IT Support

[skipberg]

It all started with a blue screen.

I was in my office working on a valuation model for my the mutual fund I was managing, and in the middle of my work, the computer froze.  As I poked away at the keys to try to dislodge the cursor from cell E32 in the spreadsheet, the screen flashed and went blue.

"Good grief, not now," I thought, as I feared I may have possibly lost all the analysis work I'd been doing on this particular stock that I'd been tracking for months.

I picked up the phone and called the IT support line for our firm.  Telling them what happened, they said they'd send someone right over.

I sat back and grabbed a stress ball and started squeezing it to calm myself while I waited.  Every minute wasted was money we were losing, and while I knew our IT support group was quick to respond, it had been a while since I'd needed them.  Given the turnover I'd heard the group was suffering from, I suspected that the folks in the group I'd dealt with in the past had probably moved on by now and I'd be dealing with a new guy.  I was praying I wouldn't get someone green and useless who would just tell me to reboot.

Then there was a knock at the door.

"IT support, OK if I come in?"

"Sure, come on in," I replied.

The door opened and entering was a lovely woman who I'd never seen before, fashionably dressed, carrying a laptop.  She struck me as imposing, largely filling the doorway as she entered, which at the time didn't impress me too much because she was wearing a bulky sweater.

"Hi Rich, I'm told you're having some trouble with your system?  I'm Sara.   Hopefully I can help."

She walked over towards me and I instinctively got up to give her my seat, expecting she'd need access to my computer.  As I arose and she came around my desk I noticed that she was not a small woman at all, probably taller than me, and I'm not a small guy at 5'11".  So that's not a sense I get very often.

I gave her a mild wave from a distance, saying "nice to meet you, thanks for coming so quickly Sara."  She nodded back to me and sat down to start working on my machine, asking me questions about what I was doing when it crashed, what the screen did, what programs I had installed, other basics.  I continued squeezing the stress ball to calm myself while my mind focused on how I was going to rebuild the model once the computer was fixed. 

After plugging my computer into hers, she pretty quickly got the screen to light back up but couldn't get any programs to open.  "Strange," she said out loud to herself.

"Everything ok?  You think you can get my work back up?  I'd hate to lose it," I said, watching the screen and praying for the model to come into view.

"I'll do what I can, we have a backup system that saves from everyone's computers every so often in case something like this happens, so there's a good chance we can get it back."

I went back to squeezing and thinking about the model and vaguely noticed how she sat back, clearly thinking about what to do next, and took a deep breath like I do when I'm about to attack something challenging in a model.  Then I saw her roll up her sweater sleeves, again like I do with my shirts when I'm going to get down to business.  And as she did so I was struck by the thickness of her forearms.  At first I thought they were just chunky, implying she was a typical, out-of-shape IT geek.  But then when she started typing away, I could see the chords of muscle tensing and flexing on top of her forearm with her finger movements.  And when she paused and lifted her arms off the keyboard to think, she stretched her wrists momentarily and I noticed the underside of her forearm was just as thick, with an astonishing ball of muscle forming when she stretched and flexed them.  The wrist and finger flexing is a pretty normal behavior for someone doing a lot of work at a computer keyboard, but the anatomy I'd witnessed was really remarkable and I totally stopped thinking about the model, stopped squeezing the stress ball, and I guess I just started to stare.

After a short while, I guess she noticed that I'd changed my behavior because she looked over at me and, seeing where my eyes were fixed, looked down at her arms.  At that moment I realized what I was doing and I shook my head for a second to wake myself up and then looked at her face instead.  Looking at me, she raised her eyebrows and gave a short "hmm" and then returned her focus to the screen and typed a bit, but from time to time she paused and started to make and release fists with her hands while she typed, and each time she did that I was drawn to stare at the response her forearms gave from the flexing.  I noticed that she had a mild grin on her face from that time on.

After a few more minutes, she got the excel model back up, pushed the chair back, turned to me and said, "You're all set Rich.  I think I was able to get your work back to when the system crashed.  Does this look right?"

I stepped towards her and looked over her shoulder, and noticed that indeed all my work was still there.

"That's perfect.  Thanks so much, that was incredibly quick."

"My pleasure."  She stood up, and at her full height directly next to me, my initial impression was confirmed that she was definitely taller than me...at least she was in her heels...by at least 3 or 4 inches.

She reached her hand out to shake mine, saying "It's nice to meet a business partner who's so...appreciative."  As I reached my hand out, she took it in hers, and I felt like my hand was enveloped in her larger hand.  As she shook it, I could feel that she was squeezing in a way that was slightly stronger than a normal shake, and I couldn't help but get the sense that she was sending a message, that she knew I had seen her, and that she was confirming what I saw.

She turned to leave and as she left she turned and said "I don't know exactly what caused the issue, but if it happens again give us a call and we'll send someone out again.  Be careful what websites you are visiting, some of them have nasty bugs in them that can cause issues like the one you had."

"OK thanks," I replied as I took my seat again.  The door closed and I went back to work.

But honestly, I couldn't focus for a while as I kept thinking about those arms.

I'd always had a thing for buff women.  It was a secret from my family and friends, and from the women I dated.  But it was there since I was an early teenager.  One of the reasons I spent any time at the gym was on the off chance I would meet a girl there who could satisfy that secret passion, but I'd never had that kind of luck.  I didn't live in LA or Texas or Miami, where so many of the women lived who were the famous bodybuilders and physique pros, who attracted other like-minded women to train with them.  My area had some women who were in shape, but that didn't get me going.  I really wanted more than "in shape."  I wanted a woman with overwhelming strength and power, and whatever experiences that my imagination had conjured up over time that could come with that kind of strength and power.   But I had seen that the "in shape" women in my area were all with huge guys, but I wasn't a buff guy at all -- I was in good shape, but I had a fast metabolism so I could never put on that kind of size.  So I was a pretty normal, athletic looking guy.  I knew deep down that I wasn't what a truly muscular woman would go for.   

I wasted plenty of my free time online looking at images and videos of women with the look that I longed for, using fake social media profiles and private browsers to conceal my identity and activities.  I knew way too much about the sport, and if you showed me a picture of a nationally ranked female bodybuilder or physique athlete, chances were I could name her because my pseudo-profile was an Insta**** follower or Facebook friend.  I didn't feel guilty about that at all -- I figured they didn't care who was following them, they just wanted more followers so they could get more money from their sponsors.  So it was a win/win.  And I never, ever tried to interact with any of them online; I just lurked, stayed low, and enjoyed the images.  Even moreso I loved the videos because you could really see them in action, see how the muscles moved in real life, and seeing that was titillating to me.  From time to time my browsing interest went beyond just watching muscular women showing their muscles; there videos of muscular, or just strong, women overpowering men that were posted on various sites all the time, and I loved viewing those as they were part of my ultimate fantasy.  Why imagine just being with a powerful women unless you want to feel how she uses it on you?  And some of those videos I found really got into how the stronger woman would control the man -- sometimes just letting the man feel and caress and worship her stronger body, sometimes just lifting the men and carrying them around, sometimes wrestling them into submission -- and some of them went way further into areas I didn't necessarily fantasize about but I could understand may be a natural extension of a relationship where a stronger woman is dominant over her male partner, where the male partner may be truly submissive --  overpowering their weaker men to force them to pleasure their woman sexually (generally sitting on the man's face to force cunnalingus but other ways as well), physically punishing their men with spanking or other actions, reversing sexual roles by taking their men with strap-ons, and some went way beyond that into masks, whips and stuff that was out of bounds to me.   I frequently incorporated the more moderate videos of worship, lifting and wrestling into my fantasies and my masturbation.  In fact, over time I had found it almost impossible to effectively masturbate unless I could see or imagine the woman having large and potent muscles.  And less frequently, the more extreme pictures and videos I would see of domination would work their way in, but only when I would see a video of a particularly attractive muscular woman doing deeds on her man.  For those, it was less about the deed, and more about the woman -- if the woman and her physique were hot enough, I could fantasize that she would do anything to me and it would get me off.

While I knew in my heart that my fantasies were not realistic in any way, the dream was still there.  And I quickly accepted that despite Sara from IT's imposing size, her forearms were probably the result of all of the computer work she did, and wouldn't translate to the rest of her.  But for a few minutes, at least, it was exciting.

The following week, I was at home working on my laptop and a similar issue arose where my system froze and crashed.  I called IT again and while they offered to send someone to my place to fix it so I could continue working (our IT group was all about service to the investment professionals). I told them it wasn't that urgent and they could work on it in the morning.  So they said they would contact someone that night and send him to my office at 8.

At 8am there was a knock on my door and a voice said "IT Support, OK to come in?"

I felt a jolt of electricity hit me as I remembered that voice.  My mind instantly went back to the visit the previous week and I got lost in the memory for a second until a second knock jogged me out of the haze.  "IT Support, Rich are you there?"

"Yes, sorry, come on in."

The door opened and she entered again.  She wasn't wearing a bulky sweater and pants this time, she was wearing a short sleeve blouse and a long skirt.

"Hi, I hear you have a similar problem?  Let me see what's happening."

She walked over to me, and as I pushed back the chair to get up and yield it to her, she said, "No, stay sitting, that's ok, I just need a second to check something and I'll probably take the computer with me this time."

She leaned over directly next to me and reached her arms out to start working on the keyboard.  I glanced at her forearms to reaffirm my recollection of their impressiveness, but quickly my eyes locked in on the rest of her arms.  They were just as thick and remarkable as her forearms.  And not fat.  They were muscular and defined.  More than I'd ever seen on a woman.  I could not stop staring at them.  My mind quickly went to the fantasies I'd had about powerful women.   I couldn't help it.  I tried to breathe normally but it was hard.  I was getting surges of desire all over, and I got a raging erection and shifted in my seat to conceal it, all while keeping my eyes on those arms inches away from me. 

I heard her say, "so the fact that this has happened twice may mean that this might be a virus that's gotten into your system.  Have you clicked on any links in unusual emails, or accidentally clicked on any pop-ups on websites you've visited?"  I was so focused on her arms that I didn't fully register what she was asking and didn't respond right away, instead after a pregnant delay responding "I don't think so."

