HOW I MET YUKIKO

[diabolodiabolo]

I am Frank. 50 years old, 1.75 m, 85 kilos, untrained. European. From the outside, a completely ordinary man in the middle of life. No one suspects what is going on inside me.
For years I have harbored a secret I have never spoken aloud. I am into muscular, tall women. Not just athletic—truly massive. Female bodybuilders. Those hard, defined mountains of muscle, the power contained in them, the way they can effortlessly dominate a man. At night I secretly look at photos and videos, for hours. The way their thighs swell when they flex, how the veins stand out under the skin, how with a single movement they show who is in control. It arouses me more deeply than anything else. But I have never met such a woman in real life. It remained only fantasy. A secret desire I carefully hid.
Until this evening.
I arrived a little late.
The street in front of the house was quiet; only the streetlights cast yellow light onto the sidewalk. When I rang the doorbell, the door opened almost immediately. Markus, the host, grinned at me and pulled me inside. "Frank, finally. Come in, we're already sitting."
Warm light burned in the living room. The large dining table was already set, candles flickered, and it smelled of roasted meat and something sweet. Four people were already seated. Two of them I knew—Markus's wife Lena and another couple. The fifth person was a stranger to me.
She sat at the end of the table, facing the window. A long, dark-blue dress with long sleeves that reached down to her ankles. Her black hair was pinned up in a loose knot, a few strands falling into her face. And that face... I simply stood still for a moment.
It was unusually pretty. Soft features, large dark eyes, full lips that were just then smiling slightly as she said something to Lena. Asian, unmistakably. Japanese, as I later learned. She looked... delicate in the face. Almost girlish. And yet I had the feeling that something about her wasn't quite right—but I couldn't grasp it yet.
Markus put his hand on my shoulder. "Frank, this is Yukiko. She's visiting from Tokyo, a distant acquaintance of Lena's family. Yukiko, this is Frank."
She raised her gaze. Her eyes met mine, and she inclined her head slightly. "Konbanwa... that is, good evening." The voice was quiet, almost shy, with a soft accent.
I sat down diagonally across from her. While the conversations started up again—Markus was telling something about work, Lena was laughing—I watched her unobtrusively. The dress concealed everything. Long sleeves, high neckline, the fabric falling softly over her body. You could only see that she... looked tall, even while sitting. The shoulders broader than those of the other women at the table, the neck a bit stronger. But nothing conspicuous. I simply thought: A very tall Asian woman. And an incredibly pretty face. That alone was enough to keep drawing my eyes back to her.
The minutes passed. Wine was poured, appetizers arrived. Yukiko ate sparingly, smiled politely, answered questions with short, friendly sentences. She seemed uncertain, as if she were trying to take up as little space as possible—which looked strange given her size. No one commented on her stature. For the others she was apparently already familiar. For me, therefore, the situation was completely normal. A tall, somewhat fuller woman in a long dress. Nothing more.
Then it happened.
Lena stood up and wanted to go into the kitchen, but stopped. "Yukiko, could you please get the large bowl from the upper cupboard for me? You can reach it more easily."
Yukiko nodded. "Hai."
She pushed the chair back and rose.
And the world tilted.
She straightened up—and didn't stop growing. 1.90... 2.00... 2.10... she stood there, and the room suddenly seemed smaller. 215 centimeters. An absolute giantess. The long dress fell down her body, but even underneath it the sheer height could not be hidden. I stared. My heart suddenly beat faster. Tall women had always aroused me—but this was in a completely different league. She towered over every man in the room by a head and shoulders. Markus suddenly looked like a teenager next to her.
She walked toward the kitchen, her steps calm, almost careful, as if she didn't want to emphasize her size. The fabric of the dress moved with her. For a moment I still thought: She's simply extremely tall and maybe a bit full-figured. The dress hid everything.
When she came back, the large ceramic bowl effortless in one hand, the fabric on her right leg briefly slipped upward—only for a heartbeat, as she sat down and adjusted the hem.
I saw it.
The calf.
Not soft. Not full. An enormous, hard, defined mass of muscle that swelled under the skin and then yielded again. The gastrocnemius was so massive that even in that brief second it was impossible to overlook. The tendons stood out, the shape so clear and powerful as if carved from stone. Then the fabric fell back.
My mouth went dry.
I stared at the table, tried to breathe normally. But my body was already reacting. Under the table it began to tighten. That one second had been enough. That was no ordinary calf. That was the calf of a woman who had trained extremely for years. And if the calf already looked like that...
I hardly dared to look again. Yet when she sat down and stretched out her arm to pour herself some water, the fabric on her upper arm tensed slightly. For a moment the contour of an enormous biceps showed beneath it—thick, round, impossible to hide once the fabric clung. Then it was gone again.
My cock was now half-hard.
I tried to let nothing show. Talked with Markus, laughed at the right places, took a sip of wine. But my eyes kept returning to her. To that sweet, almost shy face above a body that under the dress was clearly hiding something completely different. Something that aroused me more deeply than anything I had ever seen on the internet.
Yukiko seemed to notice it at some point.
Once, when I looked too long, she raised her gaze and met mine. For a moment she held the eye contact. Then she lowered her eyes again, and a very faint flush of red rose in her cheeks. She reached for her necklace—a simple silver chain with a small pendant—and nervously adjusted it a little. As she did so, the fabric at the neckline slipped a centimeter to the side.
I saw the beginning.
The upper edge of the pectoralis. Hard, thick, impossible to overlook. The musculature began directly under the collarbone and curved powerfully outward before the fabric covered it again. No feminine softness. Pure, massive muscle mass.
My pulse hammered in my ears.
She had noticed. Not only that I was looking—but how I was looking. The other men at the table treated her with polite distance, almost a little uncertain because of her size. I stared at her as if I had just discovered the most valuable secret in the world. And something in her gaze changed. The shyness remained, but underneath it there was suddenly a very quiet, appraising spark.
She tilted her head slightly and smiled at me—small, uncertain, but knowing.
Under the table I was by now rock-hard.
 tried to act normal. Ate, drank, answered Markus's questions. But my entire body was oriented toward her. Every movement she made, I registered. And Yukiko seemed to sense that.
She reached for the wine bottle to pour more. As she did, she stretched out her arm—slowly, controlled. The fabric of the long sleeve tightened over her biceps. For a moment the enormous curve stood out clearly, thick and hard like a professional bodybuilder's, only more feminine in shape, and still unbelievably massive. The vein running across the muscle was visible even through the fabric. Then she let her arm drop again, and the dress concealed everything once more.
My cock twitched hard under the table. It was already rock-hard, pressing painfully against the zipper of my pants. I felt the head rubbing against the fabric, growing wet. Blood pulsed hotly inside it. I had never reacted so fast or so intensely. That one movement—just the arm tensing—and my entire lower body clenched with lust.
Yukiko set the glass down and crossed her legs.
The hem of the dress slid up a little as she did. Not much. Only to mid-calf. But it was enough. The enormous, rock-hard musculature came into view again. The gastrocnemius bulged powerfully, the soleus underneath was outlined, the tendons ran clear and strong down to the heel. When she crossed one leg over the other, everything tensed once more—a brief, deliberate flex that made the muscles look even thicker and more defined. Then she smoothed the fabric with one hand and covered it all again.
