The Barmaid (My 1st attempt at writing)

[Edhellion]

Hi there, been a long-time fan of the site and decided to try my hand at writing a story. Hope you enjoy!

The Barmaid

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had this thing for strong women, but unfortunately I’d never encountered one in real life. One day while waiting for class, though, I overheard two of my classmates talking about the new barmaid. At first I didn’t mind, thinking this must be just another one of those gals with a pretty face and a nice figure you can find all over Insta****, but my interest was piqued when I overheard the following snippet:
   “No, I’m telling you man, she’s really strong. I actually saw her lifting those beer kegs over the doorstep while she was rolling them in. Not empty ones, mind you,” this guy, Adam, said.
   I pretended not to mind their conversation but turned down the volume of the Arctic Monkeys on my air pods. I kept scrolling through my boring Facebook feed, but was actually paying close attention when the other guy, Michael,  said that Adam must have been drunk or otherwise mistaken, because even strong guys had trouble lifting a full beer keg.
   “Besides, she looks buff but not necessarily muscular,” Michael said.
   “I know, right, she’s not one of those strong women you see on tv, with more muscles than curves. In fact, she has a really nice figure, but I wouldn’t want to get in a fight with her. She’s new in town, but I bet we’ll be seeing her at the gym soon enough and if I’m not mistaken, she’s gonna impress the men there.” It was the first time I had ever heard a boy my age talking in an admiring way about a strong girl and it made me feel less of a freak, but I still didn’t dare to break into their conversation. “I’m sure my brother Barry will try to get a date with her. She’s a bit too old for us, I guess, but she seems really nice and since she’s new in town, someone will have to show her around.”
   “I would never date a woman stronger than me,” his pal said.
   “No, me neither,” Adam quickly said, but I could tell that he was just unwilling to admit that the thought had fascinated him as it had fascinated me. “I’m into fit girls, but at some point they always seem to take it too far and they lose their curves.”
   I had to restrain myself from openly disagreeing with him.
   “Yeah and I wouldn’t want myself a girl with hairy arms,” Michael joked.
   These prejudices were so outdated that I almost spoke up, but being a rather shy guy, I said nothing and only resolved to go to the bar that evening to check out the girl. At home I stood in front of the mirror and flexed some of my muscles, but I’m afraid I’m quite a scrawny guy and often ashamed of my body. It was one of the reasons why I’d never considered dating a muscle-girl: I just wasn’t sure whether a really fit chick would be into a guy who had hardly ever worked out. Myself, I’m more of a bookworm and I just thought that women weren’t into weaker guys. Yet I longed for a woman who was actually stronger than me, though I was not into femdom. I didn’t want to be humiliated, I just wanted someone I could admire.
   That evening I could hardly eat, because I was so nervous about finally seeing a really strong girl. I was already taking into account that I might be heavily disappointed. After all, what girl could actually lift full beer kegs. I decided to google how much one weighed and found that it was over 160 lbs. Maybe Michael had been exaggerating with guys having trouble lifting one, but I would definitely like to see a girl picking one up. I tried to envisage what it would look like and got hard.
