The Muscular Mrs. Jones: The College Years

[009eli]

Hi

This is the sequel to my earlier story series which now finds the lead, Lawrence, in college and deals with his reconnection with his bodybuilding friends mother. Hope everyone enjoys it as it rolls out. I'm going to break this series up into smaller chapters for digestibly.

Please comment with feedback  - if you like. Thanks again for taking a look.

(All characters over 18yrs old)

Mrs. Jones: The College Years Part 1

Prologue

After the Jones’ left town. Life went on.

After high school, my soccer skills were decent enough to get me a scholarship to a good college a bit up the road from where I grew up.  But after the incident at the hospital and the soccer game, I never saw Mrs. Jones again, but the image of her was burned fresh into my mind.

Her cradling me, her powerful tanned biceps pressing into me, as she carried me to the ER. The way her legs and calves looked in her skin-tight shorts the night at the soccer game. It was an image I could never forget.

And although I tried hard to, those images stayed with me.

Arriving at college had been a blast. I was happy for the space and when my parents dropped me off, and I got to meet my roommate Roger who was a cool dude but obsessed with video games – I got my class schedule, and my life got underway.

I even started dating a girl. Her name was Lizzy Gerber.

A fellow soccer player, Lizzy was fun and full of energy.  She was tall and athletic. A lanky body, perfect for sprinting down a soccer field. But it wasn’t hard to, in my mind compare her albeit unfairly, to the physical perfection Mrs. Jones had achieved with her prize-winning physique.

Sure Lizzy’s long legs looked killer in soccer shorts, but I couldn’t help flashback to how Mrs. Jones legs had looked, like marble carved out of living bronze with the blown out insertions that some deluded artist would have never thought to create.

In comparison to Mrs. Jones Olympian physique, Lizzy was very much, of this earth.  Despite the years of soccer playing, her legs remained chicken leg skinny and even though she was quite athletic, she seemed to carry a perennial layer of baby fat around her hips and stomach. The impression she gave when she stripped down to her panties when we’d fool around looked a bit like an egg jammed on top of two Popsicle sticks.  But we had fun, and we began dating seriously after a few hookups.

That wasn’t to say the idea of FBBs had in any way left my imagination.

After meeting Mrs. Jones my paradigm as far as what I found to be an ideal body for a female had shifted. I’m not sure if female bodybuilders would have ever come on my radar, but they were definitely on there now. And I quickly became an expert on spotting any hint of muscle definition on a female when I was out in public.
A set of bulbous thighs set off an alarm bell in my brain. Invariably those only usually led to squat old ladies who seemed to stay on their feet for too long.

There were a few occasions. One day coming out of K-Mart I spied a woman, early 20s, pretty face, big brown eyes, jogging by in a sports bra and short shorts. Her stomach was ripped to shreds with only the kind of definition an athlete could get, and her arms and shoulders were visibly well muscled. She jogged past, her blonde ponytail bobbing tantalizing along her chiseled back. I tried to follow her quickly, but my family hustled me into the car to go.

One divine shot of grace came in the form of Rose, a substitute gym teacher at our school. Word quickly spread that the new recruit of the gym dept. was also an ‘amateur bodybuilder.’ At an assembly one day, I spotted her, curly hair and unfortunately not particularly attractive with lousy adult acne. But as the assembly cleared out, I stood up, and although she was wearing a bulky sweatshirt over her upper body, partially obscuring my view, I caught a glimpse of her lower body on which she sported a set of skin-tight leggings. I followed her out of the auditorium hovering closely behind, but not too close to let off a stalker alert. I could see the telltale flexations of a pair of well-built quads and split diamond calves peeking out of her high tops.  But after subbing for a month or so, word spread that she had left and gone to another school located on the West Coast. Most probably to be closer to the hardcore bodybuilding subculture of Los Angeles.

Another sighting came in college. Lizzy and I had been dating for a few months or so… We had gone over to a friend’s room who lived in a different dorm for a few beers and to smoke some, well you can guess – Pretty soon we were flying pretty high and had the full-on munchies set in so we piled into the car and headed out to the supermarket nearby.

I was floating through the aisle stacking our shopping cart with pretzels and cookies lost in a cloud of weed smoke. That’s when I heard Liz—stop short…

‘Fuck, Lawrence dude… check them out –‘

She jabbed in my side and pointed to the cashier at the front of the store. And right then I saw them. Two massive bodybuilders unloading their cart and checking out.

They were a couple, African American, he was huge. Obviously pro level and wore a tight tank top, his arms so big and ripped they actually blocked my view of the cashier.  But it wasn’t him I was looking at. It was the girl standing next to him. An obvious bodybuilder herself. She was pretty with high cheekbones and her long hair gathered under a baseball cap

But dear lord, it was her body that stopped me in my tracks. She was wearing a tight black spandex dress revealing her massive muscular arms and big thick delts which gave her waist a tiny, tiny appearance. The dress exposed her back which rippled with muscle as she helped her boyfriend unload their cart.