I bit the inside of my lip to keep from making a sound. My cock was throbbing steadily now. The hardness was so intense it hurt. I felt a drop of precum release and dampen the fabric of my underwear. My hands trembled slightly as I reached for my glass. I wanted to touch her. That calf. That arm. I wanted to feel how hard it was under my fingers. Instead I sat there, stiff as a board, trying not to stand out.
She noticed.
Her dark eyes flicked briefly under the table—not directly, but deep enough to see how tense my posture was. Then she raised her gaze again and looked at me. A small, shy smile played around her lips. Her cheeks were lightly flushed. She looked embarrassed... and at the same time she knew exactly what she was doing.
Under the table I suddenly felt something.
A foot. Large, warm, noticeable through the fabric of the stocking. It touched my lower leg, very lightly, then slid slowly higher. Not aggressive. Just a brief, testing touch on the inside of my knee. Then she pulled it back again.
My cock jerked so hard I was afraid it might be audible. The arousal shot hot into my groin. I was so hard the pressure in my pants became unbearable. Every heartbeat made it throb. I imagined that huge, muscular calf wrapped around my head, those hands holding me down without even showing effort. The images from the videos I had secretly watched for years faded next to what was sitting in front of me. This was real. And it was so much more intense.
Yukiko took a sip of water. When she set the glass down, she deliberately let her arm drop again so the fabric tightened over her triceps. The thick, horseshoe-shaped muscle stood out clearly. Then she turned her hand slightly, and the beginning of the forearm muscle became visible—massive, tendinous, incredibly powerful.
I was breathing shallowly. My erection was now so strong that I involuntarily spread my legs a little to ease the pressure. It didn't help. The cock lay rock-hard along my thigh, the head wet and sensitive. Every smallest movement of the fabric on her made it twitch. I was so turned on I felt I could come at any moment just from watching.
She leaned forward a bit to say something to Lena. As she did, the neckline of the dress shifted slightly to the side. The upper edge of her pectoralis came into view—thick, hard, with a clear separation line in the middle. The musculature was so massive that even this small glimpse was enough to take my breath away. When she leaned back, she briefly flexed her chest muscles. It was barely visible... but I saw it. The curve became even firmer, even more powerful.
My cock was dripping steadily now. I felt the wetness in my underwear. The arousal was so strong that my balls tightened and felt heavy. I wanted to moan with lust. Instead I forced a smile when Markus asked me a question and answered something meaningless.
Yukiko's foot touched me again.
This time firmer. It slid up my lower leg to the inside of my thigh and pressed there very lightly. Only for two or three seconds. But it was enough. The strength in that foot was unmistakable—even that gentle touch had weight and control. Then she pulled it back again as if nothing had happened.
She looked at me. The shyness was still there, but underneath it now lay something else. A quiet, knowing interest. She knew I was rock-hard. She knew every one of her movements was wrecking me. And she liked it.
I sat there with a cock so hard and sensitive that even the light friction of the pants was almost too much, and stared at this incredible woman who, under her long dress, was hiding a body I had until now only dreamed of.
The meal was drawing to a close.
Desserts were served, the last of the wine poured. The conversation grew looser; someone laughed loudly, Markus told a story that no one was really listening to—at least I wasn't. My entire focus was on Yukiko. She had stopped touching me under the table, but her gaze kept brushing over me. Every time our eyes met, I felt my cock twitch again. It had stayed rock-hard the whole time, throbbing dully against the fabric, damp and sensitive. The arousal had settled into a constant, heavy pressure in my lower abdomen. I could barely think clearly anymore.
At some point Lena stood up and began clearing the table. The others helped. Yukiko stayed seated a moment longer, then she rose as well.
And the size comparison hit me like a blow.
She stood up—and my gaze traveled involuntarily upward. And further upward. And didn't stop. 215 centimeters. Barefoot. My head ended below her chest. The massive curve of her pectoral muscles, only suggested by the dress, lay right in front of my eyes. I would have had to tilt my head all the way back just to see her face. Instead I stared at that incredible height, at the breadth of her shoulders, at the way the fabric of the dress fell over her torso and still couldn't hide how enormous the body beneath it was.
She was barefoot.
Her feet were huge—matching her size—and yet incredibly beautifully shaped. Long, strong toes, well-groomed nails, the skin smooth and healthy. The arches high and muscular, the calf muscles continuing seamlessly into the tendons and the thick, powerful soles. When she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, everything tensed. The muscles in her feet and ankles worked visibly, hard and defined. I had never seen feet that looked so large and at the same time so powerful and aesthetic. My cock twitched hard at the sight. I imagined how those feet could hold me down, how easily they would dominate me.
Yukiko noticed my gaze. A slight blush rose in her cheeks, but she didn't pull her feet away. Instead she simply stood there, calm, and let me look. Then she bent down a little—which, given her size, still meant she was far above me—and said quietly, only for me to hear:
"Frank... could you maybe take me to the hotel? It's not far, and... I don't want to take a taxi alone."
Her voice was shy, but the undertone was clear. She wanted to be alone with me.
I only nodded. My throat was dry. "Yes. Of course."
We said our goodbyes. Markus and Lena hugged her—they had to stand on their tiptoes to do it. I stood beside them and suddenly felt tiny. As we walked to the door, Yukiko stopped and reached for her shoes, which were waiting by the coat rack.
High heels. Black, elegant, with a high heel.
She slipped one foot in, then the other. When she straightened up, she grew even taller.
Ten extra centimeters.
2.25 meters.
My gaze now hit exactly at the height of her stomach. The massive abdominal muscles suggested by the dress lay right in front of my eyes. I would have had to tip my head all the way back just to look past her chest to her face. Instead I stared at this incredible torso that completely towered over me. She was an absolute giant. I didn't even reach her chest. My entire body looked small and fragile next to her.
Yukiko looked down at me. From above. The size difference was so extreme that she had to lower her head to meet my eyes. A small, almost uncertain smile lay on her lips, but in her eyes there was now something calmer, more conscious. She knew exactly how she looked. And she saw how my gaze traveled along her body, how tense I was, how rock-hard my cock was still throbbing in my pants.
"Ready?" she asked softly.
I swallowed. "Yes."
We left the apartment. In the stairwell I had to tilt my head all the way back just to look at her while she went down the steps. Every one of her strides emphasized the enormous musculature in her legs—even through the long dress you could feel the power that was in those thighs and calves. The high heels made her calves stand out even more. The definition was incredible. I walked beside her and felt as if I were walking next to a living statue. An incredibly hot, muscular Japanese giantess who reminded me with every step of her absolute physical superiority.
Once outside she stopped briefly and looked down at me. The wind lightly moved the fabric of her dress. My head was at the height of her navel. I would only have had to lean forward a little to press my face against that hard, trained abdominal musculature.
My cock was so hard it hurt.
Yukiko smiled again that small, shy smile—and then she said quietly:
"Come. It's not far."