   I went to the place at nine o’clock and as soon as I entered I looked behind the bar. I’d indeed never seen this barmaid before and I definitely would have remembered if I had. She stood almost 6 feet tall and I could see even from a distance that she was on the heavy side. I hoped most of that weight was muscle, but had to get a closer view to find out. I sat down on a stool and ordered a beer, paying close attention when she pulled the tap. My heart jumped as I saw a small ball form on her upper arm as she pulled and I knew I wanted to make an impression on her. She had her hair in a ponytail and was wearing a short-sleeved Nirvana shirt, which was one of my favourite bands. As she adjusted her hair, I watched carefully and saw the muscles on her shoulders and arm dancing. For a moment I thought she had noticed me watching her and I immediately averted my eyes, afraid to be taken for a pervert. I drank my beer to calm down my nerves but felt my head getting beet-red. I was afraid she had noticed me watching and would make fun of me, but when she came over, she just placed her two hands on the bar, quite wide apart, accentuating the tone in her arms. I wondered whether she was doing so on purpose, when I heard some loud noises behind me.
   Turned out two guys were having an argument and they were both obviously drunk. They were drawing the attention of the entire establishment and I looked over my shoulder as well, having momentarily forgotten all about the barmaid. She then reappeared in my range of vision, however, taking firm strides towards the two men and telling them to shut up or leave the place. It was the first look I got of her legs. She was wearing tight-fitting jeans and I could see that her legs were very big. I wondered whether I would dare to ask her how much she squatted.
   “Fuck off, bitch!” one of the arguing men said.
   He should not have done so, as the barmaid was now standing right in front of him, looking him straight in the eyes and asking him: “What did you call me?” The entire bar had gone silent and everybody watched with anticipation and concern, as the guy was obviously drunk and therefore unpredictable. He repeated his words and the barmaid told him that he should leave the place at that moment if he knew what was best for him. I wasn’t sure I was awake, as this was the kind of situation I had dreamt about quite often. In those dreams, the barmaid, at this particular point, would either flex her muscles to impress the guy or she would punch him in the gut or in the face. No such thing happened, though, but the drunk guy took a swing at her face. I almost looked away, not wanting to see either my dream or her face shattered, but I was glad I didn’t, as she deftly dodged the punch.
   “I told you to leave, didn’t I?” she asked, as he swayed on his feet.
   The barmaid now took a step forward, grabbed the man’s right arm, and when standing behind him, twisted it, like I had seen it done in movies. The man let out a scream, indicating that she was actually hurting him and I felt the urge to cheer out for her. No one said anything, however, as the girl now took firm steps towards the door, forcing the man in front of her, because she still had his arm in this painful hold. It was the first look I gained of her backside and I noticed that her ass was round and her hips wide, but not in the way of an obese woman’s. I would have given a lot to touch that ass at that moment, but knew that was out of bounds. Besides, it might cause her to do to me the thing she just now did to the drunk.
   The door was opened for her by a helpful customer and she pushed the drunk into the street, where he stumbled and fell on the ground.
   The entire bar then cheered and that was the moment at which she flexed her biceps, as a sign of triumph. Her arms were big, maybe as big around as my father’s when he flexed, and there was quite some definition to it. I could only stare in awe and after moment I realised my mouth was hanging open.
   She glanced in my direction and a smile formed on her face, but I had no idea what this smile meant. I felt caught in the act by her and hoped she didn’t disapprove of this act.

