Short stories by Marasso

[marasso]

Hi! I'd like to present to you my new story, but firstly a few words of explanation about this thread. This will be a collective topic in which I would post my short stories, so called "one shots" (smuts and non-erotic), which I don't want to extend into multi-chapter series, like Hit Me Harder. However, that doesn't mean that these stories will be very short, as already the first one turns out to be a pretty long one.

And about the first story here - initially I've written it as a stand alone one, with more closed ending, but as always, I've got attached to characters and my sometimes too prolific mind couldn't stop producing further events. So it probably will have a continuation at some point.
But let me know what you think after reading. All feedback will be appreciated. Have a nice read, I hope


KINESICS

Oh, she’s here again!

That simple thought increased my heart beat by a hundred percent. My knees softened for a moment and I had trouble breathing. The sand under my feet felt suddenly more boggy, as if it was wet concrete, suckling my legs in and trying to stop me. All because of seeing her and consequently, I started to doubt myself. Again.
How will I manage to approach that woman when only the view of her, even from a distance, floods my brain with so many weakening emotions? Damn it! - Frustration invaded my thoughts full force!

However, at first, I only felt a joy and relief that I was able to spot her again. This encounter gave me a second chance.
After all, I spent yesterday’s evening observing her from far away, thinking… or more precisely fighting with a cowardly part of myself, how to approach her, what to say as an opening line. It was something new to me, because I have never had problems picking up women or just speaking with them. Especially on the nude beach.
Maybe I’m not the tallest or the most athletic guy, but I look pretty good, I can be charismatic and… well, let’s put this that way, I have nothing to be ashamed of when I’m naked. And in most cases that was enough to chat with girls. Or to seduce them. Even here, on the Black's Beach near San Diego, I had a few interesting 'encounters' of this kind in the past. I liked this beach, it was the nearest nude beach from Los Angeles, where I currently live.


But with this particular woman things were different. She was different. Extraordinary. Maybe even out of my league and definitely out of my comfort zone. And yesterday I wasted, as I initially thought, a lifetime opportunity to meet someone like her. But I guess I'm lucky, because she is here again today. Does the ‘save party’ & ‘load party’ option exist in real life? Apparently.

She was standing at the same spot, in the middle of the beach on a little higher ground. Not far from the water in which she already swam, as I could judge by her wet and shiny skin. Similar to yesterday, when I was observing her making impressive distances with a great pace and perfect technique, far, far away from the shore.

The woman was just standing and observing people walking along the shore. As if she was letting them witness the shocking magnificence of her presence. To experience the unbelievable view, which will imprint itself in their minds forever, just like it did in mine. Of course, it was only my interpretation of her motives, she as well could simply enjoy the sun, the sand and beautiful weather. And most likely that was the truth.
But there were no doubts that everybody was looking at her. Not directly and not for long, because no one was bold enough. Nevertheless, every person who passed her by, no matter the gender or age, were gobsmacked at their core and just threw discreet, but frightened glances toward her.

But who could blame them for that? This woman was a one-in-a-lifetime experience. People never before and never after would witness such a view.
She was built like a Greek monument. No! Let me correct myself… Rather, the Greek monument took a futile attempt to look like her body. She was tall, with broad shoulders, a massive back and muscles… huge, defined muscles, which would put to shame the majority of guys who regularly workout. A muscle mass which would be desirable by many professional male bodybuilders. Muscles’ size which would definitely put that woman amongst the biggest female bodybuilders, if not on top of them. There was no exaggeration in this, not even one bit. This woman was as big as it was humanly possible.

Because of her shocking muscularity and her wide, immense pectorals without a trace of feminine breasts or any implants, I initially thought that it was a guy with a weird haircut. A guy huge and obsessed with weightlifting. But it took only one glance at her face and especially between her legs, to realize that it was a woman. An alpha specimen of a woman.
Yesterday I checked myself, walking by her from a distance, behind the perfect disguise of sunglasses, lurking discreetly at her private parts.

And that huge woman presented to the world her titan-like sculpted naked body without any bashfulness or embarrassment. Of course, it was a nude beach, so in general people feel more or less comfortable being naked, but she looked so confident and natural that in my eyes, she was taking 'nudity' to the next level.

Once again I was struggling with my thoughts, as I was coming closer to that mysterious woman. I was walking on the higher parts of the beach, slightly behind her range of sight, but the truth was that every step forward became more and more difficult.
No, not this time! I can't chicken out today. I threw a blanket at the sand and sat down to calm my nerves and gave myself the last chance to think about a potentially brilliant pick up line. But what can be said to women like her? 'Hey, babe, nice guns, wanna hang out?', Please…

Chaotic thoughts began to swirl inside my mind like crazy hornets. Why do I even want to talk with this woman? I'm not into muscular women, nor ever have been. Toned bodies with defined abs? Bingo! Slightly muscular legs and butts? Yes, sure, sign me in, everyday.
But such a muscle mass on a woman always appeared for me as something unnatural, unattractive or even repulsive. Always until yesterday.
One glance at this real life version of the female Hulk and I was gone, my mind was turned inside out. Something in my brain was completely rearranged. In the blink of an eye, I became truly obsessed with her. As if her powerful energy, radiating around her as if coming from a beacon, demanded my attention. As if her vibe was pointing at me and saying "I command you to look at me. From now on you won't be able to stop thinking about me.'
I just had to get to know her. Or I would beat myself to the end of my days if I didn't even try.

Sink or swim! - With that thought, I stood up vigorously and started to walk in her direction. I decided to go and start chatting with her, even if my head was completely blurred and empty. In the worst case I'll just embarrass myself greatly, no big deal, right?

She was still standing like an epic statue, with her face turned towards warm beams of the afternoon sun, unaware of some baffled dude approaching her from behind. As I was slowly closing the distance, more details of her intimidating, massive silhouette began to be noticeable.

Yesterday I had only enough courage to observe from a couple of yards, now my eyes were fixating on the back of her body. Starting with a calf, almost big enough to be someone’s head, my sight went higher, glimpsing over the back of her thighs, massive as pillars.
Then the thick and solid glutes, developed to a really impressive size, yet still holding a very feminine shape, were protruding backwards, creating 'a shelf' under her lower back.
Her back though, narrow in the lower parts, began quickly to spread extensively to the sides, as her latissimus dorsi, inhumanly wide and burly, was creating a huge romboidal surface, ending at the top with the slopes of her trapezius muscle, attached from her bowling ball shoulders and almost reaching behind her ears.

I noticed also that she had rather short hair, raven dark in colour, tied tightly in two little braids, which looked like they were glued to the back of her head. I saw once on tv a female boxing bout and one of the fighters had exactly the same hairstyle. This haircut seems to be mostly practical, but I couldn't deny that it looks badass on her.

And I finally had an opportunity to check the giant tattoo she had on her back. I spotted it yesterday, but for obvious reasons couldn’t watch it closely.
It was a very detailed image of a huge oriental dragon, with its tail and rear legs starting near her buttocks, a long body and wings waving all around her wide back, up to her right shoulder, where apparently was the rest of this impressive drawing. I was hoping to be able to check it further in a minute. I couldn’t help but notice to myself that the artist had a lot of space to work with, considering how huge her back was.

Another thing didn’t escape my attention. This tattoo, combined with the almost obscene level of musculature this woman possessed, was making her appearance even more tough, scary and hot at the same time.

And that was it. A few more wobbly steps and I stopped a few feet from a huge frame of female muscles, immovable and unconcerned of me, maybe even unaware of my sudden appearance. I opened my mouth in order to say something, but yet again forgot my tongue. To my surprise I heard:

“Quite a view, huh?” She said this with a low, but pleasant and feminine voice. Her face was still facing the ocean and she didn't even honour me with a single glance. For now I only could observe her noble profile.

Her question caught me off guard, not only because she apparently noticed my 'stealth' approach and the fact that she spoke first, but also by her timbre. For some reason I expected that her voice would be really deep and thunderous, at least baritone, possibly even bass. Yet her voice, although still on the deeper spectrum, was fitting her appearance very well, smooth and calm, but at the same time imperial.

Also what she exactly said threw me off the tracks slightly, because those simple words had at least two potential meanings. First, an innocent chit chat intro, as if she just casually asked about the view of the seashore. Secondly, it was more tricky for me, because it could obviously refer to her body and what would be even worse - a hint that she knew that I was observing her. This second perspective sent a cold shiver down my spine, a mixture of anxiety of being caught in flagranti staring and a weird excitement for the same reason! But because she left me an opening, I was able to recompose myself and answer.

“Indeed, sunsets at this time of the year are really beautiful.” I knew that it was an extremely cliché phrase and it wasn't even sunset time yet, for god's sake, but it was the best I could come with. She responded to it with a soft, barely hearable chuckle, but still didn’t look at me. Test passed or failed?

I took two more steps and lifted my hand towards her. “By the way, I’m Roy”

Finally, I’ve got her attention. She slowly turned to me and looked down at my waiting hand. And down at me, because getting so close to her, made me realize how tall this woman was. With my not so impressive five feet seven she was towering over me by at least 6 inches. I assumed her height was at least six feet one or maybe even two. But only god knew how heavier she was than me, assuming that her hypermuscular body must have weighed over two hundred pounds, easily, if not more. About sixty pounds more than me.


The woman took a seemingly never ending appraisal, until she reached her massive arm and closed her hand on mine in a firm handshake. Surprisingly, she didn’t crush my bones and force me to my knees, as I stupidly imagined earlier. But feeling her grip I was sure that she definitely could do that. Her palm was really big, much bigger than mine, the skin inside was a bit tough. This was the hand of a hard working person. And yeah, on her enormous right shoulder was the rest of the dragon tattoo, it's head and opened jaw. It looked very realistic, almost as if this creature was peeking from behind her back.

“Tamara.” She said casually with a soft smirk. I looked directly at her, trying to examine her face without staring rudely. On a first impression - she was older than me, somewhere near 35 years old. Her face didn't show much of her age, it was more like she had a more mature energy. No makeup visible, not surprising at all, considering that we were on the beach and she was swimming, but I had a hunch that she was not the type of woman who wears tons of cosmetics on her face. If she wears them at all.

She had really interesting features, making her pretty, but not in an obvious, ostentatious way. There was a resemblance to the young Linda Hamilton, from her role in the first parts of Terminator, but with all respect for that actress, Tamara was prettier. She had fuller lips, longer eyelashes, better proportions of the face and beautiful green eyes, with little yellowish 'flames' around her pupils. On her right cheek was a little, flat and dark mole, although it only made her look even more interesting. It made her face imperfectly perfect.
But the biggest similarity to Linda's or more to Sarah Connor's face was, her expression? Vibe? Aura? I don't know what to call it, but the woman, right now towering above me, had the same tough, stern type of beauty. Unapproachable, cold, merciless. Albeit Sarah Connor was a fictional character and her toughness was only script and acting, Tamara was real.

She was a tough and dangerous woman, I immediately became convinced of that. It wasn't an impression, it wasn't a feeling - no, it was a fact, I was sure of it. And I had several reasons to think that way.

Obviously - her monstrous muscle mass, a body so huge that it almost screamed of its power. I felt like a shrimp next to her. Looking for another analogy from the cinematography, Tamara was like a female version of The Mountain from The Game of Thrones. I just hoped that it wouldn't leave me as Oberyn Martell in that equation.
 
This woman was packed with muscles from head to toe. As she was now standing frontally to me, her silhouette looked even more imposing and overpowering. I could see how wide were her shoulders, with huge spherical deltoids. Lower, her enormous arms were hanging freely, with biceps so big that they were creating noticeable peaks, even despite being completely relaxed. Earlier I would say that she had a flat chest, because she had no implants, so popular amongst female bodybuilders as far I knew, or natural breasts, but it would be a big understatement. Her pectoral muscles, wide, thick square plates of flesh, were jutting out forward for a couple of inches. I could bet that Tamara had trouble seeing her own feet because of that massive muscular bust. Below that were the most developed cobblestone-like abdominal muscles I’ve ever seen. Big protruding cubes, tightly packed one onto another. Looking impenetrable like a vault door.

And at last, oh boy, Tamara definitely hadn’t been skipping ‘leg days’. Her thighs were huge like barrels, seemingly hard like concrete pillars.
That body wasn’t only for show, its power was undeniable.

Secondly, even more unsettling and confirming that my thesis about Tamara’s toughness was real, were her scars! She had many in several places and few of them indicated that this woman had a really dark past.
Starting from her face, two arched thin lines were clearly visible below her eyebrows. The marks of an experienced brawler… Of course, it could be possible that in the past Tamara was hit accidentally by, for example, a door, twice, but the rest of her scars were telling the opposite. On her swollen chest was a prominent bright line, running across both pectorals, almost from the right collarbone, down to the lower part of the left pec. For sure, it wasn't a scar from a surgery or some stupid extravagant scarification made in a tattoo or piercing saloon. Also it was difficult to imagine the accident which could cause such a wound. I would cut off my hand to bet that Tamara was stabbed and cut with a knife or some other weapon. A bayonet? Thinking of it gave me chills. This had to be a nearly deadly wound. I wondered if her dense and thick muscles saved her life…
And as if it wasn't enough, on her right shoulder, partially covered by the tattoo, was small, round hollows. Similar marks were on her right thigh. Undoubtedly they were old gunshot wounds.

Lastly, the most intimidating and simply scary. It was her energy, her attitude and overall look. A threatening calmness and stoicism, combined with a glint of dangerous intelligence in her eyes. Those muscles weren't built in some fancy, popular gym and solely for bodybuilding purposes. They were practical. They were tools. Built during deadly workouts, hardened and proven during fights. Of course, to first achieve and then maintain such an extreme muscle mass, Tamara had to lift weights, but I couldn’t picture her training with colorful dumbbells, amongst regular gym rookies and Insta**** influencers. I couldn't imagine her on the stage, flexing muscles in some tiny bikini. The more fitting concept was her lifting some crazy stuff, like barrels, tractor tires or huge logs, in the wilderness or a desolated barn in the mountains, like Rocky before his fight with Drago. Or crawling through the mud and jumping over obstacles like Demi Moore in G.I.Jane. And I thought that it was a correct deduction - that Tamara served in the military, police or some other law enforcement. Or as a mercenary or even a hitman.

Tamara looked like a person whose determination, patience or mercy should not be challenged. I was nearly sure, especially seeing her scars and those monstrous muscles, that she was capable of severely hurting someone physically or even killing. And I had a strong suspicion that she had done this in the past. My imagination was drawing up visions of Tamara knocking out someone with ease, with her big hard fists. Or her beating someone to a bloody pulp, hardly breaking a sweat. Or her huge biceps viciously cutting someone's breath in a deadly anaconda grip, holding the victim until it is unconscious or dead. Also, her massive palms grabbing and breaking someone's neck like a stick…
I just wanted to hold on to the naive hope that people she potentially hurt were criminals or terrorists. And she did that while honoring the protect and serve maxim.

"So… Roy… what’s a guy like you looking for on the nude beach?" Tamara’s smooth voice woke me up a little. Again her question wasn't one dimensional, it had layers. Casual on the surface, but sneaky underneath. I barely noticed how quickly she took control over our conversation.
Her green eyes stopped piercing mine for a moment and she shamelessly checked my body from head to toe. I noticed that she looked directly at my dick, but her calm, still expression didn't change a bit. Maybe only her eyes slightly widened, but it could be my imagination. My size didn’t impress her? That was something new, I was used to more expressive reactions from women.

"Oh, I just like it, you know, that freedom and nothing between the skin, sun or water." I decided to play a little innocent to start. "And it's kind of fascinating to see people without, let's call it, masks, behaving more freely and honestly."

"Hmm… So are you interested in psychology, Roy? You come to the nude beach to observe people, to see how they behave when they can't hide behind clothes?" And again her second question contained a small provocation. She didn’t put any accent on the word "observe", but I felt that it was meant for me, as a kind of note, basically saying: 'Hey, I know that you were staring at me'.

"Not only because of that, the nice thing is that I can always meet someone interesting." I answered hoping that it would make her smile, but Tamara’s face was adamantly indifferent. Only her thick lips were shaped in an indistinct smirk, but not as a reaction to my words. Seeing that I added furthermore. "But yes, I'm interested in psychology, I actually study it and try to specialize in kinesics."

"Ooo… That's interesting, tell me more about it." And she proved her interest with a mimic, very moderate and terse, but still - her eyebrows rose slightly and her lips formed a little O-shape for a moment. But as someone who is really into the topic of body language, I had to admit that Tamara was cold as ice in this case. All her reactions were restrained and under control, as if she was trained for that. And that gave me another hint about her background, adding it to my theory about her service in the army or other forces.

“About kinesics? Have you heard about it?” I asked, while being nearly certain that she knew what kinesics was. She just wanted me to explain what it was, maybe as another test for me? One thing was obvious - our conversation started to look like a chess duel. And it seemed that she had the upper hand from the very beginning.

“I do believe I’ve heard about it, once or twice…” Tamara answered with that low sexy voice of hers and shrugged her shoulders. This trivial gesture made her trapezius and deltoid muscles expand for a short moment, making her posture even more enormous. I was fighting with all my will not to gasp like some fainthearted little boy. After that her face enlightened for a second as she sent me a soft and mysterious smile. “But I’d like to hear a professional explanation from someone who knows the subject.”

“Okay, so kinesics, in a nutshell, is a way of reading and interpreting the body language and all other signs, verbal or not, that we make, unknowingly or unwittingly. There are things like face expressions, grimaces, eye movement, posture, stance, gestures, etc...” It was weird, giving her an encyclopedic definition, because I knew that she already knew that. But I decided to play along with her game. At least I felt really strongly about  kinesics, it was my pet subject. “Those signs and reactions are connected with specific emotions, behaviors, intentions, some more precise, some less. Watching the body language, someone who knows how to read it, may deduct the mood, parts of one's character or even assume some facts about the background of the observed person. Or assess if that person is being honest, if she or he is lying, trying to deceive, hide something and so forth. And as few details in the results may vary, depending on some individual psychological features, those rules universally apply to most people.” I made a pause and decided to make a small move on our virtual chessboard. Maybe only with a pawn, but it’s always an opening, right? I looked in her eyes and said. “Of course, there still will be people whose body language will be hard to read, for example suffering from some mental disorders, like delusions or on the other hand, people who are very aware of themselves, who can control their reactions, due to a special training or just because of their natural abilities."

"I see, that's intriguing, I must say." I observed very closely how she reacted to my little provocation, but there was no reaction at all. She just spoke with calmness and confidence. No unnecessary, over expressive gestures or grimaces. And I don't know why, but her ability of being so relaxed and in control of everything, was not only fascinating for me, but also arousing. It was something I've never witnessed before.

All of sudden Tamara made the most 'rapid' move since we started talking - she stretched her back casually and placed her hands on  her hips. While she was doing that her enormous muscles moved and shifted under her skin, her abs contracted for a split second, her chest widened and her arms, now slightly bent, highlighted the softball size biceps.

The 'hands on hips' gesture, in the case of body language, has at least several meanings, depending on the situation and who takes that stance.
It indicates that a person is ready to take an assertive action towards someone or something, for example the construction worker places his hands on the hips, while he looks at the upcoming task. Or a runner does that before the race.
It may mean that a person wants to throw a challenge to someone. Or shows readiness to dominate another person, by appearing bigger and more intimidating, just like a dog making his fur standing up on the neck.
If a man does that in front of a woman, it could be read as offensive and brash. If a woman does that in front of a man, it shows that she feels that she is in control of the situation.
Or, finally, it could have no particular meaning, but shows that the person is relaxed and also a little bored and simply doesn't know what to do with their hands.

Which one could apply to Tamara? Well, definitely she would not need to try to appear bigger than she was in order to dominate me, it already happened. She was both dwarfing and intimidating me with ease. What else?
I could think about it for hours, but she gave me a hint by herself. On her face appeared a delicate, but a bit sarcastic smile and she said:

"Okay, but the theoretic part is good for the classroom. Show me how it works in practice. Hmm…" She looked around and pointed with her chin at an older guy, slowly walking in shallow water, a couple of yards from us. "This old dude, what is his body language saying? What can you tell about him?"

Oh, the challenge then! I could expect something like that, but it still baffled me a bit. Not because the challenge consisted of doing kinesics interpretation on some random people, but because I was supposed to do it in front of Tamara, a woman who both scared and attracted me. I didn’t want to embarass myself.

"Okay, let me see…"

"Sure, take your time."

I looked towards my 'subject', but could see with the corner of my eye that Tamara was,  well, maybe not grinning widely, but her indifferent smirk turned into a soft, satisfied smile.

The old man was really old, approximately about 75, maybe two years less. He was slowly and wobbly walking ankle deep in the water. His body was wrinkled all around and sagged, but he didn’t seem to be bothered by how his image could be perceived. I noticed that he has a thick and dark vertical scar right in his sternum. Despite that, it looked like he suffered from a few health problems so common for someone's his age, there was a cloud of positive energy around him. Just an amiable, droll and naked grandpa.

“So… the first and obvious thing, this man is really old, I would assume his age is somewhere between seventy two, seventy five. He is hobbling on his right leg. I would say that the way he limps that it’s because of his hip. We can see a huge scar on his chest, he underwent a serious surgery, I’m 99 percent sure that it was the heart. And it’s another assumption, but very likely, I think he had made the coronary artery bypass.” I glanced at Tamara and saw that she nodded, it was barely a noticeable gesture. As if she agreed with what I said. “It’s one of the most common heart surgeries, which requires cutting through the sternum and opening the rib cage. And there is another thing that makes me think that way. This man seemed to be happy, grateful that he is still alive. After all it’s a life saving or life extending procedure. But we can see that he has his chin up, his eyebrows are set quite high, his face is relaxed, and his mouth is delicately opened. His neck is bent, but it’s due to age, not because something bothers him, he is looking up and straight. Actually I think that this man stopped bothering and worrying a long time ago, despite being near his finish line. He just doesn’t care about silly, meaningless things anymore. There is a reconcilement within him. With his age, health and life.”

