My strong friend
We went to the restaurant with the family, my wife, my mother-in-law, our son. The food was simple but excellent. We were all in good spirits and chatted animatedly.
My gaze wanders through the restaurant, which in the early afternoon no longer had any guests, we were the last. So the waitress didn't have any more service duties and was already starting to clean up. Deliveries also had to be sorted. Several postal packages, tied tightly with twine. The senders had taken a lot of trouble tying it up and tied several knots. When you've cut one ribbon, there's always another to cut as well. So did the waitress. She had laboriously cut open a ribbon with a paring knife and was just about to open the package when another ribbon prevented her from doing so. A little annoyed, she simply took it in each hand and ripped it through. Since it was faster
These were the usual hemp package straps with a thickness of more than ½ cm. Somehow it seemed strange to me, you can't tear them up! I imagine it's very difficult, I can't tear even thinner packaging tapes. And if you had the strength, the moment you ripped them, they would immediately cut your hands, causing them to bleed. I was confused, but didn't show it to my people.
Actually, I could go to the toilet. On the way there was a remnant of the packaging tape, which I pocketed unnoticed. In the toilet I then tried to tear it up. Completely impossible and it cut very into the hand. How could the waitress manage it? She didn't look petite, maybe plump with a nice round butt and maybe a little taller than me. But did she have such power? There's not much you can do with skill and practice. It also seemed like she wasn't surprised herself, unlike me! Somehow the whole thing touched me too. A woman so strong? She didn't look too bad either, her face looked very sweet.
We left the restaurant, mother-in-law in a wheelchair, wife and son pushed. I was kinda beside myself, pondering why am I fascinated by this waitress? That feeling wouldn't let go of me for the rest of the day. Even at night I thought about the woman, did she have muscles and was she very strong, like a man or even stronger? As I mentioned before, she wasn't petite, a bit plump and everything. But should she have such strength in her arms?
The next day my people wanted to shop a little in the town. My wife said that if I wanted to, I could also look at the latest models at the nearby VW dealer. I didn't need to be told twice. But could I go into the restaurant like that again and what should I say to her? show me your arms But it didn't help, I had to go there, so I went. My heart was pounding in my throat the closer I got. From the door I saw that there wasn't much going on, it was 10 o'clock in the morning, it must have just opened. Gritted teeth and went in, a beer at the bar, what's supposed to be striking about that?
Now I was sitting at the counter. She had not yet put on her apron, was wearing a skirt and a T-shirt with half-length sleeves. She's in her early 50s (I'm in my late 50s myself) and seems generally reserved, you could even say a bit stuffy. Since at this early hour there were no guests apart from me, she continued to tidy up the dining room. Tablecloths had to be put on the tables, etc. One table seemed to wobble a little and, in the old fashioned way, she takes a beer mat to compensate for the wobble. She knelt down by the table leg in question and slid the beer mat under with one hand while lifting the table with the other hand. These are large, heavy bar tables, usually one person lifts the table a little while another places the beer mat under a table leg. I couldn't imagine kneeling, ie from bottom to top, lifting this table with one arm! She seemed to be very strong, and this idea brought back that heart-pounding feeling that I already knew and that drove me back here.
She finished cleaning up now and joined me on the other side of the counter. She said: "I noticed that you have been watching me all the time, do you like me?" I replied: "Yes, you must be very strong, I like that very much". "You like that or are you kidding me?" And this morning you lifted a heavy wooden table with one arm.”
The duration of her reaction seemed endless to me, but it probably wasn't, and her face didn't show anything either, at least not the surprise or even rejection I had feared. "Well, there was no other way, it wasn't that difficult either." "But I couldn't do it, it takes a lot of strength". "Well, if you like me, then we should meet tonight, because I think you're very cute too. Unfortunately I have to work now, say goodbye.” She held her arms out so I walked towards her and hugged her, kissing her on the cheek as I did. It was a somewhat plump but firm body that I was holding. She must have been very strong and could easily lift me in the embrace. And she did so briefly, like men do when they lift their girlfriends in an embrace.
In the evening I picked her up again at the pub. We decided to go out for a drink first. We sat down in a wine bar and talked. She had a light, very pleasant-sounding voice. She was dressed in the skirt she was wearing this morning and the half-sleeved T-shirt. I took a closer look at her arms. Women sometimes have thicker arms than men, but there is no power behind them. Her arms also looked like a bit thicker woman's arms, but she didn't have what is commonly referred to as "Wingfleisch" at all, but her arms seemed very strong. On the inside of the upper arm, covered by the end of the half-length T-shirt sleeve, there was an increase. If that was the biceps, they were big, but not very defined.
"I can tell you're looking at my arms all the time. Most men's eyes are magnetized to my butt, but yours to my arms. Do they really interest you that much?” I felt caught and at the same time I noticed a slight excitement in my pants, which probably also led to a slight reddening of the face. "Yes, I think your arms are very beautiful, they also seem to be very strong." "I've been through a lot, but I've never seen a man find my arms and my strength beautiful." I thought our date was over and done with and tried to calm things down. But to my surprise, she continued: "But maybe the thought is very appealing, I'm very strong and you love me for it and you think my strong arms are beautiful." I could only answer: "You guess my secret desires". "Yes, if that's the case, then you would certainly like to touch my arms. That would probably not go so well here in the wine bar. So I suggest we go outside to the park, we won't be disturbed there, I'll show you my arms and you can do whatever you want with them, they're yours."