It was late Saturday night, and this dou was obviously restocking, their cart was piled high with package after package of frozen chicken breasts, dozens of cartons of eggs and enough gallons of to water hydrate an army. Or maybe just them.

The entire store was watching them. They moved slowly and deliberately. The cashier seemed to be nervous around them. He was quiet, but I noticed she was talkative and friendly to the cashier, appearing to put her at ease. I stood frozen. The weed was clouding my brain, but I couldn’t help but watch them –

Unbeknownst to me, Lizzy ran up beside me.  ‘Look at them – ‘ she said slapping my arm. This time they spun around having obviously heard us. Lizzy dumbly stared. I tried my best to look at some stupid magazine at the counter, but they had obviously heard us. Thee dude stared daggers at me, but the woman started smiling, maybe that’s what she did. Her natural women’s instinct offsetting her man’s more aggressive nature.

They went back to their check out.

‘Fuck look at her arms.’ Lizzy said.
Shit. That did it. I just about came right there in line. She tugged at my arm.
‘Yeah – they are ripped.’ I said trying my best to seem ‘calm’ about the situation.

Soon Lizzy was back staring at a magazine as the bodybuilders had moved on and out of the store.

Later, as we piled into the car, I got another shot to see the two gym addicts. Across the lot, you couldn't miss them. Him, massive, piling gallon jugs of water into the car with ease. But it was her who was the most eye-catching, quickly lifting the same weight her large vein covered biceps straining, but her beautiful featured seeming to in no way show the strain. A single hair never out of place.

Lizzy spotted them to –
‘Look at the bodybuilder’ she said again.
Fuck! Even just her calling them out felt like it was bringing me a step closer to blowing a load. We watched them finish loading. Lizzy cracked open a bag of Pirates Booty she had purchased and started shoving it in her mouth.
‘I think I’m going to do that Lawrence. Start bodybuilding, huh?’
She said. Fuck… again, it felt like I was closer and closer to blowing one. This was my fantasy. Maybe I could get Lizzy into the gym with me on campus, who knows, after four good years of training – I could be walking around with my own Junior Mrs. Jones on my arm as we hit graduation.

‘Yeah… but I don’t know. I’m just kidding. Actually, I think it’s kind of gross.’
And there, my hopes were dashed.  Deflated. Lizzy shoved another handful of Pirates booty into her mouth.

That night when we fucked, and I should feel bad, as Lizzy peeled off her flowery underwear, I closed my eyes and brought back that mass of woman in the parking lot. As I closed my eyes and plunged myself deep into Lizzy, I couldn’t help but imagine. Lizzy’s frail, freckled arms transforming into the woman’s hard arms. Her thin back sprouting the thick lats and her sagging hips and buttocks transforming into the women’s massive rock hards orbs of glutes. In fact, as I closed my eyes, I could summon up the hardness I had felt so many years ago of Mrs. Jones’ jutting rock hard musculature forming under my hands. I came within moments. Crashing down next to Lizzie.

‘You were on fire.’ She said rolling over, taking a pull off the vape next to the bed. I groaned as Lizzy got up and got a grape soda out of my mini fridge I clooked her dimple ass, the sag already to starting to set in and the slight ripple of cellulite gathering even at this young age. Is this what the rest of my life had in store? Lizzy was a great girl, she was fun and outgoing, and she seemed to like me – but I just couldn’t imagine a life where  I was destined to remain forever unable to culminate my desires.

And as I adjusted to life on campus - I thought as far as my personal life, I was saying goodbye to the dream of ever actually having someone like Mrs. Jones back in my life again.

So you might ask where was Mrs. Jones during all this? After leaving town, I was able to keep abreast of what she was up to as this was the birth of the internet. I remember how my finger first quivered as I typed her name into the search bar on my parents’ old computer. After scrolling through a few names, a real estate agent from Sacramento and the widow of a World War 2 vet, I found her – Jinni Jones professional female bodybuilder. She had won a few shows, and her picture was included. My god. Time seemed to have no effect on her, I popped open image after image of the Divine Mrs. J on stage – her lat spread, thickly muscled thighs jutting out from her minuscule waist, embarrassing a poor competitor who looked at least a decade and a half younger than her on stage at a local show. Images from the posedown showed Jinni, a wide, inviting smile curling across her pink lips, her perfect white teeth offset against her coco-dark skin, literally owning this woman, who was a few inches taller than her, but looked like a twig as Mrs. Jones bounced her thickly muscled, vein-riddled bicep under the poor woman’s chin. A comparison of back shots continued to show the devastation – The thick mass of Mrs. Jones back loomed large like a silverback gorilla every single inch of the curved mass clearly visible under the under the stage lights. Mrs. Jones closest competitor looked like a grade schooler who was sent to play against the pros.