“And why do you think he comes to the nude beach?” Tamara asked and looked at me. Her poker face was still intact, but something new appeared in her eyes. I would very gladly and eagerly interpret this as a growing esteem for me, but it could be only my hungry ego speaking. Or not? Who knows…

“Memories. That’s why he comes here. The way he is looking at the sea. His eyes became fogged, but peaceful. Positively absent-minded. He is alone, so there is a possibility that he is a widower. Maybe in the past he used to go to nude beaches with his wife? Maybe he met her here? Now he comes here to lose himself in those memories, to appreciate them even more. The good old days, when he was young and healthy.”

“I see…” Now she clearly nodded her head, but didn’t comment or summarize what I said at all. As if this nod was the summary itself.
Her eyes turned to the right of my face, she noticed something. Again, the most delicate smile in the world appeared on her voluptuous lips, as she asked. “How about this guy and his body language?”

I peeked behind my shoulder and saw a young Afro-American, strutting quite fastly the same way the grandpa went. What immediately caught my attention was a noticeable tension in his moves. As if he was angry or stressed.
The guy was at least six foot tall, rather skinnier than buff, but he had a nice shoulders to hips width ratio. Handsome and fitting the stereotype of black guys, he was quite hung. His flaccid, yet impressive dick was bouncing on his thighs, as this young man was walking. The size didn’t make me uncomfortable or insecure, because well, that rarely happened for me to meet someone at least equally equipped. But I guessed that his brisk walk might have turned a few heads earlier. I wondered if Tamara chose this black guy, as another ‘test subject’, because of that. I looked at her, but her face was as relaxed as before. She was like a monk. A scary, sexy, ultra muscular, with nerves cold as liquid nitrogen, monk.

“Hah, okay, so now we have the opposite of our first subject.” I started jokingly and was rewarded by a short chuckle from my huge interlocutor. Making progress, huh? “Young, healthy guy, between twenty and twenty five years old. The first thing which strikes my eyes is the speed of his walk. It isn’t without purpose. This guy is angry, stressed or emotionally hurt somehow. He has his chin up, but slightly jutting it forward, which indicates an aggressive attitude. The whole pectoral girdle is tense, his shoulders, arms too. Despite his pace, his arms barely sway, it’s also caused by muscle tension. The fists are clenched and I can't see that from the distance, but I bet his jaw is also strained. The dude is making huge, long steps, as if he wants to chase someone or inversely, run away from.”

“And what could possibly make him so angry?” Tamara again turned to me and looked in my eyes. It really wasn’t easy to maintain eye contact with her and not shy away. And not only because of her attractiveness, intimidating musculature or even that stoic energy. She had something in her sight, something that imperatively demanded honesty from other people. As if she could see through every bullshit anyone tries to sell her.

“I can only guess.” I answered and shrugged. “What possibly could stress him on the nude beach? It's a place where you go to relax, right? I can imagine that some people, first comers or simply shy ones, could feel uncomfortable while being naked in public, but it’s doubtful that this guy was stressed due to that. First of all, he was looking straight forward, focused on the thoughts, and didn't even glance at us or other people. If he would be ashamed of being nude, most certainly he’d be checking if someone is staring at him. As a natural, involuntary defensive mechanism. Secondly, well, he looked good and had nothing to be ashamed of.” I noticed that Tamara’s eyes subtly squinted and a kind of amused sparks appeared in them, as she heard that I made a clear reference to that guy’s dick. Without any sign of shame she took a quick glance at my crotch and bit her pouty lips, not by much, but it was clearly visible. As if she was comparing? This small change in her behaviour made me tremble. I doubted that she made that unawarely, not with her level of self-control. She wanted me to see that! And when she looked again in my eyes, there was something she could not control. Her pupils. These were evidently enlarged.

“Any other ideas explaining his emotional state?” Tamara smiled softly, seeing that her return to the topic startled me a bit. I wished I could tame my reactions as well as she does… I truly had no idea what could make this guy feel that way, but since a completely different vibe emerged in our conversation, I decided to follow what my intuition suggested.

“I think that it is very unlikely that something made him mad outside the beach, like earlier, at work or somewhere else. Who would go to the nude beach in such a state, then undress himself and just make a furious mile-long naked walk?” The smile on Tamara’s face became much more prominent and she nodded. “I believe that it happened already here. And it may be a long shot, but I suspect that whatever angered him, was related to an intimate situation with a girl or a boy, hah, you never know. I can imagine some heartbreak story, rejection, failed pickup attempt or an argument within a couple. And it always causes strong emotions, right?”

"Hah, when you put it that way, I can imagine it too…" For the first time Tamara honoured me with soft laughter and my heart started to pound twice faster. Seeing her getting more relaxed in my company was a relief for me. Despite that her behavior was never hostile or unfriendly towards me, Tamara was making an overwhelming impression on me, scaring me with her sheer size and the obvious strength advantage she held over me.
Again she looked behind me and asked with her trademark smirk. "Would you mind doing your expertise once more? What do you think about this couple?"

"Oh, sure, not a problem!" I tried not to appear too cocky or fall into self-complacency, but knowing that Tamara wanted to listen to my interpretations was deeply flattering. I turned around and as discreetly as I could, examined the couple she mentioned. As I noticed a few things, I got quite excited. "Okay, this one will be interesting!"

The couple was in their mid-twenties, slowly and casually strolling along the water, while holding hands. They were stopping from time to time, as the girl was showing some scenery.

First observation - they were both attractive. The girl had long dark hair, tanned skin and quite a pretty face, but it was her body that was catching people's eyes the most. Apparently she won the main prize at the genetic lottery, having the perfect curves and proportions. A very tight waist, combined with the pleasant width of her hips and shoulders, in a rather modern beauty style. Long, slender legs, with nicely defined thighs, certainly shows that she has been spending a lot of time in the gym - or more likely - in some aerobic classes. On her chest were hanging a pair of one of the best tits I’ve ever seen. Maybe not shocking with their size, but still big, perfect globes, with a teardrop shape and esthetically proportional protruding nipples - they almost looked too perfect to be real, but the way they swayed with every step she made, undoubtedly proved their natural origin. That body reminded me of my favorite busty cam-girl from the net, Katee Owen, so much that I really thought it was her. But the face was completely different. Nevertheless, the girl was very attractive… no, she was really hot. There was no other way to describe her than saying that she was beautiful and hot.

Her boyfriend was equally good looking, they both looked like an Insta**** couple, almost annoyingly perfect. He was at least six feet tall and had a college jock image. Short, blond hair, square jaw, a famous ‘Chad’ in his prime. He was well built, muscular, with defined chest, arms and abs, although definitely not a fan of squats and lunges, as his thighs muscles were smaller than the rest of his body. Stereotypical ‘gym storch’, only pumping his upper body and neglecting legs? Maybe, possibly. But there was one thing about him, which made my next kinesics analysis so interesting. I turned more towards Tamara and said:

“I think that I don’t need to state the obvious, but let’s say it nevertheless. They’re both attractive, seemingly flawless, right?” I didn’t really mean that to be a question, but Tamara calmly nodded. "People who are so good looking are naturally more prone to be relaxed and easy-going, because they don’t have to worry about how they are perceived by others. No matter what we really want to believe, most people are visualizers, they evaluate others by their looks. So if you are beautiful or handsome, you have an advantage and it's just easier in life, that's unarguable. And observing that couple we can see that, well, it’s at least partly true. The girl is visibly relaxed, she feels completely natural and comfy while being naked. Like in this song, ‘she's sexy and she knows it’." Again my ego boosted itself, hearing a soft laugh from Tamara. "She is aware that she gets a lot of attention and stares, but it doesn’t bother her at all, cause she knows that she receives almost only awes. Her posture and behavior shows that she is relaxed and confident."

I made a short pause to check how a woman like Tamara would react to the praises of other women's bodies. And guess what? Yeah, almost no reaction at all. Apparently Tamara didn't have any complexes regarding her look, even when confronted to a really beautiful and sultry looking girl, her confidence was unshakable.

But I noticed that Tamara was looking at that girl with curiosity. My kinky imagination immediately suggested multiple hot, fantasy scenarios about threesomes involving me, Tamara and this girl and I almost had to physically shake these ideas from my head.

“And one could assume that this man would be behaving similarly to his girlfriend, but yet he doesn't. He didn’t look so comfortable, even when they were far from us, I could notice that he was nervously scouting around, as if he felt the people’s eyes on them. My first guess is that he doesn’t like the fact that his girlfriend is presenting all her assets to strangers. That’s the first reason for him looking around so often. Jealousy and being protective or even overprotective. I would even go so far by saying that coming here was entirely her idea and now he regrets that he agreed and is slightly annoyed by her because of that, unconsciously of course. Most certainly he would prefer to go to the normal beach. Secondly, he is well built and pretty muscular, right?” I was babbling and suddenly realized that Tamara could see that differently, as she was easily dwarfing this guy. But she didn’t undermine my observation at all. “But he is still trying to appear bigger. He has tensed shoulders, he is puffing his chest up, while keeping his spine straight as an arrow. Is it part of deterring potential admirers or seducers, as befits a jealous, possessive boyfriend or…"

"...or is he trying to drag the attention away from his tiny dick?" Tamara casually ended the sentence for me and I literally gasped from surprise. Her calm voice combined with what she said was so dominant and hot, I felt as if my cheeks were turning to much more vivid colors. She had her indifferent, soft smirk which contained nearly unnoticeable trails of jeer. Or was it only my imagination? But she was right, he could do that because of shame, although I wouldn't say that he was really tiny, maybe slightly below average. His dick could be even smaller than usual due to nerves and stress. And I wouldn't put it that way, maybe I would try to elaborate this more, but Tamara went straight for it. I chuckled nervously like a moron and answered.

"Well, I was about to say that he would prefer to wear swimming trunks, but yeah, you may be right. He doesn't feel good being completely naked…" I was about to say something else, but they were getting closer and I noticed a sudden change in this man's behavior. "Ohoho! This is getting more interesting!"

"What?" Asked Tamara looking at me inquiringly.

"He just spotted you! And I just hope this poor guy won't have a stroke from the shock!" I said enthusiastically and Tamara laughed loudly. She looked at me with squinted eyes and an expectant expression. "Shit, I can almost read his thoughts! First he was like 'maybe I'm not the biggest down there, but at least no one could stand a chance with me', but then his eyes encountered your silhouette and I can swear to you, this guy's brain froze for a moment! Now he is at phase one: ‘disbelief’. Watch him closely, he will look in your direction at least five times, if not more. Now he can’t process what he just saw. But immediately he stopped flexing himself! Subconsciously he knows that there is no longer any point to do that! As if something… well someone… took all the air from his lungs.”

Indeed, it seemed the guy’s body language changed in a matter of a few seconds. I couldn’t really blame him or swagger over him. I knew first-handedly that seeing Tamara for the first time might be a life changing experience. For this dude, the sight of a taller, bigger and most likely stronger female, was like a devastating blow in the guts of his ego. A guy, who probably most of his life considered himself at the top of the hierarchy, suddenly found right at the moment that it was all a mirage. An innocent idea of going to the nude beach with his hot girlfriend turned into a humiliation fest. For sure he will have a couple of sleepless nights afterwards.

I looked at Tamara again, trying to figure out what she would think in such situations. Were reactions like these amusing for her? Annoying? Or maybe completely meaningless, as it would befit a person with a natural calmness and self-awareness like her? How does she feel when something like this happens? Because it has to happen very often for her.
Thinking about it made me realize that my attempts to be funny with kinesics reading of this guy, may be perceived as an unnecessary mockery by Tamara. That she could see it as my arrogant self-aggrandizement. After all, we just met and for her I was no one. A random dude. Making fun of this guy's shock, the same gut-twisting shock I was feeling yesterday and today, all of sudden appeared for me as kind of juvenile and because of that I decided to change narration to more professional and honest.

"But who am I to judge his reaction? I can identify with his thought process, because it's really hard to believe at first, that someone like you can even exist." I said to Tamara, glancing at her, to see if it caused any reaction. And while she was still looking at that couple, her stoic face hadn’t changed much, but the barely recognizable micro grimace and something in her eyes, let me believe that my words surprised her a bit. "Did you notice? He glanced at you again, to reassure himself that he really saw what he saw. Now his head is full of questions. 'Who is it?' 'How is that possible?' It is hard to swallow for him, that's certain. He already didn't feel well being here and now it's even more difficult. A feeling of almost being emasculated. Look now, suddenly something itchy happened around his left temple, of course he needs to scratch it and yeah, create a cover for his face, to physically separate himself from the view which hit him so hard. Did you also notice that he has sped up? He wants to leave our proximity as fast as he can."

I didn't say to Tamara that I noticed one more thing, that his girlfriend also spotted her. But her shock had a little different foundation. This chick allowed herself to take a few more glances at Tamara, each one more and more curious. I could read through her mind also, seeing these questions 'what if…?' and 'how would it be to touch those muscles?'... She even stopped her boyfriend and pointed at Tamara with her chin, not even trying to be discreet. And then he looked at Tamara once again, but he pretended in front of his second half that he didn’t notice Tamara earlier!

"He looked at you three times already, this time he pretended…" I started to talk, but Tamara interrupted me with an amused voice. As with her other reactions, this amusement was very toned down.

"Yeah, I saw what he did." She shrugged her shoulders and turned towards me completely.

"Wait, watch him, for sure he will take one last look…" I said, but Tamara didn't even flinch. Her green eyes were piercing mine.

"I know that he will." Her calm, yet adamant statement threw me off tracks again. She was oozing confidence without even trying!

"Heh, what have you done to this poor guy, he won't…" I wanted to say that he won't sleep at night, but Tamara again cut me off.

"I did nothing. All reactions were on his side." She said casually, almost nonchalantly, but her words contained an underlining. What I could read between the lines meant that she didn't feel responsible for someone's shock or any sentiments correlated with his or her initial reaction. She just was present. She could easily increase her intimidating power by the adequate behavior, but she didn’t. And I felt that it was a message also for me.

"Yes, you're right." I agreed, because there was no other option.

"Listen, Roy, I must admit that was fun, but…" Hearing that I had an instant panic attack, thinking that she wanted to say goodbye and walk away, but yet again this unique woman was about to surprise me. A mysterious and this time dominant smile appeared on her face. "...this was merely a schoolyard play, don't you think? It's easy to judge strangers and analyze their behavior, body language behind their back. It’s a comfort zone. And staying within that zone isn’t the way towards progress."

"Don't get me wrong, I don't do that to feel better at someone's expense or just for a mockery. Usually I do this just for myself, as a form of mind exercise." I desperately tried not to show my desperation, but had a feeling that it was exactly what she was thinking. That my whole interest in kinesics served one purpose - to boost my ego.

“Relax. I know.” She said as calmly as earlier, but this simple word ‘relax’ was like an order. At least I had this feeling. Tamara lifted her hands to adjust one of her braids, of course if there was something needed to be adjusted. Whether it was my suspicion or she really had to do that, this normal feminine gesture made me almost faint as I could witness for the first time the sheer size of Tamara’s biceps. Seeing these two globes of heavy and massive flesh was a tremendous view and she didn't even flex them! I tried to mask my shock as well as I could, while she smiled quite innocently and said. "Okay, if that was an exercise, what do you say about a little exam?"

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly the same as what you were doing, but maybe a little bit more challenging. I'd like to hear your kinesics analysis and background supposition of myself."

"Of you?" Duuuuh! She just said that, moron… I only could hope that my internal scream was… only internal.

"Yeah, I'm really curious to hear what you may think. You know, I was impressed by a few of your observations earlier, it may be an interesting experience to be analyzed in this way." Tamara was smiling widely and in a friendly way since I started talking with her. And if it was a different person, I may think that she was trying to butter me up with flattery. But there was nothing in her facial expression which would indicate dishonesty. Moreover, Tamara seemed to be above such petty games and manipulation.

In the past I had done some show-offs with my kinesics knowledge to impress girls I liked or those who I wanted to score. It was a nice and easy ‘leg spreader’, to sell them some sweet bullshit, about how their body language highlights non-existent amazing features of their characters. In most cases it was enough, a couple of flatteries, a couple of smart and fancy words and they were all wet. And in most cases I was the initiating side, not the other way.
I knew that it wouldn’t work on Tamara. It would be stupid to even try it, even more - it would be absolutely inappropriate and wrong. Because I had a lot of respect for her. It made me realize that I was quite a douchebag with those girls in the past. And it wasn't the most pleasant conclusion for me…

"Wow, okay, challenge accepted!" I exhaled prolongedly, as if I didn't even notice that I held my breath. I knew it would be a tough task, considering Tamara’s stoic personality and level of control. The fact that she was so colossal and intimidating would not be helpful either. However the biggest difficulty I saw was my attraction to her, I couldn't deny that this woman fascinated me like none other before. But no risk, no fun, right? I couldn't chicken out.

"What is my body language telling you?" Tamara asked as if she wanted to give me an easier start.

"Right now or overall?"

"Let's start with the present."

"Okay…" I nodded and looked at her face, so pretty in a unique, intriguing and dangerous way. Her overwhelmingly massive body was also quite intimidating. "Right now, your face and whole posture show that you're relaxed, your arms hang freely, one knee is a bit bent. There is no visible tension, your muscles are loosened, albeit they look so big as if they are constantly flexed." I said with a sly smirk and was rewarded by a soft chuckle. "If there are some emotions, they are well toned down, I can only say that your half-opened lips and slightly raised eyebrows may indicate curiosity and some kind of anticipation. But the main impression of you is stillness, even in the face of something that would make many people nervous or on alert. “

“Generally people don't like to hear an insight analysis of their behavior or character, whether the person who is about to do that is someone close to them, a professional, like a therapist or like now, a stranger. They would be suspicious, leery, dismissive, afraid or even hostile. They would expect fraud, barely covert insults, manipulation attempts, mockery, etc… But you know that nothing I will say can insult you." She smiled tellingly and I figured out what she could have thought, so I quickly added. "Ah, let me clarify! Not because I would avoid any observation which you might not like, you know, like a total kissass." Another soft chuckle. "But because you know yourself, as I suspect your calmness springs from your confidence, self-esteem and a really impressive self-awareness. And from your strength, not only your obvious physical power…"

I made a circle with my hand, cursorily pointing at her body. "... but mostly from your mental durability and experience. So, if I made a mistake or a wrong, unfair assumption, you wouldn't take it as an offense, because deep inside you would know that it's not true."

"Hm… Interesting." That was her complete comment, only combined with this trademarked smirk and curious sight. "And what are your overall insights? What else did you observe?"

"Well, from what I was able to observe, there is one thing which is stepping out. It is your ability to control your reactions. You're cool like a stone cold killer, there is hardly anything that can surprise, startle or bother you. I would assume that there are few reasons for that. Firstly, I think you meditate on a daily basis. What makes me think that way is this stillness and mindfulness, combined with your body awareness. It allows you to control your emotions and body, because you experience everything in a more introverted, toned down way. Secondly, what keeps coming to my mind is that you probably served in the military or the police forces, more likely the first option I’d say. A few things speak in favour of that guess. This mental attitude comes from training and experience, the rest are of course your posture, that muscular body and those scars." I made a pause, because talking directly about Tamara’s muscles and scars was causing a spread of weird, weakening warmth within my own body. As if tag teams of fear and shame were fighting with attraction and arousal.

And I wanted to check how she would react to my observations, most certainly I had her full attention. She was listening carefully to my every word, slightly squinted eyes and that mysterious soft smile wandering around her mouth. Those pouty, voluptuous lips were killing me, they were the most captivating part of her face. I couldn't get rid of the thought of how amazing it would be to kiss them…

“You said that I was in the military, so I guess you assumed I’m no longer in the service, right? Who am I then? What do you think I do for a living?” Again, Tamara didn’t confirm or deny anything I said. But she gave me some hints, making me more convinced that my theories were right on track. Tamara mentioned only serving in the armed forces, not the police. But her other questions, well, here my kinesics knowledge couldn’t tell me a lot, I had to go with my intuition and deduction skills then.

“Are you aware that I can only guess or in the best case extrapolate, based on some hints and mostly my intuition?”

“Yes, but I still want to hear this. I'm sincerely curious. And you showed earlier that it wasn’t a problem…” Vibrant and provocative sparks appeared in her eyes.

"Eh, okay, but at least promise to be lenient, in case I talk complete nonsense."

"Hah, don't worry, you have my word." Tamara smiled widely, clearly enjoying our unusual conversation.

"So what job could a woman like you have?" I asked rhetorically. "One may say, going to the obvious and easiest conclusion that you must be a professional bodybuilder, but personally I think it's not true, at least not entirely. I don't think that you make money by posing on stage, selling supplements, workout programs or advertising… or other stuff that bodybuilders do, I suppose. Not because you wouldn't be a great bodybuilder though, I'm not an expert on this topic, but it requires one look at your body to notice that you have it all, size, definition, symmetry, etc..." It was another time where I said compliments about Tamara’s body, but she didn’t react at all. It takes a really strong confidence, self-belief, but also a healthy ego, to not feel flattered by hearing such words, to not let those words take control over us.

"There are more potential careers which would fit someone built like you, I don't know, powerlifting, biathlon or some other olympic sport like… eeer… shot put? But I would brush aside them all. You're an athlete, but you don't work as an athlete. That musculature wasn't built only in a gym, but my thesis is that it was built during service in the army, also during military exercises. Of course, I'm sure that you train hard, probably everyday and lift a shitload of weights, but it's more like a hobby, no, a habit! A part of your life, your daily routine and discipline. You like workouts, enjoy them also, but I doubt that your goals are to… I don't know, gain another inch in your arms or to have amazing abs… not that you haven't them, of course! It all comes as a bonus, but you train to be…" I wanted to say 'a killing machine', but fortunately I bit my tongue. "...to be efficient, durable, strong, all those in practical meaning. As a former soldier."

"Former soldier and current… what? You still didn't answer my question."

