Soccer Sis tribute

[fp909]

Remember that I have a patreon with more stories like this! You are not allowed to view links. Register or Login
$10/month for 2 stories of the muscle variety!

This is sort of my tribute/continuation of "My Girlfriend's Little Sister" submitted to DTV way back in probably 2000, by IndustrialFlesh. (The site says 2015 but I've been on DTV since like 2001 and I've read all the good stuff). Back when everyone used AOL emails. Anyway if you haven't read it check it out (or read the attached file). It's very short but you'll see where I get a lot of my themes from and I refer back to this story a lot. This is a direct continuation, a few days after the events of the first story. It's weird to think that when this was written tech wasn't nearly what it is now, and there weren't widespread cell phones or tablets and the internet sucked, but I'm going to pretend that the original is happening around now instead of trying to remember what 2000 was like lol.

-------


Catherine and I ended up taking Tracy to her soccer practice as planned, but unplanned was how long I stayed to watch. We were going out--no reservations or a set time or anything, but we didn't want to be out too late. Still, I didn't want Catherine to know what had transpired while she was getting ready and I was supposed to be watching tv on the couch.

She didn't care much to watch her sister practice, and Tracy didn't want Catherine there anway. She thought it was sweet, at first, that I wanted to stay and support her sister, and she went back to the car to play on her phone for a few minutes while I stayed behind. Tracy smirked at me as she jogged off to join the other girls. The first thing I noticed was how big her calves looked in the socks she was wearing--the rolled up right under the diamond protrusion of her muscle, making them seem larger than they were. The second thing I noticed as she made her way to the other girls was how much huskier she seemed in comparison. Broader shoulders, thicker, more powerful looking legs. A lot of the girls were willowy--some still had hints of muscle but nothing like Tracy.

And her butt. Oh my god her butt. Once practice started I couldn't take my eyes off it. It was round, perfect, and my hand remembered just how hard it had been when I lightly slapped it at her house. Every few minutes she had to pull at her shorts because the sheer girth and shape of her muscular glutes made them bunch up into a near-wedgie, exposing more of her quads and hamstrings.

I had lost track of time. Catherine honked the horn at me to get a move on, but I waved her off. They were taking their first break, and Tracy had stripped off her sweat-soaked t-shirt and tossed it aside to cool off. She knew I was watching, and made eye contact with me--presumably girls knew exactly what she looked like and didn't really make a big deal out of it, but she made it a show for me, uncapping a bottle of water and drinking from it but very sloppily letting the water miss her mouth and pour down her chest and abs. I could see her mouth 'oops' very clearly as she dropped the bottle and rubbed the water into her skin, making it glisten and her abs popped as a result. And even though she had small breasts I could see that her chest was also very muscular, and very wet.

Not taking her eyes off me, she undid her ponytail and shook out her hair, though she didn't really need to, and made a big show out of putting it back together. But she was really giving me an opportunity to see her big, round, mountain-shaped biceps that popped from her upper arms every time she moved her wrists. I felt a cold sweat break out on my brow. My seduction was interrupted by a hand on my wrist--Catherine had finally gotten fed up and had gotten out to physically pull me to the car to take us away. I found it hard to take my eyes off the field, and Tracy waved to us (me) as I walked off.

I couldn't believe the effect this 12th grader was having on me. She had just turned 18 too, some weird way the school cutoff worked when Catherine's family had moved to town--she'd turn nineteen after the school year had ended.

That thought made me squirm in my seat all night.

To be honest I had never really seen a buff girl before, much less get totally owned by them. It wasn't..the best experience. But there was something about her confidence, her raw strength and power that made he undeniably desirable. And to reiterate, she was definitely prettier than her older sister, though I would never admit that to Catherine. I would also never admit to Catherine that Tracy had dragged me upstairs to her room to make out while she took one of her interminably long showers, and she was a better kisser than Catherine too.

The sad thing was that I was probably going to have to break it to Catherine that I'd have to break up with her for her little sister. Tracy wouldn't take no for an answer. After somewhat forcibly taking my phone and putting in her phone number, she had repeatedly texted me while on the way to practice that I was "her boyfriend" now, and that I should probably let Catherine down easy, and she'd take care of the rest. Catherine of course wondered who was blowing up my phone while we drove but I waved it off, saying it was a family group text. But in the rearview I could see Tracy tapping away at her phone and smirking into the mirror as she would casually flex a bicep at her side, making her sleeve pop up.

My date with Catherine was fine, if a little lackluster given my distraction, but she was happy to spend time with me. I took her home, dropped her off, and drove off into the night--I didn't live too far from her, but far enough that I didn't want to walk or ride my bike in the dark. It was short drive, I hadn't been home a couple of minutes when there was a knock at the door. My parents, who were out at bible study, wouldn't be back for a while, so I went to the door to see who it was. I peeked through the curtains over the window in the next room.

Tracy was standing there on the stoop, propping up a mountain bike with one hand, her other arm akimbo. She was wearing a skin tight, light blue Gymshark gym suit--pants and upper body, and I could see every curve highlighted by the extreme shadows caused by the porch light. She looked bigger than ever.

I sighed, when to the door, and cracked it open. "What do you want?" I said tiredly.

"I came over to have our little date. I wasn't kidding, of course." She set the bike aside and stepped forward, pushing against the door. I tried to resist her but forgot that she was stronger than me, and she easily pushed the door open and walked inside. The door clicked shut behind her.