END OF PART ONE ... TO BE CONTINUED ?

[diabolodiabolo]

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[AR Azad]

It was so good. It was great, but now it would have been great if the girl had hip carry the boy in her arms.

[diabolodiabolo]

HOW I MET YUKIKO (PART 2)

The way to the hotel was short, but every step felt like an eternity.
Yukiko walked beside me—or rather: I walked beside her, tiny and tense. In her high heels she measured 2.25 meters. My gaze stayed level with her stomach. Sometimes, when she moved her arm, the fabric of her dress brushed against my torso. Every time, my cock twitched hard. It had stayed rock-hard the entire time, throbbing painfully against my pants, damp and heavy. The arousal had built into a constant, unbearable pressure. I could barely breathe normally anymore.
In front of the hotel she stopped. The building was modern, unremarkable. She took the keycard from her small handbag—the card looked almost ridiculously tiny in her large hand—and opened the glass door. In the lobby no one paid us any special attention. To the receptionist she was clearly already known. We stepped into the elevator. When the doors closed, we suddenly stood close together. Or rather: I stood pressed against her. My face was at the height of her navel. The scent of her skin—something fresh, light—rose into my nose. I felt the warmth radiating from her body.
Yukiko looked down at me. From way above. Her dark eyes studied my face, then drifted lower, to the obvious bulge in my pants. A very faint smile touched her lips. Shy... and at the same time knowing.
The elevator stopped. Corridor. Room door.
She opened it with the keycard. The room was spacious, modern, with a huge bed that would fit even her. The door clicked shut behind us. That soft sound was the only noise.
Yukiko turned to face me.
And now, in the closed room, the size difference felt even more extreme. She stood there, 2.25 meters in her high heels, and I barely reached her stomach. My head ended below her chest. The massive swell of her pectoral muscles was right in front of my eyes, separated only by the fabric of the dress. I would have had to tilt my head all the way back to see her face. Instead I stared at that incredible torso that completely towered over me.
She looked down at me. Then, very slowly, she reached for the zipper at the side of her dress.
"You've been staring the whole time," she said quietly. Her voice was still soft, almost shy—but underneath it now lay a calm certainty. "Not like the other men. The others... get insecure. Or scared. You don't."
She pulled the zipper down a little. Only to just under her armpit. The fabric opened slightly, and the upper part of her left pectoral came into view. Thick. Hard. Impossible to miss. The muscle was so massive that even this small glimpse was enough to take my breath away. The skin over it was smooth, the definition razor-sharp. When she tensed her arm just a little, the muscle swelled even further, grew thicker, rounder.
My cock jerked so hard that a quiet sound escaped me. The hardness was painful by now. The head was wet, the fabric of my underwear soaked. I felt my balls draw tight.
Yukiko noticed. Her gaze slid back to the bulge in my pants. Then she did something that nearly finished me:
She deliberately flexed her pectoral.
Once. Slowly. Controlled. The muscle swelled powerfully under the skin, the center line became even clearer, the veins stood out slightly. Then she relaxed. And flexed again. Flexing. Deliberately. For me.
"You like this," she whispered. It wasn't a question. "A lot."
I could only nod. My voice failed.
She took one step closer. Through the high heels and her size it felt as if a mountain was moving toward me. My face was now only centimeters from her stomach. The fabric of the dress almost touched my nose. I felt the hardness of the abdominal muscles beneath—firm, trained, unyielding.
Yukiko laid a hand on my head. Her hand was enormous. The fingers long, the palm broad and warm. She stroked lightly through my hair—a gesture that felt both tender and completely dominant. With that hand she could have enclosed my entire head.
"I usually hide my body," she said quietly. "Because most people... don't react the way you do." She paused. Then, even softer: "Do you want to see more?"
My cock throbbed so strongly I felt it might burst through my pants any second. The arousal was so intense I grew dizzy. I breathed shallow and hot against the fabric at her stomach.
"Yes," I managed. "Please."
Yukiko smiled that small, shy smile—and then she reached for the zipper again.
Yukiko slowly pulled the zipper further down.
The fabric of the long dress opened bit by bit. First the left side, then the right. She let it slide from her shoulders. The dress fell, gathered around her feet, and stayed there.
She stood in front of me.
Barefoot again. 215 centimeters. Almost naked. Only a narrow, dark pair of panties still covered the essentials.
My breath caught.
What I had secretly looked at online for years—the hardest female professional bodybuilders, the most massive muscle mountains I had ever seen—paled in comparison to what now stood before me. Yukiko was on a completely different level. Not simply muscular. Extreme. Unreal. Twice as massive as anything I had ever admired on a screen. Every single muscle group was exaggeratedly developed, razor-sharp in definition, and at the same time of a density and thickness I would never have thought possible.
The shoulders first. Broad, powerful deltoids that looked like shoulder pads made of stone. The front portion swelled thick and round forward, the lateral head made her shoulder width look even more extreme. When she drew her shoulders slightly back, the rear deltoid tensed and revealed a depth rarely seen even in male professionals.
The arms. My God, the arms.
The biceps was enormous. Thick, high-set, with a clear peak shape when she tensed it briefly. Beside it the triceps—massive, horseshoe-shaped, the three heads clearly separated and rock-hard. The forearms were sinewy and thick, the extensors and flexors so developed that thick veins ran over them. Her hands looked correspondingly huge, the fingers long and strong.
Then the chest.
The pectoral muscles were incredible. Thick, full, with a deep separation line in the middle. The upper portion swelled powerfully under the collarbone, the lower portion was so massive it almost had a slight overhang. When she flexed her chest muscles—deliberately, slowly, for me—they grew even thicker, even harder. The skin stretched over them, individual veins stood out. It was the most extreme thing I had ever seen. Far beyond what even the hardest female bodybuilders on the internet showed.
The stomach.
Eight clearly separated packs. Not the usual six—eight. Deeply etched, rock-hard, with sharp edges. The external oblique muscles were so thick and defined that they looked like additional armor plates. When she tensed her abs, the entire region became a single, unyielding wall of muscle.
Then the legs.
The quadriceps were monstrous. The rectus femoris swelled thick and high in the middle, the vastus medialis and lateralis were so massive that the thighs had a width I could barely comprehend. When she shifted her weight from one leg to the other, the muscles played under the skin—hard, alive, unbelievably powerful. The hamstrings on the back also stood out clearly, thick and separate.
And the calves.
The calves were what finished me the most. The gastrocnemius was so enormous that even in a relaxed state it already looked extreme. When she flexed it, it swelled into two powerful, rock-hard mountains. The soleus underneath made the calf even thicker. The tendons ran clear and strong down to the heel. These calves alone would already have counted as exceptional on a normal female bodybuilder. On her they were only part of the whole.
Yukiko stood there and let me look. The shyness was still in her face—cheeks slightly flushed, the gaze uncertain and at the same time examining. But her body spoke a different language. She began to deliberately pump herself up.