"Believe me, I'm trying to get there." Despite the fact that our conversation went back to that weird verbal chessboard, I was enjoying it fully! It was a new experience for me, challenging and forcing me to think outside the box, to rewire some thought routes and schemes. And Tamara was fascinating me more and more with every minute I spent talking to her. “To be honest, during such conjectural guessing there are endless possibilities of which path you could choose in life. But I will stick to my initial thesis about the military. These are my other assumptions. First of all, I frankly doubt that you ended your service as a simple private or petty officer. I’m not an expert in this topic either, but I would bet that you achieved higher commanding ranks. And you were good at it, in leading your subordinates…"

"Let's suppose for a moment that you are correct." Tamara interrupted me, apparently she got interested in what I was saying. Her facial expression didn’t change at all and she didn’t confirm anything, but still that interruption gave me the confidence that I had to be on the right track. “Why do you think I would be good as a commander?”

"Because you have a mixture of fitting physical traits, which combined with each other gives you, of course in my unprofessional eyes, an advantage, which makes you a good officer material. You are cool-headed and calm, and seem to have an analytical mind. Those combined with your intelligence, confidence and discipline would allow you to assess the situation and give the right orders. But that's not all. You don't seem to be the type of officer who would demand obedience, while sitting safely behind the frontline. No, you're next to the action, you're leading your people giving a personal example. And that makes other soldiers trust and respect you. Also, your presence is respectable, in a physical way. Your height, body, voice, face… I mean…" I was thinking how to put it into words. "... it’s atavistic, but other people will more willingly follow the lead of someone tall, strong, intimidating, masterful, commanding and so on, than obviously someone short, fragile and with a squeaky voice. Even if that short person would be super competent, skilled. That person would have to constantly prove his or her own capability in front of subordinates."

As I finished, Tamara went silent for a moment, most likely processing what I just said. I was aware that I let my intuition guide me, maybe even too far, but that was something that happened to me from time to time. A unique setting of mind and a trance-like flow, which as I wanted to believe allows me to see more and do almost flawless kinesics analysises. In such moments I felt like William Graham from the Hannibal Lecter franchise.
I looked into Tamara’s eyes and saw a little change there. As if she was impressed.

"So… will you finally tell me which job you think I have?" She asked quietly and I realized that she got closer to me! Not much, maybe half of a step, but she was visibly closer. I didn't even notice it! She must have done it during these short moments when I was wondering what to say and looking in different directions, not at her.

Why would she do that? There could be a couple of reasons, most likely three. Three "I" as I used to call it.
Interest - A natural reaction when something catches the interlocutor's attention. The usual personal distance is between eighteen and thirty inches, sometimes more, depending on the situation, people involved or culture differences. So, if during a conversation, one person will get interested in what the second person is saying, the most likely he or she can come closer in order to 'hear better'. Was that Tamara's reason? Maybe, possibly.

The second option was Intimidation. One invades the personal space to simply scare or bring others to heel. Like a teacher may get closer to the rude, disobedient student, in order to establish the dominant energy. But, I'll repeat myself - Tamara didn't have to behave like that to intimidate me. Her sheer size and energy were causing a myriad of emotions, including the inferior and submissive types.
But what about the third "I"? This was a reason about which I didn't allow myself to even dream of. "I" for getting Intimate. I think I don't need to explain more…

"I think that after leaving the army, you started your own business. I can't possibly guess which branch it would be, but I'm sure that it is somehow connected with the military area, I don't know, security, weaponry, surveillance, protection, investigations, convoying… But something where you can use your knowledge, experience and also skills in managing people. That would be my guess."

Again, Tamara remained quiet, after hearing me out, and a few seconds later she nodded slowly, as if she agreed with me… or with some thought she had.
And then, she made another half-step towards me, this time deliberately letting me see it. Now she was standing maybe a foot and a half from me.

I could feel heat… Was her body spreading it? Was it inside me? All of a sudden, the sun started to beat down more? I couldn't figure it out, feeling a little dizzy, as if the closeness of this muscular woman had an intoxicating effect on me.

"I have one last question for you…" She spoke softly and I felt her warm, mint breath on my face. "Why do you think I go to the nude beach?"

Oh, she got me this time, starting by standing closer, then by that question. There could be multiple possible reasons why she liked nudist beaches. I had few in mind, some quite normal and boring, some more risky or provocative, and I had no idea which would be closer to the truth. But there was no other option but to choose one to start. I sank into the calm green deep of her eyes and said:

"Haha, that's the trickier one!" I chuckled. "I think that you just like the contact with nature. You are kind of a lonely wolf and enjoy the feeling of the sun, sand, water, wind on your bare skin… The freedom and an ersatz of wilderness." As I started to talk, Tamara squinted her eyes with a subtle sarcastic smile, as if she wanted to say 'c'mon, we both know you can do better!' And I wanted to give her more. "And I also think that you go to nude beaches for similar reasons like me. You like to observe people, watch their reactions to your body, waiting if someone may challenge you somehow..."

Tamara laughed softly and said with a kind of wolfish smile. "Nice, Roy, almost correct… but 'almost' makes a difference. No, our reasons aren't similar, not entirely at least. Because you have one about which you didn't say a word." An indifferent, slightly sarcastic smirk returned on her face.

"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to look cool, but I could only wish to have such control over my body language and behavior as Tamara. My voice already betrayed an increasing nervousness.

"I think you know…" She tilted her head slightly to the side and generally this gesture can be read as a submissive one, because of showing to other people vital parts of the body, which are the neck and the carotid arteries. But in her case it was different - it was a challenge, it was supposed to show me that she saw right through me and it was alluring.
"You like to go to the nude beach to observe people. Mostly girls, which you can choose, approach and pick up, by charming them, whether with your kinesics knowledge… or the size of your dick."

Boom! I almost physically felt her words hitting me in the head, despite her voice being as calm as earlier and she didn't vary her tone either. But the accuracy and incisiveness of her observations struck and shocked me pretty hard.
What could be answered after a statement like that? Playing dumb and denying would be the most idiotic way to deal with that, I knew that. And I tried desperately not to even think about the fact that Tamara made a clear reference to the size of my penis, although I couldn't deny that it was very pleasant and flattering. Especially to hear that from a woman like her.

"Hah, well, I won't admit that is my main reason for going to nude beaches, but I can't also deny that sometimes it happens…" I explained as calmly as I could, while nervously massaging my own neck. I did it unconsciously and I’m sure that she picked it as my acknowledgement and embarrassment. Shit! The self-comforting gestures are often made by lying people, who say some risky, made up stuff and are trying to calm themself by massaging the neck or temples, by rubbing palms, by doing anything which can bring a temporary physical relaxation, even if it has a placebo effect in the best case. It’s a natural involuntary reaction. But with me it was not because of being caught lying, but rather by the uncomfortable truth! Tamara, even if she noticed and properly recognised that gesture didn't seem to care. She even smiled quite friendly.

"Good that at least you have integrity and don't try to deny it. Although I think that there is a better purpose for using your kinesics analysises." Tamara was still smiling and she raised one eyebrow, as if she was still doubting my truthfulness.

"But it's not like I'm using my knowledge solely for seducing women or to manipulate them in any way. It’s sometimes helpful, but this topic isn’t always necessary to start a conversation." Maybe it was a mistake, but I started to flounder into less and less coherent justification of myself, but I just didn't want Tamara to see me as a douchebag gigolo, whose only goal in life is scoring girl after girl.

"I'm not accusing you of manipulating." She answered calmly as usual, but her smile remained amused, seeing me flouncing nervously. "Listen, I don't see anything wrong with that. You're young, you live life to the fullest and it's great. But…" She made a short pause and asked. "Do you have something against me guessing about your character? I'm not a kinesics expert, but I have an idea…" Oh, god, she got me again, but this time fully fascinated and intrigued.

"No, no, please, go ahead."

"I'll go straight to the point. I think it's much easier for you to interact with women when you are naked. Partially I can guess because we nudists, if I can call ourselves that way, present intimate body parts to everyone, right? And we are also checking these parts, because… why not, hah! They are here, in plain sight. But the point is that chicks can't make their tits bigger by wearing push ups bras, guys can't wear three size smaller t-shirts to appear more muscular. We can't hide behind clothes and pretend that we look different. But what I can't understand is why you, Roy, think that you need to wave your dick in front of a woman, in order to get her interest."

"But…" I tried to say something, not even knowing what to say, but Tamara raised her hand slightly, to show me that she wasn't finished.

"Wait. I know that it may work as an immediate ice breaker to chat with girls, but for example, I'm sure that you would approach that busty girl if she was alone here at the nude beach. But I'm sure to believe that somewhere on the street, fully clothed, you wouldn't be so confident with her, would you?" I felt completely vivisected. As much as a part of me would want to dismiss her observations, to ridicule them, my self-consciousness knew that she was very close to the truth. It wasn’t easy to admit that, but I didn’t see any other option.

“Eh… yes. You’re right. I would be more overwhelmed by her then…”

“But why? Do you feel insecure about something in your appearance, Roy? What is it? Your height? Body?” I opened my mouth absently, but it seemed that Tamara wasn’t expecting any answers. “Well, whatever it is, you shouldn’t feel that way. You look great, you are very intelligent and smart, as you already showed me. You should have more faith in yourself.” Hearing such words from a woman who looked like a female version of Adonis, was empowering.

“Thank you… I guess.” I chuckled nervously. It started to be my new habit around Tamara.

“I hope I didn’t offend you in any way?”

“No, of course not. It would be rather stupid to be offended by facts.” I shrugged my shoulders and smiled.

“That’s a good mindset. Impressive.” Tamara nodded with honest appreciation.

“If I want to work as a psychologist of any kind in the future, I can’t be a hypocrite, right?”

“Yeah…” She nodded again, but this time seeming pensive. As if she had a new thought in mind. She looked over my shoulder for a few seconds, then regained eye contact with me, but all of sudden her gaze was much more intense. The smile on her face turned towards the provocative side. “Hey… Did you approach me having this in mind?”

If I ever had any ability to control and tone down my reactions, now I completely lost it. I gasped for air and felt as if my cheeks were starting to heat up. I could only pray that my tan could hide the burning red color of my face.

“No!... It wasn’t like that! I mean, I wanted… but...” I stuttered, but then the sudden realization came to my mind. Only honesty would be adequate in this situation. So I tried to speak my mind more coherently, but I’d bet that it still sounded gibberish. “The thing is, when I first saw you, I couldn’t believe that you were real! I thought that I had hallucinations! You were standing so casually and looked like a superhero. I just wanted to get to know you… not in THAT way… eee of course not…” Tamara looked at me and laughed.

“Relax, Roy, I’m messing with you a bit…” She said through chuckles. And then, totally unexpectedly, she placed her heavy right hand on my shoulder. It was a delicate touch, despite the potential crushing power of her arm, but I flinched, taken by surprise. Of course she noticed that, but didn’t take her hand away. Instead she looked in my eyes and asked. “Hey… you’re not afraid of me, are you?”

“No, I’m just… well, to be honest, it’s impossible to not feel intimidated next to you… I mean… you're so big…” I felt that I needed to whisper that, because Tamara got closer to me again! She was now at one foot maximum from me, I had her massive chest muscles right in front of my face.

"Do you think I would hurt you?" She asked with a lowered voice, which per se was very intimidating, but in contradiction to that, her thumb started delicately massaging my shoulder. What was she up to?

"No, I think you wouldn't…"

“Exactly. Keep it in mind, okay?” Tamara exhaled in my face and her hand slid closer to my neck. She noticed my reaction to her touch and said with a little concerned tone. “Gosh, Roy, you’re trembling, am I really that scary for you?”

“It’s… it’s not because of fear…” I was only able to mumble this answer. Hearing that, Tamara’s eyes widened slightly and she bared her teeth in a wide grin. Her right hand was still slowly moving above my left collarbone.

“Oh, I see…” Tamara said quietly and then I felt her left hand also touching me! Without breaking eye contact, she grabbed my semi hard dick and started to stroke it, with slow, prolonged and pulling moves. She played this way for a moment, while her gazing green eyes were riveted on mine, examining with satisfaction how her initiative was affecting me.

After a while, she looked down and just held my almost full hard member on her open palm, as if she was assessing it’s length, weight and volume. Then she let it go and placed her left hand on my right shoulder. She looked around, as if she was checking if there was any unwanted audience. The beach wasn't crowded, although there were still plenty of people, maybe not in our nearest proximity, but someone from time to time walked by us.

“Do you have a blanket?” She suddenly asked. I nodded and she patted me softly in arm. “Go, grab it and meet me near the dunes.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice. I could only hear her laughter, as she saw me almost running to the place where I dropped my stuff. Frantically I grabbed my blanket and crammed it into the bag. I took a few sips of water, suddenly realizing how dried my throat was. Slightly rehydrated, I stood up and quickly walked towards Tamara, whose big silhouette was visible in the higher parts of the beach. When I joined her, she said only:

"Follow me." And started walking behind the bushes and other small seashore plants. I wasn’t aware if she knew about hidden places or just improvised, but she was walking with confidence, so I let her lead without a word. I noticed that she had a green, military style backpack and - funny observation - I couldn't decide if that backpack was really small or it looked undersized because of the enormous width of Tamara’s back muscles.

The way she was walking proved to me furthermore that she was a soldier - it was straight, decided and efficient. She wasn't swaying her hips at all, but due to the density of the muscles, she couldn't stop her glutes from bouncing firmly in an epic way. I couldn't take my eyes off her amazing butt, so shapely, yet consisting only of muscles. These glutes were almost begging me to touch them, to squeeze or spank them, but I was afraid that Tamara would do the same with my throat or face. Even if I was aware that we were gonna make IT, I preferred her to be on the leading side.

In the middle of my kinky thoughts, Tamara climbed on a higher part of the dunes, for a split second tempting my senses even more, by accidently flashing her pussy right in front of my face. She crouched on the top of the sandy shelf, near the ridgeline and offered a hand with a smile.

Of course, I could climb there easily by myself, but nevertheless I grabbed her palm, placed my foot on the part of that shelf and she stood up and lifted me in the air single handedly!!! Casually, without any straining or visible effort! Only her already huge bicep exploded with its mass even more. I wished that I could touch it, but she smiled again and resumed walking into the deeper and wilder parts of dunes. My brain was overloaded and simply couldn't comprehend that this woman just lifted a grown up man in the air, using almost solely her arm muscles. I know, I'm not particularly heavy, weighing an unimpressive, if not pathetic 150 pounds or so, but I couldn't even try to imagine how strong Tamara could be! And the most mind-blowing fact was that she didn't do that to gloat and brag, it was a natural polite gesture from her.

She walked a couple of yards and stopped on the small glade between the seaside shrubberies and high grass. Further was starting the pine forest. This small path we were walking could be a rarely used shortcut to the beach. Tamara took off her backpack and pulled out a towel from it. I did the same with my blanket and we set them on the ground.

"Do you know this place? Are you sure that no one will come here?" I asked her, already breathing heavy from anticipation.

"I don't know. If someone comes, then…" She nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders. "...well, he or she will witness a nice show…" Then she cheerfully waved her finger at me and said, "Come here."

I got closer to her and she embraced my shoulders with her strong, massive arms. Her left hand ran across my lower back, her right palm landed on the back of my neck. My shaking hands, shyly at first, started to examine Tamara’s waist, going up and down on her chiseled, rock hard obliques with sharp edges and deep hollows between them. It was a completely new sensation for me, to touch such a muscular version of the female body and I caught myself holding my breath for a very long time, as if my organism forgot how to function properly.

I raised my eyes and met hers, with their amazing combination of green areolas around smaller, slightly yellow ones. The colors of her irises were like a masterpiece painting, starting from clear, lively green, going through more etiolated tones, towards yellow flames, surrounding her pupils. Like grass in the summer.
She still had this remarkable calmness, but this time mixed with anticipation and arousal. The latter message was told by Tamara’s pupils, they were widened as if she was high.

"You are so beautiful…", I whispered with a level of exaltation I wouldn't ever have suspected myself. Tamara’s reaction was unusual, she looked surprised at first, then she glanced at me inquiringly, as if she was doubting the honesty of my statement. But she had to notice something in my eyes, because she cleared her throat (as if she was touched by this?!) and said:

"Thank you. I don't think I had ever heard that…" Really? Nobody ever told her that she is beautiful? That was unfair. Everybody likes to hear that! And she truly was beautiful in a unique way.

"It's hard to believe that I'm the first to state the obvious." I smiled at her and moved my left hand on her right arm, to check the size of her bicep. It was massive and meaty, even in a relaxed state. I just had to witness its full glory, so I asked her. "Can you flex your arm for me?"

"Uhm… sure." Again, Tamara seemed to be surprised, this time by the fact that I paid attention to her muscles. She raised her arm, clenched her fist and then an enormous, veiny boulder made of flesh ejected itself in the air! Her bicep was right in front of my face and I had the impression that it was as big as my entire head. And maybe it really was.

"Oh my god…" I whispered in shock and grabbed that massive peak with my hand, delicately at first, then more boldly trying to squeeze it. It was unmovable! There were maybe two millimeters of skin which I could press down, but then my fingers were hitting the unbending, rock hard surface of the muscle. I could have tried to squeeze a piece of granite with my hand with the same result.

"I didn't think that you were into female muscles…" Tamara chuckled softly, observing my awestruck face. In the meantime she slid her left hand between our bodies and started to stroke my rigid dick.

"Because I wasn't…" I panted between long breaths. "...but I’m definitely now…" My hand finally let go of Tamara's monstrous bicep and wandered to her even bigger shoulder towards her neck and chest. Her skin was smooth and very warm.

I touched the scar on her chest, running my fingers along its length. It was a weird, but very stimulating sensation, feeling the hard pectoral muscles instead of female breasts. Touching this long scar filled my mind with mixed emotions. Anyone who wounded Tamara so badly, for sure wanted to kill her. Yet she survived. Did she kill the assaulter in return? It was a scary concept, but at the same time it was thrilling, probably in an unhealthy way, but I couldn't stop the excitement of touching a woman so strong and dangerous. I looked in her eyes, while touching her scar and asked.
"How… how did this happen?"

Her eyes became darker for a brief instant and then she answered seriously, with a mirthless smile. "You don't really want to know."

Then she leaned forward, her right hand snuck behind my neck and pulled me closer. Our lips connected in a very passionate and delicate kiss. If someone would have told me that this muscular, dangerous woman, who undoubtedly would be able to kill with her bare hands, would kiss me in such a sensual way, I would not have believed it.
Her lips were like peaches, soft and juicy, her tongue entangled with mine in a hot, slow motion. It was like our lips had their own very passionate intercourse.
I felt her right hand slowly running down my neck, then my back, ending at my right glute. For a few seconds she simply held her hand there, but then pressed me tighter to her hard torso and lifted me up! I found myself in the air, hugged, almost glued to Tamara’s strong, hot body. And we didn't stop kissing!

She needed only one arm to support my weight! I know, I know, I'm scrawny, I was leaning on her, but still!!! And the best thing possible was that it wasn't supposed to be an attempt to dominate me, it came only from her passion and arousal. Even if it could be called a dominance, I doubt that it was intentional or even conscious. It was natural in her case, she was spreading this energy around, making her partners submit to her. Reversed roles. Bafflingly, but I had no problems with accepting that course of action and moreover - I was  enjoying it greatly.

On top of that - another unusual thing for me - I felt a strong need to satisfy her, to focus on her pleasure, even at the expense of mine. Not that I had been selfish with other girls, it was always fueling my desire to bring a woman to orgasm, but with Tamara I felt as if it was my personal quest to give her as much as I could.

Because of that, when she eventually put me back to the ground and we broke our kiss, I started to slowly caress her neck. Her skin tasted a bit salty from sea water. Thick, pulsating veins were entwining her neck and I kissed every one of them, on my route towards her pecs. Tamara was only sighing softly and stroking my head. The chest muscles under my lips were burning hot. Leisurely, I was going lower and lower, stopping for quite a while to lick and suck her big, jutting nipples. It was shocking how they responded to my touch, by getting even harder.
Reluctantly, I had to abandon them, covering with kisses Tamara's incredible cobblestone-like abdominals. It was like a brick wall, impenetrable, able to withstand the strongest blows and kicks.
Finally, I found myself on my knees and between her giant quads. In front of my face was Tamara's pussy, completely shiny, with a prominent, engorged clit. I noticed that she was so wet already, even the higher parts of her inner thighs were covered with fluids.

Tamara wanted it so bad and her desire manifested itself in a physical way. I felt her hand starting to push my head towards her groin, with a gentle, but unstoppable force. It was a clear signal to me.

Usually I would feel very confident to do fellatio, because I was good at it and had experience with many women. This time I had small, but niggling doubts in the back of my head. What if I failed to satisfy this extraordinary woman? But pretty quickly they subsided on their own, as soon as I started to work.
Her juicy clit was soon covered with licks and I used two fingers to caress the entrance. From my experiences, I believed that this way was the most efficient. And it proved to be right this time again, but the only sign that my endeavour was effective, was Tamara's breathing. Most girls, with whom I've been, were moaning loudly, some even squealing or screaming. Tamara was silent. I even tried to look up at her face, but the view was blocked by her massive chest, expanding rhythmically with her deep breaths.

The most overt sound she made was a pent-up grunt when she had an orgasm. I realized that she came by observing, right in front of my eyes, her abdominal muscles contracted so hard that if I would have put a coin on Tamara’s belly button earlier, it would have been crushed to the size of a pinhead.

I was still held by her strong hand, but soon after she looked at me with fire in her eyes and without a word she started to kneel down on me. In split seconds I had the crazy thought that she would completely flatten me with her huge body, but she gently lay me down, my back on the blanket.
Remaining quiet, Tamara reached for my cock and sighed loudly, noticing that I was hard as rock. Her hand took a moment and gave a few, prolonged strokes over my entire length. Then she positioned her hips above mine and rubbed the tip of my cock against her entrance.

"Wait, I forgot… protection…" I said quietly, not wanting to ruin the atmosphere.

"I'm healthy. Are you?" She said calmly, but yet somehow expeditiously. I nodded to confirm, even though health issues were not my main concern.

"But what about…" I started to whisper, but she cut me off with a short answer, which ended the topic definitely.

"I'm infertile."