The light outside hadn't done her outfit justice. It really was formfitting, and a little damp. The top was a bit of a crop top, and the middle of her six pack was exposed, but the damp fabric clung to her skin and showed off the rest anyway. She wasn't wearing a bra--I could tell because her nipples and the dark areolas were visible under the fabric. Her quads and butt looked huge. I couldn't see her chest--the top covered everything from her neck to her wrists, but the muscles underneath pressed through so I could see enough to be reminded of how muscular her and shoulders were. It occured to me when she started to swing her arms in front of her that I had never seen her back, although I could see her lats pretty easily from the front.

I wonder if she was just awkward, showing up to my place and then not knowing what to do, given her age. I remember doing that a few times before I started dating Catherine.

"I left as soon as you did," she said, matter of factly. "Hopped on my bike and followed you all the way back."

That was crazy--i was going anywhere between fifteen or twenty miles per hour the whole thing, was she suggesting she kept up with me?

"I got a little leg pump keeping up with you," she said, sticking a leg out and flexing her thigh. It bulged under the thin, stretchy material. I could see individual muscles beneath it, especially since they were damp as well. She walked right up to me--she was short and the top of her head didn't reach my shoulders but I had a better sense of how muscular and wide she was. "So...where are you taking me on our date?"

"D-date?" I stuttered. She was being serious, after all.

"I told you, you're my boyfriend now. By the way, when are you gonna tell Catherine?"

"Uh.....I'm not sure?"

"Probably should do it tonight," she said as she wrapped her arms around my waist and drew me close. Even though she was a little sweaty she still smelled like she had freshly gotten out of the shower. She smelled like a girl, and that was the best smell in the world. She squeezed her arms and I felt the breath leave my body. She was so strong, and it felt like i was being held by a punching bag.

I guess I wasn't showing enough interest because she drew away and pouted. "I just don't get why you think you want Catherine over me. It's pretty obvious that I'm prettier, stronger, and just better than her," she said, counting off the reasons on her fingers. "Don't fight it, plus I saw you watching me at practice."

She grabbed my hand and put it right on her chest. She had small breasts, very small, but large enough that i could feel them shift under my forced touch. "Do you want to touch my boobs? Or maybe they're not big enough for you? But no...Catherine's aren't very big either...."

"Well maybe it's my muscles. Are you afraid of them? Are you scared of me?"

I shook my head. "No no....I"m not afraid. Obviously you're way stronger than me--

"Damn straight," she interjected proudly.

"I just...I just have never met anyone like you."

"Aw, that's sweet," she said with a pout on her face.  "I am very strong, though. Did you know I can bench 135 pounds 30 times?"

I stared at her blankly. That was a tough pill to swallow.

"I can bench 135 pounds 30 times," she repeated, "And I only weigh 125 pounds remember?"

I believed her, especially when she lifted up the bottom of her top all the way to her neck and flexed her bare pecs quickly for me. I could see her pink nipples perched atop breasts that were just beginning to bud, perched upon surprisingly thick pecs. She pulled her shirt back down.

"Listen, I was thinking, you should take me to the mall and I can try on some clothes with you."

"I really can't...my car has a device and I can't start it this late, it's my parent's rule."

"That's fine, I have my own wheels!"


"You can't mean...we both can't fit on your bike!"

"I know, dummy, you're gonna get on my back!"

"I uh.....can you handle that?"

"You know how strong I am, c'mon!" She dragged me to the door and opened it, pulling me into the cool night air. She picked up her bike and bent her knees. "Get on," she said.

I was still skeptical but got onto her back, piggyback style, and without much effort she got on the bike. There weren't any pegs on the wheels and my legs dangled over the asphalt as she pedaled hard and fast. My arms were wrapped around her strong shoulders which bulged with ever foot stroke, her triceps bunched up from gripping the handlebars. I didn't know how fast we were going, but it seemed very fast. The mall was five miles away and it was sometimes a long way to ride. But she didn't seem tired, and didn't slow her pace. If anything it seemed like she was going faster.

The constant up and down motion of her body from pumping her legs paired with the occasional friction of my crotch against her bumpy, muscle back made my formerly quiet penis start to harden in my pants. I felt my face start to burn up as she stopped her legs and coasted for a bit; she looked over her shoulder at me as we glided along and smiled. "And I thought that you didn't like me at all," she quipped, and winked.

It was entirely possible my ears were on fire and turned to ashes at this point--I gulped and refocused my eyes on the road, concentrating on the straight white line separating the bike lane from the rest of the street in an effort to send blood anywhere else but my crotch. But until it relaxed it bumped harmlessly against her which made her giggle every time it touched.

We finally got there and I got off and glanced at my phone....we had gotten there in under twenty minutes which meant she had been biking hard, with me on her back at over 15 miles an hour.....

It was late enough that most of the mall crowds had left, and she parked her bike in a rack. I followed her inside, passing only a few people. They hadn't started making announcements to close the mall, that was closer to midnight, so we had about an hour to walk around. Plus it was the school year, and a school night, so most people were gone anyway, save for the mall workers. She wandered around a bit, holding my hand, which I had to admit was kind of sweet. We didn't say much, just walked. Thankfully I didn't see anyone i knew.

I glanced down at her--she was a little sweatier than earlier and the wet shirt, along with the night air, had made her nipples hard and erect, and they poked at her fabric. It looked like they might burst out, but it didn't seem like she cared, about the nipples or some of the looks she was getting. Finally she decided on an athletic wear store, just generic looking stuff.