But by then I noticed that she stopped typing and her arms started tensing and flexing as I continued to stare.  They were exploding with raw power, the biceps and triceps expanding and contracting with a shape that would be the envy of any fitness junkie.  Her fitted short sleeves seemed ready to burst.  The pulsation was drawing me in, and realizing something was up, I looked up at her face and she was looking at me grinning, and again raising her eyebrows in interest and mild surprise.   "Hmm," she said, same as last time, as she looked me up and down, and while doing so her eyes stayed an extra beat on my crotch; I tried again to shift to conceal what was happening under the fabric but it was a challenge to do so.  There was a spot of wetness showing on my pants.  "Hmm," she said a second time, and then closed my laptop, grabbed it and stood up, looming over me.

"I'll need to do some diagnostics on your system.  You can use this loaner for a couple of hours while I investigate the issue.  Either I or another member of the team will bring it back today."

And with that she left me sitting there embarrassed and dry-mouthed.  I knew she had me nailed dead to rights, she saw me ogling her, she knew I was turned on, and she was playing into it, like it was a game.  And it started to tick me off.  She was in IT, she was there to fix my problems, not to create them!  And then it struck me -- she had taken my computer and was going to run diagnostics on it.  I thought about how I had used that computer in the past, and I know in my idle time I'd browsed some social media using my fake profiles, and maybe visited a video site or two, but I was very sure I'd used private browser all the time.  I was so good about that, I'd had plenty of practice with concealment.  So after a few seconds of panic I calmed myself enough to get back to work using the loaner she left with me.

About an hour and a half later there was another knock at the door and a different IT support person came in and dropped off my computer. 

"I'm Enzo from IT.  Sara said this laptop should be good to go," he said, and left with the loaner I'd been using.

I opened the computer and inside was a sticky note, folded with care.

"There were several viruses on the system.  I was able to remove them.  Please be careful with the sites you visit.    Sara."

I was horrified.  That smiley face emoticon said it all, she had seen my browsing history and knew.  Thankfully I never saw anyone in IT unless I had an issue, as they were on a different floor, so I prayed that I wouldn't have any more issues in the near future.  I figured the fact that the IT group couldn't retain any of their staff would mean that Sara would be gone soon enough.

Admittedly, over the following days and weeks, I had a lot of nighttime fantasies where Sara played a central role.  Well, Sara's arms did, and then the rest of her went to my imagination.  But I made a point to remember the close-up sight of those arms every day so they could stay in my dreams, waking and sleeping.  And while I started imagining what other features she might possess under her clothes, and what she could do with them, using considerable license in that imagination, I still hoped and expected that I'd never see her again.

I'd been concealing the desire for so long, the idea that I could be outed was incredibly discomforting.  But interestingly, the fact that I'd even met someone who might have the...qualities... that I longed for --- even though I had zero belief that it would turn into anything --- should have been exciting, but really wasn't.  What if I did end up dating someone like Sara?  Maybe my desires would be satisfied but then everyone would know.  And that would be just as bad.  The concealment was a big part of who I was, and I'd learned after all these years to just live life as my public persona and keep the rest to myself, and I was happy doing that.  So while I was titillated that someone like Sara had been so close to me, I was glad she was going to remain a bit player in the history of my fetishistic desire for a powerful woman.

Weeks later I was under a deadline to make a decision about a particular investment, and was working on a Saturday afternoon from home plugging away at a model, and once again the computer froze, and I couldn't get it to respond.  I banged my fists on the table in frustration; honestly, I hadn't visited any of those "sites" since Sara had left me that sticky note, because I was worried I was being tracked.  So what the heck was happening and how was I so unlucky?

I called IT support and they asked if it was urgent, and this time I told them it was.  They said they'd dispatch someone right away to come by and take care of it.  I thought about who they'd sent the previous times and started stammering, asking who they'd send, and the support rep paused and said they send out a general message to the whole staff but Enzo was on call that weekend so it'd most likely be Enzo who would come by.  Relieved, I said no problem and confirmed my address with them.  They said someone would be there within the hour.

15 minutes later my doorbell rang.  I opened the door and standing there with a gym bag and a laptop bag was Sara.  She was wearing gym shorts and a workout jacket, and in her sneakers she loomed an inch or two above me.  When I had seen her at the office, I felt like her imposing size was offset by my position with the company, and felt comfortable with her presence.  But outside the office, she seemed so imposing to me that I instantly felt small and weak, and I swear that as she spoke I started stooping over rather than trying to expand myself to offset her size advantage.

She looked down at me with a nonchalant mien.  "I got a text that you're still having issues.  OK if I come in to take a look at it?"

"Oh, Sara, I mean, it's you, sure, you know, that's ok, come on in," I stammered.  As she walked past me, I said "I thought Enzo was on call and was going to come by."  And then I looked down and saw her legs, for the first time.  They were magnificent, everything I had fantasized they would be.  Her calves were huge, cut and defined, diamond shaped, and they just oozed power.  From behind, I could tell her thighs were thick and striated, clearly strong, but because of her height they were shapely and sexy.  My mouth opened a bit and I gasped just slightly.

"Yes, he's on call but I was closer and just heading out to the gym, and your place is on the way, so I offered to save him the drive.  And I figured you needed help quickly so I was the fastest option."   She stopped and turned to face me.  I quickly looked back up at her but clearly she noticed I was looking down at her legs that whole time.  "Is it ok that I came?  If you'd like, I can call Enzo and have him come instead.  I don't want you to feel...uncomfortable."  She looked me down and up again and I swear she paused momentarily to check out my crotch.

"No, no, that's ok," I said, instinctively turning away from her to avoid her gaze.  "I'll go get my computer from my office, you can get set up here."  I pointed to the small dining table and as I left the room I could hear her putting her bags down and pulling out the chair.

I went to my office.  I took a very deep breath to calm myself, put my hands down on my desk and said to myself, "keep it together Rich, she'll fix the computer and she'll be on her way.  Keep it together."  I took another deep breath, grabbed my computer and walked back out.  As I rounded the corner to the doorway entering the dining area, I saw her jacket draped over the back of the chair.  And then I saw her sitting in the chair from behind, waiting for me.  She was wearing a workout tank top, and what I saw stopped me in my tracks.  Her back was positively ripped, and her shoulders broader than I'd ever seen on anyone.  It looked like someone had surgically deposited softballs under the skin on each of her shoulders.  Despite the girth of her arms, which from behind were just as mind-blowing as they had been up close the last time I'd seen her, her shoulders stood out from her body almost like extra appendages. 

I held myself together and walked to the table and, keeping a distance from her, afraid to come anywhere near touching her, I slid the computer on the table towards her, like a server at a fine restaurant serving a dish while steering clear of a wealthy diner.  As I did so, I saw her from the side. 

From the side, I could witness the intense thickness of her back, mounds of muscle piled onto her back that undulated across from shoulder to shoulder.   But thanks to the flimsiness of the workout top, I could also see the thickness of her front -- pecs that sat like upside down soup bowls on her chest, that seemed almost as thick as her back -- such balance in her body, which is probably why this size and thickness didn't strike me when she was wearing more normal clothing in the office.  And below her pecs, her breasts were jutting out, despite being held fast in a workout bra, pushing the fabric of her tank top out further and creating an overwhelmingly sexy frame. 

"Thank you," she said, as she looked up at me and then smiled knowingly, and then she took the computer and opened it up and started working on it.  "This shouldn't take too long if it's the same issue as before.  Here, grab a seat," she said as she pulled out the chair next to her for me to sit in, "you can sit and watch and see what I'm seeing."

There was no way I wanted to sit anywhere near her at that moment, as the urges flowing through my body were having the reaction that I feared and it wouldn't take long for her to see what was happening.  "I have a few things to take care of," I said, as I prepared to get out of there, but she grabbed my by the hand and said, "No, really, sit down with me," and then she pulled me with her arm and I couldn't help but sit down in the chair to avoid being pulled completely over and onto the floor.  I sat and put my hands over my lap to obscure the reaction that was already appearing.

She returned her hand to the keyboard and started typing, and within a minute or so I could see her start to smile broadly at the screen.  "Got it," she said, and then she turned the screen to me.  And I started to feel sick.

On the screen was my fake Insta**** profile.  She started to scroll through the feed.  It was filled with images of female bodybuilders and physique competitors.  I reached for the computer to shut it but she easily pushed away my arms to prevent that.

"Hey," I said, "that's not your business Sara."

"Actually, Rich, you've been using a company computer for this activity, which makes it my business."  And then she switched to another screen that was a site for more images of these same muscular women, and then she switched to another screen of videos, and then she switched to show a specific video that I had definitely watched before.  I rose from my seat and tried again to grab the computer and close it but she put a hand on my shoulder and with a mighty shove, she pushed me back down into my seat and held my shoulder firmly to hold me there.  I squirmed to get out but couldn't.

"That's a lot of activity on sites that can give you some nasty viruses, Rich.  These aren't appropriate for a work computer.  Especially this one."  And she switched to another screen and started playing a porn video that showed a female bodybuilder overpowering a smaller guy and forcing him to pleasure her.  "And this one," and she skipped to another screen that had a guy lying in a muscular girl's lap, his mouth around her nipple while she jerked him off.

I was so embarrassed and angry; I wanted to run away but at the same time I wanted to kick her out just to make the point that I was more important to her at our company and she couldn't call me out this way. 

"Look," I said, "you're right, I shouldn't have used my work computer for this, but what you're doing is completely inappropriate and you're putting your job at risk."

She turned to me an raised an eyebrow.  "I'm putting MY job at risk?  That's an interesting assessment of this situation.  I can't wait to hear the writeup on this one -- 'Sara made me uncomfortable by showing me the female muscle porn I'd been browsing on my work computer.'  Should I write that email to my boss right now, have him start the process of terminating my employment?" 

She had me.  There was no way that was going to happen.  Now I started to worry about blackmail.  As a portfolio analyst my compensation was attractive and I know she knew that.  My mouth went dry and I probably went white, the blood was draining from my head and I felt a little dizzy.  I'd been discovered, and I felt like my life as I knew it may be over.

I got up from the chair -- she didn't stop me -- and I rubbed my hands over my face and sighed.  I looked down at her, and my eyes were drawn to the thick cut at the center of her pecs.  I couldn't keep my eyes from staring at them while I thought.  She looked down at where my eyes were oriented, and adjusted her tank top a bit, not to do a better job of covering her chest, but rather to show more skin. 