Next she sat down, with a slow but continuous descent. I witnessed in shock how the entire nine inches of my male pride disappeared inside Tamara. And she didn't hesitate for even a second, she didn't moan, yell or anything! Only exhaled prolongedly and her eyes widened crazily. Her eyes were constantly piercing mine, emanating an animalistic energy! What a woman! What. A. Woman.
To be honest, it should have scared me, but it only made me respect her more. She was a worthy match, but the question was if I was worthy of her?

I wish I could observe us, the size difference between our bodies must have looked ridiculous. Tamara placed both her hands on the ground, keeping my head between them and slowly started to move her hips. Her torso was hanging above me like a roof. Finally I could feel her weight, in the most epic way, while her colossal body was thrusting me into the shallow sand. It was fortunate for me that there was a soft terrain under us, otherwise my pelvis would have not endured that amazing heaviness.

She set a slow, gentle pace, not using any of her strength, however one thing was clear - Tamara was fucking me, not the opposite way, but strangely enough, I had no problem with that. It seemed to be the natural course of action that a woman like her was on top and in charge. Even though Tamara could dominate me in every possible way, do whatever she would want with me, she didn't give me that feeling. I knew that I was safe with her, no matter how strange it might sound.

Next to the obvious physical pleasure and sensations, the most arousing aspect was the way Tamara was looking at me. We were strangers to each other after all, we met maybe an hour or more ago, I didn't really know because I completely lost track of time, yet Tamara’s eyes contained emotions that outreached our short acquaintanceship. There was still her calmness, mindfulness, mixed with a possessive savageness. But underneath that I could see some kind of longing for closeness with another person. It could be only my imagination, but I felt that Tamara might perceived our sex as a temporary remedy for her loneliness.

Pretty soon I started to feel her inner muscles beginning to clench over my cock. She tilted her head back and I could see only the thick slabs of her pectoral muscles, hanging right above my face. All of sudden she stopped moving completely, as her orgasm arrived and I started to thrust myself into her with all the vigor I could muster. Her muscles froze while flexing, as she held her breath. The view of that enormous body, slightly quivering from pleasure, brought me to the edge of my own orgasm. A couple of seconds passed and Tamara’s body relaxed and she leaned down, supporting herself on her forearms. Now her burning hot chest was pressing on my face and the contact with her smooth skin and hard muscles was the last thing I needed to reach my summit.

“I’m gonna cum…” I stammered through clenched teeth.

“Do it.” Her calm, but strong voice came to my ear directly from her chest. And those simple words were like an order for me.
I embraced her huge back, reaching with my arms as far as I could and frantically pushed my hips forward, burying my dick deep inside her. The release came a second after. I moaned loudly, feeling my dick throbbing and pulsating like crazy. After a seemingly unending moment my body relaxed and Tamara had to notice it too, because she rolled to my side and laid down on her back.

We were lying like this, next to each other in silence, interrupted only by my heavy panting. To my surprise, Tamara slid her right forearm under my neck and pulled me towards her.

"Come here." She said casually, showing that she wanted me to cuddle with her. Her meaty arm embraced me and I laid my head on her shoulder. Once again it was an unusual setup for me, the reversed positions, it was always me laying like Tamara and a girl hugging my side. But once again, I also had nothing against that. Neither I had nothing against this peaceful silence between us, it just seemed right.

Tamara was breathing calmly and looking at the darkening sky. I allowed myself, perhaps almost too boldly, to explore her muscular belly and chest. However she didn't stop me at all, she only purred with pleasure and I interpreted that as an approval. My hand wandered all around her abs, thoroughly checking every bulge and hollow, feeling the power dormant within those muscles. I raised myself on the elbow and this time placed my hand on Tamara’s chest. She turned her head towards me and observed me with a calm interest. I tried to squeeze or press down her pecs, but it was futile. Underneath her skin was pure steel.

"Can you flex them for me?" I asked quite shyly and Tamara smiled softly in response. Without a word she fulfilled my wish. I observed with a stunned expression, how her pecs began to grow, fuller, wider, harder! Their earlier smooth surface became ripped, showing striations of muscle tissue under the skin. And they were incredibly hard under my touch, unbending, unyielding, impenetrable… A natural bullet proof vest.

I recomposed myself from the initial shock and just explored her chest more. It was fascinating. Finally I raised my eyes and met Tamara’s squinted ones, looking at me with pride mixed up with curiosity. I've got an idea and asked, while still massaging her unbelievable chest. "Do you have trouble passing through airport gates?"

"No, why?" Tamara slightly lifted her eyebrows with a surprised smile.

"Because of these steel plates of course." I answered jokingly, pointing at her pecs with my chin. She laughed loudly.

"Hah, okay, that was a good one." Tamara sat up and reached for her backpack. She took out a water bottle and something long and thin, covered in paper. Then she put the backpack behind her head and leaned on it, so now she was half sitting, half laying. "Come here." Again she pointed to her side, I crawled towards her and laid on her shoulder.

She drank water and offered some for me too, then placed that other item on her belly and unwrapped it with one hand. It was a kind of snack, but I couldn't guess at first sight.

"Here, try it." She broke a piece of that food and handed it to me.

"Oh, what is it?"

"Homemade beef jerky" She answered and took a bite. I tried a piece and it was really tasty. It wasn't dry like a shoe sole, as I expected.

"It's nice! Spicy!" I told her and she simply nodded. I took another bite and asked. "So, you were a soldier, weren't you?"

"He he!" Tamara chuckled. "So the beef jerky is the key evidence for your theory?"

"Well, it's fitting a military diet, right? Nutritious, rich in proteins, long expiration date…"

"Yes, it is." She agreed with me and after a moment added. "And yes, I was."

"May I ask what kind of forces you had served? Eeer… Of course, if it is not classified or something else.”

"I was a Marine." Simple, short answer. Imagining her in uniform, filled tightly in areas of her chest and shoulders, with short sleeves almost torn apart by her giant biceps, with a beret, gun and other equipment was… very stimulating…
I had possibly a thousand other questions about her military past, but I had a feeling that she might not want to dwell on that topic as much as I did. Because of that, I decided only to say, “Thank you for your service." I said that very seriously and with a big dose of respect, because it was honest and I didn’t want her to think that I would joke about it in any matter. Nevertheless, Tamara chuckled quietly.

"You're welcome." She said smiling, then turned towards me and this time she positioned herself on her elbow. "But you know what? You can thank me in a much better way…"

She grabbed my penis and started to gently stroke it. Despite that we had sex maybe half an hour earlier, I got hard in seconds. Tamara was working on me like a whole supply of viagra. I knew that my eagerness pleasantly surprised her, but she didn’t want to show it. She leaned toward me and gave me a kiss, this time it was a much more dominant one, she almost sucked my lips inside hers. Her tongue was pushing and tossing around mine, as her own arousement rose. After a while she sat up and looked at me with an expression hard to read.

"Do you have an open mind, Roy?" She threw that question nonchalantly, while stroking and squeezing my dick.

"I think I do…" I answered carefully not knowing what exactly she was up to.

“Mhm…” She was playing with me in every possible way. At one point she slowly pressed my dick down and checked on me. “Does it hurt you?”

“No, not really.”

“Good. Would you like to try something new with me?” The smile on Tamara’s face turned into a really seductive one.

“Uhm… what exactly?” I had ambivalent feelings, on one hand I was really curious, on the other slightly afraid. But curiosity I had an advantage in this duel so far.

“Something exciting! I always wanted to try that, but… well, none of my partners were especially eager or big enough." The accent she put on the last part made me tremble with excitement. "Of course, if you don't like it or if it is uncomfortable for you, just tell me and we'll stop. It wouldn't be fun for me, if we would do it without your consent."

"Okay, you got me intrigued. Let's try it."

Tamara only nodded and moved to my legs, showing me to spread them. When I did that, she kneeled between them. Her mighty hand grabbed my dick again, patting and rubbing it delicately against her abdominals.

"Lift your legs." She ordered me with her calm voice and I complied immediately. She moved closer, now her hips and quads were touching the back of my thighs and butt. My dick was still in control of her hand, she was playing with it casually. At that point only did I figure out what she was planning to try!

The Amazon position!

Obviously, I've never had the opportunity to try it, nor ever thought about it. I slept with many girls, who liked to experiment in bed, but none ever proposed it. After all it would be weird to have a slim, weak girl to be in such a powerful, dominant position. With Tamara it was completely different, it seemed completely normal. It was as if it should be like this. Adequate. As if she was created for this position.

She gently pressed under my knees to set me up better. Then she lifted her hips and bent my dick towards her. It wasn't painful, maybe a bit uncomfortable, but I accommodated my hips and the unpleasant feeling disappeared. She was doing everything, while constantly looking at me, checking if I was okay with her actions and - most importantly - what was my reaction. Those big green eyes were absorbing me, dragging me into a whirlpool of her energy.

She rubbed the tip of my dick against her pussy lips and clit, then aimed at the entrance. With one smooth move she took me in.

I wondered if she was going to be able to establish a normal rhythm in this unusual position, but once she started moving, she needed only a few adjustments and soon her hips were clapping against my body with a steady pace.
She grabbed my ankles and held me in total control. Yet, again, I didn't feel flat-out dominated and belittled. Sure, I was in a passive and submissive position, sure I was physically dominated by the incredible size and strength difference, but Tamara didn't amplify it in any way. I believed that many other women would use that opportunity, for example to verbally humiliate their partners. It was easy to get corrupted by the advantage and power. But Tamara was beyond that.

“Do you like it? Is it okay for you?” She hissed this question, while increasing the pace. She knew I loved it, but asked anyway.

“Yes!”

The view of her mountainous, muscular body from my perspective was something out of this world. Holding me with her arms set aside, she looked like the most powerful human being that one could imagine. I was laying with my head pointing West, so the low, mild light beams of the sunset were creating different looking shadows on Tamara’s body. It was hard to believe for me, but in that lighting her muscles looked even more epic than before. Her shiny, tanned skin seemed colored like pure gold.
 
The Amazon position couldn't be portrayed better - Tamara as a tall, strong, muscular female warrior (ex soldier, right?) vigorously fucking her smaller and weaker male partner. Again, Tamara was silent during this, except the comfort question she asked, the only sounds she was making were breaths and quiet grunts. It was me who occasionally let out moans…

Humping moves are supposed to be the male domain, but Tamara was great at it. She was moving faster and faster, apparently getting closer to another orgasm. But right before that she slowed down, putting her complete passion in every thrust. I felt her vaginal muscles closing in on my dick with a vicious force and she let go my legs, lifting her arms to touch her head in a very erotic way. But I doubted that Tamara did this gesture deliberately, she was deeply lost in her pleasure, with closed eyes, panting shallowly through clenched teeth. It seems that these were the only moments when she was allowing herself to let loose with her emotions.

I could only observe her body shaking over that strong orgasm, as her muscles contracted and relaxed rhythmically. Finally, she exhaled slowly and opened her eyes. They were foggy and wild.

She lifted her hips and slid out my cock. Then she grabbed it with both hands and without any warning, she started to furiously jack me off! Her huge hands were moving with a lightning speed, it was unbelievable that such massive forearms and biceps could do that! She held my cock next to her abdominal wall and her big fists were slipping up and down, with wet squishing sounds. Her monstrous meaty thighs were still hugging mine.
The way she was looking at me brought me to the verge of orgasm in a few seconds. Those green eyes were fiery, but Tamara’s face remained calm and stoic.

She wanted to make me cum and I couldn't hold it any longer. Breathing spasmodically I let out a final yell and my throbbing, pulsating penis exploded. The first thick rope of semen flew over my head like a comet and landed on the sand with a light thud.

"Whoa…" Tamara gasped surprised and I felt that she aimed the rest of my load slightly to the side, so I wouldn't be covered by my own sperm. I would have been grateful for that, if my brain could have registered any complicated thought other than the constant inner scream of pleasure. It was so intense that my eyes shut down on their own and I could only breath heavily.

I had to have blacked-out for a moment, because a soft proding on my thigh shook me off from a trance-like state. I opened my eyes and saw Tamara kneeling next to me. She was pulling down on her belly the plain white t-shirt, which was stretched on her massive chest and shoulders so much that it must have been on the verge of being ripped. She already had military green shorts on her. The backpack was next to her legs.
That was the exact type of clothes I would think she would be wearing. But why she… oh, fuck! My dizzy brain finally started to connect the dots and when she spoke, everything became clear.

"Hey, sorry for waking you up…" Tamara had now a mirthless, soft smile on her face. "... but I didn't want to leave you lying unconscious here." She made a short pause as if she hesitated for a moment. "I also didn't want to leave without a word. Thank you Roy, it was fun."

"Wait!" I realized that it really was supposed to be the end and desperately tried to find a reason to spend more time with her. "Let me… eeee… at least escort you to the beach exit." Oh, bravo, Roy, you are a true genius. What a chivalrous offer for a huge, muscular ex-military woman…

"No, thanks, I think I'll be fine." She smiled softly and then added. "Don't stay here too long, the mosquitos will eat you." And she stood up and turned around, with the true intent to leave. I didn't know what got into me, but felt a strong need to stop her and asked one more thing, even though I would definitely sound desperate. I just had to try.

"Is there a chance… that you give me your phone number? Or email?" The moment I was spelling the last word, I knew that truly sounded miserable. But I couldn't help it. Tamara slowly turned back and for a moment looked at me, with an expression hard to understand (as if any of her expressions was easy to be interpreted…). I had a feeling that she thought about ways to decline without hurting my feelings. It only made me feel more stupid. What was I thinking? After a couple of seconds she cleared her throat and said.

"Listen, Roy, that's really flattering that a young guy like you has interest in me. But I'm forty right now, you're max twenty four. And those aren't the only reasons… I don't think it could work out in any way… and I think you know that too." She smiled sadly and in an apologetic way. "It really was fun, our conversation and our shared moments. You brought a woman out of me and it was a long time since anyone had done it. Thank you. I hope you understand."

"Oh, no, I get it. It’s just… I mean… you're a really fascinating person… " I tried to pretend that it was cool, but felt a huge hole in my chest.

Of course I understood all of that! We were from completely different worlds, at completely different stages of life. It was hard for me to believe that she was forty, but I knew that she didn't lie. Why would she? And I was aware that it was only sex, it was beautiful, amazing, passionate, unique and thrilling… but still only sex. Despite knowing all of that I still had  hope… or more precisely a fantasy, that it could be something more.

"Thank you." Tamara reached for me and her big hand again closed on my smaller one in a firm handshake. The goodbye handshake… I was probably deluding myself, but she seemed to be touched. Anyway, she let go of my hand and said, "Take care, Roy."

Then she started to walk away. This time, even the most desperate and lonely side of myself wouldn't try to stop her. Enough is enough. I needed to save what remained of my dignity. And keep in touch with reality. There was no chance…

… or maybe there was?! Tamara walked a couple of yards, but suddenly stopped. And stood like this, motionless, with her back facing me, for half a minute or more. As if she was fighting with herself inwardly. Eventually, she turned and started to slowly walk back to me. I could not believe that she did that.

During those seconds while she was getting closer, my brain tried to review every possible scenario. There was no way that she changed her mind and would give me her number, just like that, right? Or tell me that I'm the most amazing guy she ever met and give me the keys to her home. Even my inner teenager was suggesting that I lost my marbles. I could barely contain my shock, it almost hurt, because my facial muscles were so tense.
She stopped in front of me, maybe two feet away, with a serious expression on her face.

"I wanted to tell you one more thing at the end. Consider this as advice." My throat was so dry that I only nodded to show her that I was listening. She looked directly in my eyes and continued. "It's about kinesics. Listen… you're really good at this. And trust me, I may not have an academic knowledge about it, but based on my experience I can evaluate if someone has a good intuition and ability to read people's behavior and intentions. And you have both and also a healthy ego, which is quite helpful… Where are you studying?"

"University of California." I answered with a hoarse voice. Tamara nodded.

"Good. So my advice is… don't distract yourself with other stuff, focus on it and try to be the best. Learn hard, take additional courses. I truly believe that you have a future in that specialization, it may bring you many opportunities, as you probably already know, many companies from countless branches are looking for people with such skills." She stopped for a moment and looked at me thoroughly, as if she was trying to evaluate me. Later I understood why she made this pause. It was a decision moment for her. "When you finish your studies, get the diploma and so on… and still have an open mind for new things, then you can come here, to San Diego. There is a company named 'Priority Guard', they offer complex services in terms of security systems and personal and material protection, mostly for other companies. If you find them, then ask for the CEO, for Tamara Alenko..." At that moment she smiled. "...because I may have a job for you."

"Oh, sure, I will!" I stammered enthusiastically.

"That's the spirit." Tamara again smiled friendly and then embraced my shoulders in a final, farewell hug. It was so nice to cuddle with her big chest, especially knowing that it may not be the last time I see her. She patted me gently in the back and let go of me. "So, until next time!"

And then she turned again and this time walked away decisively, without looking back. I observed her big silhouette in the weak lights of dusk until she disappeared in the lower parts of the dunes. No longer I felt this vortex in the middle of my chest. I was at peace.

Tamara left me an opening. A chance to see her again. And whether she did it because of pity, pragmatic reasons, for really seeing me as a potential valuable employee or because of loneliness, seeing me as someone with whom she can at least spend time - it didn't really matter. What only mattered was that she did that.
And I wasn't terribly naive, I knew that it wasn't a promise of a romantic relationship or crazy sexual adventures with her, but it was a perspective, maybe only for an interesting job offer, maybe for friendship. Or maybe for job, friendship and other benefits.

One thing was certain - I had a goal. Acknowledging that made me realize that my life was lacking it. And I would never expect that going to the nude beach might fill that void.

[biggerisbetter]

Marasso - Thank. You. Very. Much. This is, hands down, one of the best stories I have ever read. Thanks to your talent I could literally stand there one the beach right next to Tamara and feel her aura. WOW.   

[marasso]

Marasso - Thank. You. Very. Much. This is, hands down, one of the best stories I have ever read. Thanks to your talent I could literally stand there one the beach right next to Tamara and feel her aura. WOW.

Oh, man, thank you very much. You made my day with your comment. I think that I've never received such nice words about my works. And I know that I'm not so popular or known like other authors here, therefore your feedback is really precious for me and it motivates me to write more. Thank you!

[marasso]

Hi guys, another 'short' story from me, meaning around 20k words I just can't write something really short. Anyway, this much different story from the Kinesics or Hit me harder, of which you could have known me. But maybe you'll find it fun to read, who knows. Enjoy and let me know in the comments, what you think.


MASSAGE

“Okay, I think I know where it is. So Friday at 6 PM?” I wrote down the address on the side of some old bodybuilding magazine. It was almost ancient, like ten or even more years old, because it was left on a shelf in my old room in the family house.

Old. That would be a key word for me for several upcoming months. Old house. Old habits. Well known, old poverty.

"Yes, I'll be waiting, Aiden. Thank you for agreeing for the home visit during such crazy times.” Said a quite pleasant female voice on my phone. Surprisingly, Christine didn't sound that old, even though she referred to herself as an old lady a few times, during our conversations.

"No problem, it would be a nice change to visit someone in the times of these damned lockdowns." This joke was so dry that it could inflame itself. But it was enough to make an old lady chuckle. That was my level, apparently. My sense of humor has drastically downgraded itself recently.

"Yes, indeed. So until Friday. Goodbye!" Christine answered and hung out.

I sat down on my old couch, fighting with the urge to slap my forehead. So this is it. I'm gonna visit some granny in her house and massage her back. That's the task worthy of a few years of studying physiotherapy and taking courses to finally be able to claim myself as a personal trainer. This sounded so proudly just a few months ago, before the fucking pandemic came out.

Prior to lockdowns I was working as a physiotherapist and massage specialist in a quite prestigious rehabilitation center in Salt Lake City, but the biggest problem lied in the past tense. Since all the restrictions and bans were introduced, my poor experience and lack of professional seniority made me redundant from the start. My employers ‘temporarily’ suspended my contract, but of course, made a solemn promise that as soon as this madness will be over, they renew it with a full set of beneficial conditions. Uhm, sure, I’m still waiting for them to call. Looking at my phone all day long!
 
The same case with giving personal training sessions – numerous gym owners simply closed their businesses, in fear of getting fined. They're also still waiting for the better times to come.

Alas, I couldn't wait forever. Losing both ways to earn money, immediately forced me to make some immediate changes. At first, I had to leave my rented small flat and move back to my father's. Yep. Twenty seven years of age and going back to my parents house. What a shame.
Secondly – my pathetic savings allowed me to barely vegetate for two months. After that I decided to seek new employment. Many jobs to be precise. Whatever allowed me to earn…  anything. Damn, I even helped Jeff Bezos fund another of his fucking rockets, spaceships or whatever he tries to achieve in his supervillain's plan, by sorting packages in one of the Amazon’s warehouses. But even though all these jobs let me barely live, afford basic needs and not drain my dad's frugal veteran's pension, I felt forced by the situation to do more. I didn't want to work like this. Not after spending years on studying and preparing to work as a physiotherapist.

I hit the rock bottom… I know, I know, other people suffered worse, this and that, but this was my rock bottom, okay? And seemingly staying at that bottom wasn’t enough for me, as I started to drill in it by charging some poor grandma hundred dollars more than I would have done it before the pandemic. Two hundred and fifty bucks for one visit. It made me feel like a scam artist, for about thirty seconds or so, as Christine didn't contest that stake at all. Perhaps her retirement wasn’t so low. Or more likely this was a shit money for her, even though for me it was something extra than only financial injection. A glint of hope for tomorrow. Yeah, that didn’t sound pompous at all.

Anyway, Christine explained to me briefly that she has problems with cramps and she recently recovered from the injury. She hurt herself during a workout in the gym. I could easily imagine some unqualified moron trainer pushing a fragile granny into exercises she should have never tried, then charging her for some absurd money. And now, another moron, this time at least a competent one, will attempt to repair the old lady. That’s me, a hero without a cape.

