A Second Chance to Make It Right

One weekend, I helped Mom bring down the laundry into the basement where the washing machine and dryer were. I had never really looked in the basement when I was growing up as Jack. There was nothing down there that would interest me. Now, I was just curious. In one corner of the basement was a walled-off area next to the furnace. On the door, barely legible were the words "Coal Bin." I asked Mom about it.

"That's where they used to store the coal that was delivered during the winter and burned for heat. They used to get a delivery of coal down a chute in through the window. Every day Grandpa would come down here and shovel some coal into the furnace. I remember him telling me that about thirty years ago they converted the old furnace to natural gas. I guess Grandpa never got around to taking it down."

With that she went back upstairs, and I went straight to the coal bin door. I flipped the latch, pushed the door open and peered inside. I could see that the room had been used for storage; there were still a couple of boxes on the floor, a couple of chairs sat against one wall, and something fairly big covered by an old sheet. Everything had a thick layer of dust on it. I pulled the sheet off.

There before my eyes was an old weight bench, with a barbell resting on the rack, several twenty- pound weights on each side and a couple of other short bars with ten-pound weights. I looked around; there on the wall were an exercise chart and a progress chart. Grandpa's name was on the chart, showing how much weight he was lifting each week for about a year. Then the entries stopped.

I guess Grandpa was into weight lifting at one point in his life, and then he just gave it up. I'd have to ask Mom about it some time. Now I could really get my body into shape, but first I had a lot of cleaning to do. I thought it best to just keep this find to myself for the time being. I swept and dusted as much as I could; I opened the window to let some fresh air in and took an inventory of what I had. There were four each of twenty-pound, ten-pound, and five-pound weights, a long bar and two short bars. I read the exercise chart to see what type of exercises I could do, and erased the marker writing on the progress chart. The marker was all dried out but everything else seemed to be in good working order. I even tried out the bench to make sure it was still sturdy. Now I had all I needed.

I started out slowly; ten pounds on each side plus the bar for my presses, and ten pounds for my one-arm curls and pull-ups. Each day, when I got home from school, I would go downstairs and work out while Jack would go up to his room and read. Each week I increased the weight by five pounds, or increased the number of sets. By the end of the first month, I could see the results of my hard work. My arms looked thicker, my shoulders looked wider, and my tits seemed a little higher and firmer. The sit-ups that I did every day were making my stomach flatter, and I was beginning to see the outlines of my abs. Anne had always been a big girl, by the time she graduated from high school, she was five-ten, one hundred and seventy five pounds. She had gone past the full figured stage and was knocking on the door of obesity. In the years to come, it had cost her a husband, her self-esteem, and her dignity. I was going to change all that.

One day I was down in the room, just finishing up a set of bench presses, a total weight of ninety-five pounds with the bar, when the door opened and there stood Mom.

"So this is where that stuff ended up. I always wondered why Dad got rid of it. When I was young, I used to come down here and watch him lift. He used to have it out in the main part of the basement, because they were still using this room as a coal bin. One day I came down here alone, I couldn't have been more than twelve years old, and started to imitate what he was doing. Of course I had taken off most of the weight. He caught me and told me that weight lifting was not for girls and that no man would want to marry a woman with muscles. So I stopped. Soon after, the furnace was converted and the coal bin abandoned, or so I thought."

She walked over to the charts on the wall and after a few moments turned and said, "Wow, you're really getting into this aren't you?"

"Yeah Mom, I really feel good about myself. Why don't you start working out with me?"

"Honey, I'm thirty-four years old; I haven't done any exercising in years."

"I'll help you; you can start out slowly, like I did. Soon, we'll have you in great shape, with a body that Dad will love."

Almost in a whisper I heard, "I doubt it."

So that's it, I thought; they've lost their passion, their desire for one another. They were both too young for this to happen; Mom was just reaching the height of her sexuality. This was another problem that I was going to have to set right. I would have to be really careful how I handled this one.

"Tomorrow, no excuses, when I get home I want you dressed to work out with me. I bet you'll be surprised at how strong you really are."