"Wait here," she said, leaving my be the changing rooms and wandering off for about ten minutes. I fiddled around on my phone while I waited, looked at some of the clothes. She returned with a couple hangers with shirts on them. We picked out a room--it didn't matter, they were all empty, and small--and squeezed in.

"Here, help me take this off," she said, and lifted her arms in the air, straight up.

"What? Oh," I realized that I had to pull up the shirt from the bottom, and I did, peeling the still damp fabric off carefully until it was off, and flipped it right side out before hanging it on a hook. This was the first time I'd ever seen her without a shirt on--granted it had been a very fast moving afternoon and I hadn't seen her muscles before six hours ago. She was even bigger than I thought, hulking shoulders, a chest with a defined line down the middle. Of course I had seen her hard six pack. Her arms were brawny. Big.

She ignored me as she looked at the shirts she had picked out, putting them in front of her in the mirror before selecting one and discarding the others. Not asking for my help this time, she pulled the shirt on, which was obviously too tight. It was an athletic-looking top, extremely tight, but not like a stretchy spandex material. It was definitely not tight because of the fabric, and because she had intentionally picked out something that was made for like a six year old for some reason.

Ready, she turned to me. "That shirt you just took off? It's pretty large, actually the largest the company makes." She flexed her arms experimentally and they expanded under the sleeves. "This is the same shirt I was wearing a year ago," she explained further, pumping her arms more. Her biceps swelled under the shirt. "Check this out, I tried it last week."

She clenched her fists so much that I could see the tendons connecting her hands to her forearms and flexed slowly. Now her arms were actually pumped, and the grew and filled the sleeves..and kept growing. There wasn't a lot of space in those sleeves and they both split open, her milky white skin exposed by the split in the fabric. They were so big. The busted sleeves made them look even bigger than earlier.

"Tom, touch my arms," she said.

I didn't hesitate and reached up with both hands, one for each arm. My hands covered each bicep but not much else, and they were as hard as I remembered, and it wasn't all imagined. My girlfri--ex girlfriend's little sister had busted open sleeves just by flexing. As I rubbed them she looked up at me and stood up on her tiptoes and kissed me lightly on the lips.

"You're cute Tom, and I like the way you touch my muscles. Do you like them?"

"Yes," I said softly, not making eye contact.

"Do you like all of them," she whispered.

I nodded, and she pulled me in close. I kinda liked that she was a bit aggressive with me. She whispered into my ear. "I bet you in a few months I'll be able to flex through the shirt you took off, and I'll be way stronger, would you like that?"

"Yes, oh god," I whimpered, and surprisingly my erection grew, pushing into her hard abs.

"Once soccer season is over I've decided to quit. I'm not any good at it anyway, not good enough for high school, so I can go all out. Did you know I only lift weights four hours a week? Soccer takes up all my time. I wonder what would happen if I lifted for eight hours....or twelve? Would you like to see all of my muscles grow, Tom?"

Oh god. This girl had gotten a body like that in just a few month from just a few hours of lifting a week? The body she was packing..and the thought of more effort put into it just for me made my head spin.

"If you want that to happen you have to break up with her, tonight," she said, pressing closer to my body, and flexing her abs against my erection. That was it for me, i grunted, and came in my pants, convulsing briefly as the orgasm passed through me. A wet spot appeared on my pants, and she looked down at it.

"I guess that's a yes," she said. "My work here is done!"

A chime sounded and a voice announced that the mall was closing in fifteen minutes.

"Let's get out of here, I'll take you home," she said with a giggle.

No doubt my parents would be furious for being out so late, so Catherine was the least of my worries, but I had to get there first, and I was concerned that it might take longer than our initial ride in. But no, I was wrong. Once we had cleared the parking lot and any lights that might fully illuminate us, Tracy stopped for a minute to take off her shirt and tie it around her waist, claiming she didn't want to ruin it getting too pumped or sweaty, and resumed our ride, but this time topless in the dark. It was a little bit chillier out now, and the brisk wind from our ride (which seemed to be at the same speed as on the way in) made the wet spot on my pants grow cold until the constant flow of chilled air dried it out.

Within twenty minutes we were back at my house, where she quite literally kicked me to the curb, blew me a kiss, and sped off into the night. My parents' car was back in the driveway and the lights were on, and they were waiting for me on the couch, upset.

"Where were you Tom, you know your curfew was almost an hour ago."

"I'm sorry uh...i was out on a walk with..my girlfriend!"

They softened a bit at that, but only a bit. "Well you should have told us first. Is Catherine still out there? Does she need a ride." If only they knew.

"OH no no....uh, she rode her bike here she's already long gone."

"Ok well. Go on up to bed and we'll figure out some kind of something to do to make up for missing curfew. Go on up now!"


I ran up the stairs. They had always been soft on Catherine. It's too bad I was talking about Tracy. Once safely in my room I pulled out my phone. I then stared at it for what felt like an eternity as I tried to figure out what to say, or how I was going to say it. Did a ripping-the-bandaid off approach work better for this? Or something more caring? I hated that I was having this internal conversation at all, it just seemed so bizarre to me that in the span of the afternoon and evening Tracy had supplanted Catherine in my life. And it wasn't all that unwelcome, either, which was the shocking part. Tracy was unimaginably sexy--I had never thought a girl with muscles could make me feel that way but there was something alluring about her power and confidence and size that made me want to do anything she asked.