I jumped my eyes back to her face.  "OK, OK, I get it.  Now I can see why you wanted to do this home visit instead of Enzo," I said, scared and frustrated.  "You saw your opportunity and now you've grabbed it.  What do you want from me?  Money?  A promotion?"

"What?" she said loudly, and she pushed back her chair hard to the ground and stood up quickly.  She stepped up to me, her mouth right at the level of my eyes, and she got so close that her nose tapped my forehead and her chest bumped mine.  I was jostled back a bit.  "That's offensive, Rich.  I'm not a blackmailer."  She took my shoulders in her hand and while she continued to talk she slowly pushed me back against the table, bending me slightly backwards over the tabletop.  "I never said a thing about a demand from you.  That's coming from your own self-conscious concern about what people would think if they knew about what YOU think is your embarrassing fetish."  She reached down and grabbed my leg and lifted it to place me on my back on the table.  I was, momentarily, completely off the ground while she placed me there, but the realization of that didn't hit me until much later because I was reacting only to what she was saying, not what she was doing.  She held me down firmly by my shoulders.  I couldn't move.  "And as you can imagine, looking at me, I don't like the idea that you're embarrassed about being turned on by women with muscle.  So I'm not asking you for anything, other than to stop using your work computer in a way that causes these virus issues.  Can you do that, at least?"

I looked up at her, and from my vantage point I could barely see past her chest -- the protrusion of her breasts on top of the slab of pec muscle took up most of my view.  I started thinking about that last video she showed me and I so, so wanted her to lean over and let me take one of those breasts in my mouth, it was a particular fantasy of mine to submit myself in that kind of way.  The thought of it was making me completely engorged in a way I hadn't felt in a long time, and I looked down and saw a huge tentpole in my shorts, and then I looked up and she had followed my gaze and was looking down at my erection as well, and she let out a long "hmmmmm" and she shifted her hands and with her left hand she held my chest down and I saw her move her right hand down my torso, and in that moment I desperately wanted to get out of my predicament, so I quickly said "yes, I can do that, I'll stop using it, just let me go, please, ple---" but by then her hand had reached my shorts and she was about to pat my crotch with her palm and I yelled "don't!" and kicked my legs hard, and the table collapsed under the weight of the kick and I fell to the ground with the table.  With that opportunity, I jumped up and ran to the corner of the room, covering my crotch with my one hand and putting my hand out to ward off what I thought would be her advancing to do something to me, but instead she knelt down and picked up the computer that had fallen to the ground, and placed in on a chair.

"You need to take better care of your electronics, Rich," she said.  She picked up both of her bags, and draped her jacket over her gym bag, and started to walk towards the door.

Recognizing that I had just offended her badly,  I felt like I needed to say something.  "Wait," I said, "Look, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed you had bad intentions.  It's just, I don't know, it's just that, well..."

She turned back to me and interrupted me.  "I get it.  You have this secret.  You're defensive about it.  I accept your apology.  I have no intention of bringing this up at work.  You have my word."

I breathed a sigh of relief, and took a couple of steps towards her, a little less worried about what she was going to physically do to me.  "Thank you," I said, with my hand outstretched.

Looking down at my hand, she put down her computer bag and reached out and took my hand in hers, and we shook, and I watched how the muscles in her arms shook and tensed, and then looked up into her eyes.  "And just so you know, and this is probably not a surprise given what you discovered, I think your physique is amazing.  Just amazing.  Thanks for coming by to help with the computer."

"That's nice of you to say.  You know," she said, continuing to hold my hand "you looked awfully scared when I picked you up to put you on the table.  It was adorable."

"Sorry, what?"

"I said, it was adorable.  To see you so frightened of me."

"Uh, thanks I guess, not sure what you want me to say."

"It's not what I want you to say, Rich."  She tossed her gym bag to the side.  "It's what I want you to do."  Still holding my hand firmly, she took her other hand and put in the waistband of her shorts and took them down and off, along with her underwear.  She was bottomless standing before me and I looked down to her legs which were so muscular and sturdy and stunning and everything I dream about when I fantasize about being with a muscle woman.  Releasing my hand, she grabbed me by the hair and pushed me down by my head, easily, onto my knees; I couldn't withstand the pressure she put on me, and my knees buckled quickly.  Pushing my hair back, she tilted my head up, and without a word stepped forward and buried my face into her perfectly shaved womanhood, and said "show me how much you have fantasized about me, Rich" and after a few seconds of refusal she reached down and squeezed my shoulder with her other hand and I started licking and lapping at her, taking her clit inside of my mouth and making every effort I could to give pleasure to this statue of a woman standing over me.  I took my hands and rubbed them over her legs, feeling the muscles as she flexed them, rubbing the thighs all the way down to the boulders of her calves, relishing every touch.  When I would even briefly stop my tongue and lips from their service, a pinch or squeeze from her would get me refocused, and after over 30 minutes of my work I finally could hear her breath coming in shorter gasps and I looked up and she was feeling and rubbing her own breasts but I couldn't see anything above that, and then I saw her take off her tank top and the sports bra underneath leaving her completely naked as I lapped at her womanhood and a few seconds later she started to moan and then shriek and she was coming not once or twice but three times in succession, which I knew because after each time she would calm down and release my head but then another wave would get her to grab me again and bury me into her and then another until finally she released me and pushed me to the ground. 

Standing over me, she said, "Rich, that was amazing, I bet you've fantasized about doing that to someone like me for years but never had the opportunity.  Am I right?  I know I'm right.  But I bet you fantasized about this even more."  And with that, she lowered herself to me and deposited herself directly over my mouth and said, "Yes, I want more.  Give me more."  And I started licking and sucking at her again while I felt the heavy weight of her on me, her hard ass resting on my chin, extreme discomfort all over my head, my hands free but with nowhere to go except to rest them on her massively muscled thighs while I was plunging my tongue as deep as I could into her to try to get her to come so she would let me up, and it took so long to get her there because I'd just satisfied her.  She was on me for at least another twenty minutes, intermittently settling on my mouth and then lifting up a bit to give me air.  After the first time she came with a guttural scream, she repositioned herself so that she was facing my feet, and started grinding on my mouth.  My hands were trapped under the shins, I couldn't move them at all.  The feel of her powerful thighs around my head was frightening but enervating, I was desperate to get my hands free and feel them all over but it wasn't possible under her weight.  I felt her grab my ankles and pull them up, and my butt was lifted off the ground.  She reached down and pulled my shorts and underwear clear off of me and threw them to the side.  My face was hot under her and my tongue was tiring and I started to slow my pace of lapping at her.  Her grinding quickened, like she was trying to wake me up, and I could barely hear her say "don't stop," but I couldn't keep my pace up and then I felt her hand wrap around my balls.  I was hoping for my own release, but instead I heard her, much more loudly this time, say "Don't Stop!" and felt her squeeze down on them hard, giving me a shooting pain, and once I started licking again she eased her grip on my balls but kept them in her grasp, rolling her fingers around them to remind me she still had them.  "That's better," she said while I continued my work, but I was still tiring, and each time my efforts faded I was awakened by the firm squeeze of her hand on me, until finally I could feel her thighs quivering around me and she sat hard on my face covering my mouth and nose, making it almost impossible to breathe.  As I could hear her moan and shriek above me I started panicking and kicking my legs to dislodge myself, until I heard her yell "Oh God yes!" and I felt her clamp hard around my member and my balls, which made me shriek and moan right into her as I gasped for breath, and I felt the slight moistness of her juices being expelled, and moments later I passed out.

What was likely a few minutes later, I awoke, still on the floor, and looked around.  I saw her by the couch, fully dressed, with her leg up on the couch as she tied her shoes, showing such mass and definition in her thighs and calves, and I dropped my head back to the ground with relief that the ordeal was over.

"Had a good nap, sleepyboy?" she asked in a singsong voice. She walked over and knelt next to me.  She rubbed my cheek with the back of her hand. "You were amazing.  You've got quite a talent with that pretty mouth of yours.  Maybe I will make use of this predicament after all.  We'll have to see."

And with that, she picked up her bags and walked out the door.

The rest of that weekend I couldn't focus on anything but what had happened.  My fetish had been discovered, by no other than a woman of my fetishistic desire...but she had the ability to crush my career and dreams with this information if she wanted.  How could I show my face in the office again, knowing she was there?  Knowing what she knew?  Knowing what she had just done to me in my own house?  I had been completely at her mercy -- she had fulfilled a wild fantasy of mine, to be overpowered by a stronger woman and made to service her needs -- but it felt so wrong because of the situation surrounding it.  I couldn't feel joy about it...only stress, and a dread of what could happen if she opened her mouth about it.  Maybe she'd be a cool cucumber about it, keeping my secret just as I would keep hers that she had forced me to pleasure her when she was doing a house call for her job.  That had to be against company policy somehow, although I was confident there was no clause that said "during work hours or events, no sitting on a co-worker's face and demanding cunnalingus."  Which would mean I could get her fired.  But no, that would be worse, admitting what I had let her do to me.  Let her?  No, I didn't let her, she just did it.  I had no choice in the matter.  Maybe this mutually assured destruction would be a balancing force; neither of us would say a word about what had happened, and we'd move on and forget about it.

Monday morning I headed to work as normal -- normal, except on top of my mind was a prayer that nothing would go wrong with my computer where's I'd have to call the IT Support desk.

Just before lunch, I got an email from IT Support asking to do a survey.  The survey was about Sara, asking to rate my experience with her support of my at-home problems on a variety of factors.  Not wanting any follow-ups, I gave her perfect scores across the board.  I knew that anything less than perfect scores would prompt a call from IT to find out what could have gone better, and I did not want that call.

After lunch there was a knock on my door.  "Come in," I said, and the door opened and Sara walked in and closed the door behind her.  She was wearing a button down blouse with the top two buttons undone, showing her cleavage and the line of her pecs, and a medium length skirt that showed some calf.   I got up from my chair in a hurry and stepped behind it, not sure what she was going to do to me.  She stepped forward and put her hands out in a calming gesture.

"No, don't worry, I just wanted to come by to say thank you."

"For what?" I asked.

"I just got a raise, and it was thanks to your survey responses.  I really appreciate you giving positive feedback about me."

"Oh, that, well, whatever else happened, you did fix my problem after all."

"Hmmm."  she said, looking me up and down.  "I'm not sure I've fixed you yet."  And she winked at me.