Chapter 6

The end of the school year was quickly approaching. Plans were being finalized for the ninth grade dance. Joann already had a date of course. So did most of our friends... everyone, except me. I was at my locker, getting my things, waiting for Joann when Todd walked up behind me. He tapped me on the shoulder; I turned and was looking right into his gorgeous blue eyes.

"Hi Anne, I was wondering if you would like to go with me to the dance?"

I stood there, stunned. I was getting fairly used to being a girl; even thinking like a girl in most circumstances. This was one bridge that I had not crossed. In my head I was still a man, and here was a young man asking me out on a date, a dance, no less. I almost blurted out, no, then said,

"Todd, I'd love to go to the dance with you."

"Great, that's great, we'll make arrangements soon," and then he turned and walked down the hall and out of the building.

"Shit, I hope Anne knows how to dance."

I went home, worked out extra hard, had dinner, did my homework, and went to bed. I had a lot on my mind; in bed is where I do my best thinking.

Suddenly, Jack burst into my room yelling, "Bobbie Kennedy's been shot."

It was June 6, 1968; the presidential campaigns were in full swing, the Democrats fighting to see who was going to be their nominee to replace Lyndon Johnson. I should have remembered, Kennedy had just won in California and had just finished his speech, when he was shot by Sirhan Sirhan leaving the room through the kitchen. I knew. I could have stopped it. But I didn't. I couldn't; I couldn't warn anyone, I couldn't change history by that magnitude. Who would have believed me anyway? I hadn't even told my own family. I'd just have to suffer in silence. I cried myself to sleep that night.

Two weeks later, I came down the stairs in my best dress, and low heeled shoes (I didn't want to overpower Todd). He stood in the living room, a corsage in hand, dressed in tan slacks, white shirt and a blue blazer. He looked really good. Mom helped him pin the flowers on my dress. Dad took some pictures and out the door we went. Todd's father was waiting in the car and dropped us off at the door to the gym.

"I'll be back at ten to pick you up; have fun you two."

We did. We sat with a couple of his friends and their dates, along with Joanne and hers. We danced; I even remembered to let him lead. At one point near the end of the night, we walked out into the hallway so I could use the girls' room. As we were walking back to the gym, he steered me into an empty classroom, and began to kiss me. My mind was reeling. I was kissing a guy, my instincts said to punch him in the nose; my body, however, was responding in a different manner entirely. I could feel myself becoming aroused; my nipples ached, the thrill shooting directly to my pussy. Then I felt his hand cup my breast. He had me pressed against the wall and I could feel his erection pressing against my thighs.

"No, Todd. No, that's enough! Stop!"

But he didn't stop. In fact, I felt him trying to move his hand inside my dress, inside my bra. I grabbed his wrist and slowly removed it from my breast. He was trying to overpower me, but was losing. The look on his face was priceless as he realized how strong I was.

"If you don't want me to break your arm, I suggest that you stop right now and take me back to the gym."

Like a beaten dog, he turned, and we walked back to the gym. It was nearly ten, the lights were turned up, and we all began to leave. Todd's dad was there, and we drove back to my house. When the car stopped, he got out, opened my door, and walked me to my door.

"I'm sorry," he said, "You are just so beautiful that I couldn't stop myself."

I leaned into him, kissed him tenderly on the lips, thanked him for a nice evening and went into the house. Mom was in the kitchen and asked me all the usual questions. I smiled and told her all about it, well almost anyway. Then said good night and went upstairs. I changed, washed up and got into bed. I had to get myself off twice before I could finally fall asleep.

Chapter 7

The summer of '68 was hot in more ways than one. Large cities, like Detroit and Newark, had suffered through weeks of unrest and rioting in the streets the year before and the unrest, along with the political climate and the war, made for an uneasy peace. Mom and I continued working out every morning right after Dad went to work in order to avoid the heat of the day. She was really making good progress. Because of her healthier cooking and eating habits, she had continued to lose weight. Now the loss of weight was slowing down. She was, however, losing inches. Her clothes were fitting more loosely; she was even getting into clothes that she hadn't worn in years. I think the battle for Mom was almost won; there was just one more area to conquer.

"Mom can we talk; woman to woman."

"Of course Dear, what did you want to talk about?"

"Your sex life." I thought she would drop the bar she was so stunned.