Then I figured that if Catherine put up some kind of fight, Tracy would be able to handle it. Catherine, for all her physical beauty, was just a normal girl, not a drop of athleticism in her. There was no way that she could stand up to Tracy if push came to shove. That actually gave me a little bit of confidence to get the job done. I decided I would text her and let her react--so I sent a quick text explaining that I had to break up with her and that I was really sorry, but there was someone new in my life, Tracy, and she wanted me real bad.

I hadn't even gotten a chance to lock the phone when it started to ring.

"Hoo boy," I breathed, and answered.

"What the fuck, Tom," she screamed at me. "You're breaking up with me for my little. Sister?!"

"I'm sorry, I really am Cath!" I knew better than to try and calm her down. "It's just. Well she's really hot. And she really wants me, and she kinda just took me. It's hard to explain."

"So you've always thought she was hot? You're such a fuck boy, you know that?"

"No...i mean yeah I always thought she was pretty but not...but not hot, until I saw her muscles."

"What are you talking about, her 'muscles'," she said in a mocking tone.

"You'll have to ask her."

There was no response, and I heard her yell away from the phone. "Tracy what the hell come here."

Another pause. "What the fuck is Tom talking about that he's your boyfriend now? And that you stole him with your muscles? You don't have any muscles, it's just fat."

"That's where you're wrong," I heard Tracy's voice say gleefully, and there was a lout shrrriiippp which was probably Tracy tearing whatever shirt she had on off of her to show off her body to her older sister. I had never wanted to be somewhere so much in my life.

"What...the shit," Catherine breathed. Her voice came back to the phone in full. "This isn't over, I'm calling you back."

"It is over," I heard Tracy say before Catherine hung up.

My phone was silent for ten minutes before receiving a text message from Catherine witha  ding. It was a photo, and when I opened it I could see Catherine, who had been crying but stopped recently, kissing the huge bicep of her little sister who proudly flexed both arms without her shirt on.

"I'm sorry," the accompanying text read. "Tracy explained everything. I see that she's a better fit for you now. And she's prettier and stronger than I'll ever be. We'll still be friends but you are all hers."

What I would have given to be a fly on that wall. It had only taken a few minutes for her to take my screaming ex-girlfriend and turn her into an apologetic and apparently somewhat submissive flunky. Then again, she had made me fall for her in less than a day.

My phone chimed again, this time a photo from her. She was wrapped in a towel, flexing an arm while holding the phone in her other hand as she clutched the towel to her chest. She was winking in it, and the photo had the desired effect. I was erect in seconds.

Damn she was good.

--

The next few weeks--no, months--seemed like a whirlwind. I'll be honest; Sophokore year of college is harder than I though. I have more homework than I know what to do with, practice, internship applications, and of course Tracy. My attention was so divided that despite telling me that she was going to pack on some muscle, I wasn't really noticing it, especially at first. As the year went on and I got busier and busier, I saw her less often, usually once or twice a week since we didn't go to the same school. Catherine had become more of a big sister to her after the shocking revelation that her sister wasn't a weak punk, and in what was kind of a subservient act she often gave Tracy advice on how to handle boys. Well...more knowledge and experience about us, Tracy had no issues controlling me.

I found out why Catherine's attitude had suddenly shift that way when i was at their place one day. It was just me and Tracy, we were watching television on the couch and Catherine came home. Frankly, i was shocked at her next behavior. It made me feel the same as when I would be at a friends house and their parents yelled at them for something and I was just quiet onlooker. Anyway, Catherine came in the door, immediately asked if Tracy was home, and when Tracy responded she came straight to us and stood at Tracy's side. Tracy looked a little upset as she sat up and addressed Catherine, asking her why her laundry hadn't been finished, even started. Catherine's excuse was valid--school activities and homework had kept her plenty busy and she hadn't been able to start it quite yet, but Tracy wasn't having any of it. Though she was wearing a sweat shirt she stood up on the couch and flexed her arm, her bicep nearly filling the sleeve at Catherine's eye level, Tracy standing a little taller than her older sister. "Kiss my bicep," she had ordered Catherine, and she had. More than once. This next part stuck with me. "Remember who runs this house bitch. These muscles run this house," Tracy said softly.

She did have a hard time getting her mind wrapped around the fact that I had a lot to do, but eventually Catherine convinced her that I wasn't avoiding her (I wasn't) and that I wanted to be with her (I did). I just had so much to do. But she was disappointed and was a bit passive aggressive about it.

Though we passed through winter and heavier clothing was expected, even when we in her room, alone, or mine she chose to wear baggier clothes after the first few weeks of my deluge. A brutal February gave way to a much milder spring and she still wasn't showing much. But we had plenty of activities. Mostly kissing. She was such a great kisser--amazing lips that were strong, just like the rest of her, sweet smelling skin that made being close to her an experience all on its own.

I knew she had quit soccer not long after we were going out, but she kept her training schedule intact, swapping the pitch for the iron. But at her behest I was never allowed to watch her work out. She was adamant that I get a nice surprise when she was ready to show me what she could do with full time lifting. A few times I texted Catherine to see if she could get some kind of sneaky picture of her sister but Tracy had her body on lock. The most I had seen was her feet with her perfect toes or her perfectly manicured hands that never seemed to have heavy calluses.