Damn, I became bitter as fuck. Saltier than the entire Great Salt Lake. I always have been rather a cynic, but since the whole coronabullshit striked, my sarcasm reached new levels of toxicity. I could feel it seething inside me. Yet still it was probably my sole protection barrier against the pandemic blues. At least I perceived it as such. There was a great possibility that I was already ears-deep sunken into real depression.

Fuck it! I threw my phone on the bed and stood up. It was Wednesday’s afternoon when Christine called me and since the employment agency had not assigned me to work in the warehouse, I had a free evening. One of the many during the last months.

I did a light workout, using my old equipment, which reminded me of my college years, and after that I turned to other activities from my youth – online games and porn. I mentioned old habits, right?
Thanks to the Universe, at least free to play MMO games and pornsites weren’t banned during lockdowns. I sucked in them (in games of course) just like I sucked in the rest of my life recently, but at least I could fume over some random people on the net. There is nothing more cleansing for the human soul than raging over anonymous strangers in the chats of online games. After all, they were all noobs. Or, alternatively, cheaters, if they happened to get better than me in game. Simple rules.

Thursday went just as uneventful as Wednesday, the only thing I did during the entire day was a dinner for me and my father. Then we spent a quality father-son time: meaning we watched a baseball game on TV in almost complete silence, interrupted only by some awkward onomatopoeias. My old man was a peculiar person, always very introverted, and he became even more antisocial since my mom passed away due to cancer, almost six years ago. Despite me visiting him pretty rare and even rarer my sister, who lived on the east coast, he seemed to manage just fine. But I felt that could be the facade, a pretense of good mood. Maybe my financial catastrophe could bring something positive for our relationship after all? Who knows. If you believe in self-help coaching crap like 'everything happens for a reason!' then possibly you can see a chance for that. I was nearly sure that it would remain as it always had been. Full of awkward silence and mutual misunderstanding.

Although, what was certain for me, even though we were far from real closeness between father and son, he cared for me. Even if he had never really expressed that. I knew that he was somehow emotionally crippled. And so was I. Thanks to him. Ah, it feels so good when we can blame others for our own flaws, doesn't it?

Friday probably would have passed as productively as previous days, but I had a few tricks to avoid the long hour anticipation. First, I've slept till noon. Secondly, I've spent the next two hours in bed on my phone, watching Youtube and TikTok. Time managing skills – spot on!

But when I finally got up, I felt a weird nervousness intermixed with even weirder excitement. It was quite unusual, but I liked that feeling. Almost as if I was about to go on the date.
Haha! As a teen I've always fantasized about meeting a milf – older than me, more experienced, but of course sizzling hot. Right now I was being granted with such an opportunity, but in a twisted way. A secret, forbidden rendezvous with... “gilf”.
Well, maybe Christine will turn out to be really, really experienced in that kind of stuff? Like forty, forty-five years of experience? Or perhaps blowjob made by granny will be better? You know, less risk of getting scratched by teeth, if she took out her dentures.

You're such a pathetic moron – I mirthlessly winced at my reflection in the mirror, as I was dressing up. I chose the plain blue t-shirt and loose gray sweatpants, as I preferred to have comfortable clothes while massaging my clients.

Despite the stupid thoughts, I’ve still planned to approach this visit in a professional manner and for the umpteenth time I checked my bag containing all of my physiotherapist equipment. I had a few kinds of oils, both heating and cooling, different types of rolls and wedges, tapes, bands, hard and soft balls and even a full pro electronic massager. This device was more expensive than my kidney. Maybe I should sell it? The device, not the kidney. At least not yet.

I packed everything and exchanged farewell murmurs with my dad on my way out. It was late October, so the weather was kind of unpredictable. I was glad that I took my jacket with me because the wind was pretty chilly.
From what I checked on Google Maps, Christine lived in the nice suburban area along the Legacy Parkway. Obviously, I channeled my inner creep and stalked the entire neighborhood through Street View, to know exactly how to get to her home.
It seemed that I had to take a bus first and then have a pleasant, long walk. Of course, I could easily take a cab, it only meant that I would not eat dinner the next day. Not a big deal, huh?

After a boring ride spent staring through the window, I arrived in Christine's area and checked on the map if I was still on the right track. The route to her house was pretty simple, so for the rare moment I allowed my neglected, lazy modern mind to rely on its own fucked up memory and sense of direction than on the debilitating technology.

I was walking, peeping at people's houses and yards, pretentiously chewing gum. Couldn't look less as a stereotypical douchebag. But during the last months my personality was slowly, but inevitably drifting toward such a mindset. Not that it was better previously. I was just gradually getting worse.

Nevertheless, when I recognized that I was getting close to my granny's date house, I spat out the gum and tried to kick it as far as I could. It flew for at least several yards. Maybe I should try my chances in the MLS? Stupidly, but it made me smile. It's important to have fun with small things in life, right? Right.

I was still grinning kind of dumbly when I approached Christine's house. It looked really nice, pristine, mowed lawn, an alley to the porch, a few ornamental bushes, which probably bloomed beautifully during summer or whatever. Couldn't care less. But I could easily imagine that this ersatz of a garden was the entire world for an old lady and she loved to take care of it. Such a touching view.

All right, Aiden, let’s get it done smoothly. Get in, massage granny's back, listen to dry jokes, add couple of your own, collect the fucking money, get out and voilà. You'll be a rich man for a day or so. – I was grumbling in my thoughts and pressed the doorbell.

After thirty seconds or so I heard the quite energetic footsteps, not some slow and cautious shuffling of worn-off carpet slippers, which I would expect in the first place.
The door abruptly opened and...

...I was a bit surprised, not gonna lie. In front of me a woman was standing, quite tall –  she was approximately three inches shorter than me, so I would assume that she was about five foot eight. She had curly, auburn hair and elegant, thin-framed glasses. Her face looked slim, but her body was kind of bulky, although the thigh-long, fluffy violet pullover she was wearing was distorting her figure in a way. But the most important fact was that she was quite young. Well, maybe not fresh-out-of-college young or not even in her late twenties, but she most certainly wasn't wrinkled and sagged. I assumed her age was between thirty five and thirty eight, something like this. And my inner milf detector started beeping like crazy. The auburn head woman was quite pretty!

Maybe she is Christine's daughter? Or some carer? Neighbor? Where the fuck is the granny?

I must have looked like a complete moron, a refreshing change from looking like a complete douchebag, but she sent me the warmest smile and said:

"Hi! Aiden, right? Please, come in." She moved aside to let me step inside. I managed to blurt out 'hi' and walked in. Her voice sounded familiar. Is she...? No….She cannot be... "I'm Christine, nice to meet you." She said with a smile and lent me a hand.

"Oh, you're Christine?" I exclaimed like a fucking troglodyte and her smile become more confused. But I grabbed her palm delicately, only to notice that she had quite a firm grip.

"Uhm... Yes? You've expected somebody... different?"

"Eeer... no. I mean, in fact, yes! You've mentioned some older lady, so I'm a bit confused, I have to admit." Well, I'm not so much for the subtlety. I have rather a biting tongue. Very often what's in my mind goes straight to my gob, without any filter. I do not recommend behaving like that. But Christine didn't seem to be flustered by me catching her with her own previous words.

"Well, I meant me. I'm forty seven, so it's closer to being old, isn't it?"

"No way!" I almost yelled and shook my head. "Are you sure about that? Didn't you mean thirty seven?" It might sound like the cheapest, most slimy flattery one can say to a woman, but my reaction was a thousand percent legit. I may be a dickhead, but at least an honest one. No filter, remember? There was no way in the world that I would give her forty seven years. Fortunately, Christine must have believed in the sincerity of my reaction because she laughed and took it as a good fortune.

"Haha! Thanks, but yes, I'm sure about it. I'm old, but not that old to forget my own birth date." She grinned widely and added. "Gosh, so rude of me to keep you in the hall. Please, you can hang your jacket here. Would you like to have coffee? Or tea? It's a windy day!"

"Thanks, tea will be fine." I answered, still a bit derailed by the info about her age. Damn, if only every middle-aged woman could look so good like her.

I peeked around briefly and put my bag on the floor. Immediately all my creep instincts began to run a diagnosis of the surroundings and to my surprise, I didn't spot any male shoes in the hall. Nor male coats or jackets. She lives alone? Hm.

I followed her through the corridor, trying not to pry too much. Her house was just the same as her front yard – classy and well cared-for. But to be honest, I was more interested in Christine. She didn't look 47, she didn't move like someone her age either. Just when we were entering the kitchen, I noticed that her calves, visible under leggings, were nicely defined and shapeful. They looked as if she was riding the bike often.

"Please, sit." She waved her hand, pointing at the table and approached the countertop and cabinets. "What tea would you like? I have Earl Grey, raspberry, cranberry..."

"Earl Grey will be perfect, thanks."

"Are you sweetening?"

Only up to women I'd like to fuck.

"No thanks, trying to live life sugar-free." I laughed softly and she nodded. I observed her for a moment, as she was moving around the kitchen. And yeah, even her energy and overall vibe didn't feel typical for someone forty seven years old. After a while she turned to me and carried two cups. She sat down on the opposite side of the table.

I thanked for the tea and blew a few times at the hot, steaming liquid, while looking at her pretty face. Her features were sculpted with grace and nobleness, if one could describe them like that. A nice oval face, high cheekbones, a bit snub nose, but in a cute way. Long, bright eyelashes, without a trail of mascara. She had freckles, which indicated that her auburn hair was natural. And most alluring feature were her lips, carved with perfect balance of sultriness. They were glistening, because of some lip gloss, which was perhaps the only sign of make up.

She has some mimic lines visible around her eyes, but I could name at least twenty girls, my peers from the high school, who now looked like chubby fifty years old aunties, despite being about only twenty-seven. Every time I bumped at one of my old class friends, I always had a moment of confusion, titled "who the fuck is that?", as they looked more like someone from my parents' generation.

Christine must have felt that I was checking her up, and she looked in my eyes. Then I noticed another unique feature - she had heterochromia! It was hard to spot at first, because one of her eyes was hazel mixed with a green and the second was gray. But not some boring, 'meh' gray, it was something combining graphite, anthracite and silver. It looked really captivating, almost hypnotizing. I made a mental note to mention anything about her eyes later. Now I sported my most charming slash mysterious smile ever and said.

"So what's your secret, Christine? Vegan diet? Baths in goat milk?" Or in virgins' blood? I bit my tongue and kept the last thought for myself, although I found it quite funny. Add the self-proclaimed dickhead sense of humor to the list. But apparently Christine liked the milder part of my joke, as she laughed and tilted her head with a simper.

"No goat's milk baths unfortunately, but I think it's due to a quite healthy diet and routine, you know. And probably good genes." She winked and then added. "But, as one of my colleagues once told me, this appearance is my last ‘throws’ and it will soon be over."

"Damn, she couldn't expose her insecurity and jealousy more." I shook my head and took a sip of tea. Nice warmth spread inside my chest.

"It was a guy, hah!" Christine snorted, correcting me.

"I see. So, what I said still applies to him, but he also deserved to be slapped. What a moron." I joked to her and Christine laughed cheerfully. Funnily enough, but even though I considered my sense of humor to be more on the cocky or even blatant side, with tendencies to dropping bombs and crossing the line, girls seemed to like it. A as it turned out to be, mature ladies like Christine also. Was the bad boy attitude really so magnetic? Or is it just me being so fucking awesome? Probably the latter.

Christine sipped her tea too and I decided to bring this conversation to the right track, and finally speak about the massage and physiotherapy stuff. There would be more time to act charming, now I should probably show her that I can be the pro too.

"Okay, so with what would we be working today, Christine? You've mentioned on the phone about cramps and some injury in the gym. What exactly was it?"

"Oh, luckily it wasn't something severe, but it forced me to stop working out for almost two weeks. I was doing the bench press..."

"Bench press, huh?" I interjected between her words and glanced at her with bigger interest. She didn't appear to be a lady interested in typical gym workout, more like a yoga or aerobic enjoyer.

"Yup, bench press." She chuckled softly with some kind of shy amusement. Adorably. "Probably I may have overplayed my hand a little with the weight or it just wasn't my day, but I felt pain in my chest area."

"Where exactly?" I interrupted her again, but this time in a pure professional manner. I can be less of a dickhead, if I want it. But I rarely want to.

"On the level of the sternum, but the pain seemed not to be located there. Anyway, afterwards I still have been feeling it during normal activities, like sitting in front of my computer or just simply standing, walking and so on." She explained.

"Uhm…  I think it could have been straining the breast vertebrae area. If pain was radiating to your chest, did you feel that during breathing also? Did it feel as if it was affecting the lower part of your esophagus?"

"Yes! It was weird, a bit similar to having a terrible heartburn, but not exactly." Christine's eyes shot wide open, as if she got excited, realizing that my diagnosis was on the right track. Ha! Scoring points already!

"It could be because of a technical posture error during a workout. No offense." I winked at her in case she would go defensive. But she didn't, just waited for me to continue. "Did you retract your shoulder blades while bench pressing?"

"Uhm… No, I don't even know what you mean." Surprising, but Christine looked a bit embarrassed that she didn't know that.

"I mean, setting scapulas in the correct way during bench press makes your core tighter and also helps with stabilization during moving the weight. Therefore, elbow and shoulder joints aren't pressured so much and also your spine is more secure." I explained to her, while feeding my gluttonish ego with her attention. She listened cautiously.

"That's interesting, I didn't know about it. You have to show me that."

"Okay, we'll work on it later. And what about cramps? In which parts do they appear?"

"Ah, just everywhere. Real scourge." For a moment, Christine winced sadly, as if only talking about it was painful like the cramps themselves. "But mostly my neck, upper back, hamstrings and calves. Usually I try to massage them with a roller, but it just doesn't work efficiently enough."

"We'll work on it too." I answered, trying to sound super confident and took the last sip of my tea. And then I threw an innocent, double-meaning question. "So where are we gonna make it? Did you prepare a spot?"

"Yes, in the living room." She smiled widely, visibly unaware of my little innuendo. Or maybe she caught it and liked it? Did you Christine? Are you this type of girl? "I don't know if it will be sufficient, but I'll let you be the judge of that."

"Okay, then let’s go." I stood up and let her walk first. Christine passed really close to me and I could feel a pleasant smell of her hair. There was something captivating about her, I don't know, maybe her energy or attitude, but I began to like it more and more with every minute.

She led me though the same corridor as earlier. Meanwhile, I grabbed my bag, and then we entered the living room. It was nicely designed, with a cozy atmosphere. There was a fireplace and antique furniture. One wall was full of bookshelves, and I didn't spot the TV set. That I respected a lot, I felt a big disdain for television of any kind. When I was living on my own, TV was the last thing I needed. My dad, on the other hand, was addicted to this fucking box, full of lies and garbage entertainment.
Anyway, enough digresses. Christine showed me the spot. It was a yoga mat placed on the carpet. She also prepared a few towels and a roll of paper towel as well.

"Is it okay?" She asked.

"It's great. Good that you set this mat on the floor because I'll need you to lay on the solid surface. To be honest, the best would be a table, but obviously not the dining one. I think we'll manage just fine." I said to her and she smiled contentedly.

"Do you need anything else?"

"Yes, a bowl with hot water. It doesn't need to be boiling, just the hottest possible from the faucet. But that will be needed a bit later, you can give only a bowl and I'll bring the water myself. Before I start the massage, I'd like to examine your mobility, to see if there are other issues of which I should be aware."

"Uhm... okay." Christine answered, while looking a bit confused. I was just about to ask about it, when she spoke. "Aiden, how should I be dressed?"

It was tempting to goad her by saying that she should be the least dressed as it's possible, but instead I decided to show the level of self-restraint and sensitivity, quite incredible for me , realizing that while Christine's face looked really great as for her age, she might not have been so confident with showing me her body. I didn't want her to feel uncomfortable and embarrassed, although I still required her to be almost nude. For the massage purpose of course, what have you thought, perverts?!

"Since we'll be working on your back and legs, I need to have easy access to these parts, you know, bare skin. So you should be only in your underwear or two piece swimsuit, whatever will be more comfortable for you." I tried to sound as matter-of-factly as it was possible, but it seemed that my lenient approach wasn't exactly necessary because Christine didn't look flustered at all.

"Very well, I'll go prepare then." She sent me a flashing smile and walked out of the room. From what I could hear, she went upstairs.

In the meantime, I kneeled next to the mat and put my bag nearby. There was not much for me to prepare before Christine came back, so I just opened the bag and retrieved a few items, wooden wedges and rollers, rubber balls and warming oil.
Then I stood up and loitered around with overt intention to be nosy. Because why not? I was easily bored and Christine wasn't here.

Let's find out what secrets she’s been hiding.

I glanced briefly at her book collection. It was a really impressive home library. The first thing which caught my attention was the perfect, meticulous order in which books were disposed of on the shelves. They were grouped not only by genres, but also by size and color of covers.

...so you're a thorough girl, Christine?

I ran my fingers along the backs of books, realizing that the whole shelf I was currently looking at, was full of romances! I read blurbs from covers of a few randomly chosen ones and it were all love stories in different set-ups and scenarios.

...hm, so maybe you're a romantic girl?

Then I checked the lower shelf, where all the books had dark covers. When I read the description of a few of them, my lips stretched with a devilish smile.

Hah, or maybe you're a really naughty girl, Christine...

These last ones were also romances, but much kinkier, darker, most likely filled with many erotic scenes, some even with flavor of domination and bondage. Stories about regular girls falling in love with ruthless mafiosos, modest secretaries getting used by CEOs of giant corporations, innocent elven maidens being claimed by savage orcs.
Ho ho ho, someone here likes kinky stories.

However, I didn't judge Christine – well, one may like to read smutty novels, other prefers to jerk off to porn. I may be a douche on a regular basis, but at least I try not to be a hypocrite. Everyone has the right to have some guilty pleasures.
But I couldn't deny that discovery of this small 'fap library' gave me a little hint about Christine's possible hidden desires. She was an example of still waters running deep.

Losing interest in the rest of her books, my attention switched to items standing on the fireplace. There were a couple of framed photos, which I examined pretty thoroughly, like a fucking purebred stalker.
Most of them were boring, presenting some family members, perhaps Christine's sister and her kids, as there was a similar redhead lady, this one seriously looking at least forty five years of age, with some teenage or more young adult children.

But two things were very interesting – first of all, there were no photos showing Christine with any man, which confirmed my initial suspicions that the potential husband is out of the picture (pun intended).
Secondly – there were two pics of a young, hot and beautiful redhead woman. She must have been Christine's daughter, one hundred percent. She was with Christine in the one photo, showing them wearing jackets, standing near a waterfall. Probably a souvenir from some trip. In the second photograph was the same woman, this time all alone. She was wearing a gymnast suit and standing on the mat with raised arms. Clingy outfit highlighted all the right curves in all the right places. The girl was a real hottie.

I heard footsteps, so I took one step back from the fireplace. Running across the room back to my bag would seem really suspicious, the same as holding Christine's pictures in hand. Now I must have looked moderately... nosey.

Christine came in and noticed me standing near the fireplace, but she didn't scowl with outrage or contempt. Probably she was too polite for showing that, hah! She was wearing a knee-long fleece bathrobe and tied her plumptious red hair into a bun. The crimson robe amplified the redness of her hair. In her left hand she was holding a plastic bowl, which a few seconds later she put next to the mat.

"Oh no, you caught me snooping around." I smiled at her, not even trying to pretend to be behaving abashedly. "I'm sorry, but these amazing red hairs just ask to be looked at. Is that your daughter?" I pointed at a photo of a gymnast girl.

"Yes, that's Danielle." Christine smiled warmly, and I could read from her expression many equally warm feelings. Yep, I'm so fucking good at reading other people's emotions because I'm lacking of having my own.

"She is gorgeous!" What I said was obviously the truth, but I wanted to praise Christine's maternal pride. Her smile became even wider. And then I wanted to praise her too. "But it isn't baffling at all, it's obvious from who she could heritaged such beauty." I smirked airily to her and noticed with amusement that she blushed. With her pale complexion, she couldn't hide it.

"Thank you, it's been a while since I've heard something like this." She smiled kind of sheepishly and looked even more adorable.

Congrats, Aiden, that's a new low, even for you. Cheeky hitting on the mature woman. – A reproachful thought for a split moment appeared in my mind, but I immediately pushed it away. That's the benefit of being a dickhead. You can simply stop caring. Indeed, I didn't care what it could look like from the side – Christine was a very attractive woman, and it was nice to tell her a compliment. Because flattering someone works the same as the charity. You're helping others, but it is your ego which receives the sweet, nutritious fuel.

However, despite how fawning for my vanity were my brash attempts to charm Christine, it was just about the right time to drop the womanizer attitude, at least for a moment, and channel back 'Aiden the professional physiotherapist'. I got closer to Christine and started to explain what we were going to do next.

"Have you ever undergone the mobility examination?" I asked her and she simply shook her head. "It isn't anything painful. I'll ask you to stand and lay in a few positions, and we're gonna move your limbs in a couple of different ways. Some of them may look or feel weird, but it's about finding the range of motion of your joints and any of the possible postural defects. So, are you ready to find your limits?" Now Christine only nodded, smiling softly. "You'll need to undress then."

Smirking under my breath, I took a step back and waited. I was really curious, firstly how Christine would behave, if she was ashamed or tense, secondly how her body looked. If it was at least close to how great her face looked as for a woman her age… 
I know, I know, from someone's perspective it could look that I was treating this as some kind of perfidious game, instead of being focused on the task, but... that's precisely what it was. At least I'm self-aware enough to admit it. I enjoyed that, maybe even too much.

But I couldn't predict that it would be Christine to have aces up her sleeve. The woman didn't seem very flustered from the perspective of stripping to her underwear in front of a stranger and much younger dude, maybe only a little, judging by her blushed cheeks. But she looked down with a faint smile and simply started to untie the ribbon in her midsection, and as soon as I saw her body between the robe's flaps, I understood why she wasn't ashamed. And when my brain first registered and then analyzed the view of Christine's stomach and chest, I thought that my head was going to implode, like a submarine crushed by immense pressure. In a second the whole cocky glibness of mine evaporated completely. At least for a moment.