First the arms. She bent them, flexed biceps and triceps at the same time. The muscles visibly swelled, grew even thicker, even harder. Then the chest. A deep inhale, a conscious flex—the pectorals surged powerfully forward, the separation line grew even deeper. After that the abs. She tensed the entire core musculature until the eight packs stood out rock-hard and the obliques stood out like ropes. Finally the legs. She bent her knees slightly, flexed the quadriceps, then the calves. Everything swelled. The definition grew even sharper. Veins stood out more strongly. The entire body suddenly looked even more massive, even more threatening, even more unbelievable.
I stared.
My cock was so hard it hurt. The head was wet, the underwear soaked, the pressure in my pants unbearable. Every heartbeat made it throb. I had the feeling I could come just from looking. This was no longer a body one knew from the internet. This was something that shattered the limits of what I had thought possible. A 215 cm tall, 160 kg Japanese giantess whose musculature put the hardest male professional bodybuilders in the shade—and who now stood almost naked in front of me and deliberately pumped herself up even further.
Only the panties still covered something.
They were narrow, dark, tight. And they hid almost nothing. The fabric stretched over her mound and clearly showed the imprint of her outer lips. You could see the shape of the vagina underneath—the contours of the outer labia, and in the middle, distinctly raised, the imprint of a large, thick clitoris. It pressed visibly against the fabric as if it were already swollen. Moisture was beginning to darken the panties in places.
Yukiko noticed where I was staring. A quiet, embarrassed sound escaped her lips. But she made no move to cover herself. Instead she tensed her thighs once more—deliberately, slowly. The monstrous quadriceps swelled, and through the tension the fabric of the panties shifted slightly. The imprint of the clitoris became even clearer.
She looked down at me. From high above. My face was at the height of her stomach. The rock-hard eight-pack musculature was only centimeters from my mouth.
"Is it... too much?" she asked quietly. Her voice trembled slightly with shyness. But her eyes were dark and alert. She saw exactly how rock-hard I was. How I was trembling. How turned on I was.
I shook my head. My voice was hoarse.
"No. It's... the most extreme thing I've ever seen. Much more massive than anything I know. You are... incredible."
Yukiko's cheeks grew darker. But a small, almost relieved smile touched her lips. Then she flexed her chest muscles once more—slowly, controlled, right in front of my face—and whispered:
"Then keep looking."
Yukiko took a deep breath.
Then she began to pump herself up even further.
It was no longer a normal flex. She drew in air, tensed the entire back musculature, let the lats fill, breathed in again, tensed even harder. The broad back muscles swelled visibly, grew thicker, wider, unbelievably massive. The skin over them stretched, veins stood out. She did it deliberately, slowly, and watched my face the entire time.
It aroused her.
I saw it. The slight flush in her cheeks deepened. Her breathing grew a little heavier. The fabric of her panties darkened further between her legs—she was getting wet from seeing me this turned on. My cock throbbed visibly in my pants, the wet spot at the head could no longer be overlooked. Every time she tensed a muscle group even harder and saw my reaction, something flickered in her gaze. Shyness and growing arousal mixed together.
Then she did it.
She set her feet a little wider, took a deep breath—and opened her arms into a lat spread.
Not just any lat spread. A huge, multiply pumped lat spread.
The lats unfolded like dark, muscular wings. Extremely wide. Extremely thick. The muscle strands ran from the armpits far downward and swelled so massively that her entire upper body suddenly looked even more threatening and broader. She pumped once more—another deliberate flex—and the lats grew even thicker. The width was unreal. Even the most massive female bodybuilders I had ever seen online didn't come close. Yukiko's back musculature was on a level that almost seemed inhuman.
I stared with my mouth open.
My cock jerked so hard that I had to moan. The arousal was painful. I couldn't help it—I rose onto my tiptoes, stretched both arms out as far as I could, and tried to touch her lats on the left and right.
It was impossible.
Even on my tiptoes, with fully outstretched arms, I didn't come anywhere near the outer edges of her pumped lats. The width was simply too extreme. My fingertips ended far inside, somewhere over her lower back, while the actual lat muscles still lay a good stretch further out and higher. I was too small. Too narrow. She towered over me in every dimension.
Yukiko looked down at me while she held the lat spread. The muscles trembled slightly from the tension. A quiet, aroused sound escaped her lips when she saw how desperately I tried to reach her—and failed.
"You can't reach," she whispered. Her voice was hoarse with arousal and at the same time still shy. "Not at all."
She slowly released the lat spread, but the muscles stayed thick and full. Then she looked at me, from high above, and said quietly but firmly:
"Get undressed."
My hands trembled as I stripped off the jacket, opened the shirt, unbuttoned the pants. Everything fell to the floor. When I pulled down the underwear, my cock sprang free—rock-hard, the head gleaming wet, the veins thickly swollen. It throbbed visibly in the air. I was so turned on I almost felt dizzy.
Yukiko examined it. Her eyes grew darker. Then she hooked her thumbs into her panties and pulled them down slowly, very slowly.
First the mound came into view—firm, muscular, almost no soft fat. Then the outer labia. They were plump and closed, but you could immediately see that extreme control lay underneath. When the panties slipped further and finally fell to the floor, she stood completely naked in front of me.
Her pussy was... different.
Tight. Incredibly tight-looking, even from the outside. The labia were taut and muscular, not soft and yielding. And then the clitoris.
It was thick.
Thick like a small penis. From years of intense training it was clearly enlarged, swollen, protruding. The head of the clitoris was round and plump, the shaft tissue underneath thick and visible. It stood slightly out, already gleaming wet. I had never seen a clit that looked so prominent and strong.
Yukiko watched my gaze. Then, without using her hands, she did something that pulled the ground out from under my feet.
She tensed her vaginal muscles.
You could see it. The outer lips drew slightly together, grew even tighter. Then, very deliberately, she moved individual inner muscles. It was visible—a slight, wave-like contraction, a tensing, a releasing. She could control the muscles individually. Like fingers. Like a trained hand. The control was absolute. When she tensed even harder, the entrance grew even tighter, and the thick clitoris twitched slightly with it.
"I've been training this for years," she whispered. Her cheeks burned with shyness and arousal. "Everything. This too." She tensed again—this time so strongly that you could see the trembling of the inner musculature. "I can... hold. Milk. As long as I want. Without hands."
My cock was dripping freely now. A thick drop detached from the head and fell to the floor. I trembled all over. This was beyond anything I had ever seen or imagined. A 215 cm tall, extremely muscular giantess whose vaginal muscles were so trained that they could be controlled individually and visibly—and a clitoris that protruded thick like a small cock.
Yukiko took one step closer. My face was now directly in front of her lower body. The thick clitoris was only centimeters from my mouth. She laid a huge hand on the back of my neck—warm, heavy, absolutely controlling—and whispered down from above:
"You may look. And later... feel. But when you come, I decide."