"I really don't think that's any of your business; besides you're too young to talk of such things."

"No Mom, you're wrong. I'm not too young, I'll be sixteen years old next year, I'm mature beyond my years and a lot more knowledgeable than you were at my age. Some kids in my class are already doing it."

I saw the panic on her face.

"No Mom; I'm still a virgin. I have too many plans for the future to get.... Mom, I'm sorry I wasn't thinking."

She got off the bench and hugged me.

"It's okay, everything worked out for us; we had you and Jack, and with Grandma's and Grandpa's help we were able to have a pretty good life up until now, I have no regrets."

"But, are you truly happy? Do you still have the passion that you had for each other when you were eighteen?

"Your father works really hard; he's tired by the end of the day. No, sex between us has not been good for a while. We seemed to have gotten into a routine. He just doesn't seem interested anymore. It's one position with him on top, once every couple of weeks and its over before it starts. I shouldn't be telling you this."

"Of course you should, who else are you going to tell? It sounds like you are going to have to start taking charge in bed. Maybe, you should be on top once in awhile. How about some mutual masturbation? When was the last time you had oral sex?"

"Anne, please."

"Mom, this is your marriage we're talking about. Sex – good sex – is a big part of a loving relationship. The last thing I want is for you two to grow apart, but that's what it's sounding like. You have to fight for what's yours... and you don't have to fight fair. You've already started; you're looking really good, you're young and really sexy. But, you are going to have to be the aggressor, at least until you can relight the flame within him. Believe me when I tell you, I know what a man wants and desires."

"Are you sure you're a virgin? How do you know so much about men? When did you grow up, it seems like only yesterday that I was tucking you into bed at night and telling you stories."

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Come on, Jack's not home, let's go take our showers. I want to check you out; maybe we can enhance your sexiness. I also want to check out your bedclothes. Then we'll talk about how to improve Dad, to make him more desirable. It's going to be up to you to make him into an irresistible hunk. I can only do so much with him."

We went upstairs and had our showers. I asked her not to dress. When I came downstairs she was in her robe. She stood up, dropped the robe and turned around for me. Her tits were great: probably a C-cup with only a slight sag to them; she had cute little nipples that appeared to be hard already. Her butt needed a little more work and so did her stomach, but all in all she was one sexy lady. My 58 year-old male mind was sending strong signals to my nonexistent cock... so much so in fact, that I expected Jack to come through the door any minute sporting a massive hard on. The only negative that I could see was that she had let her bush grow wild. I would have to show her how to trim it up, maybe even do a little shaving around the lips. That would come soon enough; first I had to work on getting Dad into better shape.

We started talking about sex again. I could tell from the discussion that she was not very knowledgeable about the subject. Then it hit me. They had gotten married at the age of eighteen. I knew Mom was a virgin, and probably Dad was as well. The Internet had not yet been invented and they had grown up in an era when sex was not discussed. How were they ever going to learn how to pleasure each other? So the sex became one dimensional and there was no communication between them. They just didn't know any better. I felt sorry for them both.

I don't know what Mom was thinking, but for the next hour we had ourselves our first sex education lesson, only in reverse; the child teaching the parent.

Chapter 8

The summer went by quickly; I got stronger and now had six pack abs. My biceps had expanded to the point that when I flexed it looked like I had a baseball hidden under my skin. I decided that this year I was going out for the girls track team. I had to go shopping for some new shirts to wear to school. My old ones were no longer appropriate for school. Mom seemed to be walking around the house with a little more spring in her step; she seemed happier than I had seen her in years. Dad too, was smiling a lot more than he used to. When he could, he too would join Mom and me in our workouts. I also noted that the weights would be different when I went to use them the following day. I think he was sneaking down stairs at night to get in a little more work before going up to bed. One day I found a couple of his old ties wrapped around the ends of the bar. It took me a minute before I figured out that they'd had some sex play while lifting. Way to go Mom! Another problem solved.

I still had to get Anne into college, to at least get her a degree and a direction in life. That would be no problem. Jack was my major concern. I had one year to get him to the point where he would resist the lure of falling in with the wrong crowd and turning to drugs and alcohol. Sports were not the answer for Jack; he was never good at them and had no interest in them. He was smart, but painfully shy around girls. That was going to be the key. I had to get him over his shyness, to find him a strong partner in life, to get him laid.