To my immense relief, June finally arrived and I was done with school, for now. I went out to eat with some friends--I got a text from Tracy telling me to meet her at my place in fifteen minutes. I knew better than to keep her waiting and left my friends before we had even finished eating, grabbing my burger and shoving it into my mouth as I nearly sprinted to the car and drove home.

I got inside and went straight to the kitchen, looking around for Tracy.

"She's up in your room," my mom said with a wink. She had only recently gotten comfortable with the switch of girlfriends, especially after seeing how nice, and confident, and pretty Tracy was. She was an upgrade in every way possible and though she liked to control me with her strength and general aura she was never mean about it.

I went up to my room, taking the stairs two at a time. My door was closed--I usually left it open when I was gone so I knew she wanted me to knock. So I did, rapping my fist on the door lightly a couple of times.

"I need two minutes," her muffled voice replied. So i gave her a couple of minutes, going to the bathroom to freshen up my burger breath and check my hair. I heard my doorknob click as she turned it. It was time to go in.

I pushed my door open and was about to say something but choked on my words. There was a reason my door had been shut.

I should explain. Tracy had never been much for...foreplay. She like to get straight to the point. I once, early on, had asked her to strip tease for me. I couldn't tell at first if she was bad at it or just didn't like doing it because she just pulled her shirt and pants off down to her underwear without much show, but later out found on that she didn't understand why she needed to tease me. She wanted to show me everything, and so she did.

And now she was showing me almost everything. She was wearing booty shorts, and that was it as she stood in front of my bed, glistening with perspiration. She was.....bigger than I recalled seeing her last. Much bigger. The first thing I noticed was her breasts--she hadn't had much in that department before but now they were a few times bigger. I doubt that I would be able to hold each breast in one hand, and was looking forward to testing that theory. Her perfect, round, light brown nipples were at the front of her round and firm-looking tits, and those sat on top of her actual chest, which looked like two overgrown steaks fighting for space on a plate. Her shoulders had grown, each looked as big as her face, and her arms were held at an awkward angle; at least that's what I thought until she shifted and I could see that they were being pushed out by the size of her lats.

Somehow, she was still ripped. Her perfect 8 pack was even more perfect, thicker, deeper, more muscle groups showing. Her thighs and calves showed every muscle. She wasn't bone dry but I knew ripped when I saw it.

All in all it was an overwhelming reveal. It had been months since I had seen any of this, and though I knew she was putting in major hours in the gym I didn't think it would have this much of an affect on her. I was flabbergasted. She wasn't flexing yet, just standing in front of me with her hands on her hips, her left leg planted straight, her right extended a little farther which made her left hip pop. Just her breathing was making her stomach and chest ripple and twitch. She was more vascular than I had ever seen her. Again, I didn't think she was incredibly ripped but they were just popping more than I'd ever seen, the veins pushed to the surface by big, dense muscle. Each bicep with a giant squiqgly vein that started at her shoulder and branched into to different directions down to her elbow halfway down her bicep, a few on her pecs that shockingly wormed their way to her nipples, and a network of vascularity that bracketed her abs down into her booty shorts. It was everything I could do to not faint at the sight in front of me.

I shut the door behind me softly and walked up to her.

"Wow," I breathed.

"Wow is right," she said with a coy smile, and looked down at her chest while bring her arms in front of her. Her pecs swelled thicker. It didn't take much for me, I was already rock hard at this point, but then she relaxed just a little bit and began to flex her pecs individually, slow at first so that a roll appeared at the top of her breast that went to her clavicle, then faster, and faster until her breasts began to jiggle in time with her pecs. It was mesmerizing and I couldn't help but stare right into her cleavage, which was more beautiful than ever.

"I've been working really hard on my chest," she said. She loved telling me what she did and what she could do. "When I started I could do 135 for ten reps on bench press. Now I can do 255 for fifteen reps on the bench."

I reached out to touch her chest. It was so hard and warm. "I can do 255 for fifteen reps on bench," she repeated. She loved doing that too. It turned me on, like I wasn't paying attention the first time she dropped some kind of bomb on me. "Do you remember the weightlifting leaderboard in the gym? Guess whose name is on top for the bench press."

I did remember. In fact, i had briefly been in the top five on the list before stronger guys got at it. I had full confidence that she was at the top of the guys list and the girls. "It's me by the way, both the girls and boys. The bench is only 95 pounds for the girls which isn't a big deal for me, but I wanted to make sure no one did anything to get close, so I did 200 reps of that. The next most was like 30 or something and the coach decided to just erase the other names since no one was even close. I did the guys weight the next week, a few weeks ago actually. That's only 135 pounds. The record was 32 and I wanted to make sure I smashed that too," she said, and did a most muscular which made her delts and biceps and chest all explode with definition and size. "So I did a bunch of reps, 142 in a row."

Christ. That was more reps than the weight.

"You should have seen the pump I got. I don't think any guys are gonna beat that for a long long time," she said, watching my hands probe her chest. "By the way, when is my birthday?"

"July 17th," I replied automatically. Of course I knew when her birthday was.

"You remembered," she said sweetly. "I'll be turning 19, isn't that crazy?"

It was her way of reminding me how she was still in high school and looked like an NFL linebacker and was likely strong as one too. I hadn't forgotten, though.

"What about your biceps?" I asked, "They look a lot bigger."

"They do? I hadn't noticed," she giggle, and stopped her chest flex to move to a double biceps, her arms peaking very highly. "I've been measuring them every two weeks to see how much bigger they're getting. Wanna know what curls with fifty pound dumbbells can do to a girl?" she asked me as she pumped her forearms out and in, her mountainous biceps growing and receding.