END OF PART TWO....

[georgeundertaker2004]

Amazing story man, it was really amazing, I hope you will publish more stuff in the future.

[diabolodiabolo]

Amazing story man, it was really amazing, I hope you will publish more stuff in the future.

I already have the full story ready (2 more parts) but need some time to translate...

[taoschild]

fun story. I can think of several directions this might go.

[diabolodiabolo]

Yukiko looked down at me.
For a moment, there was absolute silence. Nothing but my heavy breathing and the soft throbbing of my cock, still rock-hard in front of me, suspended in the air and dripping. Then she moved.
It wasn't a sudden movement. No jerk. Just... absolute, controlled strength.
Her enormous hands closed around my waist. Her fingers were so long and powerful that they could almost completely encircle me. I could feel the hard tendons and rock-solid muscles of her forearms against my body. Before I even had a chance to react, she lifted me.
Effortlessly.
As though I weighed nothing.
My feet left the floor. She held me in both hands at the level of her stomach, then raised me higher until my face was level with hers. 215 centimeters. I hung in her hands like a child. The monstrous biceps and triceps beneath her skin bulged only slightly—that was how little effort it took her to hold my 85 kilos. Her shoulder muscles, her deltoids, were rock-hard, the trapezius muscles around her neck thick and tense. I didn't stand a chance. None at all.
She turned and pressed my back against the wall.
The contact was firm, controlled, inescapable. Her entire body mass—160 kilos of pure, extreme muscle—was suddenly right in front of me and pressed against me. Her hard pectoral muscles pushed into my chest. Her rock-solid eight-pack rested against my lower body. I could feel every individual muscle, every contour, every unyielding ridge of hardness. My legs dangled helplessly in the air. She held me firmly by the hip with just one hand while the other rested against the wall beside my head. The latissimus muscles across her back were still full and thick from the pump she'd worked up earlier. The quadriceps of her thighs looked like two massive pillars directly in front of me.
I couldn't move. Not even slightly. Her strength was absolute. She could do whatever she wanted with me—lift me, hold me, pin me against the wall, carry me. I was completely at her mercy.
Yukiko lowered her head toward me.
That face.
Sweet. Soft. Almost girlish. Large dark eyes, full lips, delicate Asian features. A face you would describe as pretty, even cute. And directly beneath it was that unbelievable body—extreme, monstrous, covered in mountains of hard muscle that put even the most formidable professional female bodybuilders far behind her. The contrast was so intense that it turned me on even more. That sweet face belonged to the strongest, most muscular body I had ever seen.
She kissed me.
Intensely.
Her lips were soft, but the kiss wasn't. She took possession of my mouth. Her tongue came immediately—long, strong, muscular. She pushed it deep into my mouth, ran it across my tongue, exploring, pressing, taking. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a demonstration. Her tongue was powerful and controlled, just like the rest of her body. She kissed me the same way she held me: absolutely, overwhelmingly, without giving me even the slightest chance to determine the pace or intensity.
I moaned into her mouth. My cock was trapped between us, rock-hard, rubbing against her stone-like abdominal muscles with every tiny movement. Her eight-pack was so hard it felt as though I were rubbing myself against a warm, living wall of rock. Every contact made me twitch. I was already dripping onto her stomach.
Yukiko broke the kiss for a moment, just long enough to look at me. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes dark with arousal. She deliberately flexed her chest muscles again—the pectorals swelling powerfully against my chest—and then tightened her abs. The hardness beneath my cock became even more extreme. At the same time, I felt her thighs shift slightly, the monstrous quadriceps moving beneath her skin.
"You don't stand a chance," she whispered against my mouth. Her voice was husky, shy, and at the same time utterly confident. "None at all. I can lift you... hold you... wherever I want. For as long as I want."
To emphasize her words, she lifted me a little higher, pressed me more firmly against the wall, and kissed me again. Deeper. More intensely. Her long, powerful tongue conquered my mouth while her enormous hands effortlessly held me in position. The muscles in her arms and shoulders barely had to work—that was how overwhelming her strength was. I hung helplessly in her grip, my cock throbbing desperately between us, and I knew with every fiber of my body:
She could do whatever she wanted with me.
And she would.
Yukiko broke the kiss.
She was still holding me effortlessly in the air, one enormous hand under my ass, the other against my back. Her biceps and triceps only bulged slightly under the skin—that was how little strength she needed to carry me. Then she started moving. Just like that. With me in her arms.
Every step made her muscles work. The monstrous quadriceps tensed and relaxed in a steady rhythm. Her calves swelled hard and defined. The lats and shoulder muscles kept my body stable as if I weighed nothing. She carried me across the room the way someone carries a bag. I had no chance to move or resist. My legs dangled helplessly, my cock throbbing rock-hard against her hard stomach.
She stopped at the bed. In one single, fluid motion she laid me down on the mattress. I sank into the pillows, small and helpless. Yukiko knelt over me. Her 215 centimeters and 160 kilos of muscle mass completely framed me. The thighs to the left and right of my hips were like two massive pillars—the quadriceps so thick and hard I couldn't have wrapped both hands around them. The stone-hard eight-pack abs were right above my face when she briefly straightened up.
She looked down at me. That sweet Asian face with the big dark eyes and full lips—in the starkest contrast to the extreme muscular body beneath it. Then she began.
At first she only rubbed against me.
She lowered her hips and let her labia and the thick, penis-like clit slowly glide over my cock. Back and forth. The wetness was immediately noticeable. Hot. Slippery. The thick clit stroked across my glans with every movement. At the same time she tensed her vaginal muscles—I felt the light twitching and contracting directly against my cock. She could control the muscles individually, and she made me feel it.
My back arched. I moaned. The arousal was so intense that after only a few seconds I was already on the edge.
Yukiko noticed immediately.
She lifted her hips. The contact was gone. Cold. I twitched and moaned in protest. My cock throbbed helplessly in the air, glistening wet from her juices, dripping onto my stomach.
"Not yet," she whispered. The voice was soft, shy—and absolutely commanding. "I say when."