And I couldn’t help but imagine, this poor being’s drive home with her husband. Maybe it was his idea for her to do this, try a bodybuilding show, but here she had been clearly shown up by her physical superior. The woman looking down at her perfectly adequate toned arms. Later, as they fucked the husband imagining, Mrs. Jones, wife and mother, in place of his consolation prize.

And things continued like that, I was able to chart Jinni’s progress, even stumbling across a video recording on a shitty camera of her giving in an interview after a contest win. Framed above the neck, just her perfect all American features smiling, a few locks of hair falling in her eyes, as she talks about balancing a son, a husband, three hours training, two hours of cardio, meal prep tanning and training clients, like the superwoman she was. The only hint of her inhuman musculature, her thick traps, and neck which climbed into the frame, hinting at the superhuman mass below. And fuck, I was able to just come right to that, that’s the power she had, a video of her talking about grilling chicken and packing it in Tupperware was sexier to me than any porn film I had ever watched. I quickly burned the interview on a disc and hid it away for my use.

But that was two years ago, soon after that contest, all word of Mrs. Jones stopped. And the case went cold. I’d try searching her name. Her full name, her family, but it seemed like there was nothing new. I’d experienced this before with some other FBBs I was fans of. The sport is brutal and, and after a time in the sun, many seem to just disappear, perhaps out of modesty, maybe embarrassed about what their fans might say if they saw them without their superhero physiques, looking oh so human.

And that’s what I had assumed happened to Mrs. Jones. She had retired merely to return to life as a mom and a housewife. And in some ways I was okay with that, Mrs. Jones was my real life superhero, but I don’t know if that is why I kept thinking about her, she just had this way about her that made you instantly feel relaxed, she was still the coolest adult I had ever met and the only person who treated me like I had something to say. When she focused on you, you felt like you were the center of the world.

But maybe she was finally truly, gone.  I had given up hope of ever seeing her again in the flesh.

That is until… One day –

[009eli]

Here's a ling to the earlier story line where Lawrence meets Mrs J if anyone is interested:

http://saradas.org/index.php?topic=485506.0

[Absfan01]

oh my...
when ur searching for an huge cliffhanger of a story you will find a link to this story

 

[QBikk]

Wow! You did it that's great! Nice continuation. I can't wait to read what's coming up

[nyfiken]

I love it.
k+

[Frenchguy]

 
Awesome

[Jimthehunter54]

My interest is peaked
K+

[hamhard91]

And?? Make me want to know what happen.

[009eli]

Hey -- thanks everyone for the comments and feedback. Sorry I left y'all with such a cliffhanger but glad to see people wanting more. Here's the latest chapter. Pls comment or give feedback.

Also I was trying to write  smaller chapters but just seems I get carried away so sorry about the length but Ill break it up into two parts so its easier to scroll through. Thanks to everyone whose taken the time out to read and comment.

Mrs. Jones: The College Years

CHAPTER 1

I had dodged my first class, having slept in after a particularly brutal soccer practice – shooting texts back and forth I was going to meet with Lizzy for lunch at the comm when I had my computer out and was dicking around on Facebook.

I’m not sure why I was scrolling through my friends when along the sidebar I saw the ‘People you may know feed—‘ which I had typically found to be full of those old friends you don’t correspond with because you never really enjoyed them even when you were in there life. And it was there I saw along the side of the page –

‘Jinni H.’ the small avatar of the women’s face was hard to make out. Pretty, a little older, deep riveting blue eyes.

Mrs. Jones?

I just had a feeling but wasn’t sure. But also, how many jinnis are there?  I clicked on the profile “SHIT!’ Private but… scrolling along the side, I saw ‘this person is also friends with… Sebastian Jones.’

WTF? This… had to be her. I looked at my phone. I had to meet with Lizzy in about twenty minutes, but the suspense was killing me. My palms started sweating. It had been nearly five years since I had talked to Mrs. Jones after the incident at the beach and never got to talk to her or express how sorry I felt about how she was treated. I was sweating – I had to at least take a shot. I opened up a message box and typed in –

‘Are you the – ‘
But quickly chickened out and closed it. What was I going to say to her, she was so refreshing, so perfect and I was just a lame 18 yr. old? But still, I couldn’t focus on anything else.
‘Is this Mrs.—’?
I lost my nerve and quit again. What was wrong with me? But I took one last shot.
I opened the MSG box and typed ‘Would you by any chance happen to be Mrs. J—‘

And right then Roger my roommate walked in with his girlfriend Amber, an overweight girl who wore t-shirts with fairies on them. They were both drinking big gulps.