Christine let her robe slide off her shoulders and caught it, then hung it on one of the chairs. Next, she stood in front of me, wearing only a plain black bra and panties.

And yes, she had nothing to be ashamed of, quite the opposite, it was her body which would have put shame on other people, much, much younger than her. Twenty years old fit girls and even boys would have paled in comparison with this forty-seven years of age lady. Damn, her body was even making me not want to take my shirt off ever again.

Christine was absolutely yoked. Buff. Built like a brick house. And at the same time lean, ripped and cut to the limits. And at the same time slender, esthetic and simply proportional. And at the same time graceful, curvaceous and feminine. How it was possible to look how she looked was beyond my cognitive ability.

She wasn't even near as massive as female bodybuilders, her muscle mass was closer to fitness divisions, but she was pretty big (ufff, but not bigger than me!). As big as it was possible to hide that body under the fluffy pullover she was wearing earlier. But – a painful blow right into my ego's guts – the definition of her muscles was way better than mine, there was not even a square inch of loose skin on her. She looked as if she was just ready to step on the bodybuilding stage.

Her abdominals were the most impressive part – one cube of muscle tightly packed on another. Similar with her chest, which was slightly jutting forward, with visible separation between her pectoral muscles. Her bra had almost no usage other than covering her nipples, as her natural breasts looked petite. But you know what? I respected that she had not decided to go for implants, as many other women would do. I found that... brave!

Christine's arms and shoulders were sculpted, her delts and biceps clearly highlighted. Her legs were muscular, but svelte, and looked long and smooth. Her body was an epitome of hourglass silhouette, with almost equally wide hips and shoulders and narrow waist.

I must have been staring at her for a solid minute, when I finally was able to shake off the stupor. She was glancing at me with curiosity, but also uncertainty.

"Damn..." This was the only one word I could blurt out. I almost choked on my own spit.

"I know that look. You probably think that I'm too muscular for a woman. Most people don't like such an appearance." She said calmly, but I could hear faint trails of something in her voice. I don't know, sadness? Resignation? Being accustomed to judgmental reactions? Even though she tried to cover it, it showed me her vulnerability. I remembered then about this asshole colleague of hers, who told her this dumb, hurtful comment about her look.
And I saw that as an opportunity for me to regain control. Mostly over myself, but also about that whole situation. I needed it so fucking much. 

"Most people shouldn't have the right to vote, let alone being entitled to talk about other people's bodies. Let's start from that. And I didn't say a word about not liking the view." I laughed softly, and her face enlightened a bit. "It was just unexpected, Christine. You're a woman full of surprises, hah! And you've wanted me to show you tips about bench press? C'mon! It should be the other way around!" I waved my hand, and she smiled, this time more cheerful.

"Yes... I mean, I'm in good shape, but I don't know..." Christine started to explain, but I interrupted her:

"Hah, good shape? Darling, I'm in good shape! You are in a higher league!" I winked, and she laughed softly, with blushed cheeks.
Did I just call her darling? I did, and she liked it. I knew that she liked it! But I had to bring it all to the right track once again. Mostly for me, at that moment, to get the grip again. "Okay, to the business, so let's start the mobility test, shall we…"

I asked her to raise her arms, and together we rotated and twisted them in every possible way, checking if there was any blockage in her joints movement. Not surprising at all, Christine turned out to be very mobile and flexible. What was more surprising was the fact that I found the view of her muscles to be fascinating. The way they were rippling and bulging under her smooth skin. When I asked her to bend her arm, to examine her elbow joint, her bicep popped out of nowhere. To be honest, it was much bigger than I would expect (ufff, but not bigger than mine, insecurity struggles part two), as her arm in a relaxed state didn't show it.

But most surprising was how pleasant it was for me to touch her body... Of course, only in a professional manner, you dirty freaks! But to be honest, who am I trying to fool? I simply liked it, there is no way around it. That was something I've never experienced before.
One may think that as a physiotherapist, I would have had plenty of occasions of touching hot, fit bodies, but that was rarely the case. Mostly there were some out of shape folks, who had suffered from orthopedic issues or injuries due to their unhealthy lifestyle or age.

I had one chance to work with a good-bodied girl in the past, who was a semi-professional swimmer recovering from injury. She was toned and pretty hot, but long story short – primo, she had a boyfriend, secundo, she was fucking obnoxious and spoiled, tercio... Christine's body was beating that girl's one to every extent.

And now I was touching this firm, vibrant, muscular body, while Christine's two-colored eyes were glancing at me with curiosity. I could see that the examination wasn't indifferent for her. Well, who could blame her for feeling a bit uncomfortable – she was barely clothed and touched in many places by a guy she has just met. It was a medical procedure, but considering that it took place in her house, under more informal circumstances, she might have trouble taking it lightly. Seeing that I have decided to ask her something, just for casual chit-chat and relaxation. And at the same time – to make her cheeks blush even more. Because I just like these games. Sue me.

"I must tell you, Christine, that you have remarkable conditioning. Your nutrition must have been really spot on." I said, when we finished examining her arms and neck. "Have you competed in some silhouette sports?"

"No, I haven't." She said with a serious expression. "All this posing on the stage, choreography and so on... It's just not for me. I think it requires a bit of exhibitionist attitude, which isn't anything bad, of course." Christine added quickly, as if she felt that she said too much. "But I prefer to work out only for myself..."

"Hm, that's good sportsmanship. You're just letting people have some fun with their victories. Otherwise, you would win every possible contest with that body." Ha! That was a good line, wasn't it? And judging by Christine's giggle and reddish cheeks, she appreciated it too.

"Thank you, I guess. And what about you? Do you compete?" She asked, and not gonna lie, she surprised me with that question.

"Nah, I haven't even tried to. Do I look like a bodybuilder?" I replied with a witty smile.

"You do, I mean, obviously you're very well-built, as far as I can see." She said with a low-keyed smirk and glanced away.

Ohoho, Christine, are you trying to fight back in the complement duel? Careful, honey because I have a lot of that coming!

"Well, thanks, but like you, I just work out to feel good and healthy." And sexy. I replied casually and again diverted our conversation back to the subject. "We should now check your legs in the same way, but I would have bet that you're as flexible down there as with your arms. Am I right?" I asked with jocularly squinted eyes, and this time Christine flashed me with a wide grin. It seemed that she began to be more relaxed around me. That was good. I mean bad, she shouldn’t let her guard down next to a fucking creep like me.

"I can do both splits even without warming up."

"Wow, you're a real piece of work, aren't you?" I shook my head, chuckling, simultaneously gaining more respect for the redhead. She was a true athlete. "Very well, then I think we may skip this part, if there is no issue with your legs. Then one last thing before we move to the massage, I'd like you to get down on all four. We're gonna do the exercise, which is called the bird-dog. I know, the name sounds silly, but it's really useful to check if there is an asymmetry in your posture."

Christine complied and kneeled on the mat. I instructed her in what way she should position herself at the beginning, and she instantly showed me flawless coordination and great body awareness.
And the initial position of the bird-dog, which was kneeling and leaning on the hands, with torso set parallel to the floor, had one additional benefit for this less professional and more douche side of me - it exposed and highlighted Christine's booty which was... magnificent.
Lean, but thick and shapely, this famous Brazilian bubble butt, so desired by so many chicks.

My bitch ex always wanted to have glutes like that, but despite working out like crazy, doing countless hip thrusts, lounges and squats, her ass was still looking like a sad, deflated pancake. As it appears, not only workout is important, but also the genes. And Christine had both.

Reluctantly switching my eyes away from Christine's glutes, I crouched next to her and gave her further instructions.

"Okay, now you have to keep this part really tight," I placed my right hand on her lower back. "And flex your abs too. Your core cannot budge. Also, remember to keep both your shoulders and hips joints as stationary as possible. Now, lift the left knee only slightly and extend your leg backwards, almost as if you would want to kick like a horse. But slowly!" She tried and managed to do it properly, more or less. "Yes, exactly like this. Now go back to the initial position, and you need to move the left leg the same way, but this time simultaneously extending your right arm forward. Do you get it already?"

"Yes, I think so..." She breathed deeply and giggled with effort. "Shoot! It's not so easy!"

"That's true, but you're doing great. Now do it alternatively a few times, but remember, keep the pace slow, core tight and focus on the movement."

While Christine was adhering to my instructions, I stood up and observed her back. Both with professional eyes and these other ones. She had outstandingly developed back muscles, which was very helpful in evaluating her posture.

"Okay, that's enough. Stay for a moment in the initial position." I asked her to and kneeled on her side. "Thanks to your muscle definition, I could see clearly that there is a tiny asymmetry on your back, but it's completely normal. Nothing to be worried about. Are you left-handed?" I was explaining, while my fingers were touching her back in the left shoulder blade area.

"Yes, I am! Did you figure it out just by observing my back?" Christine lifted herself up and sat on her heels. My hand stayed on her shoulder just a second longer than it was necessary.

"Not only your back. Your left arm is a bit bigger and your left bicep has a better shaped peak. Not that the right one looks bad in any way." I smiled at her and asked, seemingly without much interest. "By the way, they're pretty big. Have you measured them?"

"I did. They're thirteen inches." She answered, the trail of pride in her voice, but then she shook her head and laughed more timidly. "Gosh, it has to sound so stupid for you, that old woman is gloating about her biceps."

"Not at all. That size is an outstanding result, for real. And it's utterly normal to monitor your progress." I stood up and Christine followed. I was about to change topic, when, to my surprise, I felt her palm on my right arm.

"And how big are yours?" Her fingers gently squeezed my bicep and I had to fight with all my will with a silly, but overwhelming urge to flex my arm as hard as I could. Doing that would not have looked very mature.

Hm, what are you up to, Christine?

"I haven't measured them in months, but last time I checked they were slightly above seventeen inches." I tried to answer casually, this time fighting with the urge of lying that my guns were bigger than they really were. But I was very proud of myself that I achieved an epic victory over my vanity. One of very few throughout my life.

"Wow, they're huge..." She whispered and ran her fingers on the side of my arm. Then she hastily took her hand away and stepped back, as if she thought that she crossed the line. But I didn't mind, for me, it was only cute!

I was aware that the vibe drifted away from the one of the professional physiotherapy sessions to something much different, but I had nothing against that change. Because at that exact moment, I knew that it wasn't only my doing. Christine was also one to 'blame'.

But certain things still needed to be done, and therefore I picked up the bowl and told Christine to lay down on the mat, while I would go for the hot water. But it could have seemed that I should also use cold water. To cool down my fucking head.

In the bathroom, I held my hands in warm water for a while because I felt that they were a bit cold. And there is nothing less pleasant than being touched by icy fingers.

Carefully carrying the bowl, I strode back to the room and noticed Christine outstretched on the floor. She placed her head on the forearms. The view of her slender, robust body was stimulating.
But I forced myself to get back to my competent persona and placed the bowl next to the rest of the items. Then I put the bottle of massage oil, rubber balls and wedges into the water to make them nice and warm.
Then I took one of the towels and decided to inform Christine about every move I was about to make. Yeah, full pro and task oriented.

"I'm gonna cover your legs for now, so you won't get cold. It's pretty warm here, but I still think it will be better that way." There was another reason for doing that, but Christine didn't have to know it. She shouldn't know it, to be precise. Her sexy butt, jutting upwards, was very distracting for me.

"Uhm..." She just muttered.

"And I'll need to unclasp your bra." I told her and this time waited for her to give me a green light. So classy, Aiden! Yup, I was surprised by my own behavior.

"Okay..." Christine said quietly and sighed. Damn, she didn't make it any easier.

I was able to do it quite deftly, using only one hand. Next I moved the straps aside. And I'll be damned if that simple gesture didn't make me sigh deeper, too. And if it didn't evoke the second brain to life. It’s been a while since I was undoing a woman's bra.

It's only a bra, you adolescent jerk. Don't cum in your pants because of it. – I grinned at my thought.

"Now it can be a little tickling, when I will examine your spine." I warned her, then slowly and delicately ran my fingertips along her vertebrae. I traced my hands from her neck all the way down to her loins. Then I went back to the breast spine area and focused on them. I found one suspicious spot and stopped there.

"Is it that spot which was injured?"

"It may be. I told you that I couldn't locate the precise source of pain." Christine answered.

"Yes, I know. I'll press this place a bit harder, okay? Tell me if it's painful." I warned her and then dug my fingers with a bit of increased force.

"Uhm... Maybe not exactly painful, but rather unpleasant." Christine grunted.

"And what about here?" I moved my fingers higher and pressed.

"Much less uncomfortable than earlier."

"And here?" This time I pressed her spine below that spot.

"The same, I can feel the pressure, but it isn't painful."

"Okay, I apologize if that was inconvenient for you." I trailed my fingers back to that spot. "I can't tell for sure without the RTG or USG scan, but I think these two vertebrae are the cause of the problem. They seem to be closer to each other, and the fibrocartilage tissue of the disc may be damaged."

"Oh, no, that's embarrassing. I thought my spine was in good shape." Christine chuckled. "I got fooled by all these fitness clubs and their 'healthy spine' classes."

"Haha! Don't worry, nowadays no one has the perfect spine. Well, maybe except my father, but he is ex-military. I believe that in the army they're replacing their spines with wooden sticks." Ugh, careful with fire, that shit was dry like brushwood. But my joke made her body shake, so… it’s all good then, right? Right.

"Hah, that's true. But please tell me, is there anything I can do with these vertebrae?"

"I can't tell you much because without scans I have no way of knowing how serious the issue is. But I'm certain that it isn't severe enough to qualify for surgery. If it were a full-blown discopathy case, pain would be unbearable, almost paralyzing. What you can do for sure, is behaving carefully and develop the correct habits, while sitting in front of a desk, bending and so on. Also during workout, focus on the proper technique, keep the core tight and use the synergy of stabilizing muscles, to avoid overstraining the spine and joints. And of course, massages won't harm either." I explained to her matter-of-factly.

"I guess then I will need more sessions like this one." She exhaled with a soft chuckle.

"Yes. And speaking about massage, now we'll proceed to the more pleasurable part. We're going to work on those cramps. And correct me, if I'm wrong, but they bug you on the legs, mostly, right?" I asked Christine, while keeping my right hand on her back. There was no medical purpose of touching her right now, but it was just nice to do it anyway. One of the hidden benefits of being a physiotherapist.

"Yes, exactly, mostly at my thighs and calves. I do a stretching session after every workout, but sometimes it isn't enough..."

"That's what I thought. When I was checking your vertebrae, I could feel that your back muscles, especially trapezius, are tense. Of course, because of the level of their development, they're naturally very hard and dense, but you'd feel better if they were more relaxed. And we're gonna make them nice and loose pretty soon." I took out the oil bottle from the water and applied a drop on top of my palm. It had perfect temperature.

Time to step up with the ambiguous pun game.

I leaned down a bit and said with a lowered voice. "It's important to find a release... because every kind of tension works bad for the body, for health and mood also..." My right palm slided from Christine's back toward her neck, and I could feel as her body was tautening under my touch. She let out a quiet sigh, and I would swear that she shivered almost unnoticeably when my fingers skimmed the side of her neck.

Uuu, that's just getting better and better.

"Here," I gently squeezed the edge of her trapezius muscle near her neck and then trailed my hand along it toward her shoulder. "And here. These parts are hard as rock. Partially because you're as tough as nails, but I can tell that fibers feel like knots." With that said, I spilled the oil on Christine's upper back and began to leisurely rub it on her skin.

"Mhm... Yes, right here..." She whispered, breathing slowly.

I memorized which parts were the most tense and reached for one of the balls.

"First I will massage you with this rubber ball."

Then maybe you will return the favor and massage my balls? That would be a pickup line of the century, right?

I bent slightly and held the ball in front of Christine's eyes. "And I think you should buy one. They're very useful. The funny thing is that these are... dogs' toys! Haha!"

"Seriously?" Christine giggled.

"Yeah, they're dirt cheap, like two dollars or something like this. But they are perfect for breaking these knots in the muscles. They’re made from thick, solid rubber. And you can massage yourself with one of those, I mean mainly thighs and calves. With back, it's trickier, but with someone's help... You can ask your daughter or husband." I mentioned a husband purposely, curious how Christine would respond.

"Uhm, my daughter is in college, still for one year. And I'm divorced." She added this so quickly. As if she wanted to assure me about living alone.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." So very sorry, ah oh! Ha! That's how I thought. I saw right through it. You're a genius Aiden. And a sociopath.

"Don't worry, it was almost fifteen years ago. I think I managed to get over it, hah!"

"I see. Anyway, I still recommend you buy such a ball." With that said, I put the ball back in the bag and resumed massaging her with my hands. I preferred it that way. And judging by the soft, long sigh, Christine preferred it too.

"Tell me Aiden, how do you manage during these lockdowns? You've told me on the phone that the pandemic struck your branch really hard?" Christine’s question caught me off guard. For a moment, I wondered how I should answer, if I was about to tell her some stitched together bullshit or to be honest. But since I felt that Christine asked with genuine interest or even care, if one could call that, I decided to be quite open with her. Quite open as for my pathological standards, of course.

"Not gonna lie, it's a struggle right now. Personal coaching is a complete disaster, with so many gyms getting closed. Either way, there always has been a big competition in this business. I often laughed that there are more personal trainers than people who need to be trained." We both chuckled. "So I'm not surprised that, as for now, nobody is calling in on this matter. Anyway, it was a side job for me. My main was physiotherapy and here it is tough too. But I hope it will be better, eventually." And that was it. A small window of honesty, self awareness and transparency with a second human being closed itself. Well, I didn't lie at least, but definitely didn't want to self-pity myself in front of Christine nor claim that everything was going great. Gotta stick with that badass image.

"Sorry to hear that. We have such difficult times, not only health wise. So many people lost their jobs." She sighed sadly and went silent for a moment. I thought that she dropped the topic, but after a while she continued. "I believe that you're really great at it. Not only skilled in massages per se, but you have such vast knowledge and... and you're so resourceful! I'm certain that soon your situation will turn out even better than before."

"You think so? Let's hope that you're right." Hearing Christine's words was really heartwarming. Like an attempt of warming the iceberg with a candle, but still A for an effort. Hah, okay, I'll admit it – it was really nice to hear it from her. But I wouldn't be myself, if I didn't let my arrogance take over. "And, Christine, regardless how arrogant it may sound, I know that I'm good at it. But nowadays being good is not enough. And the competency won't beat the experience, job seniority or for sure the cronyism." I summarized, all the same trying not to sound too salty.

"Regrettably, but I have to agree with you on that." She replied and there was a moment of silence.

I finished working on Christine's trapezius and wanted to move to her shoulders. But kneeling perpendicularly to her side started to be difficult for me, for two reasons. Firstly, I had to constantly lean down and hang above her, and it wasn't exactly pleasant for my lower back. It would be hilarious if I injured my back while massaging Christine's. Moreover, I had trouble with assessing if Christine's muscles were taken care of with symmetry. And the second reason was… Ah, about that…  just in a moment.

"I'll proceed now to your shoulders, then to your latissimus. But from this position it will be difficult. I need to have even access to your sides. I'd like to kneel above you, but only if you don't have something against it." I said with respectful tone because all 'being a dickhead' aside, I wouldn't do that without her consent. I had some boundaries, after all. Frail and flexible, but still.

"Oh, okay, no problem!" Christine answered hastily. Hm... suspiciously hastily. And equally hastily, she added. "If that would be easier for you, then go ahead." 

Smirking at my thoughts, I deftly crossed above Christine's legs. Now her shapely butt still covered by the towel though, was between my thighs. It was responsible for the second reason for my intention to change position. Namely… the huge tent in my crotch. It's been like this for a while.
The view of her body, the contact with silky skin and these firm, sculpted muscles, her soft, almost affectionate moans and of course my head full of smutty visions and voilà! Perfect recipe for the highly unprofessional, completely inappropriate, yet very adequate to the situation hard-on.

For a brief moment, I was bashing myself inwardly for the decision to wear such loose clothes, but these thoughts quickly faded away. I would never wear jeans for the massage anyway.
It was what it was. I couldn't help it.
And if I wouldn't get hard earlier, now, seeing Christine from that perspective, in an even more vulnerable position than before, I felt blood rushing down there. It would be delightful to simply lean on Christine, make her feel my weight, then grab this storm of shiny red hair and just slam inside her. And to listen as these soft moans are turning into much louder cries of pleasure.

Ladies and gentlemen, beware! This is the moment in which not-so-famous physiotherapist Aiden Walker is going to perform the most unbelievable magic trick! Just in the couple of minutes, he will disappear.
For many years.
In prison.
For sexual assault.
Fuck!

I needed some distraction from the mess in my head, and therefore I invoked the scattered remnants of my civilized self and said:

"And what are you doing for a living, Christine? I believe you haven't told me yet." I asked, while my palm was running a few courses, from her neck, along collar bones, to the shoulders. Christine again muffled a sigh and only then answered in quite a dreamy voice.

"It's rather boring, Aiden, but I'm the head of the accountant branch in a medium size corporation. Yeah, I know, I look like a typical accountant, glasses, messy hair, hah..."

"Maybe in this pullover you wore earlier, you could pass as a regular accountant. But without it, you look like a fitness supermodel." I said with a way too sensual tone. So much for distracting myself. I'm fucking irredeemable.

"Oh, thank you... You're too kind..." She purred and turned her head to the side. I felt as if she was trying to glance at me, but fortunately, she couldn't.

"So you're now working from home, right? Isn't it harder to focus on the job that way?"

Who the fuck has the problem to concentrate on the job here? And yeah, a little casual chat with a half-naked woman, while touching her glistering, oiled skin and sexy, athletic body for sure will help you to ignore the pants-ripping erection. That's a good plan, smart ass.

"Uhm... To be honest, I prefer the home office. I have a good team, they don't need much guidance or control. So there is a meeting on Microsoft Teams in the morning, then I do my own work and I have most afternoons and evenings free, I can do a workout or read a book. Lazy lifestyle, but so far I liked it." Christine mumbled with short breaks for deep sighs.

"I see." I replied shortly.