She waited. Let me twitch and breathe. The monstrous thigh muscles to the right and left of me tensed on purpose, growing even thicker, even harder. The calves behind her swelled as she shifted her weight. Then she lowered herself again.
This time she took the head between her labia. Only the tip. She let me push in a little way—tight, unbelievably tight, the trained vaginal muscles wrapping around me at once and contracting rhythmically. A short, intense milking. Two, three seconds. Then she lifted off again.
I almost cried out from frustration and lust. My hands instinctively grabbed her thighs—and immediately realized how hopeless it was. The quadriceps were so hard and massive that my fingers barely left an impression. She allowed me to touch her, but it changed nothing. She had complete control.
She lowered herself again. This time a little deeper. Half of my cock disappeared into her tight, muscular pussy. The inner muscles went to work at once—they contracted in waves, milking, massaging, then easing up. It felt like a trained hand was gripping and squeezing me from the inside. At the same time the thick clit rubbed against my lower stomach. Yukiko moaned softly. It turned her on to see me so helpless.
Then—gone again.
She lifted completely off. My cock glistened, throbbed, twitched. I was so close to coming that my balls had already drawn up. A thick drop of precum ran down the underside.
"Please...," I managed. The voice was hoarse and broken.
Yukiko bent down. The sweet face came very close. She kissed me again—deep, with that long, strong tongue—while at the same time she laid her hard, muscular body on top of me. The pectorals pressed against my chest, the abs against my stomach, the thighs against my sides. I was completely buried under her. Under 160 kilos of the most extreme musculature. I couldn't move.
She whispered against my mouth:
"You come when I want. Not before. I can do this for hours."
To underline it she lowered herself once more. Took me deep inside her—almost completely—and let the vaginal muscles milk me so intensely that I felt I would explode any second. The tightness was unreal. The control absolute. Then she stopped again. Held me deep inside her without moving, and only tensed and relaxed the inner muscles rhythmically. Every contraction brought me closer. Every pause yanked me back.
I trembled under her. Sweat ran down my forehead. My cock throbbed desperately in her tight, muscular pussy. She had me completely in her power—or rather: in her cunt. And she was enjoying it.
Yukiko raised herself a little, deliberately tensed her chest and abdominal muscles so they pressed even harder and more defined against me, and looked down at me with that sweet, slightly shy smile.
"One more time," she whispered. "And this time... beg properly."
Yukiko straightened up.
With one single, fluid motion she shifted forward. The monstrous thighs—quadriceps as thick and hard as tree trunks—framed my head. Before I could even grasp what was happening, she lowered her hips and sat on my face.
Her thick, penis-like clit pushed immediately between my lips.
It was so large and swollen that it almost completely filled my mouth. The engorged head pressed against my palate, the thick shaft stretched my lips. It pulsed. Distinctly. Hot and hard and alive. I couldn't help it—I took it deeper, sucked, licked, let my tongue circle over it. Yukiko moaned, a deep, guttural sound that came from high above.
At the same time she tensed her muscles.
I felt it everywhere. The thighs to the left and right of my head grew even harder, even thicker. The quadriceps swelled, veins suddenly standing out clearly—thick, bluish lines running across the stone-hard musculature. The inner thigh muscles contracted and lightly compressed my cheeks. Higher up, at her stomach, the eight-pack tensed into an unyielding wall. The pectorals bulged as she leaned her upper body slightly back. Everywhere more veins appeared—on her arms, on her shoulders, on the calves behind her. The more aroused she became, the more visible the extreme vascularity of her body.
She rode my face.
Slowly. Controlled. The thick clit glided back and forth in my mouth, pulsed harder, grew even firmer. Her wetness ran over my chin and neck. The trained vaginal muscles right above contracted rhythmically—I felt the twitching against my nose and forehead. Yukiko panted. The shyness was still there, but it was being overlaid by the growing ecstasy.
While she used my face, her enormous hand reached down to my cock.
The fingers were so long and powerful that they effortlessly enclosed my entire cock. She began working it—firm, controlled, absolutely precise. Up and down. Sometimes tighter, sometimes looser. The thumb stroked over the wet head, spreading the precum, rubbing deliberately over the most sensitive spot. It wasn't a tender touch. It was pure teasing. Every movement brought me closer, and every time I was about to tip over she slowed the pace or stopped completely for a moment.
My cock throbbed desperately in her giant hand. My balls were heavy and drawn up. I moaned against her thick clit, which only aroused her more. It pulsed harder in my mouth, filled it completely. My tongue could barely work around it anymore, it had grown so large and hard.
Yukiko grew faster.
The thighs tensed to their maximum. Even more veins stood out—across the vastus medialis, across the adductors, all the way down to the calves. The abs stood out stone-hard. She panted louder, the sweet face contorted with pleasure while the extreme muscular body trembled under the strain.
"I'm... coming...," she choked out.
The thighs twitched. For a moment the pressure around my head became threatening—the monstrous quadriceps threatened to crush me. But she yanked the control back, exhaled sharply and deliberately eased the muscles a little while the orgasm surged through her. Her thick clit pulsed violently in my mouth, twitched, and a rush of her wetness ran over my face. The vaginal muscles above my mouth contracted convulsively and then released again. She moaned deep and long, the entire muscular body shuddered, veins throbbing visibly under the skin.
At the same time, exactly in the moment when my own orgasm was rushing closer unstoppably—the head already beginning to pulse, the balls drawing up completely—she did it.
Her enormous hand clamped me off.
The long, powerful fingers closed like a vise around the base of my cock and squeezed. Hard. Unyielding. The ejaculation was physically stopped. The pressure was so intense that I cried out—a choked, desperate sound against her still-pulsing clit. The arousal backed up, painful and exquisite at the same time. I twitched under her, wanted to come, but couldn't. She held me absolutely tight.
Yukiko was still panting, the thick clit still in my mouth, and looked down at me with half-closed eyes. Sweat glistened on the extremely defined muscles. Veins throbbed everywhere. The sweet face had slipped into pure lust—and yet she smiled that small, shy, absolutely victorious smile.
"Not...," she breathed. "Not yet."