‘Amber and I are going to try out my new rumble seat.’ He announced for no reason.

‘Hi, Lawrence. How’s Lizzy?’ Amber asked as she sat down next to Roger.
I had thrown my laptop across my bed in the panic when I heard the door open.

‘Fine—Fine’ I stammered out.

Both looked at me wondering why I was sitting on the bed looking like I had just seen a ghost.

I looked back at my phone. I had to go. I picked up my laptop to shut it down fearing that perhaps someone may take a look at what I was looking at, out or my browser history and that’s when I saw --

‘I am.’
‘It is.’
‘By chance it is me—‘

Msgs spilling into my inbox. Shit! I hadn’t closed out of those msgs! I’d sent them! Like a total dumbass! And here she was replying on the other end. Mrs. Jones!

Talking to me!

‘Lawrence is that you – ‘ came the next text.
Fuck my heart was beating… after all these years I was back in communication with Mrs. Jones.

I had to construct the perfect response. I thought long and hard –

‘It’s me. Lawrence’ I wrote back.

Fuck! That wasn’t it.

‘Duh.’ Came the reply. Followed by a smiling emoticon, which managed to diffuse some of the tension.

‘How goes your life?’ came the next reply.

Even the idea of her toned, muscular fingers typing made me feel electric. Did Jinni type with more force than the average woman? More stamina? Or was it again, one of those aspects a goddess like her had to pull back to exist in this world amongst us mere mortals.

I hesitated. What should I tell her?  I needed to be cool.

I began to type ‘Goo—‘

But right then my cell blasted. It was Lizzy.

‘You coming? Or am I getting stood up.’ Shit. I had gotten so caught up in finding out Mrs. Jones was on Facebook that I had forgotten.

‘I’m just kind of sitting here thinking about you ditching me’ Lizzy bleeped again. I needed to go. I told myself I get back later tonight and finish my correspondence with the Jinni, maybe not hitting her back immediately might make me seem more exclusive.

I went to close my laptop right as Amber came out of Roger’s room.

‘That rumble seat is badass.’ She said as she reached past me to grab a soda out of our dorm fridge.

‘Oh yeah, it’s great…’ I said barely looking up.

‘You okay? You look flushed.’ She asked.

‘I’m good!’ I shouted, much too loud. I needed to get out of there. Whatever would happen going forward with Mrs. J, would happen. Besides. She was a married woman with a kid, and I was just some college kid who couldn’t even make varsity soccer.  What did I think would happen? Some romance? I’d once again get to feel that warm, armor bound muscled body against mine the same way I did all those years ago in her basement? I dashed that illusion from my mind.

I went to close my computer. But as I did, I saw those ‘….’ Which meant the person on the other end is typing. Within moments the reply came.
‘Not sure if you are still in Hawthorne but I’m coming back for a little. Love to see you.’
And then she included her phone number.

And a wink emoticon. A Mrs. Jones wink. My mind flashed back to all those sidelong, relaxed winks she used to send me back at our day on the beach – and suddenly I was back there. A fifth grader watching the most fantastic woman I have ever seen in the flesh slide off her sweatpants revealing her tanned taught heavyweight bodybuilder physique in all its bikini-clad glory.

My heart started to palpitate faster nearly beating out of chest… ‘Love to…’ I finally managed to type out. Moments later Roger came out to grab another soda.
‘He does look weird’ he yelled over his shoulder, ‘Bro, you sick? You sick I don’t want to catch anything, I have like three chem exams this week.’

I went over to the comm where Lizzy was waiting, but my head was spinning. I rushed through the lunch and ran back to text Jinni. 

I texted her later that night, and we set a plan, turns out she would be in town within the next week visiting old friends –

I stared at her photo there blinking in the tiny icon. That was it. No body shots. Nothing – I wondered had Mrs. Jones retired from the sport. Looking at the photo, I couldn’t tell. I went to hit the friend request button but hesitated. Lizzy was on my page and Roger. What would my friends think if they saw that I was friends with a jacked out of her mind 40 year old with a kid? I paused thinking better of it but also feeling slightly guilty.

The time until our date couldn’t fly by fast enough. Jinni said she’d be in town this weekend!.

The next few days of the week couldn’t fly by fast enough. Until the day finally arrived Lizzy had pushed wanting to hang out together but I hastily made an excuse.

“A family friend is in town, and I need to go see her,” I said. Technically not a lie.

“Wow… sounds super fun.” She said sarcastically, and I was in such a state of excitement about the afternoon that I let it slide.

“Well call me when you get back, maybe we can hang out later.” She said before I left.

“Yep, sure,” I said back trying to extricate myself as much as I could from the situation. I didn’t want to hurt or be mean to Lizzy, but ever since reconnecting with Mrs. J online she was all that I could think about.