My first challenge was get him in shape, to make him a more desirable commodity. Then I would have to build up his confidence. Finally, find him a girl. The one good thing was that I knew what made him tick; his likes and dislikes, even his fantasies and desires. He was me.

When school started, we would be going to different schools. I'd be a sophomore going to the high school; he was in ninth grade in the junior high. That meant different buses, different schedules, and he would be out of my sight most of the day. Fortunately, one of my girlfriend's sister was also in ninth grade so she passed along reports from time to time about who he was hanging with. It was too bad that she wasn't his type or most of my problem would already be solved.

Step one was to get him interested in weight lifting. I figured the best way to do that was to get him down in the basement and have him see me working out with an outfit that left little to the imagination. The outfit consisted of a pair of gym shorts and one of my old tee shirts. I thought about not wearing a bra, but I didn't want him to have a heart attack or cum in his shorts while he was spotting for me. After school, I got home before he did. I ran up stairs, changed into my workout clothes, and went downstairs.

"Mom can you do me a big favor. When Jack gets home can you please send him downstairs to help me with my workout? "

Looking at the way I was dressed and the fact that she knew I really didn't need any help, she started to speak, "Anne, I'm not...."

"Please don't ask any questions, this is for his own good. Trust me, I never would do anything to hurt him."

Before she could answer I ran down to the basement, and set up the weights for the bench press. About fifteen minutes later I heard the back door slam; Jack was home. I'd give him another fifteen minutes to change and come down. It took him ten.

"Sis, where are you?

"In the coal bin."

"Mom said you needed my hel -- "

He froze in mid sentence. There I was on my back, my legs spread slightly – just enough to tease – doing my bench press reps with all of the free weights I had on the bar.

"Come here, stand behind me and help me if I start to get into trouble."

I was doing my maximum and had only done three reps when he stood behind me.

"OK, help me lift it back on the rack."

I eased off and let him take as much of the weight as I thought he could handle. I was watching his eyes; they were glued to my tits, the shirt stretched to its limit.

When we got the bar racked he said, "Holy crap, sis, how much weight was that?"

"One hundred sixty five pounds."

"That's twenty-five pounds more than I weigh! How did you get so strong?"

"A lot of hard work. I've been lifting for about four months. You should start lifting. Its great exercise, you'll build up your strength and make your body more attractive."

"I could never lift that much," never taking his eyes off my chest.

"I didn't start out lifting this much either. I had to start out slowly, with about thirty pounds, and work up from there."

I lied a little; I didn't want to discourage him on the first day.

"I could help you; we could work out every day after school. I'll help you, teach you."

"I don't know."

"Jack, trust me after the first couple weeks, you'll feel better about yourself, you'll have more energy, and you'll start to look really good; especially to the girls."

"OK, when can we start?"

"Today. Go back upstairs and put on a pair of gym shorts and a tee shirt. I'll stay down here and set up the weights for you."

"Thanks Anne, I really appreciate it." He ran up stairs and was back down in less than five minutes.

I had set-up with the bar loaded with a ten-pounder on each side.

"Sis, that's only twenty pounds."

"You forgot to count the bar, that's another twenty-five pounds; so you're starting out at forty-five pounds. Lay down on the bench and I'll show you how to do it properly. In order to get the most out of your workout you have to use the proper form."

Once he was down on the bench, I had him grip the bar at a little more than shoulder width apart, lower the weight to his chest, and push it back until his arms were just about fully extended. I had him repeat the procedure for a total of twelve reps. I had to help with the last one, but I told him he was doing really well for a beginner. I was standing really close to him while I was spotting. I knew I was giving him a real good peek at my panties, and I'm sure he could see the outline of my pussy though the panties. After a few minutes rest I had him start again. He only got to eight reps this time, but he was using good form. I changed the weights putting on all the plates but the five-pounders. I put those on the small bars. While I did my reps on the bench I had him doing curls. I had to tell him not to swing the weights and to only use his arm, but he did really well.