END OF PART THREE....

[AR Azad]

This story is great. It would have been even better if the girl had taken the boy on her hip carry like a baby and gone outside the house.

[diabolodiabolo]

HOW I MET YUKIKO (PART 4 / FINAL PART)

Yukiko pulled away from my face.
While I was still gasping for air, she flipped me over with a single, effortless motion. Her enormous hands seized me by the hips and shoulders as if I weighed nothing. Before I could grasp what was happening, I was already lying on my back — directly on her stomach.
Her body was the surface beneath me.
The stone-hard eight-pack of her abs lay firm and warm under my entire back. I felt every single ridge, every definition, every unyielding hardness. Yukiko was so large that my body looked tiny on her. My feet only reached the height of her pelvis and the upper thighs. The monstrous quadriceps served as a footrest. My head lay next to hers, but not free.
She wrapped her right arm around my head.
The massive, veined bicep closed around my skull like a vise. The muscle was so thick and hard that I felt trapped in a living cage. The veins on it pulsed clearly against my temple and cheek. The triceps and forearm completed the grip. I could not move my head a single millimeter. Not left, not right, not up. Absolute fixation. The rest of my body lay stretched out on her hard stomach and could not stir either. Her left hand rested heavily on my chest — just for safety, in case I even tried.
I was completely immobilized.
Yukiko turned her head slightly toward me. That sweet Asian face was now only centimeters from mine. She smiled shyly and at the same time utterly victorious. Then she let my gaze wander downward.
My cock stood rock-hard and glistening wet, pointing straight up into the air. Directly in my field of vision. The head was dark red, swollen, hypersensitive. A constant drop of precum ran down the underside.
Yukiko extended only her index finger.
One single, long, strong finger.
She placed the tip exactly on my frenulum.
And began to tease.
Slowly. Agonizingly slowly. Only circling, stroking, light movements right over that extremely sensitive point. No gripping. No proper stroking. Just that one finger, relentlessly, precisely, and mercilessly stimulating my frenulum. The sensation was so intense it almost hurt from pure lust. My cock twitched hard with every touch. I wanted to move my hips — but could not. Her stomach underneath was stone-hard, her arm around my head unyielding.
She whispered directly into my ear. The voice was soft, close, absolutely controlling:
"Do you feel that? How hard my bicep is... how it holds your head? You can't move a single millimeter. I'm so much stronger than you. So much bigger. I could break you if I wanted to. But I won't. I'm only doing... what I want."
The index finger continued stroking over my frenulum. Slowly. Torturously. I moaned, the sound muffled because my head was locked so tightly. The arousal rose rapidly. The head throbbed, my balls tightened. I was right on the edge—
Yukiko took the finger away.
Just like that.
The sudden emptiness was cruel. My cock twitched helplessly in the air, dripping, pulsing. I gasped and instinctively tried to writhe — the bicep around my head only tightened further, the veins pressing harder against my skin. I could not move.
"One," she whispered into my ear. "Not yet."
She waited. Let me tremble and despair. Then the index finger settled on my frenulum again. Once more those slow, tormenting circles. Exactly right. Exactly too much. The overstimulation became unbearable. Every touch sent hot sparks through my entire lower body. Within seconds I was at the absolute edge again.
She took the finger away once more.
"Two."
I moaned like a wounded man. Sweat ran down my forehead. The head was so oversensitive that even the air on it was almost too much. My cock jerked uncontrollably, the veins on it visibly throbbing. I felt like I was going to go insane.
Yukiko placed the finger a third time.
This time even slower. Even more precise. Only the very tip, gently stroking back and forth over the frenulum, in circles, with minimal pressure. The sensation was so intense that my eyes watered. I was so close. So unbelievably close. The orgasmic wave was building unstoppably—
She whispered into my ear, her lips almost brushing my skin:
"Do you want to come now?"
"Please...," I gasped. My voice cracked. "Please, Yukiko... I'm begging you... let me come... please..."
She smiled against my ear.
Then she finally made the finger firmer.
No longer just the frenulum. She now stroked with the entire index finger in quick, precise movements over the head and frenulum, while the vaginal muscles somewhere inside her body contracted rhythmically beneath me, as if she herself were still trembling. The bicep around my head remained stone-hard and unyielding.
The orgasm tore through me with a force I had never experienced.
It was no ordinary climax. It was an explosion.
The first spurt shot out so violently it almost reached my chest. A thick, white rope of cum. Then the second — even stronger. The third. The fourth. I came and came, uncontrollably, in several large, powerful jets that coated my stomach, her fingers, and spread onto her own body. It did not stop. Every contraction of my balls was prolonged and intensified by her index finger. I cried out, the sound smothered in the vise-grip of her bicep. My entire body tried to curl up — but could not. She held me absolutely still while I emptied myself in the most violent, longest, most abundant orgasm of my life.
When it finally subsided, I was still only twitching. Cum covered my stomach and ran down the sides. The head was so hypersensitive that even the air on it burned. Yukiko stroked one last time very gently over the frenulum and then lifted the finger away.
She whispered into my ear while the enormous bicep still held my head like a vise:
"That was only the beginning."
Yukiko whispered directly into my ear while the massive bicep continued to hold my head like a vise:
"That's still not enough for me."
No pause. No recovery.
Her enormous hand closed around my still rock-hard, extremely hypersensitive cock. This time not just the index finger. The entire hand. The long, powerful fingers locked firmly around the shaft, the palm enveloping the head. And then she started stroking.
Powerfully.
Truly powerfully.
Up and down, firm, rhythmic, without any restraint. The hypersensitivity after the first orgasm turned every movement into a mixture of torment and extreme lust. I twitched and moaned, but the bicep around my head left not the slightest room. I could not move a single millimeter.
And I saw and felt how her arm muscles worked.
The bicep that held my head tensed even harder with every upward stroke. The veins on it pulsed strongly against my temple. At the same time the triceps worked visibly — the long head bulged thick and defined when she pulled her hand downward. The brachialis between biceps and triceps stood out clearly. The forearm muscles — extensors and flexors — played continuously under the skin, sinewy, thick, full of protruding veins. Every single pumping motion made the entire arm musculature swell and recede. It was a living powerhouse working my cock while the other arm kept my head completely fixed.
She stroked me hard and evenly. The wetness and cum from the first orgasm made everything slippery. The head was so overstimulated that after only a short time I was already at the edge again.
Yukiko noticed it immediately.
She stopped.