Mrs. Jones sent me the information for the hotel she was staying at.  Driving over
I couldn’t help coming back to those few days I spent in the presence of Mrs. J. She haunted me. The smell of her hair mixed with the warm, soft scent of the suntan lotion brought me back to being carried to the Urgent Care in her arms. The soft flexations of hard peaked biceps pressing into my neck as well as the course mixture of salt and sand on her abdomen which due to its rock hard eight back had rubbed and chaffed into my sides as she cradled me. I nearly drove into the next lane as I pulled up to the hotel. A loud honk from an oncoming car one of the only things bringing back into the present.

Arriving at the hotel – I didn’t know what to expect. I hadn’t seen Jinni is over 5 years. Had she changed? Probably. I wasn’t sure what to expect and consoled myself pretty sure she had let her love of the sport go the way I had seen so many other ladies. Hitting retirement.

I entered the lobby of the sizeable elegant hotel and scanned the place. It was busy. A favorite spot for business meetings during the day – I scanned the crowd for any sign of Jinni.

I moved across the lobby and then saw – A smiling face waving in my direction. A few years older, and a few lines of wrinkles and a softness. She waved enthusiastically back  and rose to greet me. When standing up, I could see her now wearing one of those pantsuits older women wore, her body was soft, not at all the heavy armor plated musculature I had seen in my youth. It looks like my suspicions were correct. Jinni had given up the sport and settled into middle age. I in some ways didn’t really care though, I was just excited to see her. This was a woman who had made me feel so unique and who had such an intense manner of seeing inside at who you truly are, I quickly let my disappointment go and realized how excited I was to see her again –

‘Lawrence…’

I heard from behind and spun to see – I had somehow made a mistake. The initial women I had seen wasn’t, in fact, Mrs. Jones. Who was in fact…

Standing behind me?

(Continued)

[009eli]

I hardly got a chance to spin around before –

“Oh my god! It is you…” I heard her say. That honey soaked sweet accent and as I spun, I couldn’t help but notice.

My god. Mrs. Jones hadn’t given anything up. If anything she had double down.  Mrs. Jones brought her arm around to hug me and my mind flash taking in the rippled brown muscle meat of her thick arms. The blue vein splatter and the massive meat of her massive shoulders and finally as I was pulled in tight her embrace into the thick crevasse of her raised, perfectly delineated hard bolt chest.

My head was spinning from Mrs. Jones warm embrace as well as the sweet scent that seemed to waft from her – smelling like fresh linens on a summer day and  the warm heat that spilled off her body setting off from the thin paper thin skin the covered her bulging muscles allowing the warmth of her body to snake off with minimal interference.

As I pulled away, I got my first view, Mrs. Jones. Mrs. Jones today – she looked a little older in the face, but not much, perhaps just some of the small crinkles around her eyes had deepened, or maybe just looked that way due to her dark tan, which was dark as ever.  And her eyes, her eyes were bright and blue and soft and had that same aliveness, that manic glee she had always possessed.  And her hair was lighter now, going from a sandy blonde to a much lighter color that seemed to make her appear much younger then her years.

Sure Mrs. Jones was older then most people I knew. But she never seemed old, she carried herself with youth and vivaciousness that most people in their 20s didn’t even have. Her smile and plump pink lips curled around and exposed her pearl white teeth, bright white, but brighter perhaps more so due to her outrageous St. Tropez bronzed tan.

It was only then as my mind had floated back into my body that I was able to take in the rest of her. And I stumbled a bit as I did so – maybe giving her a ‘look over’ wasn’t such a good idea. Like I said before, my god – it didn’t seem as if Mrs. Jones had stopped anything. It looked like she had doubled her efforts.

Mrs. Jones was always big and thick. A middleweight BB tipping the scales at around 140/150 lbs. of rock-solid muscle. But if anything she seemed to have gotten if not bigger. Better. Denser. Everything sat hard on her small frame and seemed to fill every. Square. Inch. Of her body with muscle.

Jinni took my hand in her rather small, diminutive hand. The profound skin tone difference became readily apparent as I saw her dark tanned hand close over mine and she bounced on her platform wedge espadrilles.

She led me to the table we’d be sitting at and walked a few steps ahead of me. I have to tell you, Mrs. Jones was physical perfection from all angles, but her back was indeed something to behold.  She was wearing a summer dress, and it’s light blue, floral print played off amazingly against her flawless tanned skin. Highlighting it and seeming to make it even darker.