[watson2022]

Awesome first part. Hope more to come. She sounds incredible.

[Edhellion]

As she returned to her place behind the bar, she walked past me and I took the opportunity to pat her on the shoulder for a job well done, but especially because I really wanted to touch that shoulder. It felt firm beneath my hands, even though the shoulder cap was well rounded, more firm than the shoulders of the boys my age (I was sixteen years old).
   I guessed she must be somewhere in her late teens or early twenties and she had a pretty face, with sparkly eyes and a mouth made for laughing, but she also exuded confidence and she carried her bulk elegantly, which I thought, and hoped, must mean that it was mostly muscle. Her breasts were quite big but looked firm as she walked and her ass I’ve already described.
   When she had taken place behind the bar again, one of the college students told her to drink one on his tab and I was jealous as she showed just a bit too much gratitude in my opinion. For, though I knew she was way out of my league, I didn’t like the idea of seeing her dating another boy. I was pretty sure other guys just couldn’t admire her the way I could.
   She poured a glass of bourbon for herself, though, toasted with the guy who’d offered it to her and then took it down in one go. The guy showed his appreciation and they got into a conversation, so that my whole reason for coming to the bar was now distracted and paid me no attention at all. Or was she? Because sometimes I almost got the impression that I caught a furtive glance from her from the corner of my eyes. Then again, of course she was paying attention, as it was her job to look after her customers.
   At one point, the barmaid and the guy shook hands to introduce themselves to each other and I heard that her name was Emily and that she was originally not from around here, but was from the big city. She wanted to become a personal trainer or maybe even an influencer, but there was too much competition in her city, so she had come to a quieter place. I was afraid the guy was gonna ask her all the right questions and pay her all the attention that was needed to make her feel attracted to him and I considered paying my tab and leaving for home disappointed.
   But then my luck changed, as the guy was tapped on his shoulder by a stunning redhead who turned out to be his girlfriend. I now understood that he was just a player and that he wasn’t particularly interested in Emily but just wanted to see whether she would feel attracted to him. Sometimes I just didn’t understand the rules and regulations of the games that adolescents were playing with the other sex and this proved just such an instance.
   I raised my hand to signal that I wanted to order another round and like the other guy had done, I offered Emily one as well. She accepted and poured herself another bourbon, which she once again downed in one go. I began to suspect that she was one of those girls who like to hang out with boys rather than with other girls.
   “So, your name’s Emily, I heard?” I asked, hoping she wouldn’t mind I had listened in on her conversation.
   “That’s right. I’m new in this town, so I don’t really know anyone yet, but I bet the folks in this bar will be talking for some days about the way I handled that drunk.”
   “Oh, you bet,” I answered. “You handled him really well. He had no right to call you a bitch, but I hadn’t expected you to be a bouncer as well as a barmaid.” Then I took my chance and added: “I already guessed that you work out, but are you also into combat sports?”
   She blushed as though she were uncertain and answered: “I sometimes do kickboxing for cardio, but I also like to hit the weights.”
   “That’s so cool,” I answered. “Some guys say a girl shouldn’t lift heavy, but I think she should if she wants to.”
   “Aw really, that’s cute,” she said.
   “I also happened to overhear that you’re a personal trainer, but what exactly does that mean? Do you work in a gym?”
   “I used to work in one, but I now mostly go outside with women who want to get into shape. I’ve always been into sports. I used to do athletics, then switched to cross fit and now I hope to inspire other women.”
   “Someone should have filmed the way you threw out that guy. It looked very inspirational, even for me as a man.”
   “You really like to throw out compliments, don’t you?”
   “Guilty as charged.”
   “So how about you? Why don’t you tell me more about yourself,” she said, while she poured in a beer for another guy.
   “Me? Oh, there’s not much to say. My name’s Jeremy and I’ve been living in this town my whole life.”
   It felt very comfortable talking to her. The hardest part was keeping my eyes fixed on her face, as she was constantly moving about, pouring in beer or cleaning the bar and every movement showed those nice toned muscles in action. I wouldn’t have minded some personal training from her, but she’d specifically mentioned working with women. From the way she kept talking with me, however, I felt that she might actually like me.
   “Sounds boring. Are you into sports as well? I’m trying to find out about all the sports facilities in this town and I need a local to do that.”
   “Well, I might not be the right person for that. I used to be in athletics when I was a kid, but nowadays I only play the occasional game of basketball.”
   “A background in athletics is great. It’s really all-round and I’m still profiting from it. You can’t go into cross fit unless you have some stamina as well as strength and athletics has given me both.”
   “Do you train only women?” I asked.
   “Well, I train the occasional man, but my specialty is the sculpting of the female body, which has a different aesthetic than the male.”
   “Sure, but could you do it? Like, if I wanted a personal trainer?”