So we went and sat on a park bench. My heart was pounding in my throat and she also seemed to be unsettled in the meantime. But she took the scepter in her hand and said: "Tell me what should I do?" "I would like to touch and feel your arm". "Come on, there he is". Now I grabbed it. I started at the top of the shoulder and went down and up the upper arm and felt and squeezed a bit, including the inside where the biceps needed to be. I pushed the sleeve up and there it was. The blood rushed to my head and I had to spread my legs imperceptibly, because something tremendous was happening there. I slid her elbow up and held her forearm like I was doing a flex and said, "Now please flex." She did, and very slowly a bulge came up. Her biceps weren't defined
I put my hand on her bicep to feel the bulge. I clasped my upper arm with both hands, that's the best way to feel my biceps. Its round bulge filled my upper hand well. A hard muscle beneath very soft velvety skin.
“You're so strong.” “Well, I can grab if I have to, I have a tough job too, but I've always been good at lifting and carrying. Doesn't surprise me either, I used to always beat my brothers in wrestling matches, including the older one. Whenever my father needed help, he always fetched me, the brothers couldn't manage it. If we didn't have a ladder handy, I would just pick him up and he could cut the branches on the tree. I was also very good at lifting my late husband and – now that I think about it – he was always interested in my arms and massaged them.
I was still holding her upper arm, the swelling in my pants was already causing pain in the groin area. She looked down at me and said, "Not only I pumped up my arm eh? But before we take care of him down there, I guess we have to go to my house first, we can't do that in the park. Let's take the tram.
The tram was full, there was only standing room. She stood next to me, holding on to the straps. This made her hold her arm at a 90° angle and I just held on to that. That way I could feel the bicep bulge the whole ride and no one had noticed because she was wearing a trench coat that covered the shape of the arm. That was our secret and now and then we winked at each other.
Arriving at her house in the stairwell, she asked: "Do you want to take the stairs or the elevator?" I looked around in amazement and answered: "I can't find an elevator." "Here it is." And now she took me with her one hand on my bum and the other under my armpit, and picked me up like a mother would her little son and carried me effortlessly up the stairs. Instinctively I grabbed her upper arms and could feel a bicep with each hand.
Arriving at the apartment she sat me on her bed. We quickly undressed and then she sat me on her lap. So I had both of her biceps and she had mine…….in her hand. She stood up just before I came, lifting me like a tray at shoulder height. From there she continued with the tongue and I came as hard as I've ever cummed in my life. Without touching the ground, completely in her strong arms.
After we strengthened ourselves a little she took me to her bed. I lay on her, felt her strong body and massaged her muscles, including her legs and butt. After some time she introduced me to her, grabbing my butt with both hands and rocking me back and forth while I could feel her shoulders and arms. Again I came as hard as never before.
This was repeated frequently. I moved in with her and her strength played an important role in our life together. Every now and then we would scuffle or arm wrestle, but she had such strong arms that I never had a chance. She also carried the heavy things. Sometimes we met other men who just needed help, for example turning the heavy wheel wrench when changing a wheel. She did that and the other men couldn't believe what they had seen.
When there was time and opportunity, she picked me up. She could also "take" me standing up. I then hung around her neck, my legs between her spread legs and she inserted me into her, moving my butt back and forth.
Later we improved the lifting and balance and were able to perform as artists in the circus. She wore an elegant long-sleeved evening dress and I wore a tuxedo. The audience therefore had to assume at first that we would appear as comedians or singers. But then she stretched out her left hand to me, which I stepped onto with my left foot. And she lifted me up onto her shoulder while I held onto her free hand with my other hand. From there I then did handstands on her arms. When I stood again, I put both hands on her right arm while she bent her left to the side. Bending my legs up, she held me over my head with one arm. After I stood on her shoulder again, I had to wipe the sweat from my forehead with a wink. Then she stretched her right arm out horizontally and I walked from her shoulder with one leg almost to her hand. Then I pulled the other one up a bit so that it was now on the upper arm and no longer on the shoulder.
While the audience was still impressed by my partner's breathtaking feats of strength, the second part began when I ripped off her evening dress, which was held in place by snaps. Now she was wearing a jersey and despite her age she had a shapely figure. Now her arms could be seen as well. She then tore up a phone book that I handed her or a deck of cards. She also bent a horseshoe. The performance ended with me tenderly caressing and kissing her upper right arm. She then flexed it for the audience so her big rounded biceps formed an arch in her arm, which I then placed my hand over. The applause was always very good, with a noticeable number of men in the audience simply being speechless and shifting back and forth in their seats. Later, after the end of the performance, you could always find traces of sperm on the toilet walls or similar. I think I was very envied.