If Mrs. Jones front side was all thick pec, rounded shoulders bulging with power, her back echoed that, in some ways appearing the most significant part of her body. The thick meaty swelled of her traps pressing up and looking grafted onto her neck. Uncomfortably so. In fact, the whole swell and expanse of Mrs. J’s back almost did appear uncomfortable, awkward as if someone had played a joke affixing a mass of muscle far too big for the smaller women to deal with. The thick meat of her mid back thickness pressed out while the bulging beef of the outer part, and undersides of her lats pressing into and straining against the lower part of her dress. It’s fleshy muscle meat digging into the fabric, bubbling out while it pushed her arms up and out at weird angles making them spread like wings and, causing her to almost appear to struggle with the simple act of walking.

I followed closely behind and as I did I could see the looks and expressions on everyone we passed. And I was quickly reminded that of the hubbub that followed Mrs. Jones everywhere she went—

As my eyes lingered on her back, I couldn’t help but put together how relatively petite Mrs. Jones actual frame was minus the bulging musculature. And how the dress was relatively small as it only had to fit around her trim waist and I could figure that she had in fact purchased in asmaller size as the dress clung to her relatively petite frame and stopped at her back, allowing the thick swells of muscle meat to pop out.

“Too big…” I saw one of the women at a nearby table mouth to her companion and then go back to eating her lunch. I felt an immediately pulsing shock charge of excitement flush through my body. I forgot what it was like to be in around Mrs. Jones’ sphere. It seemed to send a charged shack of electricity everywhere she went. I remembered hearing someplace that men derive their power by what they do and
women derive their power by how they are observed and if that was the case then Mrs. Jones sheer obvious dedication to her body and her physical form, the discipline that was wrought on the absolute physical power she displayed by every one of her movements, meant that in a room she becomes the focal point. And some women could be jealous while as I observed at the beach others seemed to fall under her power and sway –

We were lead to our table.

Sitting down at the high top table I couldn’t help but notice, Mrs. Jones thick quads and thighs, no doubt due to the highly developed nature of her chiseled inner thighs were so packed with muscle that she couldn’t cross them in the more demure style most women would choose to do in a short dress like  the one she was wearing. Instead she had to settle for crossing them at her ankles. Wrapping her relatively small ankles around one another and balancing the bottom of her wedged heels on the base of the chair. The action caused her thick vein splattered calves to force together at the base . I couldn’t help but notice the hardness of her calves caused them to push hard, forced together with little to no give, the vein splattered meat forcing into one another.

As the waiter crossed hurriedly over to take our order, I should have of course guessed that he would know Mrs. Jones.

‘Jinni- he said waving enthusiastically as he made his way over to our table.”

“Richard!” She chirped giving him a broad, inviting smile, and I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy as I observed her. Mrs. Jones was so kind, so warm it lead to a natural charisma. When you were around it and focused on you, she made you feel as if you were the only person in the world and amazing that such a fantastic creature was focused solely on you, but when you saw it turned to others, you couldn’t help but be jealous and wish for its intense glare to be focused back on you.

“Well, you be having your usual?” The waiter asked as he bounced on his feet and primped adjusting the few remaining stands of hair on the top of his head.

“Oh… don’t know… Should I be good or bad today.” Mrs. Jones said with a mischievous grin dancing around her deep blue eyes.

And the waiter laughed along. I don’t know why. Nothing she said was funny. And I was immediately annoyed.

‘Oh sigh… Let's be good.” She finally answered.

“And a glass of white?” the waiter asked to which Mrs. Jones seemed to turn this question over with a graveness in her mind, no doubt doing the lightning-fast calculation of if she needed the excess calories the alcohol would bring.

“White. But one glass. You make me do the worst things, Richard.” She finally said. And Richard the waiter grinned and I couldn’t help but notice start blushing under the intense glare of Mrs. Jones full 100-kilowatt smile.

“Oh and… I’ve been doing the curls like you told me.” The waiter said before heading out.

“Hammer curls?” Mrs. J asked, pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes with a particular intensity which I read to mean regarding the seriousness she took regarding all things working out related. She seemed to switch gears going from giddy housewife out for a wine date, too focused professional.

“Uh huh.” The waiter said proudly and then cocked his arm, flexing a bicep peak that barely seemed to dent the bagginess of his white dress shirt.

“Not bad.” Jinni cooed giving the guy a squeeze. “We may have to train together.” She said and then slowly curled her arm back, the small bracelets along her delicate wrist jangling slightly and then tightened her fist and, giving her arm a squeeze and in an action that almost seemed to surprise herself popped her arm up into a flex. I noticed the bicep tighten and the pop up high and hard into a peak that seemed to stretch Mrs. J’s dark tanned skin, splitting it’s peak in two as the thick blue vein on top seemed to pulse invitingly.

