie and some white shoes, her dark blond hair was hanging over her shoulders. I realized that I didn't really know her, or anything about her. I knew her age, of course, we are in the same class, so she's 18 as well. And I know that she is extremly intellegent, she has the best grades in our class and in 18 years when we'll have the class reunion, she might be the one to remember me. She will probably be professor at some major university in some difficult subject. Did I say she's pretty? She's not one of those you notice when you she's just walking around in the corridor, but I noticed as we were walking around.

-Yes, where do we find clay? I mumbled. -I have no idea. That was not true, I did  have an idea, by the river, but I didn't want to get wet. -Are you sure, she looks at me and I quickly look at her, our eyes meet in a split second. -Eh, what about the river banks, I say.

We walk towards the river not saying a word to each other. When we get there, she bends down and states that the sand at the bank is not real clay. -But it might be clay in the river, she says.

-So how do we get clay from the river, I ask. Still standing there as a pole a farmed had put in the ground. -One of us has to jump in, she says. -It won't take long, you just jump in, dive down and collect some and get out.

-Did you say I have to do it, I asked, I think you should do it. You know better what you're looking for. I didn't say that the real reason was not to get wet...

-Ok, I'll do it. But I don't have a bathingsuit, but I'll do it. Then she takes off her shoes and socks, before pulling down her jeans. Her thighs turn out to be really muscular, the same with her calfs. Above her knees I can see her muscles parting and along the side of her thigh there's a deep line parting her front and back muscles. Then she lifts her sweather - in one way I'm very lucky because she is facing me so as the sweather moves up I see her abs - one by one. Another one, and at last all six bricks. On the other hand, I was not so lucky, because she could see my reaction. By the way, this is the moment in life I definatly knew I loved saradass. The sweater came off completly and she displayed some veiny biceps. They didn't look big, but I could already imagine what they looked like flexed.

Ayla jumped in the river and dived down. She was gone surprisingsly long, but when she came up her right hand was full of clay. So was the rest of her body. Her left hand was bleeding. -I cut myself, she says. I think it must have been a bottle, I need some help, give me my socks. In one sock she put the clay, now her hands were free, so she used the other to hold her sock to stop the bleeding. -Shit, we have to go soon, we have to be back in the classroom in just ten minutes. John, I really need your help. -Ok, I said.

-First you have to help me with my jeans, I'm wet and hurt. So I did what I could to help, I was really trying not to touch her skin, that would be embarrasing. The worst part was the button and the zipper. Her shoes were the easy part.

The it was the hoodie. -I think you have to brush the dust of my back first, she said. I looked around, but she was holding her own hoodie, she turned around and I had no choise than to do it with my bare hands. I had allways thaught that a back is a back, but no, there are differences between backs. This one was narrow in the lower part, and wide in the upper part. As I touch it for the first time I felt very good - I felt that even though I was shy, this was a thing I wouldn't mind getting used to do. I started on the top, on her traps, then brushing my way down, over her delts, carefully in the deep cleft down her spine. She wasn't flexing, but I could see and feel every muscle. When I was done, she turns around and says -Since you're allready there, you can brush away the dust on my front too, I'm still bleeding.

Where to start? How to do it? I start with her shoulders. And then on the side under her armpits. Then I'm just standing there, doing nothing. -Come on, hurry up, she says. She grabs my hand and make my hand brush her pecs. I realize that she maybe doesn't do this because she's bleeding, I think she does it because she likes it. So I decide to go for the rest. And the only thing left are the abs. So I start with the upper rigth brick, strike my thumb hard across it, it doesn't bend or anything. Then the upper left the same. Then I put my finger between the upper bricks and apply some power and slowly slide it down between her two sets of abs. Ayla smiles. Then she tenses her abs and says -I always wanted to be in this situation, wow, this is even better than I expected.

Brushing her abs turns out to be caressing them. She liked it, I liked it. -Now we have to go, come on. I put on her hoodie and we ran for the classroom. -Don't tell anyone, she said, I don't like anyone to know about my muscles, have you noticed that I never participate in PE? Say no more.

---

I might continue. Lets see.




-----------------------------



I'm not sure that I want to tell what happened next. But you all know that feeling - the feeling you get when you get what you've been waiting for. The day you've been working all day long in the heat thinking about the icecream you'll buy on the way home. This is a story we all can relate to.