"Huh?"

"See you around."  And she exited my office. 

I had no idea what she was talking about....until later that afternoon.

The market was closed, I was pretty beat as it was an up and down day.  I closed my computer, which thankfully had no issues that day, and turned to put it in my computer bag.  As I was bent over, I heard the door open and, assuming it was the janitor, said "Just give me 5 minutes please and I'll be out of your way."  The door closed. 

I heard the door lock and then heard a couple of steps coming toward me.  "I said just a few..." and I felt a hand grab me by the shirt and pull me upright, and in front of me was Sara, holding me firmly.

"Hi, Pretty Mouth."

"Sara, what are..."

And then she put her other hand through my legs while holding me by the shirt and she lifted me clean off the floor, turning me upside down.  I was completely in the air in her grasp, and then she flipped me over and carefully laid me down face up on my desk, my head sticking over the edge of the desk facing her.  She placed her hand on my chest and it held me down. 

"Time for another installment," she said, as she lifted her skirt to reveal her panty-less womanhood,  and then she stepped forward to put her legs around my head and squeezed softly, giving me no doubt as to what she expected of me.

"Sara, we're at work, you can't..."

"I can't?  Should I tell my boss, maybe, why I can't?"  A much harder squeeze on my head gave a jolt of pain and a reminder of what could be worse. 

I stretched my neck up in the darkness under her skirt and with my tongue searched around until I located her spot and started licking her slowly and deliberately until I heard her first soft moan saying "mmm, such a pretty tongue," and then quickened my pace and thought about how glad I was that my office windows were tinted so that nobody could see in to us.  I took my hands and worked them back under her skirt and put my arms over my head to grab her legs so I could get more support, and soon found myself rubbing my hands all over her thighs, feeling their hardness and strength, and then reaching further to put my hands around her butt, which were round and full and so hard, I tried to squeeze her but the muscle was unyielding.   I started licking harder and then started kissing, three, four, five times and she said "Ooooh, I like that, Pretty Lips, where have those lips been all my life."  And then she grabbed my arms and pulled them up, forcing my face even closer into her, and I felt her turn my hands towards her and she placed them on her bra, she must have unbuttoned her blouse further so I could reach inside, and she rubbed my hands around on them, as I continued licking and sucking at her down below, I was squeezing and feeling her breasts and her nipples were getting erect as I fingered them.  Within a few minutes I felt her spasm around my head and she squeezed my hands until they were in pain, and she came while squeezing my head and I passed out momentarily from the pressure again, just like last time. 

When I came to, she was buttoning her blouse on the other side of my desk and I was sitting in my chair -- she must have picked me up and put me there.

"I need to be more careful with you, this is the second time I've put you out.  Sorry Pretty Mouth."

I didn't know what to say.  I looked down and saw that my pants were moist from pre-cum, I had been so incredibly turned on by the whole experience.

"Your lips are like a dream,  Pretty Mouth.  Mmmmm.  Maybe you need to have another computer issue soon."  She winked at me and walked out the door.

I sat in my office to let my pants dry but noticed that the stain wasn't going away, so I grabbed my bag and left while holding it in a way that covered the obvious impact she had on me.

I was surprised that it turned me on so much to be forcibly servicing her, but then again should I have been?  It was my fantasy to be with a more powerful woman, and that's what happened to me -- well, I wasn't really with her, and I wasn't getting the pleasure out of it, but why, in my fantasies, would I have expected that the weaker man would get the pleasure?  Doesn't it make more sense that the alpha female defines intimacy for her own benefit first and foremost, and her male goes along, willingly or unwillingly?  Of course it makes sense that she made me go down on her, completely abdicating my own needs and surrendering the traditional notion that the penis does the work!  Of course she would have me under her!  Of course! 

That night, I slept poorly, unable to get Sara out of my mind.  I would turn one way, and have a vision of her lying next to me, huge and muscular, and then I would toss over and turn the other way and have a vision of her enveloping me in her arms, and would turn the other way to get away.

The one time I did fall asleep I dreamt about her.  She was on stage in a bodybuilding competition.  She looked incredible up there.  They were presenting awards, and there was a line of women on stage, and she was by far the tallest and largest of the competitors.  They announced her as the winner.  Some guy gave her a huge trophy, and she lifted it easily over her head.  He gave her the microphone.  "I'd like to thank everyone who helped me get here, my trainer, my nutritionist, and especially my husband Rich who has tended to all my needs.  All of them. Rich come up here."  And then suddenly I was on stage and all of the other women were gone, and the announcer was gone, and it was just me and Sara in front of a crowd of people.  And then she grabbed my shoulders and pushed me to my knees and I was going down on her in front of the crowd, and there was a gasp from the crowd, and then applause as I kept working at her.  And then she pulled me back up and turned me around to face the audience, and the applause stopped, and then she wrapped one of her arms around my chest to secure me tightly and then reached down and grabbed my penis with her other hand and I looked down and I wasn't wearing any pants, and she started to stroke me off.  After just a few short strokes I started spewing come all over the stage, and she kept stroking me and I was coming for what seemed like forever, and the crowd started applauding again, and then she squeezed my cock so hard and I stopped spewing and the crowd was laughing.  Then she put one hand through my legs and picked me up, lifting me up and up until she had her hand straight up in the air and I was on her palm like a waiter holds a tray, and I sat there with my erection sticking straight up, and the laughter got louder.  Then she pressed my bodyweight up and down a bunch of times with her single arm, while I held tight to her forearm, which I barely got my hands around to hold fast, while the applause from the crowd got louder.  And then she threw me in the air from one hand to the other, tossing me back and forth above her head, and there were roses being thrown onto the stage.  Then she lowered me back down and cradled me in her arms and I was completely naked, and she was rocking me back and forth, my face was right in her chest, and the crowd was applauding and hooting and hollering and then I was suckling on her nipple and within moments I was spewing come again all over the crowd, and the front row had a plastic sheet like they were at a Gallagher show and my come was drenching the plastic sheet as the crowd laughed, and then Sara was gone and I was left standing there, full frontal to a huge crowd that was laughing at me and I couldn't move my feet to get off the stage, and I tried to cover my groin but my hands wouldn't move, and then I started ejaculating yet again and I screamed out "Sara!"...and then I woke up, my heart racing, sweat all over my pillow...and my boxers were positively drenched with emissions...and I couldn't get back to sleep.

I was exhausted the next day at work. I couldn't focus on the portfolio, and I pushed off my meetings.  I stayed away from my computer, fearing that the urges I had been feeling the previous night would cause me to casually browse sites that I had to believe Sara was tracking at this point.  So most of the day I spent reading financial newspapers and magazines and talking to folks around the office.

Mid-afternoon I was getting in the mode of working again, so I opened my laptop.  When I opened the browser and fired up google, the browser immediately redirected my search to a webpage and an image started to download.  It was a woman, and she was a bodybuilder, and she was thicker and more muscular than any woman I'd ever seen in my life.  She was wearing a bikini, striking a double biceps pose showing arms that were gigantic, lats sweeping out in proportions that made her seem like she had wings, tight six-pack abs, and legs that had deep striations of muscle all the way down, capped by calves that flared out from her shins, and I started to fumble around with my mouse to try to close the browser window, thinking I had unconsciously searched for content I wanted to avoid, when my eyes were finally drawn to the face of the woman in the image --- and it was Sara!  Had I been searching for her?  No, I wouldn't have done that.  How did I get to an image of Sara?  And then the image changed, to one where she was doing a side chest pose, and the girth of her arms was magnificent and at that angle I could see the thickness of her pecs and the vast size of her tits, they seemed just like I had dreamed about the night before when I was suckling at them.  And then another picture of her from the back doing a lat spread that was breathtaking in its width and depth, her glutes were striated beyond reality and her legs were just amazing, and I was totally getting hard again and I could feel myself seeping yet again into my pants as I stared at the pictures flipping by, one after the other of Sara doing different bodybuilding poses, and I finally understood that it wasn't me who had browsed to these images, it was Sara pushing them to my computer, I don't know how, but she was in IT so no doubt she had a way of making it happen.  The last image was of the door to my place, with superimposed text that said "7pm" and I closed my computer quickly and sat back in my chair. 

She had sent me a message.  She wanted to see me tonight.  I opened the computer again, and the images were gone but a message popped up.

"Don't disappoint me."

I clicked out of the message and closed the computer again.

I couldn't help myself -- I opened the computer again -- and my screen was back to normal.  I tried to do a google search and it worked as normal. 

Had I just daydreamed that whole thing?  The dampness in my pants indicated that it was real, but then again the night before I had ejaculated in my pants just from an embarrassing dream about being her playtoy in public.  It was hard to tell what was real and what wasn't, given how tired I was anyway.  While I didn't know for sure if what I'd just experienced was real or not, I knew one thing -- I was not going to be home at 7pm.

I went home right then and there, I just had to take the rest of the day off.  I got home, laid down on my couch, and took a nap, and set my phone alarm for 6pm.  Seemed like a good night to head out to the gym and some dinner alone in a dark booth at a restaurant far from my place.  6pm wake up, out the door by 6:15, plenty of room to avoid anything that might happen at 7.

I was awakened by a knock at the door.  I jolted and my arm flailed, knocking the coffee table and making a thud.  I looked at the clock on the wall -- 7:05pm!  Did I sleep through my alarm?  My chest tightened, and I felt a pit in my stomach, like I was going to throw up.  I had to get out of there!  I grabbed my phone.  Why didn't my phone alarm work?  I unlocked the phone with my passcode.  When it opened, a picture appeared -- it was a picture of Sara, in a halter top, flexing one arm...where was that picture taken, it looked familiar...wait, the picture was taken right outside my door!  Then a message appeared.  "Your alarm has been disabled."  Damn, my phone was a company phone.  She must have had access.  I tried not to move a muscle, making her think that I wasn't there.  There was a second knock, this time harder.  I heard her voice through my phone.

"I know you're in there, Pretty Mouth.  Just open the door so I don't have to knock it down."

I stayed silent.

"I heard you knock something over when I woke you up.  I promise you, you don't want to upset me.  You haven't seen me upset."

She jostled the doorknob.

"I'm going to count to three.  You don't want me to get to three Rich."

I started to panic.  I suddenly felt the need to defend myself.  I ran to the fireplace and grabbed the poker.

"One..."