I had no idea but I could make a good guess, judging by the fact I couldn't get both hands around one of her arms, which I was currently trying to do. "17 inches?"

"17, and three quarters," she corrected me proudly. "I'm very very close to 18, which is pretty impressive when you think about it. How many guys  have arms that big, let alone a girl my age."

"Do you like all this muscle Tom?"

I nodded. I was doing everything I could to not take of my pants there and then. We were dating, and I would say in love, but there were still boundaries we weren't going to cross. Still, i couldn't keep my hands off of her ridiculous body. I knew what I was gonna do when she left. A teen left to his own devices.

--

Once summer came, I was very relieved now that I could spend as much time as possible with Tracy. For the first few weeks did nothing else but spend time together, usually watching her lift huge weights and build bigger muscles, or  making out, or worshipping her body.  

One of the things we made sure to do was sign up at the local YMCA for the summer so both could have access to a gym. Although we worked out at her house sometimes there wasn't enough weight or a machine we'd want (ok, mostly for her, less so for me). I'll be honest, I didn't get much done in those sessions. She loved to go in the heat of the day, the poor air conditioning in the building keeping the gym hot and humid. She also really liked to screw with my head. One day in particular she was feeling particularly frisky and told me to meet her at the gym at our normal time (although we usually met beforehand and walked over together, so I already knew something was....different. It was Saturday, so both a swim day and a pull workout day, getting good workouts for our bicep and back. It was my favorite day, because I liked her biceps the best.

It was the end of the summer and she had packed on another few pounds of muscle. I was with her all the time and saw the incremental changes, but this was one of the rare times I was able to walk up behind her from afar and I got a good sense of how much muscle she had really added. She was wearing less than usual, gray booty shorts and a white sports bra with only a strap around her neck and mid back that exposed her thick, chiseled back.  Her lats spilled over the small strap securing her bra, which pressed into her skin. I could see that it was probably time to get a new one, but that wasn't the point.

Her ass filled up the gray shorts so completely that there wasn't even a gap where her butt pushed the fabric out too far. And that was because that area was plastered to her hamstrings which bulged even as she stood there and adjusted her stance as she stood there. I whistled my appreciation for her to hear as I approached and she turned toward me with a beaming smile. We hugged, she squeezed me with those arms I loved so much, pulling my waist (and crotch) against her hard, exposed abs. I couldn't help but look down into her bra, it was white, her nipples were dark enough to be seen. The fabric was already damp from her just standing around in the musty gym. Her boobs looked incredible.

"You ready to crush some arms?" she asked as she scooped up her back from the floor and slung it over her round shoulder. I couldn't help but notice her rock hard peak bulge to its full 18.5 inch girth. It always felt like she grew them for my benefit but they were also the fastest gainers on her body. Even when they hung thickly at her sides they were still bigger than my own 15.5 inch arms (and that's the flexed measurement).

"You bet," I said. I now knew why she wanted to meet me here instead of at her place...or mine. In that outfit we might never have left the house, or our rooms. I had very few words as I stared at her body blatantly. She noticed, winked, and turned on her toes (of course making her calves bulge). We preferred to drag our gym bags around with us so we skipped the locker room and started our workout.

"I was thinking we wouldn't do too much variety today, just pick one or two things and go until failure, just for a really good pump."

"That sounds good to me," I said, happy with whatever she chose. I just wanted to be next to or near those biceps as she lifted what seemed like an impossible weight for a girl that hadn't started high school yet.

"Great! Hmmm," she tapped her foot and cocked her hip, a mannerism that drove me crazy. "For arms we'll do some 21s with the ez-curl bar, and back will be dumbbell rows before we swim."
I nodded. That was fine. As always I expected her to lift more and with more intensity. We walked over to the short, preloaded barbells with the zig-zags in them; I picked up a 35, she found a 75 pound one. 21s were hard, particularly for me for some reason, but she always found them to be a breeze, hence all the weight. THe idea was to exhaust your biceps in one set--7 half reps from resting to your waist, 7 half reps from your waist to your chest, and 7 full reps, resting to chest. We started our set together and already at rep 6 I could feel the burn. I looked into the mirror we were facing at her--she was totally concentrated, taking turns looking at each of her biceps as she completed each rep perfectly and smoothly. Even though she had more than double my weight she looked like she was having less trouble than I did. She did love to take longer on her sets than me, slow reps being more grueling and less likely to use body momentum, and I shook my arms out as she finished the last rep of the set.

She put the bar back on the large rack and shook out her arms. Already they were swollen and red and she pumped both arms at her side to get blood moving around, the large veins that always ran down her biceps bulging. The way she pulled her elbows back in that position tensed her chest as it was stretched, striations pulsed from top to bottom, and the bra was stretched out a bit. I licked my lips.

"Easy there," she giggled as she looked at the rack again and selected a heavier weight. "Only three more sets left." The next barbell she pulled out was 95 pounds, more than half of what I weighed. THe first set was always sort of a warm up for her, and then she made a jump to something heavier to really put some work in. I was already in for a battle with the 35 pounds and stuck with the same weight. With her hands close on the bar it squeezed her shoulders together enough that her pecs bunched up, and her boobs too, both her chest and arms covered in pumpy veins that made her look bigger than the mini hulk she already looked like when she walked around.