We braught the clay to the classroom, Ayla's bleeding had stopped, but she left to clean her wound. Oddly, after an hour she had not returned. The teacher said she had gone to the doctor to get a proper cleaning.

The next day she still wasn't in school, and not the day after. I turned out she had an incection and wasn't able to use her hand and therefor couldn't come to school. What a pity. I was still able to follow the teaching, but at every spare minute I thaught about Ayla, or at least her muscles.

So after three days, the teacher asked if anyone could stop by and deliver some homework to Ayla's house. Noone volentered - so I raised my hand and said I'd do it. I was given some books and papers to hand over. After school I walked to her house, it took me more than an hour, I didn't know how far it was. The sun was shining and it was a warm day, so I was walking in my only a t-shirt. Having my backpack and carrying additional weight the t-shirt was wet from sweat. I rang the doorbell and Ayla's mother opened. -Is Ayla home? I braugt her some book, I said. -Good, her mother replied, come in, in this house we love books, and whoever brings books is welcome. She laughs and points around. There are books everywhere. Now I understand that Ayla is so good in school, she must come from a well educated home.

-Ayla, her mother screams, -there's a boy here from your class. -What's your name, she asks me. -Lars, I say. -There's a boy Lars here, you come downstears?

Ayla stands in the top of the stairs looking down. She has jeans and a sweater on as allways. -Come upstairs, she says, -I can't carry the books anyhow.

-Do you stay for dinner? Her mother asks, you can call your parents and say that you eat here, then I'll drive you home afterwards. -That would be nice, I answer as politely as possible.

Then I walk up the stair and into Ayla's room. It's strange, it's my dream girl and I'm to shy to tell her, I would never be able to ask her out. We will never be a couple, I - the shy guy, the gray guy who noone notices. Ayla, the pretty, super intellegent girl with muscles. -Put the books here, she points to her desk and walks to her closet. In her hands she's got a clean t-shirt. -Here, if you want to change, you can borrow one of mine. I take my shirt off - I have no muscles what so ever and take her shirt. -Thanks.

-What's for homework? she asks. We talk about Norwegian litterature that we have to read. For tomorrow we've got Ibsen, we have to read some pages from a Doll's house. -I've read that play many times, Ayla says. You see, my father is a professor in Norwegian litterature, I've read all kinds of books. He makes me.

-Dinner is ready in 15 minutes, Ayla's mother screams.

15 minutes with Ayla. I look at her, trying the best I can to see if her sleeves move when she moves her hand. Try to look on her jeans when she walks, but they are too wide. No muscles. So close - but so far away. Ayla talks about some other book she's reading. I missed that part, I sit down on her bed just looking at her, when she looks in my direction I look in the floor. The minutes pass slowly. -Five minutes, wash your hands and come downstairs. Ayla shows me the bathroom and I go and wash my hands. When I come out and walk towards her room, I see through her door that she is about to put on a t-shirt. My heart jumps, but still I'm so dissapointed to miss seeing her take her sweater off and see her abs, her thight upper body. When I see her the shirt is halfway down her back. It all happens in a split second, but still time goes so slow, my eyes are like a camera, taking mental pictures. Her bra. Her delts under her bra strap are wide. I could probably fit my hand between her bra strap and her skin in the middle because her delts are so muscular. If I could put my hand in under her bra strap, I would feel her soft skin, and her muscles. I would let my fingers first massage her muscles going down on each side. I'm sure she would love my gentle touch, if I only had the chance again. Last time I had a job to do, but I want to tickle her, rubb my hands all over her back.

Her shirt slips futher down. It's only her very lower back visible, but with my imagination I see more then she shows. My heart beats fast. -Dinner is served, I hear far, far away. Ayla puts on another sweather, a clean one, and turns around. The ten seconds feels like a eternity and nothing at the same time.

We walk down and have dinner. By the way, it's my favourite food, simple fried fish and potatoes. Ayla's father is also home. -You see, Lars, in our family we have to eat healty since we are too lazy to work out. That's our way not to gain weight. She laughs. That's how I keep my husband just attractive enough so I still love him, but not so attractive that anyone else wants to steal him. The adults laugh loud. This family is in a good mood. But I don't understad, and I never thaught about it before, how did Ayla get her muscles, her parents probably don't know. After all, a girl in her teens doesn't tell everything to her parents, do they?