I could easily imagine Christine's daily routine. In the morning, she… does her work related stuff, meh, nobody cares about it, right? Not me for sure. What was interesting for me was her day after the busy work part, when she goes to the gym, pushing her body to the limits, working on that sexy ass. That fuckable, juicy, bubble ass. Mhm… mmm… sorry, I drifted away.
After workout she gets back home, and it's time for reading. I saw this in my mind as follows: first she reads the normal books, some premiers, nevermind, not relevant. Then she takes some titles from her 'guilty pleasure shelf'. She opens them on the best scenes, hot, kinky, all so wrong scenes, which make her gasp from excitement. Then she pleasures herself... with fingers? No, she has a dildo. Not huge, but she likes to imagine that it's much bigger. As big as cocks in her favorite stories. As big as mine...

Fuck! Breathe, moron, breathe.

I decided at that moment that after leaving Christine's house, I would have to call some 'back up' sluts I've met via Tinder and just go and fuck the shit out of one of them.

I began to move my way around from the smooth, but hard surface of her shoulders, toward her well-developed lats. With slow, yet decisive circular movements my hands were kneading Christine's middle back, making a cursory 'excursions' toward her waist. Christine turned her head again, and I noticed that she pressed her mouth on her forearm. A second later, I heard another suppressed moan. Her body twitched a bit, and she bucked her hips up, just for the split of seconds.

Shit! Why is she making this so difficult? Why is she teasing me so much with these sexy sounds she makes?!

Are you sure she is doing it to tease you? I asked myself. Maybe it's just one of your delusions of grandeur? Perhaps she simply enjoys the massage in non-I-want-to-be-fucked manner? – Some inner voice started to taunt me.

In my case, there were always two devils sitting on my shoulders. Little angel was fired a long time ago. Nowadays one red fella was daring me to do something tricksy, something provocative, and the second was encouraging me to take it even further.

So let's find out what Christine is up to. Let's drive her crazy. With massage and talking. – I decided, and two little devils nodded approvingly.

Digging my fingers deeper into her firm muscles elicited another soft moan in her throat. I began to massage Christine back with ferocity perfectly balanced with gentleness and sensuality. I was fucking great at this, all of my exes loved to be treated that way. I knew infallibly where there was a need to apply more pressure to make the most tense muscles loose, and where it was better to just skim the skin with my fingertips.
I repositioned my hips, moving a few inches toward Christine's thighs. Now my rigid dick was pretty much laying on top of her butt, separated from the place I wanted it to be shoved in, only by the three layers of fabric – my clothes, the towel and the thin, black cotton of Christine's panties.

"So, Christine, you're in charge of people at work, right? I bet that your subordinates are going clockwork all the time, seeing that their boss has thirteen-inch biceps that could snap them in half with ease." I teased her a bit and she laughed loudly.

"Haha! Nooo, not at all, I'm not that kind of person. Actually, I believe that most of them have no idea that I'm quite muscular. We have a strict dress code at work, you know." She explained with an amused voice.

"I must tell you that you're an extraordinary woman." I threw that cheap line nonchalantly and began to swipe my both hands down her waist, rubbing the sides of her obliques with the tips of my fingers. I was basically pulling her body backwards for an inch or so almost as if I was dry humping her. I cleared my throat and continued this game. "So many surprises so far. First, on the phone, referring to yourself as if you were an old granny, then looking much younger than you really are, then hiding this astonishing sculpted body under a distorted sweater. You're a dark horse, aren't you?"

"Hah! Maybe it looks as if it was planned, but it really wasn't!" Christine giggled apologetically, while explaining herself. "I didn't want to trick you, Aiden."

"Oh, don't worry, I didn't mind it at all! I like to discover some mysteries, hah! You're definitely one." I laughed, while my hands began to reach the end of Christine's loins. An uncontrollable shiver struck her body. "And forgive me if I'm being too bold, but I just need to tell you what else I like about you! Your eyes! They're captivating! It's called heterochromia, right?" I was shamelessly buttering her up right now, however, I wasn't lying. That was real talk.  Although, a few phrases were definitely suggested to me by my lower brain.

"You like it? Some people look at me as if I had crossed-eye or something like that." She answered with a surprised tone and I couldn't figure out whether she was really modest or it was her coy way to get more compliments.

"We've already talked about where these people can shove their opinions." We both laughed. "And of course that I like it. They're magical. Once, I've heard that throughout history, a person with two colored eyes was considered in society to be a special one touched by the gods." It was a brilliant opening which was supposed to allow me to throw a punchline about "goddess' body" in the next lines, but I could never predict that Christine would have a good counter for this.

"I don't know about having been touched by the gods, but right now... I can feel a divine touch..." She said dreamily and I snorted, partially because of surprise, partially because it was a really nice followup line. But Christine must have misread my reaction because she quickly added with a trail of embarrassment in her voice. "Oops, sorry, that didn't sound very appropriate."

"No, no! It was a nifty riposte, I liked that!" Damn, Christine, don't get back off easily. C'mon, give me more.

"Hah, yeah, it still was better than my first idea. Initially, I was about to say that I may have magical eyes, but it's your hands what's capable of doing real magic." She laughed adorably and one would have fallen in love with that but not the heartless son of the bitch like me. Anyway, I was excited that Christine finally joined my game.

Yes, babe, my hands can do the magic as well as other body parts of me. Especially one. The real magic wand.

"Haha! This one was good too!" I said cheerfully to encourage her for more.

"But wordplay aside, your massaging skills are spectacular, Aiden. I could have not imagined that it could be so relaxing and… simply wonderful!" She sighed deeply and then surprised me, once again, by cooing. "Your girlfriend must be a lucky woman to have you around."

Uh-oh, Christine, I see what you did there! Are you playing my own card against me? – I grinned widely, with a solid suspicion that her statement was a bait to check whether I was single or not. It's a smart tactic, I know that because I invented it.

"Unluckily, but apparently the massage itself isn't enough to keep a woman with me." I laughed humorlessly and added. "But my ex enjoyed that too. It was just all the rest she didn't like, hah!"

"That's too bad." Christine said, although, as I would have expected, she didn't seem to be really compassionate. Hm, interesting why? "Did you guys break up because of the covid? I've heard that many couples couldn't stand each other during quarantines, lockdowns and so on."

I know what you're doing! – I waved my finger at her, of course only in my imagination. Now she was checking if this was a recent thing. Nice try! You're good in these games, babe, but I'm just better!

"No, that’s an older story. I've been on the market for the last two years." I chuckled.

Funnily, because I realized that my ex would definitely struggle during the pandemic, as she had trouble keeping 'social distance' from other guys. Not because of sex, though! That part she loved, and I'd cut off my arm to bet that from time to time she misses getting fucked by me. Her main reason was my commitment and lack of emotional closeness. *sob, sob* So yeah, my fault, as always.

"I find it's hard to believe that a guy like you is single." Christine sighed and then abruptly went silent, as if she again felt that she said too much.

"What can I do?" I asked rhetorically, then answered that question in a jocular way. "Well, I can do your legs for now, hah! Okay?"

"Uhm... sure."

Christine tautened noticeably, as I moved backwards. Now I was kneeling above her calves. I gripped the rim of the towel and unveiled Christine's legs and that juicy, round ass of her. I still couldn't believe that a 47 years old woman could have such sexy booty.
I sighed deeply and spread the towel out on her back. The rear of her thighs looked as alluring as her glutes – perfect balance between slenderness and muscularity. There was not even a shadow of cellulite on her smooth, porcelain skin.
I could hear that Christine was breathing deep and caught myself on synchronizing my breath with hers, without a fucking clue why I was doing it.

Next, I picked up the bottle of oil and spilled a few drops on both her legs. As soon as my palms touched her thighs, she trembled visibly, and I felt that her muscles flexed for a moment. My hands slid up and down her thighs, and Christine again moaned, this time pretty loud. I noticed that her arm muscles tensed. When my fingers started to press harder on her hamstrings and biceps femoris, she began to alternatively sigh, moan and...giggle! Her muscles were flexing and quavering. After maybe half of a minute, she suddenly said with an odd tone:

"Aiden, I'm sorry, but I have to ask you to stop. It's too tickling! Can you do my quads instead?"

"Uhm, okay, no problem, if you want me to." I answered carefully, while my inner voice was screaming one, giant, long FUUUUUUUUUUCK! She is going to see it... What should I do?

"I will turn around. Can you... ekhm... can you close your eyes for a moment, please?" Christine asked, a trail of awkwardness in her voice.

Yes, sure, what wrong may happen?

"Okay, go ahead, I'm not looking." This time my answer was much more confident because what other choice did I have? Trying to stall? 

Christine will turn around and see a fucking huge bulge in my pants, then she'll probably freak out. But you know what? Fuck it! Yolo! What's meant to be, will be.

Anyway, I couldn't do anything about it, my dick was not planning to go down. And I couldn't even hide my erection, without showing that I'm hiding the erection. Holding my groin with two hands and trying to cover the tent would have looked ridiculous. The sweatpants were too loose, and my cock was too big. Yeah, it's pretty big. Kind of recompensation from God for having emotional intelligence on the level of plankton, I suppose. Or maybe a reward from Satan for being a faithful follower. Whatever.
But this darker part of my personality wanted Christine to see my hard-on. Her reaction would have been an ultimate proof if my stupid game was a co-op one, or I have been deluding myself from very beginning.

I heard a shuffling sound and one of her legs accidentally nudged my thigh, while she was turning around.
So this is it. Now I will hear "what the hell is that?!" or "you have ten seconds to leave my house, or I will call the police!" or just an inarticulate scream of a terrified woman. Or...

"Aiden, you may open your eyes." Christine said quietly, but her tone didn't show any emotions which could be associated with sharing the room with a perverted physiotherapist.

I looked at Christine and she was looking at me. Laying relaxed on her back, with her head supported on a folded towel and her hands resting on the second towel with which she covered her chest. Her hair was surrounding her head as if it was some kind of blazing aureole.

Christine's face didn't show outrage, fear, contempt or anything I was afraid to see, her expression was calm and maybe even a bit curious? Or was it only my overinterpretation? Astonishing, two colored eyes were opened pretty widely and her pupils were dilated. Can pupils be enlarged due to fear? I doubt that (I need to check it on Wikipedia though). Also, her lips were slightly parted.

Our unusual stare-down continued for an estimated half a minute, when she finally cleared her throat meaningfully, licked her lips and glanced down, right at the bulge stretching my sweatpants. At that moment, I knew already that Christine was expecting me to say something. And I was expecting myself to handle this properly. It didn't mean the polite, gentleman's way, though. When our eyes met again, and I spotted the softest smirk on her lips, I smiled too and said:

"Oops, sorry, that doesn't look too professional. But what can I say? Obviously, 'he' doesn't know that we're at work right now." I pointed down with my chin, sporting one of my top legs-spreading smiles. It was almost an effrontery, but Christine's reaction assured me that I was on the right track. Either way, I didn't care much about etiquette and manners anymore.

A gasp of surprise left her mouth, and her eyes glinted from behind her glasses. However, then her smile became more prominent, and she said:

"Oh, 'he' doesn't know?" Christine giggled and cocked one eyebrow in a jocular way. "Does it often happen to you?"

"No, actually it's the first time. Of course, first time if we're speaking of massaging the client. Because in the case of seeing and touching a hot woman's body, it happens every time." I smiled in a seductive/low-key way, Henry Cavill's style, hoping that in reality my smile didn't resemble Willem Dafoe's one.

Apropos Cavill – my ex told me once, while she was still affected by postorgasm bliss, that I look like Henry's Aryan evil brother. Probably the nicest thing I've ever heard from her. Well, one I must admit, at that moment, kneeling above Christine, I was definitely feeling like Man of Steel.

"Never during massage? I could have bet that there were plenty of women who craved to be massaged 'that' way too..." Christine said and looked in my eyes, then dropped her sight with feigned bashfulness. At least I saw that as an act. And her soft smirk was proving me right.

Right then I was convinced that Christine was in heat. She just craved for my D. But for normal people like her, there is a huge difference between being aroused with fantasizing about having sex with a stranger and actual committing to do this. And then come people like me, who just don't give a fuck about boundaries. Heroes nobody asked for, but... nobody really needed too. But we can be useful, though, from time to time. Mostly for our own pleasure, but nobody's perfect, right?

Time to play va banque. Geronimo!

"I don't know about that, but... would you like to be massaged that way, Christine?" Squinting my eyes, I threw this question seemingly nonchalantly, but at the same time placed my hands on Christine's thighs, above her knees. I began to move them slowly, up and down, stroking her sculpted quads.

"Mhm... maybe..." It was supposed to be a playful answer, but her body betrayed her true desires. Her hips bucked up, almost as if they had their own will, in an attempt to meet my hands.

"’Maybe’ is enough for me." I said with a deep voice and at the same time leaned over her, placing my right hand on her stomach and left one on the mat next to her. Her abdominal muscles were very hard. I felt that I could have easily supported my weight on Christine's belly.

"Yes, it is…" She sighed. I felt her fingers delicately touching my left forearm. She also pulled her legs from between mine and spread them, resting her calves on top of my thighs.

I leaned more forward, aligning my face with hers. Christine's lips parted in anticipation. My right hand slid across the washboard abdomen, toward the chest. With one smooth and brazen move, I tore off the towel from her cleavage, then airily tossed it aside.
Just like I thought, her breasts were tiny, almost non-existent, just little nubs, with jutting out hard nipples. These were begging to be caressed, but I ruthlessly ignored them. My hand wandered higher on Christine's torso, then ran to her neck. It landed under her head, digging deep into that storm of curly hair. Her arms entwined my upper back.

Decisively, I tilted her head and our lips connected with fiery passion. My tongue invaded her mouth, immediately dominating her tongue, making this kiss as possessive as it could be. I wanted to make sure that Christine would feel who was alpha there. Who was in charge. Control. Possession. Dominance. That was the way I liked it. And I was confident that she would love that. If not... Well, that'd be her loss.

Kissing her that way was very pleasant, I’m not gonna lie, but I decided to end it pretty quickly. Christine gasped for air and her flaming eyes, these remarkable two-colored eyes looked at me.

"Can you take off your shirt, please?" She pleaded, her fingers frantically grabbing and digging into my flesh. 

I didn't answer anything, just smiled rapaciously. Lust finally took the best of me. I lifted myself to my knees again, crossed my arms, gripped the edge of my shirt and quickly pulled it off through my head.

Another gasp from Christine, this time full of appreciation of the sight. Yeah, I looked fucking great. Maybe I wasn't so defined like her, but surely looked big, lean and sharp. Finally, some pros of financial catastrophe, at least I stopped eating so much junk food, as they’re too fucking expensive. So chicken and rice, all day long. Working out pretty hard was also helpful.

I felt her hands examining my abs and chest, but ignored them.  I hooked my fingers on the rims of Christine's panties, at first wanting to just quickly pull them off, but guided by the impulse... I tore them in half.

Christine moaned with surprise and excitement, but didn't say a word of protest. A thought that I might have destroyed some expensive lingerie crossed my mind for a split second, but in reality I didn't care at all. She better considered herself lucky that I didn't pierce these panties with my dick. It was so hard that that concept didn't appear as only fantasy anymore.

Speaking of, right after I revealed Christine's shiny pussy, with a trimmed strip of dark red hair (hm, so she is natural ginger after all), I stood up, untied the laces in my sweatpants and rapidly pulled them down. My rigid dick, finally freed from its prison, jumped in the air like a flagpole, even slightly hitting my abdomen. Then I kneeled back again, right between her legs.

Christine gasped loudly, and for the first time I heard her swearing: "Oh, shit, it's so big!"

Yeah, it is, and I'm gonna stuff you with it. Balls deep, babe. – I smirked devilishly at my thoughts, but decided to spare her with such talking, at least for now. She had this favorite expression of mine, which I loved seeing at women's faces. A mixture of arousal and a bit of fear, once they realize what size they'll need to accommodate.

In order to help Christine imagine what she would be dealing with, I pressed my hips to her pelvis and placed my dick on her stomach. The tip was on her navel.
She was breathing heavily, her chest was going up and down, and that brought my attention to her nipples. Leaned forward slightly and caught them between my thumbs and index fingers. Christine moaned again, and I felt as her palm began to delicately stroke my cock, pressing it against her hard lower abdominals. I knew that she wanted to assess the size in that way, and I also knew that it shocked her even more.
My fingers were squeezing and rotating her stiff nipples, and her entire body was squirming.

"Oh, god, please, please..." She was mumbling like a fever.

"What, Christine? What are you asking me for?" A decent man would restrain himself from teasing a woman in such a position, but I was far from decency.

"I want to feel you inside me. But be gentle, please. I've never been with a guy so big..." She whispered with a bit of a worried expression. And once again, a modest man would hold his ego in reams, but I was the same modest, as I was decent. Christine's words spread this delicious balsam over my cosmic-size narcissism.

"The gentle massage part is already behind us, Christine." I grinned widely and winked at her, so she could take it as a joke, however in fact it wasn’t. But she didn’t have to know it, he, he. She will figure this out though, pretty soon.
I straightened up. Then, withdrawing my hips a bit, I grabbed my shaft and first just rubbed Christine's pussy with the tip. After a while of teasing – very pleasant for both of us… well, for me for sure – I began to press harder, relentlessly, against her entrance.

She was so wet that the glans slid inside pretty easily. I always loved to observe how I was spreading pussies with my dick and how the expression on women’s faces changed throughout the process. To be honest, I couldn’t decide which view was turning me on more. Probably I would go for the sight of my thick cock, pushing and shoving inside like a piston. It just looked epic, so fucking primal. No vagina has a chance with my dick. Is that too much self-admiration? Possibly, but I didn’t give a shit. It's supposed to get ME going, not someone else, right? I called myself DICKhead for a good reason.

Christine moaned loudly, then jerked her head back and hissed through clenched teeth. I shoved more of myself inside her and noticed that her abdominal and legs muscles flexed, as she was bracing herself for taking me fully.

"Yeah, Chrissy, take me in." I whispered to her, to show her some appreciation. At the same time, I thrust my hips forward, filling her completely. That's how gentle and tender I was.

Oh, don't get me wrong, I gave her enough time to adjust. Like thirty seconds or so. It cost me a lot of willpower, to not start pounding her in a rampageous way from the get-go, as I just craved. To. Fuck. Her. Brain. Out.
But I'm not a brute, at least not as much as I would like to believe, so at first, I was slipping in her in no hurry, with a steady pace. Making sure that she would feel every fucking inch of me. Simultaneously, I reached to her stomach and began to massage her chiseled muscles with my thumbs. Her six-pack was making me both awed and envious.

Christine purred with pleasure and shifted her hips. Then she turned to me again, and I noticed that her pupils were wide as if she just snorted a line of cocaine.

Her hips began to buck slowly, and I got the message. She was ready for more action. I took a better grip on her waist and began to thrust inside her, stronger, faster, harder. Getting more and more impatient and unsated with every move.

I know that it will sound extremely selfish, although at that stage it shouldn't shock anyone anymore, but I was focused solely on my pleasure. I set up a pace I was comfortable with, pressing myself inside her with a force I liked, not caring much if Christine would see it the same. However, to my surprise, after maybe two minutes or so, I felt Christine's inner muscles begin to close on my cock like a vice. Her abdominals flexed hard and she abruptly stopped breathing. My reaction was to push the tempo even more and burst with my dick through her clenched walls. I wanted to fuck her mind into an oblivion!

Christine arched her back and finally blurted out a loud yelp. I leaned over her, to catch eye contact with her. I wanted to witness how good I was fucking her. When she came back to her senses, she reached to my head and probably thought that I was gonna to kiss her.
But I had a better idea. More sinister. With my right hand, I grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms down to the floor, above her head. It highlighted her sculpted biceps for a moment. And it made her moan like crazy. I knew that she would like it. She must have read scenes like these in her favorite 'fap books'.

"You dreamed about that, didn't you, Christine?!" I hissed in her face, laying down on her with my entire weight, filling her to the brim. Any other woman would be overwhelmed, but I knew that Christine was strong enough and could handle that.

"Ow... Yes!" She yelled in response, and I bared my teeth in a smile. The dark side of my character was finally let loose! Call me Darth Aiden because power was corrupting me in no time!

"You like my dick, don't you?" I continued my spontaneous interrogation role play, while holding her arms tight in place. Christine was squirming and wiggling under me. God, Satan or whoever was in charge up there – no one could stop me right then. I felt so powerful, so strong, to fuck her like this. To hold her pinned down, trapped under me and on my mercy. I increased the pace ever more, moving my hips in one, giant blur. "You love feeling that big dick inside you, ripping you apart, huh?! Tell me how much you love it, Christie!"

"Aaaah, yes! Yes, I love it! It's so fucking huge! The… Biggest!!!" She whimpered, and I let go of her arms, satisfied by her answer. Who wouldn't like to hear such stuff, hm? That was the best part of having a big dick. Free compliments, and so on. The second advantage was that you could have a complete garbage personality, but when you're packing, women still would fervently spread their legs in front of you. Don't ask why I know it.

Christine's arms entwined my upper back, and she almost stabbed me with her nails. She was getting close again. I slid my forearms below her back and held her shoulders from behind, having even better leverage to pound her as hard as I could. I was literally pushing her entire body on the floor with thrusts of my hips, then bouncing her back with my arms. Like a ragdoll.

"Owww!" Christine let out a long howl and her body began to congeal and freeze as the pleasure was building up. She dug her nails deep in my back and tilted her head toward my neck.

Then I felt her bite me in the shoulder, really hard, and held me with teeth, as a powerful orgasm was burning out her circuits. I grunted throatily, partially from surprise, partially from irritation, as it was quite painful. Not painful enough to make a drama about it, but she definitely deserved some kind of revenge, meaning – even more ruthless fucking. But was it really a punishment or a hidden reward? Couldn't decide. Nevertheless, the jury made a verdict and the sentence was about to be delivered by the executioner in the form of my dick giving her the best orgasm of her life. As I can humbly attest. I lifted myself to the plank position and started to slam my hips on her, using a big part of my weight. If Christine's brain wasn't properly fucked out earlier, now was the time.