I didn't want her making a scene by knocking the door down, and honestly I had no doubt that she was physically capable of doing it; I hadn't deadbolted the lock so she just had to get through the knob latch.  I started to inch towards the door, intending to open it but immediately ward her off with my fire weapon.

"...Two..."

I reached for the knob with my left hand, holding the poker up and behind me ready to strike, hoping it would keep her out but ready if she came at me.  I turned the knob and as the door unlatched, I heard her say "...Three." and I opened the door quickly.  The sunlight was bright and it took a second for my eyes to readjust, and in that fraction of a second I felt the poker being ripped from my hand, and a hand grab my by the shirt and lift me off the floor.

"I told you not to let me get to three Rich."

I was hanging by her grasp and grabbed at her arm to prevent myself from falling, or prevent her from doing whatever she was going to do to me, and in that moment my shirt tore and I crumpled to the floor.  I heard the door close and the deadbolt turn to lock it.  I was able to sit up and saw Sara turn from the door towards me. 

She was wearing that same halter top from the picture on my phone, draped over her shoulders, snug over her breasts, stopping halfway down her stomach.  It was cut narrowly, and I could see sideboob even from the front.  She clearly wasn't wearing a bra.  Looking down she was wearing short track shorts that were cut up the side, displaying the entire length of her lusciously muscled thighs, which as she walked towards me tensed and shook with each step, leaving no doubt as to their strength.  She was the goddess of my dreams, but I was more worried about a nightmare.

She reached down to me and grabbed the torn shirt that still clung to me, and she ripped it off of me.  I tried to ward her hands off, but she easily pushed them aside.  Then she reached down further and grabbed the front of my pants and lifted me straight up into the air by them and curled my entire bodyweight with her one arm and tossed me over one of her massive, wide shoulders.   She was so broad that most of my waist was supported by her delts; only a bit of me was suspended over the side.  I was draped over her like a towel, and was desperately trying to get off of her, I was pushing against her lower back to lift my torso so I could spin off, but she held me tightly to her and I couldn't dislodge myself.  I was also kicking my legs like a wayward child. I must have looked ridiculous.

She started walking around the room holding me over her shoulder, talking to me.

"You are so adorable, Pretty Mouth, but clearly if we're going to be spending time together you'll need to learn your place."

"I'm not spending any time with you, get out!"

She squeezed me tighter to her.  "Awwww, that's not the right thing to say to the woman of your fantasies, especially after you were such a bad, bad boy, not opening the door for me in time, when I clearly told you what I wanted.   No, not the right thing at all.  I wonder, is the best way to change your behavior positive reinforcement?"  She reached under me to unbutton my pants, and pulled my pants and underwear straight off of me, and reached back under me to grasp at my cock, which had started to grow already. 

"Hey!"

"Hmmm, I don't know.  Maybe the best way is...negative reinforcement?"  And then I felt her palm slap my butt hard, once, then twice, and a third time and it stung me hard, and I said "Stop!" but she didn't stop, she kept slapping hard.  "I think negative reinforcement is right...but I have this sneaking suspicion that my little guy secretly likes it.  Let's see."  And she stopped slapping and reached back to my cock and, indeed, it was raging hard with desire.  She continued walking around with me, jostling me up and down.  "I thought so, yes, my little guy likes it when his fantasy woman punishes him, doesn't he.  Yes."

"No, stop it!" I yelled in response.

She lifted me off her shoulder with her one hand, and heaved me up above her head, used her other hand to twist me around so my head was towards her front, and lowered me back down, holding me tight across my ass.  My face was staring straight at her stomach and her tits were pressuring my upper chest and neck.  I tried to lift my head and she pushed it back down, rubbing it into her abs, which were like diamond under my face.

"Now, I wonder if there's some other punishment that you've maybe been looking forward to?  Hmm?  Maybe some punishment that we both want?" 

She grabbed me around waist with both hands and pulled me over her shoulder and held me out in front of her, dangling downward.  Then she bringing me tighter to her body, she reached around my back and held me with one hand against her while she took her other hand and grabbed one of my ankles.  Lifting me high by the ankle, using such mind-blowing strength that she was able to raise me as high as her arms would go without seeming to even tense a muscle, she held me out in front of her and from my vantage point I watched as she put her fingers inside her waist band and loosened the shorts so that they fluttered down to her ankles.  Stepping out of her shorts, leaving her mound bare, she said "Let's see whether you like this kind of punishment, Pretty Mouth.  Get those soft lips and tongue to work."  And she grabbed my head and pushed it into her, grabbing me around the waist again to hold me in position with my mouth directly in her womanhood.  I had no choice but to start servicing her, just as I did in my dream the previous night, just as I did in my office, just as she made me do over and over at my own place during her first visit there.  Licking over and over again, poking my tongue inside of her, tasting her juices, feeling the softness of her, I tried to keep all parts of my mouth in contact with her but from time to time my head bounced back and I lost touch, so I reached around her with my arms and grabbed her around her round, firm ass, and held myself tight to her while I continued my tribute.  She was bending her knees little by little, opening her legs further to allow my face to get closer.  My hands were exploring her hard buttocks, migrating down to her legs where I could feel the connection to her hamstrings, so hard and thick.  She continued to bend her knees opening her legs wide for me, and as I let my hands travel back up the back of her inner thighs, I my fingers fell into the crack of her glutes, which had opened as her thighs parted, and my fingertip brushed her anus.  She let out a gasp and a heavy breath and tensed her glutes around my finger, trapping it there, and then let out an audible sigh, relaxing her ass again, and I took that as an indication to do more, so I explored her anus with my fingers while I was licking her off with my tongue.   She was panting in short gasps, and I could hear her murmuring "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh my god, oh fuck" and then she started shrieking and I could feel her ass quivering and her body started to shake and then she gave one loud, high-pitched scream and I felt her juices wash over my face as she came, and she threw me to her side as she fell to her knees.

I got up to my knees and looked over at her, and she looked like a perfect Greek statue, if Greeks had admired muscle on women.  Her eyes were closed as she experienced the orgasm, her chest was heaving with post-orgasmic panting, her halter top had run up her body so that half of each breast was showing underneath the bottom trim, her massive thighs wide as she started to calm down.  In that moment, she was the goddess of my dreams.

I crawled over to her, and while her eyes were still shut, I kissed her softly on the lips, and while she didn't kiss back, I knew that she liked it because her lips curled into a smile.

"May I....maybe.....could you let me feel your muscles? Please?" I said meekly and with such hope.

She opened her eyes and looked at me, and without a word, she took the arm that was closest to me and bent it in a flex.  The muscle just exploded from her arm.  I reached my hand to it, put it on top, and couldn't get it even halfway around.  I reached my other hand to close around it, and with both hands on her arm my fingers could not meet.  I squeezed her arm, traced the outline of her bicep with my finger, and the outline of her tricep as well, and then reached my head in and kissed it gently all around its girth, then kissed it harder, sucking on it, and biting it gently.  She turned her body to me and give a front lat spread, and I saw close up the utter thickness of her pectorals, I put my hand down the center line, and at least 2 fingers disappeared, and then I punched the meat of her pec muscle and it was unyielding.  I reached in and kissed her pec, while holding the side of her pec that was over her armpit, and even at the edge it was harder than iron.  I continued to kiss her chest, making my way up towards her neck, then over to her shoulder and as I worked my way down, she tore her halter top clean off of herself and I worked my way to the upper part of her breast that emerged from her pec muscle and before I could go any further she stood up, holding my chin and lifting me with her.

She did a double biceps pose, and I stood directly before her, my eyes several inches below hers looking directly at her mouth, and I reached up and took a bicep in each of my hands and pulled hard on them, but they would not yield, instead I was pulled closer to her, and my throbbing cock was smashed against her thigh, and she lifted her leg, lifting me uncomfortably with it, and I continued to hold those arms that were more breathtaking than anything I'd ever seen, or touched, or imagined. 

Then she lowered her arms, but lifted her leg higher, her knee was at a 90 degree angle holding the entire weight of my body, and she took me under the armpit with one hand and put her other hand on my groin and lifted me cleanly over her head, straight up into the air above her, so that I was looking down at her body.  The shape of her body was unlike anything I'd ever seen, an upper back easily twice as thick as mine, pecs that bolted out from her clavicle, her tits sticking straight out with a full and perfect shape, so prominent that I could see nothing beneath that, as the thickness of her top concealed everything below -- as much as I wanted to admire her calves and legs and that womanhood I'd been made to service over and over, I had to be content with a view of her upper body, and even that was enough.  She started to press me above her body, and counted them off, one, two, three -- first in front of her head, and then behind her head, back and forth like she was in the gym and I was her barbell.  But I knew that not even my 190 pounds was sufficient to classify me as a sufficient barbell to her, she clearly could lift far, far more than that.  In my dream the night before, she had lifted me just like this, but with one hand.  So it did not surprise me in the last that she was able to do it so easily with two of them.

Then as I looked down at her, I noticed she was looking up at me to see my reaction as she pressed me over and over again, and I smiled down at her, and she smiled up at me, and moments later she shifted me slightly in her grasp, repositioning me and craning her neck so that on the next press, as she brough me down,  she took my erect penis straight into her mouth and as she pressed me up again she squeezed her mouth tight around me, and gave a deep suck, and I could feel the intense pressure as the power of her arms and shoulders fought against the pressure of her lips to push me and my cock together back up into the air.  She brought me back down and did it again, this time as she lifted me I gave a loud moan that I couldn't control because the feeling was unlike anything I'd ever experienced.  She did it again, and it was overwhelming me.  It was the first time she had touched my cock in any way that was sexual as opposed to predatory, and the feeling was otherworldy -- my cock was sending signals to my brain that it wanted release, and my brain was sending signals everywhere else that it, too, wanted to release itself from its own world and give itself to this dominant female who was subduing and taking me so easily. 

"I'm going to come," I said out loud after the fourth time she had me in her mouth and had pushed me up into the air, "I can't stop it, I'm going to come."

"Yes" she said, and she quickly brought me back down to her and as my member entered her mouth I let loose with an orgasm unlike anything I'd ever done, waves and waves of ecstasy and release, until I went limp in her hands from the exertion and she lowered me in front of her and while she looked down at me she made a point to show me that she had swallowed every last drop.