-Ayla, did you invite this young nice guy to your birthdayparty tomorrow? It's her sweet sixteen and we'll be out of town for a couple of hours. -But mom, I haven't had a chance to invite anyone, I haven't been to school for days! Ayla replies. -Ah, we didn't think about that, her father says. -It's been so much lately. Is there anything you want to do tomorrow, if you promise to be responsible, I leave my VISA card on the table tomorrow morning.

-Lars, do you have time? Let's do something tomorrow, Ayle turns to me and blinks. My heart starts beating again very fast. -Yes, I probably have time. We have a test the day after tomorrow, but I'll do the reading tonight.

After dinner Ayla's mother drives me home. -I'm so happy you came over today, you look like a cool lad, Lars. Ayla needs friends who are boys, not only girls. I'm worried she spends too much time reading and not seeing people.

I might continue. Lets see.

[johnsm00007]

How do I delete or edit posts? I made a mistake in the end. Ayla is turning 19.

[fp909]

Really like where you're going here

I'm not sure how to edit but your note will be enough for people to make the change mentally. In your next part mention her correct age early on to set the tone.

[johnsm00007]

The next day I went to Ayla's house again. Her parents were still home. -Ayla, Lars is here! Her mother screamed. -Did you decide what to do on your 19th birthday?

-Yes, we'll go inn to town first, drink a cup of coffee. Walk around a bit. We'll be back for cake when you get back. The parents drive us to the city and drop us off at the coffee shop. We get inside, Ayla turns aound and sees her parents car drive away. -Come, lets get out of here. I look like a questionmark, but she grabs my hand and pulls me out. It hurts, I don't think she knows how strong she is, but her fingers have some serious strenght.

-It's my birthday and dad is paying. Come, I'll show you. We walk down the street, then we turn right into a side street where I've never been before. Then we come to a door, the sign writes piercing, -I want to get a piercing.

We go inside and Ayla walks up to the counter, she comes back and we sit down. -I want to have my belly button pierced, but I can't tell my parents. You probably understood it yesterday, they don't know that I work out. They don't know about my muscles.

-Ayla, your turn. The guy calls her up to the bench.

Ayla takes off her sweater and now wearing a loose t-shirt and lays down. At the counter the telephone rings. The piercer grabs a bottle and a tissue -I have to answer the phone, here you have some desinfication liquid, can you clean her belly button while waiting.

I sit dow next to the table where Aila is laying down, put some liquid on the tissue. Aila lays flat in front of me. She's totally relaxed, her stomack is slowly going up and down with every breath, her butt muscles are so big that her lower back has no chance at touching the table. Her chest is massive. That means, her pecs are massive. Since it's a loose shirt I can't see her abs, but I know they are there.

-What are you waiting for, she asks, I must have forgotten about time when I was staring at her. -Aren't you supposed to do a job?

Then I gently pick her bottom of the shirt and moves it up over her belly button. On her lower abs I could see how the blood pulsated through the veins dissapearing under her trousers. On the side I see her hip bone, between her hip bones, right underneath her navel her abs started. I gently started to clean, her skin getting wet and shining from the tissue. I cleaned her navel, the center of attention for today. To keep her skin from not moving I put my left han on her abs right above her navel. I think she started to breath a little faster. It was a hard job, I had to consentrate on cleaning with my right hand, and I had to consentrate on feeling her muscles with my left hand.

The piercing guy hung up and came over, -now it must be clean, he stated, -you've been cleaning for almost five minutes! I turned red, I had totally no sense of time. Then he takes her shirt and pulls it even futher up her abs to have room for working. -Wow, he says, -you've got some serious abs! Not many girls who come  here have abs like that. How did you get them? Then he grabs her abs and squeezes really hard. Ayla starts to laugh and her abs tenses. I'm so jealous. I can't belive that this guy is not only asking her how she got her abs, a question I wanted to ask since I first saw them. He also touches them as I've been dreaming about like it was just the most natural thing to do.

Then he got going with the actual pearcing. Ayla is trying to look down to see what he is doing. Again her abs tenses - it's like a ab crunsh. -That's all, we're done. Ayla pays and takes on her sweater again.