My mouth went dry, and if this had been a movie, the move would have been accompanied by one of those cheesy record scratch sounds. It seemed that the muscle flex had not just brought the waiters attention. It had brought everyone else’s’ attention in the entire place. Heads in nearby tables seemed to crane to take a look at the highly unusual move of this buffed up lady so arrogantly flexing her muscles in public seemed to rip straight through some kind of social fabric and call attention to all in the room. All that was except for Mrs. Jones who was holding the hard flex of her diamond peaked biceps under the waiter's eyes.

It was hard to know exactly what to do next as I could see the waiter quivering with the tantalizing muscle just inches away, it seemed like Mrs. Jones was inviting him to feel it, but social mores probably prevented him from doing it. And for a few moments, I genuinely felt bad for the guy and luckily after what was only a few secons (but seemed) much longer, Mrs. Jones uncocked her arm, and the waiter seemed to snap back to life coming back into his body.

“I’ll get you- your wine.” He said –

“Wait. Wait….” Jinni called after him. “My friend’s order.” She said indicating me as the waiter had completely blind spotted me.

“Right. Right and yes, what would you like.” He said to me gruffly, no doubt turning the same sort of begrudgement that I had focused on him just moments earlier.

I had been debating in my head about what to get. I was no doubt famished, and the hamburger sounded great, but I just couldn’t do it in front of Mrs. Jones. I wanted to impress her so much, I knew I had no chance with her. This older sexy but still cute as a button woman who was the center of attention wherever her muscle bound legs took her, but still I couldn’t sit across from her eating a hamburger.

“I’ll take the turkey meatloaf…” I finally said. ‘With a side salad.’

The waiter quickly snapped the menu from me and headed off.

Soon the conversation turned back to what we both had been doing in the intervening years.

“Whelp, no more Mrs. Jones,” Jinni said somewhat mischievously and flashed her hand where her wedding ring might be but  only now sported the light colored band of exposed pale skin left from years of wearing it.

“Oh… I’m sorry – “ I said confused and thinking for a moment she was maybe hinting that her husband passed away, which Mrs. Jones quickly picked up on.

“No… Silly…. Bill and I are divorced. But it was amicable.”

I told her I was sorry. I genuinely was ,they had seemed like such a happy couple, and I couldn’t help but ask what had happened despite this may be coming across as rude.

“We met in high school… even younger then you are now…” She said kindly and patted the back of my hand in a way that was supposed to connote understanding and being maternal but sent ripples of excitement through my body.

“And well… let’s just say we changed. He changed. I changed…”

My god had Mrs. Jones changed. I remembered the photos I had seen back in her house. Mrs. Jones had started out as cute, but a somewhat unremarkable housewife and then from years of dedication morphed into a Greek Godess. As I parsed her language, I couldn’t help but scan for subtext. There was something she wasn’t saying. Did Mrs. J’s transformation into a glamazon somehow impede their marriage? Her hours at the gym brutalizing her body? The draconian diet… had it been too much for a mere mortal man? Or was it something else, had Mrs. Jones chosen to leave?

But soon my mental wheels were brought back by another touch on the hand from Mrs. J’s small but powerfully muscled and manicured hands. This time cupping my left hand in both her hands. The undersides of which I could feel were incredibly warm but with undeniable power. A few small calluses no doubt the result of swinging around mammoth weights on a daily basis.

“So Lawrence tell me about you…”

I told her about college – and soon our food arrived. And I couldn’t help but marvel as Mrs. Jones made her way through her salad, daintily eating it and picking a few strips of chicken from the side of protein she had ordered, her biceps slowly popping occasionally as she brought the small pieces of chicken up her lips, light flexations of her jaw muscles dancing.

She stared intensely at me. At times tilting her head to the side as if indicating just how deep her focus was and as I talked about adjusting to college. Mrs. J continued to stare at me, an occasional twinkly dancing behind her eyes, the curl of a smile and I felt as if for a few moments I was the most important person in the world. Her focus fixed exclusively on me.

As I talked, I had no idea of the time, and I could feel myself get sucked into her spell again. The spell of Jinni Jones. I wouldn’t have been surprised if hours had passed in the span of what only felt like moments.

We paid our bill, with me trying to pay for my part and Jinni insisting that she cover it and as did, laying down her credit card I couldn’t help but see she had one of those fancy silver cards I remember my dad talking about. The kind only given to people who spend 100k of year and I quickly did the math, Bill Jones – Jinni’s ex-husband had been a huge deal in tech, selling not one but two companies for huge sums – when Mrs. J negotiated her divorce it was no doubt that a woman like this secured an agreement to make sure she was well taken care of for the rest of her life.

As we made our way from the table, the waiter sai waved a farwell to Mrs. Jones saying he hoped she would come back soon. I only got a cursory goodbye.

“Walk with me to my car, okay Lawrence?” She said as we walked out of the restaurant. From Mrs. Jones, it was less of a question and more a statement knowing that I and the full world did what she said. And went along with it happily.