I was lying limp in her prodigious arms at this point, my breathing calm and measured after the experience.  She held me tightly to her for a moment and then walked with me over to the couch and sat down, still holding me in her lap.  She kissed my forehead.

"Oh, my little guy.  That was a thank you for you having such a pretty mouth, and knowing how to use it.  And it was also an example of what's in store for you if you continue to make me happy.  I knew, the moment I saw your computer's browsing history, that you were going to be mine.  I knew it.  I knew that I was the kind of woman you were lusting after, and seeing all of those images and videos you were looking at, your fantasies of these big strong women handling their smaller men, like I just handled you...that's my fantasy too, to have a man like that.  I've had men from time to time but they break down so easily, either I hurt them too much or they just can't handle it emotionally after a while.  I've never met a man who I thought could handle it for life."

I looked up at her, questioningly.  "For life?"

"Yes, for life."  She brushed some hair away from my forehead and kissed my nose again.  "I think you are the one.  I can see it in the way you responded to me, in the way you moaned for me, the way you look at me.  Every day, for the rest of our lives, like this.  I will bring you such joy, as long as you bring me even more joy."

Laying there in her arms I considered my situation for a second, but only a second. She was right, I wanted her desperately, forever.  I reached up and kissed her lips, and this time she returned the kiss.  "Not there, lover" she said.  And I climbed down off of her and as she opened her mighty thighs I positioned myself between them and lowered my lips to her other lips and started pleasing her as best I could. 

After she had orgasmed too many times to count over the course of the two hours I was on my knees between her legs, she panted "enough!" and reached down to lift me back into her arms.  She walked around with me, kissing me passionately while in her arms, and then walked with me into my bedroom.  Still holding me, she sat down and put me into her lap.  It was deep into the evening.  My body was tired, especially my tongue and neck, and more generally the whole experience had sapped my strength.

She cradled me into her, my face buried on top of her perfect breast, my lips touching her pecs.  I started kissing them, continuing my worship of any muscle on her I could access, and reached my arm up to wrap it over her back, although my reach could only go as far as the back of her trap, and I held it there so keep me in place.

She took my chin in her fingers and lifted my head up, so I gazed at her, and she gazed at me. 

"Every night can be like this.  You've pleased me so much, my little guy, my adorable Pretty Mouth, my lover.  Now calm yourself and sleep."

And with that she took my head and guided it downwards, and with her other hand she took her breast and she squeezed her own nipple just a little bit to make it erect slightly, and it looked so big and wonderful this close to my eyes, and within moments she had presented her nipple to me, and without any thinking at all I reached my mouth to her and took her entire nipple into my mouth, and tried to get as much of her juicy tit into there as well, and put both hands around her tit to hold it there, and once I had completely latched on to her I let my hand wander and I held her massive arm and rubbed and squeezed it to just feel one more time that day the power and strength that could be mine forever, and I suckled at her just like I had done in my dream, but this was better because it was real -- her nipple was real, the muscle on her arm was real, the feeling of safety was real, and the feeling of love for my dominant woman was real.

After maybe 20 minutes of suckling, I could sense that something was happening with her, and her orgasm process started again -- quick breathing, her chest was heaving, her muscles started to quiver, her pecs were quivering, causing her breasts to heave in my mouth, and she once again muttered "oh god, oh god, oh fuck, no way, oh my god" and then I heard her say "if you make me come from this we'll never leave home," which said to me that this sensation was new for her as well and it was making me so hot to feel like I was exercising some new form of control over her, even though deep down I knew that just by taking her breast, just by infantilizing myself in that moment, I had given myself to her completely and forever, and it was making me hotter than I'd ever felt before, so that instead of calming me to put me to sleep, in the moment that she went from "oh fuck, oh fuck, oh my fucking god" to her high pitched "aaaaaaaaaahhhhh" and her bucking began and she orgasmed onto the bed, I also had my orgasm without her even touching my penis.   We came together, with my orgasm tied to hers, just like I knew I would be tied to my musclewoman for the rest of my life.

Fast forward a year...

I sat in my office finishing up my work for the day.  It had been a meh Monday for the market, but my portfolio was up.  So it was a good day.  The door knocked.

"IT Support," the voice said.

"Come on in."

Enzo walked in.  "Hi Rich, I heard you were having a printer issue?  Now a good time to look at it?"

"Sure Enzo, I think it just needs new toner."

"Great, I brought some just in case, will only take a few minutes."

He came around my desk and started swapping out the toner.

"Sara had a competition this past weekend, right?  How'd it go?" Enzo asked casually.

"She was amazing.  Won the whole thing again, in both divisions she entered.  It wasn't even close, if you ask me."

"That's great.  We're all so proud of her in her old group."  He finished replacing the toner, closed up the printer, and stood back up to leave.  "Tell her we miss her, will you?"

"Sure will Enzo.  Thanks for the help."

As he walked by my desk to leave, he pointed at one of the pictures on my desk.  "That's a great shot of you two."  And he left.

I looked at the pictures on my desk and leaned back in my chair. 

The picture Enzo was pointing at was of Sara and me at the beach about six weeks after we met, sitting on a swing at a resort, all tan and excited to be with each other.  I was wearing a linen short-sleeve button-down shirt and linen pants; Sara was wearing a thin-strapped sun dress that really highlighted her upper body thickness.  She was sitting on the end of the swing, I was next to her, leaning back into her, and her huge arm was around me, holding me close to her.  That trip was the first one where we were in public together.  Up until, we'd spend most of  our dates at her place or my place, cooking and playing together.  After a couple weeks she asked me to go out to dinner with her and I reluctantly agreed but asked if she would cover up.  She was fine with that, and dinners became movies, became concerts, but she always dressed conservatively because she could tell I was still embarrassed -- not of her, but of me.  But when she said she wanted us to go to the beach, she was clear that she would no longer be covering up, and after some negotiating with her that went nowhere, I agreed.  The first time we went to dinner on that vacation, I went down from the room first to get the table, and I was sitting at the table as she entered the beachfront restaurant at the resort, breezing in wearing that thin-strapped dress, and she was staring right at me as she walked over, and I self-consciously looked around and saw that almost every eye in the place was turned to watch her walk in, she cut an imposing and remarkable figure in a room filled with more "normal" looking people.  And they kept watching until she got to my table, and I stood up and pulled out her chair so she could sit down, and before she sat she gave me a soft kiss of thanks on my lips, reaching her head down to meet me.  She was wearing flats that day so she was only a little bit taller than me but it wasn't her height that had people whispering to each other -- and as I looked around during the early part of our meal, I could absolutely see and hear the whispering, as eyes would fall on us as couples would lean in close to talk, and then when self-consciously I looked at them their eyes would dart away.  The thing that really struck me was that none of this bothered Sara in any way.  She didn't mind that the whispering was just as much about her -- what was this mountain of a woman doing with such a weakling? -- as about me -- what's with this guy being with such a buff woman? -- and watching her ignore the surroundings and just focus on me made me realize that all these years I'd been crazy to worry about perceptions.  And even more importantly, all these weeks that I'd been with Sara, a woman who physically fulfilled all my latent dreams, even beyond my dreams, I'd been crazy to worry about perceptions.  At that dinner, we were finally and officially "out" -- our relationship was out, and my fetish was out, and there was no way of putting that genie back in the bottle.  For most of the dinner, her hand was holding mine on the table, and we did get a comment from one woman diner walking by who came up to us and commented on how she loved Sara's physique and looked down near our hands and said to me "you need to work harder to get arms like hers" and smiled at me.  I looked down in embarrassment but when she walked away, Sara pulled my arm to her and reached over and kissed it, and said "I like your arms just the way they are" and continued to hold my hand.  Pictures were definitely being taken on the sly and posted to social media -- captions were probably going to be things like "guess who'll be on top tonight" or, more offensively, "two men, one with boobs" or other offensive lines, which thankfully I never saw.  And over the course of the dinner, and that evening, I got more comfortable being with her, in public, feeling small, feeling the looks from others, and by the end of the evening when we were on that swing and she sat down and motioned to me to sit next to her and I leaned back on her in a way that would be more traditional for the woman to lean on her man, I felt comfortable and natural with her.  Yes, I noticed people doing double takes as they passed, but I started ignoring it, and that night was the start of my acceptance that I was going to be me, I was going to be with who I wanted, and I wasn't going to worry about what other people thought.  I was even the one who asked a waiter to take our picture.

Next to that was a picture of us feeding each other ice cream cones in that same trip.  We were each reaching out our hands, and what I loved about that picture was that we were being so silly in getting ice cream on each others' noses.  Both of us were wearing short sleeves, and the difference in the size of our upper arms was remarkable.  From time to time during the day, I have found myself reaching out my finger to trace her arms in that picture just as a reminder of what would be waiting for me when I got home.  Without a doubt, her arms are my favorite part of her physique, and she knows that.  Throughout our relationship, I have found myself unconsciously touching and feeling them, putting my arms around them, kissing them.  I ask her all the time to flex them for me and she always obliges.  She works them hard and they keep growing.  Most of all I like being held in them, feeling how their strength can support me.  When I get home from the office and she's there, she greets me and then immediately takes me in her arms, holding me tightly to her which pretty much always makes me sign with relief that I'm with her again.  When we watch a show together I'm always in her lap, with her arms around me, my hands on her upper arms keeping them close to me.  And when we go to bed, she always carries me into the bedroom cradling me in her arms; she says it gets her in the right mood to have me like that and I can say it does the same for me.

I kept looking across and the next picture was just of Sara, the day she moved in with me, which was just one week after we returned from that trip.  I know, it sounds crazy and whirlwind -- do the math and you're right that she moved in 7 weeks after we met.   But everything just felt right.  We'd been out to our first local public dinner a few days after returning from our trip, and because we were local I was seeing people I knew from the neighborhood.  They would come up to us and meet Sara, who I introduced as my girlfriend, and their reactions were so interesting, because she was wearing a sleeveless shirt that showed off her prodigious arms and shoulders so it was pretty obvious that she was way stronger than me -- sometimes the reactions were of surprise, sometimes a wry smile, one person had the temerity to reach for her arm to feel it after remarking on how buff she was, and one person went so far as to say, "really?" and then checked herself and tried to recover with, "that's great, did you meet at the gym?" which was equally awkward.   During dinner we were talking about all kinds of things and she said she really wanted to try her hand at bodybuilding competitions, because she felt like she had the size and muscle shape but she just didn't have the time to dedicate to it like some other girls and guys she knew, who tended to be personal trainers, and one was even an escort, which gave them ample time to prep for competitions...but none had corporate jobs like she did in IT.  She described what it took to really be competitive in the sport -- the commitment, the time in the gym, the focus on nutrition and supplements, the financial investment, the emotional support one needs from friends and family-- and listening to the passion and drive she had for it, and feeling her excitement as she gestured in excitement as she spoke about it, seeing her muscles constantly flexing before me unlike any woman's muscles I'd ever seen, I knew I had fallen for her and wanted to do whatever I could to make her dreams a reality.   I took her hand across the table and said, out of absolutely nowhere...without having considered the idea for more than a millisecond before I blurted it out...