   She asked me to stand up so she could take a closer look at my body and I did so ashamedly. It felt like she was inspecting me and I was painfully aware that her arms and legs were obviously thicker than mine. Like I said, I’m quite scrawny and I knew that my body must be a letdown for her, even if she had had an interest in me. She walked from behind the bar and actually felt my arms and my butt, as she was sizing me up.
   “You could use a good work-out, but it seems your muscles are supple and lean. I bet you’d make a good long-distance runner.”
   I gratefully accepted the compliment but asked her whether she could train me in that, or that she was only into cross fit now.
   “Oh, I could train you but they’ve got apps for that nowadays, you know. Running’s easy, you need to just buy the right materials and set yourself a target. There are many apps that can chart your progress. The only other thing you need is motivation.”
   “Yeah, I could really use a lot more of that: motivation. I’ve got a nice pair of running shoes and the weather here’s usually pretty good, but I could really do with a companion.”
   “Are you suggesting you want to go running with me?” She looked at me with a semi-defiant look, but there was also a smile playing around her mouth. “I’ve got to warn you that if you’re just a beginner, you probably couldn’t keep up with me. I’m sure you think I’m a big girl, so that I won’t be able to run very fast, but as a cross fit athlete most of my weight’s muscle and like I said, I do kickboxing for cardio, which is pretty intense. I guess it might be okay if you wanted to run with me a couple of times, though. That way you could show me the way around this town and I could be your motivation to keep running.”
   “Deal!” I said. I loved the way she was talking about her body.
   “Back in the city I always woke up at six in the morning and I had my first clients around eight. I usually used the hour from seven to eight as a warming-up for the exercises. I would always join my clients in their work-outs and call it pride, but I always intend to lift just a little heavier than they did. It wasn’t always easy, especially when I trained the occasional man, but when I failed I would always set those weights as my next targets. I love to create challenges for myself.”
   “Wow, quite some dedication. But do you mean you lift as heavy as the men you train?”
   “No, I lift just a bit more than them. Don’t look so incredulous, it’s true!”
   She then rolled up her right shirt-sleeve and flexed her bicep. I’m not very good at estimating the size of muscles in inches, but there was a large ball forming on her upper arm, which moved as she twisted her fist around.
   It made me get a hard-on, but of course I didn’t tell her that.
   “Not bad for a girl, eh?” She asked.
   “Definitely not. Hell, there are few boys in this town with muscles like those! How long did it take you to get them and what does a regular workout look like for you? I mean you already told me that running for an hour is just a warm-up.” I was totally excited at finally talking with a strong girl.
   “Depends on what I focus on. I do a full-body workout only once a week. I train every day, though, as I become really grumpy when I don’t. All that’s in addition to working out with my clients.”
   “So you’re a real gym-rat. What’s your favourite muscle group? Your arms and shoulders look really impressive.” I didn’t mention that I had been checking out pictures of muscular women on the internet for quite some time and among those, there were certainly women much more muscular than Emily, but then there were also some among whom she would hold her own.
   “Like most women, I focus mostly on my legs. Squatting, leg press, leg curls, calf raises, the whole deal. Sometimes I work out so hard that I can hardly cycle home afterwards, but I push myself to anyway. You know what they say: no pain, no gain.”
   “So they say and your body is clearly a result of a lot of hard work and pain if I may say so. I admire women who are dedicated to working out, even though I myself do not. I think it’s kind of hot when a girl has muscles and yours certainly look good.” There, I’d said it, though I’d probably never have done so if I had been sober. I considered saying that I hadn’t meant it like that, except I knew that I had meant it exactly like that. At first she only smiled and I was afraid she was going to laugh at me.
   Instead she said: “That’s so cute, but I’d already guessed. I saw you ogling my biceps a couple of times and checking out my legs, but that’s okay. I would be lying if I said I don’t appreciate the compliment. You know, I’m always afraid guys find me too muscular and that I will never end up with a good man.”
   “What do you mean? I know plenty of sites on the internet in which female muscle is celebrated.”
   “You’re quite knowledgeable about that then. Do you visit those sites often yourself? I guess I’m asking you whether you have a fetish for female muscle.”
   I felt ashamed to admit it, but at the same time relieved that I could finally talk about it openly. By now, she had already guessed my hidden desires, so I might as well bring them out into the open. “Yes, I would really love to date a buff woman. She doesn’t need to be shredded, but just fit and bulky at the same time. If you were my age, I would immediately date you, but I’m only sixteen and you look to be a couple of years older, so I’m afraid I’m too young for you.”
   “Well, you are a cutie, so why don’t I take you out on a date and we go running together, as I suggested a couple of minutes ago. That way, we can get to know each other better and maybe you may even take me out on a date to a restaurant or whatever fancy thing you have in mind. I might even let you watch me work out, if you want to. I would say you might spot me, but I prefer not to use spotters. If a weight turns out to be too heavy, I rather like to use my willpower and determination. Besides, I’m not sure you’d be able to spot me with the weights I’m using anyway.”