As we walked down to the parking structure to retrieve her car Mrs. J wrapped her arm around mine and momentarily rested her head on my shoulder. After that, there was no way to say no.

I couldn’t help but read the gesture as only what it was, incredibly warm and caring. But to me, there was an intimacy that was rousing. Despite her raised wedged Mrs. Jones was about a head smaller, and despite her hulking musculature, she had a way of totally making you feel you wanted to take care of her. Protect her. I couldn’t help but see why every man fell at her feet.

“So… let’s talk about the ladies Lawrence…” She said, looking up at me and batting her big blue eyes. From my vantage point I followed her eyes and followed a line down to the top of her dress, her muscular brown cleavage, the light fluttering of the veins from her light body fat and even on down further as I could see she wasn’t wearing a bra, no doubt due to the lack of fatty breast tissue. And as she walked the movement of the dress swaying would occasionally cause it to brush down and away slightly giving a quick view of her nipple. It was so odd, soft… and normal. It looked like Lizzy’s, it was such a wild contrast to see this accruement of average femininity on Mrs. Jones. I guess in my mind she had ascended to such a goddess like status that I forget she had something as ordinary as nipples! My body once again charged with electricity.

And my eyes once again found Mrs. Jones who was still staring up at me. I’m not sure she had even seen my momentary indiscretion. Or cared if she had. She had such a natural way of letting you look at her and her physicality that she would no doubt laugh it off if she did, in fact, catch me.

“So… any girls. Come on there’s no way a handsome fellow such as yourself is single.” The compliment was playful but was so satisfying I felt as if I didn’t need anything else in the world.

“Yes—yes there’s someone… A girl… Lizzy.” I finally managed to stammer still recovering from Mrs. J’s compliment.

“Good… I hope she treats you right. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to have a word with her.” She said laughing with a sly grin. And I again felt a lightning bolt course through my body as the image of Mrs. Jones with 20+yrs on her standing over the thinner but younger Lizzy flashed in my mind. Jinni embarrassing the younger girl with her sheer unbridled power. I shot back to present, weirded out and a bit embarrassed I had even had the thought. I like Lizzy as a person, but I couldn’t figure out why the idea of Mrs. Jones embarrassing her with her physical superiority excited me to such a degree. And as I try to get ahold of my breathing I felt a bit ashamed.

We stopped at Mrs. Jones new car. A sleek white Porsche Cayenne a trade up I thought from the Mercedes SUV. And I couldn’t help but think how fitting this car was for her. A perfect match of man and machine. Of course, Mrs. Jones body called out for the well crafted German engineering.  A Porsche was perfect for her. Compact but powerful.

Mrs. Jones through her purse in the back of the car –

“Look Lawrence I—“ She stopped and now she looked, for one of the first times a bit awkward and unsure of herself. I couldn’t believe it. The flash of insecurity, on some may have come across as unattractive, but on Mrs. Jones, this moment of brief vulnerability only made her more attractive in my eyes.

She took my hands in hers as she stood across from me. And I momentarily looked down at her small hands. Small but streaked with blue veins from her muscularity, which curled up, to her thick forearms.

“That day on the beach… the volleyball game you know I—I just felt so bad. So bad about what happened. You know I would never do anything to knowingly hurt you…” She said as she looked deep into my eyes and I felt as if I might fall forward due to the tractor beam-like pull of her gaze.

“No- no of course not.” I managed to stammer out.

“I always – well I always – you were always one of my favs…” She said no doubt indicating the group Sebastian’s friends. And again I felt a tingle in my spine.

“And I wouldn’t ever want you to think I could do that. And I feel bad about the way everything happened… but… I have an idea of how maybe we can make it up.”

She said bouncing slightly, and I could hear the squeak as she rocked her powerful calves forward and back in her wedges.

“If I know college students you’d probably love to make a little money on the side. A Fitness Convention is coming up next weekend, and I have to work a booth to work, I used to rope Sebastian into doing them, but he’s a bit too far away, and well Bill used to help out but… yeah, that’s not happening. It would be helping set up, sell some photos and give out samples of the supplement companies that sponsor me. I could pay you two hundred bucks for the day. “

She smiled brightly at me.

“What do you say? Is two hundred bucks worth it to hang out with a boring old housewife?” She said again flashing me a wink.

[QBikk]

Boom!! Great chapter, it was easily worth the wait... Well done!

[Absfan01]

 

sooo good.....

[xepha]

Nice!  Love the buildup.  K+ 88

[QBikk]

BTW: I'm really curious how the relationship with Lizzy will develop. Because she knows she's there. Will Lizzy meet her and leave? Will she be as mesmerized as he is and decide to dig in for his greatest joy.... I can't wait to read what will happen, great plot!!

[musclelvr56]

  great!