Eventually, when her body relaxed and her foggy eyes met mine. Next, I leaned to her ear and whispered:

"Moan for me, Christine! I want the entire neighborhood to hear you." The truth was that I didn't have to encourage her at all. She was already  crying in ecstasy.

Back to total ‘self-absorbness’ – now I was getting close, and that was the only thing that mattered for me. I lifted myself up again and caught Christine under her knees. Then I pressed her legs up to her chest, folding her in two. For any regular woman, it would be an uncomfortable or even painful position, but I guess Christine didn't lie about doing the splits without warming up.

Seeing her muscular, robust body, forced to rely solely on my mercy, my swollen dick inexorably pummeling and jostling into her pussy, and these mesmerizing bicolored eyes, now fogged and intoxicated - all of that brought me to the verge. I knew that would be an epic finish. Meanwhile, Christine probably had another orgasm, but I couldn't care less. I barely felt her inner squeezing me, as I was thrusting myself inside with unstoppable passion.

At first, I was determined to spill inside her, to fill her to the brim, but when I was just a few seconds before, again, because of an impulse to spice things up, I pulled out from her and split seconds later literally erupted!

"Argh! Fuck!" I growled like a caveman, panting crazy. With an odd feeling of being behind my body, I was observing as my dick was shooting rope after rope of thick cream. Droplets were landing with a thudding sound on Christine's body, on her chest, stomach and legs. I believed that the first ones reached even to her neck. I almost expected them to start sizzling on her skin, that's how hot they appeared. She was looking at me with widely opened eyes.
After a seemingly never-ending moment, I was finally spent. Christine's torso was covered by my jizz. Oddly, but it looked fascinating – her fair, almost pale skin decorated by shiny pearls. I marked her as mine. Like a property. Fuck, it sounds as if I was some crazy obsessive villain slash kinky Master, but it felt so good!

I wobbled on my knees and sat down, leaning my back on the couch. My heart was pounding like a jackhammer. I didn't say a word, and Christine neither. I wasn't even looking at her, just breathing and waiting until the crazy rumbling from my temples faded away.

A wise man would say something witty or some words of appreciation for a woman, or maybe an amusing summary. Anything that would ease the tension and kill that silence. But I wasn't wise. Quite the opposite, at that moment my IQ was probably hitting negative numbers.
Christine's left calf was still on my thigh, so I placed my hand on it and held her like this. That was all I could do to make it less awkward. Sorry, but remember, I'm good at fucking, not cuddling, cooing and sweet-talking.

After a few minutes, Christine got herself up with an effort. Without looking at me, she said quietly:

"Excuse me for a moment..." And then she walked wobbly out from the room, followed by my eyes.

Damn, I should fuck her from behind, just look at that ass! – A kinky thought crossed my mind. I really was beyond any chance for salvation. Lost cause.

And after that, the realization of what just happened came to me.

I fucked my client. In her house. A woman twenty years older than me. Who could easily be my mother. Oh, my fucking god.

I was waiting for remorse to kick in, but somehow it didn't show up at all. And the more I was thinking about how incongruous it was, the more I wanted to burst with laughter. I should have felt bad about that, but I couldn't. I just couldn’t! My inner counter of given fucks was still showing a nice, round zero.
So what?
I fucked Christine and she loved that. I can't be so bad as a person, can’t I? I gave a lonely woman the best fuck she had in years, or maybe even in her entire life.

I gripped the paper towel and wiped my cock and hand in it. Then I pulled my sweatpants on my legs again, but I didn't bother to wear the shirt. Finally, I took the bottle of water from my bag and drank a lot. It would be better if that was a beer.

Ha! I should be drinking beer now, then make Christine to prepare me a late dinner. And after that I should stay and fuck her whole night. That would be a way of living, right? Right.

But to be honest, I was sitting and expecting that Christine would come back with a serious expression, crossed arms on her chest. She would say that it was a mistake. And then she would ask me to leave. Or she would say...

"Aiden, can you come with me? I want to show you something." That was said by a real Christine, to her imaginary version in my mind. She was standing in the door and smiling, a bit sheepishly, but smiling. A change! She was wearing a lime lycra shorts and sporty bra. Her bun was adjusted and she looked fresh.

I'll be damned. She was behaving completely differently than I was imagining. Well, what a good dicking can do for a woman's mood, huh?

"Sure!" I answered and got up as vigorously as I was able. Better keep up that alpha stud image, right? It would be hysterical if I was pulling myself together like some tired grandpa.

She gave me a warm smile and led me to the door near the kitchen. She opened them and I noticed stairs going down. It was the entrance to the basement.

She walked down and lit the lights. It was... a normal basement, with a boiler, washing machine and some storage space. Well, not entirely  – inside was also Christine's little gym. She had two benches, for sit ups and bench pressing, a lot of weight plates, two various sets of racks, a fitness ball, dumbbells and a couple of other items. A nice home gym, small, but well organized and sufficient. I whistled with admiration.

"Nice! Home office, home gym, I see, Christine, that you have everything taken care of." I turned to her.

"Thanks! It's not much, but I can do my workouts in peace." Christine replied with a soft smile and adjusted her hair again. She glanced at my naked chest, unconsciously bit her lip, and her cheeks blushed. Ha! She was all about the sin! I immediately regretted that I didn't flex my pecs and 'winked' with them at her. That would be adequate. However, she recomposed herself quickly and asked. "Will you show me this thing with the shoulder blades you mentioned earlier?"

"With pleasure!" I answered and came closer to the bench. There was a professional Olympic type bar. Wow! Another huge chunk of respect for her. But to be honest, I felt respect and gratitude for her, for handling that situation between us and making it much less awkward than it could be. That was something beyond my social interaction capabilities, for sure.

"At first I will show you this in air, on the bar without weight." I picked the bar and turned sideways to her. "When you grab the bar, to set yourself for bench pressing, you need to do a specific move, imagine as if you would want to bend this bar or break it in half. This will set up your shoulder blades correctly. I'll turn around, so you can see it better."

I explained her details and Christine seemed to understand that pretty well. She tried to repeat the movement in the air. Then we started to load the weight on the barbell, so she could test it in practice.

"What's your personal record? We should set the weight on about eighty percent of your max." I asked her, while looking through the weight plates.

"I don't know, I've never tried my maxes. I'm afraid to do so without a spotter." Christine replied.

"Okay, so let me ask differently. When do you bench press in a workout routine, what's the maximum weight you can do a few reps with?"

"I can lift about 160 pounds three, four times." This time, a well hidden trail of pride in her voice.

"Whoa! Seriously? That's great! What's your body weight?" I was genuinely impressed!

"I'm weighing about 142." A low-key smile on her face.

"Damn! And you can press 20 pounds more than your body weight. Aren't you a tough cookie, Christine?" I grinned widely and began adding weights on the bar. "So, 160 will be good, or you want to try more?"

"We can try 165. But only if you spot me."

"Of course! Don't worry, I got you covered." I told her, while I was moving behind the bench. She laid down and positioned herself under the barbell. Her head was... right in front of my crotch. I could literally park my package on her forehead. Instantly, that inflated my mind with a few hot scenarios. Eh… Focus, dumbhead, focus.

Christine grabbed the bar and I helped her to lift it from the racks. I instructed her, and she set up herself correctly and stable. After that, she lowered the weight to her chest and pressed it up. The first four reps she made were pretty effortless, and I couldn't help it, but admired her commitment. With the fifth rep she struggled, but managed to finish and with the sixth attempt, I had to help her and secure the barbell on the racks. She sat up and for a moment panted heavily, with a red face.

"Nicely done, Christine! That was impressive! Did you feel the difference with the new technique?" I asked and stood up in front of her.

"Uff... yeah, I felt that! It was much easier for me this way. Thank you for showing me that!" Christine stood up and for a moment was silent, seemingly as if she was thinking about something. Then she caught my sight and said with a kind of sly smile: "How about your turn on the barbell? Will you show me how it's done properly?"

"I can show you, but only if you tell me what your real intention is." I teased her, knowing that she didn't really want to see it because of technical matters.

"Haha! Okay, you've got me. I was curious what such outstanding muscles are capable of..." She said that really seductively. Did you hear that sound? Yeah, that was my ego ejecting itself into fucking space. Wait… wasn’t it already there? Hm, I guess it went where no man has gone before.

"Very well then." I laughed and turned to the barbell. What man would I have to be to deny a strength display for a woman like her? Hm... Probably a more honest one. And more integrated. And less vain. And... okay, okay, enough, you've got the picture already.

"What will be the weight?" Christine asked, standing next to the rest of her plates.

Looking at available weight plates, I did quick math in my head. In total, it would be about 280 pounds. My personal record in bench press was one rep of 300 pounds. Realizing that allowed me to have a perfect answer. And a perfect opportunity to show off.

"Let's load all the plates you have." I said that, keeping in mind to look as smooth and nonchalant as possible. Don't look at me like that. Being narcissistic isn't illegal as far as I know.

"Wow! Really? Are you sure?" Christine exclaimed, surprised.

"Yeah, I am." I chuckled and positioned myself below the barbell. I was pretty sure that I would manage to press this weight at least two times. And I was ready to die a second after, but failure was not the option. C'mon, stakes were really high – my alpha male reputation and Christine's tight pussy as a reward. I had to nail it!

She stood behind me and helped me to take the barbell from the racks. Once I stabilized the weight in my grip, I began to do reps. And I don't know if I was so freaking strong for real, or it was due to adrenaline rush, but I was fucking killing it! I did the first six reps with crazy pace, moving like a machine. Then I did four more, just to make it a nice, round ten.

"Argh!" I roared like a barbarian, jammed the barbell on the racks and sat up. I wasn't even breathing so heavily, my mind was flooded by sweet endorphins.

"Wow! That was very impressive!" Christine stopped in front of me and placed her hand on my pumped chest. Then she squealed with surprise, when I dragged her toward me and made her sit on my lap.

I was feeling wonderful, invincible and fierce! That exercise stirred up my blood circulation in every vital area of my body. Yeah, there too.

"Did you like it?" I asked, while tightening my grip on her sexy waist. She half moaned, half giggled.

"That was astonishing, you're very strong." She answered and examined my chest furthermore. Her hand wandered to my left shoulder. "Oh, shit, I'm so sorry about that, I don't know what got into me." She caught me surprised by saying this, and I followed her hand with my eyes, to notice that she was touching the bite mark. Her bite mark.

"Don't worry, I loved that. That was hot." I said, while pressing her tighter to me. "And I know perfectly what got into you, Christine. I can make IT get into you again, if you want." I told her that with a serious expression, but smiled inwardly, seeing that it made a staggering impression on her. I should feel nefariously that I was taking so much joy in seducing an older, lonely and most likely sexually ravenous woman, but I couldn't force myself to care. Even if I wanted to. And I didn't. It's really good to be bad. Life is more fun like that!

Christine didn't answer anything, just threw herself on me and started to kiss me. Her hands were all over my body, one still checking my pecs, second boldly going to the main base. I felt her fingers trying to entwine my erection through the clothes.
Her caresses were enjoyable, so I let her feel that she was in charge for a moment. But not for long. Foreplay was nice, but I wanted more. There was something in her, that submissive energy combined with a muscular, strong body, which was driving me insanely horny. 
I stood up abruptly, lifting her with me. For a while, I was holding Christine scooped up with one arm. It was time to show her that she would never be in control, if I didn't give permission for it. I was getting into my dark character again. My true self. Yep, it probably sounded good only in my head, but nevertheless…

"Undress." I told her pretty sternly, but Christine complied with a smile. She pulled off her top and turned around, to take off the shorts. There I stopped her. "No. This part I'll do myself."

"Oh, but don't rip them, please, I like them." She asked me to, giggling quietly. I grabbed her pelvis and pulled to me, pressing my clothed hard dick on her equally hard glutes.

"Chill. I'm gonna rip something else. And you're gonna love it." I whispered right to her ear and noticed with satisfaction that she shivered. Then I hooked my fingers on the edges of her shorts and tugged them down. Once they passed the bigger volume of her thighs, I let them fall on the floor.

Now her round, muscular glutes were exposed exactly where I wanted them. Right in front of my crotch. Impatiently, I took off my trousers and kicked them aside. Then I pressed my dick between her cheeks. I placed my one hand on Christine's abs, the second on her throat. I just held her like this, tightly glued to me.

"You have the best ass I've ever seen. Perfect. Simply perfect." I snarled to her ear and licked her neck. Christine moaned loudly. I released my grip on her and ordered: "Get on all four on that bench. Stick out this beautiful bum for me." 

Christine obeyed again. I knew that she loved that dynamic between us. It was just like it should be.
She leaned against the bench, then with prolonged, sultry moves, she added her knees on it. What a tease.
Now she was just like I wanted her to be. Vulnerable. Exposed. Dependent. I placed myself behind her and admired her rear for a moment. I took a solid grasp on both of her glutes and squeezed them. They were hard and firm. I spread them and let them bounce back. Christine blurted out a moan. Then she yelped, when I spanked her ass. Not with full force, but hard enough to induce a loud sound and leave a pink mark.

"You like that, don't you?" I asked sharply, then slapped her ass again.

"Yes, but please... fuck me, Aiden, please. I can't wait any longer." Christine whimpered, and I was wondering if I should give her what she wanted or to tease her even more. The twitching and throbbing of my dick made this decision much easier. I felt an intoxicating, overwhelming need for cramming into her. All at once.
I grabbed her hips with my left hand, with my right aimed at her slit, and then just pushed. Slowly, but resolutely. I was observing how my dick was disappearing between these glorious globes. In response, Christine's whole body tensed up, and she exhaled through teeth.

"Owww!" She gasped as my hips touched her butt. "So full!"

I pulled out until only the glans was inside her, then pressed again. And then repeated it. And again, this time adding the stinging spank. The clapping sounds filled the basement with echo. My hips against glutes. My balls against her thighs. My hand against her ass.

"Oh, shit, your cock is so hard! Like a steel rod... owww!" She was burbling and groaning, while I was pounding her mercilessly. I really enjoyed the view of her in that position, so I joined her in talking some hot, kinky nonsense.

"Your ass is a masterpiece! So fucking beautiful. Even teens would envy that ass." I blurted out and paced up, noticing that her interior began to clench. I was about to fuck her mind out! Again!

Christine bent over and put her forehead on the bench, exposing her glutes in an even hotter way. She was holding on so hard, that veins popped on her arms and her knuckles turned white.
Her pussy contracted immensely, trying to lock me in place, but I just gripped her hips with both hands and continued to slam into her as if my life depended on it.

Finally, she bellowed like a siren and then panted heavily. That was something! I was convinced that no one ever made her come so hard. I even slowed down significantly, to let her rest a bit, that's how tender a lover I was. After a couple of seconds, she lifted herself, back on the arms.

"That was... Oh... So intense!" She hissed strenuously.

"My pleasure. Hah!" I laughed huskily and reached to her head, at first just ran my fingers through her hair, massaging and stroking. But then I grasped a handful of her curls and pulled them backwards, making her arch her back. Not brutally, of course, I didn't want to hurt her (that much). After all, I wasn't a psycho (that much). Just to spice things up. She didn't protest anyway.

Now I was fucking her in much leisure pace, nice and easy. If not for holding her hair and occasional passionate spanks, someone could even say that I was even gentle.
But the truth was that I cracked Christine's code, I knew what she truly desired. She really was the definition of still waters. Quiet, modest or even distanced accountant, divorced single mother on the surface, but underneath was a tigress loving rough pounding and being submissive. I simply saw through all the layers.

I evoked a slut in her, and she evoked a porn star in me… kidding, I've always been a stud. But even I had some limits. My own orgasm was rapidly building up, and I wanted to finish in an epic way, maybe even kinkier than earlier.

When I felt that I was getting closer, I pulled out from her and told her to turn around. I wanted to give her a facial, but couldn't predict that Christine would have a perverted idea of her own.
Once she heard my words, she dropped to her knees and she flung herself at me, grabbing my cock as if she was starving. Stroking me with both hands, she gaped her mouth and shoved the glans inside. Her tongue was whirling around, and her cheeks were getting sucked in every now and again.

She surprised me with that sudden initiative, so I let her do her thing. Funnily, but only then, I noticed how small and delicate were Christine's palms. They looked perfect on my shaft.
And I was glad that she didn't take her glasses off because – attention, attention! Confession on a way! – I’ve always had a thing for nerdy looking girls. I liked to cum on their faces and then smear it on the glasses, making an absolute mess with my cock.

But it was clear where Christine wanted me to finish, and I was eager to do so. I placed my hand on top of her head and began to slowly thrusting my dick deeper and deeper into her mouth, until it started to poke her throat. And I was torn apart – on the one hand I honestly didn't want her to be hurt, choke and gag, but on the other... I craved to stuff her completely, to rest my balls on her chin and unload directly to her stomach. Maybe a compromise?

Our eyes met, hers were foggy and sex drunk. I moved my hand through these beautiful auburn hair of hers and grabbed on her occiput. Maintaining eye contact with her, I was sliding inside her mouth more decisively. She instinctively tried to relax her throat and I really wanted to give her time to get accustomed, but the thing was... that I could last any longer.

"Fuck, here it comes!" A gnar came out my mouth, and then I almost went blind for a moment. I lost Christine's face from the sight as everything went white. For Christine, ‘everything white’ went down her throat. The main sound in my ears was a numb pounding, and only in the background I could hear her slurping and gurgling. After a moment, I had to force my eyes open and looked down at her. She was holding my wilting dick in hand and coughed a few times.

"You're okay?" I asked, helping her to get up. My, my, what a chivalry.

"Yes..." Christine replied quietly.

I picked up my sweatpants and headed toward the stairs. In the corner of my eye, I noticed that she collected her clothes and followed me. Once we got back upstairs, Christine went to the bathroom and I entered the living room.
It was time for me to go home. Especially since it was close to 10 PM already, as I checked the time on my phone. I’ve spent about three hours in Christine's house, and most of that time I spent... inside Christine. And even though I would gladly stay here for the entire night, fucking her every half an hour, there would be a problem with filling time between. What could we possibly do, huh? Cuddling and casual talking? Watching Netflix? Getting attached to each other? Ah, c'mon!

I dressed myself and packed my stuff in the bag. When I was lacing my shoes in the hall, Christine emerged from the bathroom. She was wearing a silk wrapper, this time dark green. When she noticed me near the door, for a moment, she looked surprised.

"Oh, you're leaving?" Was that a disappointment in her voice?

"Yes. It's a bit late, you know." When I said that, she glanced at the clock in the corridor.

"Indeed, I lost track of time. Uhm... do you want me to call a cab for you?"

"Nah,  thanks. I'll be fine." I answered casually, while putting the jacket on me. Christine was standing for a moment and then clapped her hands, as if she remembered something.

"Oh! Just wait a second!" She said and jogged toward the kitchen. After a couple of seconds, she came back, holding an envelope. She passed it to me. "Here, for the massage."

Christine had a bit of a confused smile on her face, and I could figure out that she was feeling awkward. Understandable. And I, with my unlimited idiocy, was about to make this situation even worse, when I realized that this envelope was a bit thicker than it should be. Shamelessly, I checked inside and noticed that evidently there was more than 250 dollars. Closer to 400.

"It's more than we agreed for. What is that? A hooker bonus?" I said without thinking much about how it may sound. And it might have sounded to her as if I was offended. But was I? I didn't even know.

But Christine's face went pale and elongated. Her expression was a mix of shock, embarrassment and confusion.

"No! Oh my god, it's not like that, Aiden! Please, don't think about it this way! I... I was planning to give you more at the very beginning because I was genuinely grateful that you agreed for a home visit... and… and you told me on the phone that business is tough currently... And I forgot about it. I would never..." Her voice cracked at the end, and I felt some remorse for the first time in my life. Well, maybe it’s an exaggeration, but seeing her so distressed, definitely churned the black void of my heart. Okay, okay, all jokes aside, I felt pretty stupid that I put her in that spot, her explanations looked honest. There was no point in behaving like a total dickhead now. I’ve had my share of that earlier.

I was the reason for the awkwardness, so I could take it on the chin. Let's embrace that escort role because why not? It was what it was. I massaged Christine very 'thoroughly', right?
While Christine was looking at me apologetically, I surprised her by pulling her close to me. I managed to laugh pretty convincingly and told her:

"Relax, cute pie. I was joking. Thanks for the bonus, I really appreciate that." I pressed her body against mine and slid my hand towards her butt. I looked into her eyes and squeezed her glute, again savoring how sappy her ass felt. Christine’s eyes widened and she sighed sensually. I gave her glutes a solid, farewell slap and said. "And hey, feel free to call me if you want another massage. Take care."

"Uhm... bye, Aiden." She answered, sporting a cheerful smile.

I turned around and walked into a dark night. Hands into pockets, shoulders swinging and of course not looking behind because that was the way of badass life. I knew that Christine was following me with her eyes for a while, as I heard that door closed only then when I reached the sidewalk.

While walking in a quiet neighborhood, I wanted to burst into a villainous, insane croak. That would be fitting for my state of mind. My brain was trying to digest what just happened and what it could bring for me in the future. Maybe I would be able to combine business with pleasure? That would be something!

I was sunk in musing, I made a left turn, and right behind a corner, a tall woman unexpectedly passed me in the street, walking with a quick, springy pace.
She was wearing an elegant, short, red coat, which couldn't hide how beautifully she was  built - tightly clinging to her waist and showing just enough of her long, slender legs Her face was dazzling, dainty and noble at the same time. Long, red hair was all around her head, dispelled by the wind. I almost broke my neck, when I turned around to check her out, but she entirely ignored me, striding fast on the sidewalk.
Daaaaamn! I've never met such beauty in my life. Wait… In fact, I did! Only then I  realized that I had already seen her, not so long ago! In the photos, at Christine's house! It had to be her daughter… Danielle, I believe?

Shit, 'hotty-daughty' looked spectacular. All of a sudden, I began to regret my decision to leave Christine's house so quickly. On the other hand - calm your tits, Aiden, you've just fucked her mother. But I couldn't get rid of one thought - have I just missed an opportunity to meet an improved version of Christine?