   “Now you’re making me really curious,” I answered, liking the way this conversation was going. “What kind of weights are we talking about here? You just mentioned you like to lift heavier than the men you work with.”
   She laughed and said: “First of all, the men who hire me as a personal coach are usually the ones ashamed to visit the gym, so they’re not strong to begin with. I can squat 250 lbs for twenty reps, though and I do double that on the leg press. Mostly I like to work out with free weights. I’ve got dumbbells at home that go up to 100 lbs, but I can’t curl them yet. I sometimes use them for chest presses, and getting close to that level.”
   I was truly shocked. I had always thought that women this strong belonged only to the stories I read on the web. To hear that a woman could actually be this strong and still look very feminine (did I mention her nice breasts and curvy hips?) was like a wet dream for me. “Those are some serious numbers,” I said. “And yet you don’t look like a bodybuilder type. I mean, you sure do look very strong but I’d expect those numbers from a top level competitor, not some barmaid in a provincial town.”
   She laughed at me and said: “you sure do know your way around the lingo. How long have you been into types like me?”
   “Oh, as long as I can remember.
   “But have you ever dated anyone who was stronger than you?”
   “No, I’ve always been ashamed of this preference. I mean, the boys my age are all into the typical pretty American girl, like Taylor Swift and Ariana Grande. The big butts are of course still in fashion, but I guess muscle is this kind of fetish. Besides, the girls in this town like to keep fit, but hate to be considered bulky.”
   “Maybe I should change something about that around here,” Emily said. “You know, I liked it when you called me inspirational and I hope I can inspire the girls in this town to be proud of being muscular. I hate it when men decide what a woman should look like!”
   “So what type of man are you into? I’ve always wondered whether strong women prefer weaker men or equal partners or even stronger ones.”
   “Well, first of all: not all of us have the same taste.”
   “Sounds obvious. Yet what are you into?”
   “I like men who work out to take care of their body.”
   “Yes, but what kind of body does the man of your dreams have? I prefer my girls to be muscular yet feminine. I don’t like the types who juice themselves. That’s just not my taste.”
   “Well, fortunately for me, that’s a no-go for me as well.”
   “Those women with square jaws and hair on their arms give female muscle a bad name. I mean, I wouldn’t tell them not to look like that, it’s their choice, but it’s just not my taste.”
   Emily nodded and said: “Yeah, I don’t like the juicing types either. In my men I mean. I do like a guy who looks fit and I love a good six-pack, but I wouldn’t mind being able to defeat him in arm-wrestling now and then. For the most part, I’d just want him to support my quest for a well-trained body.”
   “Doesn’t seem you’d have much trouble finding such a guy.”
   “Oh, you’d be surprised. My life is dedicated to working out and a man in my life would have to be okay with always taking second place to that. I become unhappy when I don’t work out every day and I only quit when I’m exhausted, which sometimes takes hours.”
   “Sounds like you’re demanding a lot, not only from potential boyfriends, but especially from your own body.”
   “My body has never disappointed me or let me down. Boys, though, have. I’ve had my trouble with them. I’ve been in two serious relationships, but both guys ended up saying I was becoming too muscular, though they had both at first encouraged me to live my dream. The second one, in particular, just couldn’t stand that I did not simply follow his commands.”
   “Sounds like a jerk. I myself have had only one serious relationship. She was nice and all that, but I always dreamed that she would become muscular one day. When she didn’t, I felt I was cheating on her because I was always looking up fitness chicks on the internet.”
   “And did you? Cheat on her I mean?” And when I vehemently shook my head she continued: “No, I took you for too nice for that. But I know what it’s like to be in a relationship where your partner just isn’t the one.”
   “I’m just not certain I’ll ever find the right girl.”
   “Why not? You’re quite good-looking and a pleasant person to talk to.”
   “Yeah, but I fancy muscular women and I have hardly worked out a day in my life. You’re the first one to whom I’ve ever told this secret and it’s very cool of you, the way you react.”
   “Well, you can sit around feeling sorry for yourself for the rest of your life, or you could start working out tomorrow.” And she playfully punched me in my arm. “Tell you what, I’ll make you my special project. I will train you for free and you will show me around this town.” Then she put her face close to mine and whispered: “Who knows what it might end up like between us?”
   This was so exciting I tried to kiss her on her mouth right there.
   “Easy Romeo. I said ‘who knows.’ First we need to get your body into shape and I think I’m the right person to help you with that.”
   That’s how our secret tryst was formed and from that moment my life changed. It was that evening that I decided I would do whatever it took to make Emily mine. I would work out like a fiend if she wished it and I would admire her body as often as I could. The mere prospect of working out with her on daily basis was enough to get my juices flowing. Hell, I wanted to curl 100 pounds before she could, just to prove I was serious about making her mine!

[watson2022]

Just gets better and better. Incredible second part.

[Wookey]

Best story that have seen

[srielley]

Good story so far. Keep it up and I’ll wait for the next installment.

[wowser1016]

Really good work! Certainly interesting beginning and cannot wait for more description and story. Please continue. K+!