Right in the middle of a stroke. The hand stayed tightly closed around my cock, but ceased moving. The pressure was there, the tightness was there — the stimulation was gone. I gasped and instinctively tried to move my hips. Impossible. Her stone-hard stomach beneath me and the bicep around my head allowed nothing.
"One," she whispered.
She waited until the immediate orgasmic wave subsided a little. Then she started again. Once more powerfully. Once more with the whole hand. The arm muscles worked visibly and tangibly — biceps, triceps, forearms, everything in perfect, powerful coordination. The veins stood out even more. My cock throbbed desperately in her grip. The hypersensitivity was now almost unbearable. Within seconds I was right on the brink again—
She stopped a second time.
"Two."
I moaned as if on the edge of madness. Sweat ran down my face, straight against her hard bicep. The head burned from overstimulation. My entire lower body clenched from the pent-up orgasm.
Yukiko gave me no time to catch my breath.
She began a third time. This time even firmer, even faster. The entire arm musculature pumped visibly. The bicep around my head became stone-hard, the triceps swelled mightily, the forearms were a network of veins and tensed tendons. She stroked me with a strength and precision against which I had absolutely nothing to oppose.
The second orgasm hit me even harder than the first.
It should not have been possible. I should have been empty. But my body still forced it out.
Several thick, powerful spurts of cum shot out of me once more. The first flew high, the second, the third — it was an unbelievable amount, thick and white, as if I had not come for hours. I cried out, the sound almost smothered by her bicep. My body tried to curl and jerk, but she held me absolutely fixed. The hand around my cock milked out every single drop, prolonged the contractions, made the orgasm endless and brutally intense.
When it finally subsided, I was only twitching helplessly. Cum covered my stomach, her hand, and ran down onto her own hard abs. The head was so hypersensitive that even the light pressure of her fingers was almost too much.
Yukiko slowly released her hand from my cock.
Then she opened the bicep grip around my head. Before I could even move, she grabbed me again — this time under the armpits and by the ass — and lifted me effortlessly. Up to her 215 centimeters. I hung in her arms again like a child.
She positioned me a little higher so that my upper body was in front of her face.
And then she began to lick.
Slowly. Thoroughly. With relish.
Her long, strong tongue stroked over my stomach and gathered every drop of cum. She licked the ropes from my skin, from the hairs, from the places where it had run into my navel. When she reached my cock, she carefully took the still hypersensitive head into her mouth and sucked out the last remnants. It was not tender — it was practical. Efficient. As if she did not want to waste a protein source.
She licked me clean.
Every centimeter.
When she was finished, she looked at me with that sweet, slightly shy smile. Sweat gleamed on her extreme muscles, veins still pulsed visibly. She still held me effortlessly in the air and whispered:
"Good protein. You did well."
Yukiko still carried me effortlessly in her arms.
My 85 kilos meant nothing to her. The monstrous biceps and triceps bulged only minimally under the skin while she held me — so little effort I required of her. The shoulder muscles (deltoids) were stone-hard and stable, the lats on her back broad and thick like wings. She took a few steps to the bed and sat down on the edge. Then she pulled me against her body.
Not roughly. But absolutely commanding.
She laid me on my side against her so that my back and the back of my head rested against her hard, muscular upper body. My head lay at the height of her lower chest and upper abdomen. The thick, veined pectoral muscles were directly behind me, warm and unyielding. The eight-pack abs served as a firm, living mattress. One arm — the left — wrapped around my upper body. The bicep no longer closed around my head like a vise, but it lay heavy and massive across my chest and shoulder. The weight and hardness of that single muscle alone were enough to make it clear that I could not move away even if I wanted to.
I was small against her.
My legs barely reached her thighs. The monstrous quadriceps and the thick calves lay relaxed, yet even at rest they were so massive and defined that they looked threatening. Now and then Yukiko deliberately tensed individual muscle groups — just briefly, just to make me feel it. The bicep around my chest became stone-hard for a few seconds, the veins standing out even clearer. Then she released it again. The abs under my back contracted, turning into an unyielding plate, then relaxed once more. Every tension was a silent reminder of her absolute physical superiority.
She simply held me.
Warm. Hard. Inescapable.
Her sweet Asian face bent down toward me. The soft features, the large dark eyes, the full lips — everything so at odds with the extreme muscular body that currently enclosed me. She kissed me lightly on the temple, then whispered, her voice still a little shy but carried by a calm, unshakable certainty:
"You're so small against me... and so soft. I can feel how your heart is racing." She deliberately tensed the bicep again so that it swelled powerfully against my chest. "This muscle alone is stronger than your entire body. I could crush you with it. Or hold you. For as long as I want. You couldn't do anything about it."
I lay still and breathed against her hard musculature. The sweat on her skin smelled lightly salty and clean. Everywhere I touched her I felt only density and power — no softness, no give. Even in a relaxed state her muscles were so developed that they felt like warm, living metal.
Yukiko slowly stroked with her free hand over my arm and my side. The touch was almost tender, but the hand itself was enormous and full of underlying strength. Now and then she let the triceps or the forearm muscles swell visibly, just to show me that she could. The veins on her arm pulsed calmly and thickly.
"I liked how you came," she continued to whisper. Her cheeks were still lightly flushed. "Both times. So intensely... so much. And you couldn't even move. That... turns me on." She paused, briefly tensed her entire core so that I was enclosed from behind and below by stone-hard mountains of muscle, then released again. "I'm usually shy. Most men get scared when they see what's under the clothes. You didn't. You got hard. Very hard. I... like that."
She simply kept holding me.
The minutes passed. My body slowly calmed, but the hypersensitivity in my cock remained. Every time Yukiko deliberately tensed a muscle — the bicep, the chest, the abs, the thighs — something twitched inside me. The pure, absolute power contained in this body was omnipresent. I lay against her like against a living fortress of muscle, and she could lift me, turn me, fix me or use me again at any moment without even breaking a sweat.
After a while she kissed me again, this time on the mouth. Slowly, deeply, with that long, strong tongue. When she pulled back she whispered against my lips:
"Rest a little longer. But I'm not finished with you yet. Your body still has more for me... and I'm going to take it."
To emphasize the point she tensed the arm around me once more. The bicep became stone-hard, the veins stood out clearly, and with every fiber I felt how hopeless any resistance would have been.
I lay still in her grip.
And knew that she was right.

THE END