I nearly forgot to start my own set as I watched her, this time observing her curls from the side. Even with half the range of motion her biceps still flexed to a peak as she did her first set of half girls. In her second set her biceps bunched up and filed nearly all of the space between her forearm and shoulder it was so big. I could feel a hardening in my crotch and I fought to tear my eyes away from her form so that I could actually get something done.

It went on like that for two more sets. I was equally as aroused by her total focus, shutting out the world as I was by her physical prowess. She had finished off her bicep work with the 135 pound bar, the largest ez-curl bar on the rack, and she bent low to put it back on the last hook near the ground, sticking out her butt and flexing her hamstrings to do so. She wiggled her ass a bit, knowing I was watching, before standing up.

To say that she was pumped was a gross understatement. Her arms looks so thick and vascular that they looked out of place, even on her. I had seen similar appendages on professional football players. They were so bloated with muscle and blood that they had turned almost tomato red. And yet she looked hot as hell, and still looked very much like a teen girl.
She looked slyly around and reached in the front of her pants and pulled out a rolled up tape measure, tossing it to me. It unfurled on the way--it was a cloth tape and i could feel it's dampness from being in her pants for who knows how long. I tensed my thighs and looked anywhere but at her to try and draw by blood away from my crotch.  She was nothing if not an exhibitionist.

"Measure me," she said breathily as she faced the mirror and stared herself down. She stuck both arms out to the sides in a t pose, her fists clenched. Not a day went by that I wasn't amazed that even like this her arms were already at least an inch bigger than mine, and I happily wrapped the tape around one of her meaty arms to see how much she was crushing me by today.

"17.75 inches," I said with wide eyes. The last time I had measured her she had been slightly smaller than that fully flexed. Now, she had a pump, but her arm was bigger than that. She cocked her arm and the tape started to run between my fingers as her bicep rose up, and up, and up. Her forearm couldn't quite reach a 45 degree angle toward her because her large, solid bicep prevented it from getting any lower. It was cartoonishly large. For bodybuilding purposes dispropotional but she didn't care. She loved that it drove me nuts. Her bicep peak was at her eyeline.

The tape read 19.5 inches.

"I'm not satisfied with that," she said with a harrumph, and stared down her bicep as it hardened, impossibly, then she pumped her forearm one, two, no three times, injecting more blood into it, tearing more muscle fibers to make it bloated farther with pump.

"Babe..your arms are 20 inches holy shit,"

"Damn straight," she said proudly as she put her arms down.  

The way she looked, the way she looked at me, it was hard to believe that not that long ago, not even a year, she was just some buffed up, high school soccer chick. So  much had happened since then, so  much muscle achieved that I was sometimes not fully appreciative of the situation. And i really, really wanted to appreciate it more now.

"Now time for some rows," she said and walked over toward the long rack of dumbbells with weights up to two hundred pounds. There were a couple of empty benches next to each other where she set up shop and she wandered to the far end of the rack to see what she would warm up with first for simple dumbbell rows.  There were a few guys working out in the area, big ones, older, maybe in their 20s. They definitely  noticed the large, jacked girl headed in their direction.

"Sorry little girl, we got this corner locked up, I don't care how juiced up you are these are big boy weights."

There was a set of 160s on the ground, and another guy was rowing with a 140 pound dumbbell.

I could see her smirk sideways in the mirror. "This isn't just for show you dimwits, although it's still a pretty good show," she said as she flexed her 20 inch bicep. That gave both guys cause to pause, but then they doubled down. "You're some kind of freak, probably a tranny or something."

"You wish," she said, pulling down the front of her shorts all the way to presumably show them her clean shaven snatch before letting the spandex snap into place. "That way at least I would be a guy pretending to be a girl. No way you'd want to meet a teenager that was bigger and stronger than you."

She walked forward and pushed a guy aside without much effort and went straight for the largest dumbbells in the rack, grabbing both of them easily and walking them back to our spot in a farmer's carry. "Sorry boys I think I'll need both of these to warm up with."

I knew that that wasn't her warm up weight, in fact the guys were using those dumbbells, but she was fired up, I could tell, and wasn't concerned about warming up at this point. And she didn't need to use both dumbbells, really, but it was probably a little more convenient than having to move it to alternate sides. At least that's what I thought.

I want to get to the best part of this whole day but this part is important too. It's important to note that at 200 pounds each dumbbell was more than she weighed. It's also important that while the guys were only doing sets of 10-15 with much lighter dumbbells while she was working more in the 25-35 rep range per arm. It was more that as her finisher she bent to the ground and with a purposefully obnoxious grunt hefted both dumbbells, four hundred pounds, up to her waist, bent over, and started to row both dumbbells at the same time. Everything in her body tensed with the effort--her shoulders, arms and back bulging from the row work while her legs, glutes, calves flexed to stabilize herself against the weight that was well over double what she weighed!

I was so turned on in that moment. Watching my yolked up girlfriend show up those older guys. Her raw energy and power and personality that stole me away from my ex, her sister, got a rise out of me. Even when her face was beet red, veins on her forehead as she grunted in a not lady-like way, she was a smokeshow.

She finished her lengthy pump set, farmer's walked the bells back to the two speechless guys and unceremoniously dropped them with a pair of large thumps by their feet. I thought that the ground shook as the 400 pounds fell. It wasn't the only thing that had fallen as I had to close my mouth with my hand. As she sauntered back to me she winked and grabbed her bag.

"Meet you at the pool," she said, dripping with sweat and smelling of hard work.