We take a taxi to her house and go to her room. Nothing more happened that night, I went home to sleep before going to school again the next day.

[caino]

that's really good, go on
K

[Jaguar]

    Yes, please continue, that was great !

[johnsm00007]

It's been a couple of months since the birthday. The reason I didn't write since is that nothing has happened. The day after the birthday we were sitting in school as the headmaster walked in to speak to Ayla. I already wrote that she is extremly intellegent. It turned out that she had just won an iq competition and it turned out she was qualified for a European get together for clever kids. Because she had been away from school the headmaster had forgotten about the whole thing until the arrangment called and asked where she was and asking if she was comming. So Ayla went home to pack and left the same evening.

The school year went on, I thaught about Ayla all the time. And suddenly there was christmas holidays. On the last day of school we were having a common class lunch and all of a sudden Ayla walks in. She was wearing her winter coat, a hat and other winter clothes. Her hair was longer and she looked, how should I put it?, well fed. She filled out her jacket and her cheeks were chubby. Of course, I thaugt, it must have been the swiss chockolate. If I had two months with swiss schocki I would also expand. There was no free seat around the table, so I made some space next to me and after giving me a hug she sat down. -Lars, I'm so glad to see you, there's so much to tell - it's so interessting, I think I'll g back after new year. The air is fresh, the food tastes well, the level of theaching is sky high.

I gave some of my food, and I noticed that she ate it really fast. Like she never had tasted food before. Ayla was now in her home nitted sweather and she looked so cute. Her red cheeks, long hair and there was something about her smile. The teacher was about to say some words before dismissing us for the big break. Everyone's attention was towards the teacher. Suddenly I felt a hand grabbing my hand. Ayla's face had no reaction. Then she led my hand to her back and under her sweater. Her back was warm and dry. My fingers stroke a little back and forth and then I noticed that in the middle of the back there was a deep cleft. I put my fingers in there and my thumb on her waist and squeeced, but it didn't give. This was back muscles! She looked at me and now she smiled and then she removed my hand. The teacher was done speaking, everybody stood up and Ayla said to me -I can't wait to see you again. And I mean, only the two of us.

After school I went home and had dinner. Then I got an sms asking if I was free this evening. I was free if Ayla wanted me to be free. -Let's meet in the city for a cup of coffee. She told me all about her two months, it turned out to be a very strickt school, a lot of reading. But they also had a gym there, and since all the students were some kind of nerds, noone used it. Ayla therefor worked out alone, ate well, reading and enjoied herself. It wasn't before going home she noticed that she had grown, she wanted to put on some old trousers, but they didn't fit. Even her t-shirts were too small. She then figured she'd dress up in winter clothes and take some clothes from her father when she came home. I heard what she was telling me, I had felt some of her back, and now I was just dreaming about her body. Trying to imagine what it looked like.

-Maybe we should go, she said. I'll walk you home. I didn't know if my parents were home or not, but we went to my house. -Can I use the toilet, she asked. It was next to my room, I pointed at the bathroom and said she could come to my room afterwards. I sat down, and soon she was back. She was standing in the door and I noticed she filled the whold door frame. Then she reaches for the upper frame and starts doing pullups. She does ten, then she asks -did you like my back today? -Yes, I answered. She then closes the door and takes her nitted sweather of. Her back is facing me. Her waist looks narrow, but that's because her lats are so wide. I flexes her lats and says, -if I work out a little more, I should be able to fly. I have better wings than most birds. Then she laughs.

She was right, her body was much bigger than before. She must have gained a lot of weight. Her traps stood out. Her wings. Her waist. Her long hair playing all over the back. Then she ties her hair in a pony tail and her biceps grows. Not only do they grow, they play some kind of muscle symphony.

And I knew for sure, the way I had been thinking about Ayla when she was gone, the memories I had about her, her muscles. I was in love. But how does a boy tell his dream girl about his feelings?

She puts on her sweater again, turnes around. She comes towards me and gives me a long hug goodbye. Then I say, -I really like your back. That's all.

Ayla leaves and I'm left with my mental pictores. Why didn't I take any photos? What about her abs, I suddenly remember she never showed me her front side. I hoped I would see her more during christmas