"I love you Sara.  Move in with me.  Get rid of your apartment, and if you want you can quit your job so you can chase this dream."

She pulled her hand away from mine and sat back in her chair, taking a quick, gasping breath...clearly I had taken her off guard.  She stared directly at me with her hands on the edge of the table, almost like she was about to push the table out and with it push me away.  I had this panicked moment where I was scared that I'd gone to far, that I didn't think things out, that I had gone too fast.  And clearly she was thinking deeply as she stared at me.  Then, quickly, she leaned forward and reached her hand back out to cover mine.  Her hand, being bigger than mine, and her fingers thicker than mine from the weight training, completely enveloped my hand as it always did, and I looked down at it and breathed a sigh of relief, and then looked at her.

"I love you, too," she said.  "I never thought I'd say that to anyone, I never thought I'd find someone who I respected who could handle being with me.  But I love you and I want to be with you.  Yes, I'll move in with you."  And she stood up and leaned over the table and beckoned to me to lean over, and I did so, and we kissed across the table, every eye in the place turning to us, seeing the physical disparity between these two lovers, and I could sense the phones coming out to snap pictures of us, this huge, muscular chick kissing a regular looking guy, and unlike the pictures that I knew had to have been taken while we were on vacation, the pictures from that dinner were definitely posted around, and showed up in my social media feed, and that day I became the guy who likes muscle girls, the guy with the bodybuilder girlfriend, and whatever psychological diagnosis anyone wanted to place upon me for why I had chosen a woman as a partner who was stronger and bigger.  I would become the butt of jokes, the object of winks and stares, and just maybe from time to time, a source of jealousy to other guys who had the same secret that I had kept for so long, but who hadn't had the opportunity to realize their fantasy.

So she quit her IT job that Monday, and moved in the next weekend.

Back to the picture -- it was one I took of her when she first stepped into my place, right as she entered the front door, the very moment it became "our" place.  We had been packing all morning, carrying things from her apartment down multiple flights of stairs (her walkup didn't have an elevator); hours of packing bags, carrying them down, loading the U-Haul, back up the flights of stairs.  It was exhausting work for me, but honestly for Sara it was no problem at all.  In fact, she was talking about how it was such a great workout for her that she wouldn't have to go to the gym that evening --- a mixture of cardio from all of the stairs with weight training from carrying extremely heavy bags that she was really cramming as much as she could into.  Each time I would pack a bag so that it was at the weight where I could carry it, she would check it and add more to it, and then give me a box or something lighter to carry, and she would take all of the heavy items.  By the time we had finished packing the truck with all of her stuff and we were ready to drive over to my place, she had stripped down to a tank top and shorts from being so sweaty, and from all of the lifting and exertion, her muscles were absolutely engorged with blood, she was the utter visualization of the concept of "swole."  I'd never seen her so utterly buff, because she had never really swung by to see me, nor I to her, right after she went to the gym.  She always took time to shower and freshen up before we met up, and during that time her muscles had time to relax and dis-engorge after her lifting sessions.  And when I was the one she was lifting at my place or hers, during whatever sexual play we were doing, my bodyweight and the lifts she was doing of me were never enough to generate that kind of reaction from her muscles.  But when she slammed the liftgate down and latched it and turned to me and said "I'm ready," I saw before me an etched physique that rivaled any I had seen when browsing pictures or videos of muscular women online.   Her calves were thicker than I'd ever seen them, from walking up and down hundreds of stairs carrying bags, chairs, electronics, whatever.  Her arms had veins popping out like an anatomy chart.  Her shoulders were rounder and broader than I'd ever seen them.  I couldn't believe that this goddess was about to be living with me, where I could see her every day, touch her every day, and be touched by her every day.  Without a word I walked up to her and wrapped my arms around her neck and kissed her deeply.  "Ready," I said.

"Then let's go home," she said.  I started to walk towards the driver's side and she stopped me, took the keys, and said "I'll drive."  Part of me knew that she wasn't just talking about the U-Haul. 

When we got there, we opened the truck and she started taking out bags.  There were no stairs to get into my place, so the move in would be much easier.  She put a large backpack on, and grabbed a huge, heavy duffel bag in each hand, and went to walk to the door, and I told her to wait a second.  I ran to the door and opened it, and ran inside.  Preparing myself, I yelled out, "OK, you can come in now," and seconds later she appeared in the doorway with that first load of bags.  I was holding a rose in one hand, and my phone camera in the other, and I snapped a picture of her in the doorway, her face tilted with a look like "awww, you are so adorable," and her body, mildly covered by the tank top and shorts she was wearing, still absolutely swollen with muscular power as she carried the bags in.   And that's the picture that was on my desk -- her first step into what became "our place."

Next to that were two pictures at our wedding, just 3 months after we'd met; one was the classic shot of the first kiss after we were named husband and wife.  Me in my tuxedo, Sara in her wedding dress that I will never forget -- how it looked on her, accentuating her frame, and also for how hard it was to find a designer who could shape a dress around her broad figure so that it looked elegant, but the designer she found made the perfect dress for her.  In the picture, you could see how the flow of the tight dress gave a hint of the sweep of her quads; and her bare arms and shoulders showed all of her muscle in its glory, clearly displaying to all present how much more muscular and stronger she was than me.  If, the day before Sara took me, you'd asked me whether I could ever see myself standing in public with a muscular woman like Sara telling the world that I liked that look, I would have said no way.  But there I was, reaching my lips up as high as I could to my new wife, who with her 4 inch heels was 6 inches above me, my arms reaching around her neck to pull myself up to her, giving myself to her for all eternity.  I found her so undeniably sexy that day, and we were both worried about how my body would react.  She had become used to me being hard all the time around her, and also used to instances of pre-cum seeping out when she was touching me even non-sexually, but we didn't want either of those to happen on our big day.  So I wore an extra pair of underpants and stuffed some paper towels inside of them just in case.  But before the ceremony, just before we got dressed, ignoring the tradition of the bride and groom not seeing each other until she walked down the aisle, she came into my dressing room took me to a private area where she sat me on her lap and proceeded to jerk me off 5 times in sequence, until on the fifth time no more semen was expelled.  I did not know she was going to do that.  After the third time it was getting uncomfortable but she instructed me firmly to keep at it.  By the last one, she had completely drained me, there was no chance I was going to leak.  And then to make sure of no other issues, she took my limp cock, pulled it up against my lower waist and tied a strap around me to hold it tightly in place.  We both got dressed, I was able to get rid of the paper towels and extra underwear, and there were no issues at the event.  This has become somewhat of a tradition with us when attending events at this point; we always leave time beforehand so she can do "leakage prevention" and at this point I make sure she gets pleasure out of it too, because I've learned how to make her orgasm when I take her nipple in my mouth while she's rubbing me out in her lap.  So heading to any event, we are very much satisfied; but this means after the events, I have very little to offer her other than my mouth, which suits her just fine.

Our wedding was a big celebration, and the first dance made it kind of viral on youtube -- we chose an old swing tune, and Sara was doing swing moves with me that had me up in the air, upside down, through her legs, spinning around -- the kind of swing crazy dance moves you'd see a guy do to his partner in a tv variety show, only for us the woman was doing it to the man.  I still watch that video on youtube from time to time, because watching Sara's muscles in action when she is lifting me and swinging me around is so entrancing.  I don't really get to see her body like that when she is handling me at home.  The second wedding picture was from that dance; the photographer took it from behind Sara, when she was lifting me in the air.  She had her arms fully extended above her, her hands were around my waist, and I was way up above her, suspended by the strength of her arms.  The muscles of her back and shoulders were flexed powerfully, and in the photo you could see the etching of every single muscle.  She looked just spectacular, and I looked joyous. 

Next to that was a selfie Sara took of us at our honeymoon in the Caribbean.  We were in the sand at the edge of the ocean.  Sara was sitting in the sand, and I was sitting on her lap with my arms around her shoulders.  I was kissing her neck, and she was smiling at the camera.  I remembered that picture so well, because right after she took it and I got up from her, some jerk came up to us and pushed me over, making fun of the fact that I was so much smaller than Sara.  Sara would have none of it.  She grabbed the guy by his bathing suit and put him in a headlock, squeezed his head until he apologized like twenty times and then she lifted him over her head and walked with him into the ocean and tossed him way out into the water, like she was tossing a beach ball.  After he splash landed into the water, he swam away from us along the surf and we watched as he ran off down the beach as fast as he could.  A bunch of the women on the beach started clapping and cheering, and coming over to talk to her.  The men were keeping their distance, clearly intimidated.  The sex we had that night was unimaginably hot, as we re-enacted the experience in a variety of ways -- sometimes I was me, thanking her for protecting me; and sometimes I was that guy, and she was punishing me for my insolence.  But every role play ended with incredible orgasms for both of us, since either kind of scenario was a complete turn on for me, and for her.

And the last picture on my desk was of us at a bodybuilding competition Sara had done about a month earlier.  It was her first one, and she had just won the overall bodybuilding title, and I was just so overwhelmed with excitement and love for her that after they handed out the awards and invited families to join the stage, I hustled up the stairs and ran over to her and I literally jumped into her arms.  She caught me and I wrapped my arms around her as much as I could, and wrapped my legs around her waist, and she wrapped her arms around me, and I started kissing her all over her neck and cheek and then she turned her lips to me and gave me a deep, passionate kiss, and at that moment a photographer snapped this photo.  What the photo doesn't show is how the crowd was applauding us wildly, and how after our kiss Sara continued to hold me on her hip while she posed for the crowd, flexing her biceps, flexing her legs, all while holding her husband in her arm, which made the crowd applaud even louder.  And then she carried me off the stage and as people tried to talk to her and interview her, she brushed them off, and she took me to a back room and made unbelievable, passionate love to me in a way she never had before.  She was clearly feeling powerful and potent in that moment, and the best way to describe our sex in that back room was that she "took me."  I was a playtoy for her, and she moved me and used me to her orgasmic benefit.  It won't surprise you to hear that she forces me to go down on her all the time, and I'm used to that.  But that was the first time she forced sex upon me, and it was so glorious that after that day, I told her I preferred it when she controlled me during sex.  So that's what she does all the time.