Well you didn't have to tell me twice. I didn't even bother finishing my set before I put my weights away and hurried to the locker room, my bag in front of my crotch. This would be a perfect opportunity to collect myself, as I stripped and put on my small swimsuit, jumped in the cold shower to rinse off before getting in the pool, and generally tried to calm my adolescent hormones before I saw my girlfriend show slightly more skin and getting soaking wet.

A few minutes later I was out on the pool deck, carrying the largest towel I could find over my shoulder so it conveniently might cover my crotch. Tracy was already out there, her stuff on a chair, swim cap on her head and wearing a brand new, scorching hot bathing suit. The all white suit was not all over her tanned skin. THere was a loop around her  neck that swept into a swan's neck on her right shoulder that connected to the "bra" part, and the one piece suit continued down the right side of her body. But her abs and the left side were completely bare, and the suit was a bit too form fitting on her, pushing her breasts up and against her body as they seemed to melt into her pectoral cleavage. Her chiseled abs bunched into individual cubes as her hips swayed unconsciously as she adjusted her goggles and put them over her cap, her biceps bulging near her ears. My erection sprang up immediately and I was glad that the towel was hanging low enough to cover it. Not that anyone would have seen it anyway, literally every eyeball around the pool that wasn't in the water was trained on her.

SHe smiled big as she saw me. "D'ya like my new suit?" She asked, twisting her hips to show off all the lines of the suit and making her torse ripple. For good measure she popped a double bicep flex and her peaks soared above her shoulders yet again. I could feel my heart pounding and my mouth went dry, and I wasn't even touching her. "I wanted to surprise you that's why we didn't meet before." She posed a bit more of it, aware that everyone was looking at her.

"Anyway," she said, tidying her area. "We should hop in the water while there's lanes open."

"You're right," I said. Everyone was frozen so we could pick two of a few. I only swam for about 30 minutes, but Tracy stayed in for a solid hour and a half. I sunned poolside, watching her huge, muscular arms windmilling out of the water, pulling her across the pool so fast that she was lapping other swimmers but she wasn't splashing more, she was simply just  more powerful. She left a large wake as she swam by that made all of the lane dividers bob.

Finally, she climbed out of the pool and stalked toward me, her suit soaking wet, nipples erect as the breeze cooled her off, her areolas basically fully visible. She pulled the cap off of her head and her mane of hair fell down and over her shoulders. Her eyes had that look, the look that meant she wanted her hands tearing off what clothes I had on. She sometimes got like this when she was pumped, but it was heightened by the addition of having so much quiet attention pointed her way.  

She jabbed a finger into my chest. "You, locker room, now." She grabbed her stuff and went to the women's locker room, her arms swaying with her strut as she walked away from me. YOu didn't have to tell me twice, and I walked as quickly as the lifeguards would allow back to the changing room to shower and change. After stripping and heading to a shower stall I heard a loud bang, probably just the locker room door hitting the wall too hard, and I paused, but no one said anything, so I continued sudsing up to get out of their quicker. That would not be what happened.

When she had said "locker room, now" she had really meant "right now."

The stall lock jiggled a few times. I looked down to see a pair of manicured toes and muscular calves outside. She was here, in the men's locker room with me. I was about to poke my head out and tell her that she couldn't be here but I never got the change because she yanked on the door so hard that the lock mechanism deformed and the door opened. She stood there in her bathing suit, still dripping wet from the pool, before grabbing my shoulders and pushing me under the shower stream, against the wall, and mashing her lips into mine as our bodies came together. I was instantly hard as I wrapped my arms around her hard, muscular body, my erection trapped by her crotch and tortured by the movement of her hips as she grinded against me.

She looked up into my eyes and smiled, with a strong glint of arousal, and put her hands in my armpits, lifting me higher, and my erection was closer to her breasts than her crotch. "I've been waiting to do this since I saw you pop a boner looking at me in the mirror," she breathed, and lifted me higher, shoving my erection under the bottom of her bra and between her warm, wet breasts.

"Fuck," I whispered. We had never done this before, and definitely nothing in a public area.

"You like this?" she asked sultrily as she started to lift and lower me under her own power, her biceps and shoulders bulging and veiny but her face completely calm and looking straight at me. I couldn't tear my eyes away from her enormous muscles as they basically hammer curled my weight for a dozen or more reps while simultaneously rolling and flexing her pecs right on my cock.

"Hnnnnghh, yes," I groaned, and shuddered as I came, a spurt of cum jumping from my tip and landing on her shiny, wet, rippling muscular chest.

"Mm," she hummed, and put me back on the tiled floor. "I knew you'd like that." Then she did the hottest thing I've ever seen and flexed her pecs hard, and then rubbed the cum all over everything I could see, and then down into the bathing suit.

"Oh shit," I whispered.

"I know you'll get me back tonight," she said with a smile as she turned to leave the stall and glanced over her shoulder with a wink. "I've been saving up all week."

[fp909]

LIVE NOW

Muscular Women Are Live Right Now

Join private chats instantly. Real models. Real-time interaction.

120+ models online now

Start Watching →

[Jeremy Lightning]

Really enjoyed that, really great description, her muscles and strength were incredible, the sex scenes made me jealous that I wasn't this guy getting sexual with this young muscle goddess! Keep up the great work! k+!

[grbaclig]

Awesome story!  You were true to the spirit of "My Girlfriend's Little Sister", but also wrote something entirely original.  K+