I grabbed that picture and brought it close to me, staring at her, and gave it a kiss.  "See you shortly," I said to no one, and I left the office.

Arriving home a short time later, I was at the front door, about to put the key in, when the door opened suddenly.  I was grabbed by the shirt and roughly pulled inside.  I was briefly disoriented, and the door shut behind me.  I was pushed up hard against the door, my back feeling the force of the push against the wood.  I looked up at Sara, who was in a robe, and was staring down at me as she put her forearm against my chest to keep me against the door. 

"Do you know what today is?" she asked.

"No, what is it?"

"It's exactly one year since I first realized I wanted you, after that first time I made you go down on me when I discovered your secret."

"It is?  Sorry, I didn't write that anniversary down, sweetheart."

"Well I did, and I have plans for you today."

With that, she grabbed my shirt by the buttons and ripped it open, buttons flying across the room, and she dragged the shirt off of me, contorting my body at will.  Then she grabbed the my belt and undid it and tore my pants off at the button, and roughly brought them down and off of my legs.  Next was my underwear, she grabbed the waistband with each hand and ripped it right down the middle so it fluttered off of me.  Then she grabbed my member and balls in one of her hands and squeezed and massaged them, and the other she put around my throat and pinned me to the door.

"It's time, husband of mine, to show you what it's like when your stronger wife takes full control of you."  She stared directly into my eyes, and said deliberately, "Full. Control."

Releasing my groin, she untied her robe and revealed herself to me, completely naked under the robe, in her most gloriously muscular shape just days after her most recent bodybuilding competition.  She was a little fuller than the depleted look at the competition, and I knew she was at her peak strength.  Dropping the robe to the ground she put her hands under my armpits and lifted me higher off the ground against the door, holding me up as high as her arms could reach.  She held me tightly and looked me up and down, and I looked down on her bulging arms and her striated chest and my breath was just taken away.  Pulling me away from the door, she continued holding me aloft in her outstretched arms, demonstrating unbelievable power, the muscles of her shoulders and traps and arms tensing and swelling from the exertion, and she slowly, deliberately lowered me, pulling me close to her, and as my eyes reached the level of hers, my entire body still suspended inches off the ground, she stepped forward to push me again to the door.

"Ready?"

"Ready for what?" I thought, but couldn't speak the words as she took one hand away from an armpit, and despite using only one arm still held me steady off the ground and reached down to grasp my absolutely raging erection, positioned it just so and then stepped and leaned into me, guiding my cock directly into her awaiting vagina.

As it entered, I let out an audible sigh, and closed my eyes.  She thrust her hips forward and pinned me against the door with her waist, my cock as far into her as it could reach, and she proceeded to pump into me, pushing me harder and harder against the door, my body having no purpose other than being the recipient of her thrusts to force my cock further into her, as far as she could get it, in and out, in and out.  My toes were flexing towards the floor and my feet were involuntarily kicking as the sensation was just so much for me to handle, and after a few minutes of thrusting, I started to feel the wave of euphoria coming on and I said "I'm coming, I'm coming," and in and instant I felt her vaginal muscles constricting around my member and the tide was stemmed, and then she continued with her thrusting yet again, over and over into me, my back starting to feel pain from jarring against the hard wooden door.

"Wrap your legs around me," she ordered, and I complied, and I was clinging to her with my legs like a koala on a tree, while she continued her thrusting, and when the wave came again, I announced "I'm coming, I'm coming," and again she clamped down to stem the tide. 

"Wrap your arms around me," she ordered, and again I complied and I put my arms over her bulging traps, and not able to get a hold of anything other than undulations of back muscles on the other side, I repositioned my hands to hold onto her massive shoulders, grabbing them as best I could and trying to reach around to hold onto her shoulder blades, and then she took her hands and put them under my ass, and started pulling me up into her, deeper and deeper, pulling my entire bodyweight up tight into her with an explosion of strength and then relaxing to lower me slightly and then repeating the effort.  Looking down I could see her arms just absolutely swelling from the exertion, and I let my hands migrate lower to hold onto the girth of each of her upper arms, trying to squeeze my hand around each arm but feeling the contraction each time she lifted me that broke my grip and I didn't think I'd ever felt her arms this engorged with raw feminine power before.  My hands soon just rested in the middle of her biceps muscle and when I felt the ball of her biceps directly expanding directly under my grip, the wave hit me again and I said again "I'm coming, I'm coming," and she clamped me again, something that before today she had never done to me, she had always let me come into her when the urge hit me, never tried to control when I actually came with what appeared to be muscles in her vagina that were as strong as muscles everywhere else on her body, but this was her third time stopping me and I was going wild with need for her.

She continued pulling me up into her with my legs still wrapped around her, but soon I felt the faint tickle of her fingernail brushing near my anus and I gave a small gasp, as it was such a strange feeling, and moments later I felt more of a poke from her fingernail that caused me to softly vocalize the gasp, and I could feel her hands adjusting their grip of my buttocks, and then moments later I felt her forefinger poke its way directly into my anus, which was a shocking feeling for me that I'd never experienced or imagined, and gave me a sensation of both fear and shock that I gave out a pretty loud screaming gasp "aaaaaah" that wasn't a scream of terror but instead the vocalizing of a very long gasp where you were anticipating something bad to happen but wasn't sure about it, and then in the middle of my screaming gasp I was silenced by her mouth descending on mine and covering it in a passionate and breathtaking kiss, her tongue darting inside of my mouth, finding every corner, that distracted me from what she was doing below and calmed me down.  As she kissed me in a way that was clearly intended to control my reaction, her finger slid deeper into me and then a second finger followed, and she started lifting me again into her, but with each thrust where I penetrated her womanhood more deeply, I could feel her finger penetrating my anus deeper and deeper, and soon with each thrust I was making vocalizations into her mouth as she kissed me, saying "ohh, ohh, ohh, ohh, ohh" on every thrust.   The fingers were deep inside of me, as I was deep inside of her, and sensation from below was new to me but I could only imagine it was her finger touching my prostate which from videos I'd seen was a way that women used dildos to make their men come, and the double sensation was just far too much for me and I screamed out "I'm coming, oh fuck I'm coming, this is too much, I want you to take me," and she surged forward and slammed me into the door and a third finger entered me from behind as my member surged deeper into her vagina than ever and she yelled "Yes, now!!" and I came with a wave of ejaculation that was, honestly, more intense than anything I had ever, ever experienced before, my eyes closed and I was spasming all over my body, and the emissions kept pulsing out of me for what seemed like minutes, and I was emitting a combination of shriek and gasp as my legs stiffened out past her, and my hands tried do dig into her shoulders, and then I went completely limp in her arms, my legs dangling, my arms dangling.  And when I opened my eyes and tried to look into hers, I saw that her eyes were also closed, and I could feel pulsations on my still throbbing cock that still was inserted into her, that were the sign that she was also experiencing an orgasm, and a wave of deep, deep love washed over me and I reached my lips up to hers and started uncontrollably kissing her, professing my love to her in as many ways as I could conceive.  She continued grinding me into the door while my muscles were limp with release, clearly trying to complete her own orgasm, her eyes still closed, and once she was finished, she opened her eyes, licked my lips a few times, and then bit my lip softly, and said "mmmmmm" and smiled at me. 

I was still being held off the ground after all this time, my toes hadn't touched the ground in what seemed like hours, all the time suspended in my wife's powerful grasp.  But then she put me back down on solid earth and hugged me close to her, putting my face into her neck.  I wrapped my arms around her midsection and squeezed her in return, as much as I could.

She stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head.  "Oh my little man, that was amazing.  I just knew you would love that.  I never told you that I saw those kinds of videos on your computer too.  I figured you'd like it if I was inside of you, like those muscle girls with strapons did to the men in the videos.  You clearly watched a lot of those.  And now I know.  We will have so much fun experimenting together.  As long as you accept that I'm in control."

I was surprised and scared and horrified and excited and titillated and in love. 

"And now it's time for you to show me how I'm your Alpha, my little Pretty Mouth.  How you belong to me."

She lifted me and tossed me over her shoulder, jacknifing me face down over her, and started to walk with me towards the bedroom.

"How for the rest of our lives, you will live to make me happy, to service my needs, to fulfill my every desire."

She entered the bedroom and walked straight up to the end of the bed.  She lifted me up off of her shoulder and put her hands under my stomach and then she steadied me on one of her hands, and then pressed me over her head, using just her one arm.  I was way above her head, and I looked down my own body and could see that my member was once again raging with desire, leaking just slightly with a drip of pre-cum stretching out from the tip down to her shoulder.  And I looked down at her glorious physique and thought about how lucky I was to have her, how I didn't care what my position was in our relationship, I just wanted to be close to her every minute of every day forever.  And then with a mighty heave she threw me high up into the air, giving me just a slight spinning motion, and I landed face up on the bed with my head at the foot of the bed, looking straight up at her, seeing her undulating abs and her perfect tits, and knowing that above those were so much more that I desired.  And within moments her pussy was upon me, covering my mouth, and she brough her legs up and sat astride me, and I started my worship of her, resting my hands on her legs in complete abdication of any semblance of male relationship superiority.

My place was with her.  My place was under her.  My place was pleasuring her.  And I would be serving my dominant muscle wife forever.

[skipberg]

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[GreatJustice]

Domination and consent play aren't really my things, but this is an excellent story! Well done!

[jhunter]

Great story, nice description and flow. May want to break up a paragraph here and there so there's not many walls.

[giantgirl7foot2]

Good lord, hitting us with a masterpiece all at once! Marvelous job!

[skipberg]

I forgot to mention -- feedback always appreciated as this is v1 of the story...and karma always appreciated!

[phil123]

Always good to get IT Problems solved. So I hope for a V2 with a different solutiion.
+k