Kayla and the Pool Boy

"Quid pro quo," she said softly, her mouth now closer to my ear.

I winced as she called out my hypocrisy. I trembled slightly as I pushed at each heel and removed my shoes. The wood floor felt cool on my bare feet, which I now noticed had been sweating inside my shoes.

I looked back up in the mirror to see that Kayla's chin was now obscured behind my head. But her eyes still easily peered over me, and every other dimension of our comparison remained fixed -- her Amazonian body still dwarfed mine.

I suddenly startled as her hand touched my upper arm and squeezed.

"I'm surprised you didn't ask me to train you too," she murmured as she kneaded my soft muscle.

I felt my anger rise, irritated that she would insult my fitness level, not to mention squeeze my arm. Then I remembered I had just done the same to her arm. My cheeks flushed as I now experienced the comparison I had hoped to avoid.

Acting in vain, I belatedly tried to flex. Despite hardening my bicep, her strong hand still squished it around like Jell-o.

"Heck, I figured you'd jump at the opportunity," she added with a glance downward in the mirror.

Was she being literal or was there a disguised meaning in her comment? I looked down and could see a small tent where my cock strained to stand back up. Yet it was barely enough to be obvious.

Before I could think of anything to say -- it was rare for me to be at a loss for words -- her hand moved down and pinched the fat on my side. Now I actually jumped, twisting away in surprise at the sudden tickling sensation.

"What the --," I objected.

"Or maybe you like your soft dad bod the way it is?" Kayla continued as she stepped away from me. "Such a shame...because I could make you so hard."

My cock did a somersault in my pants. There was no mistaking her innuendo now. Yet her words had me painted into a corner. There was no good way to respond without either agreeing to be trained by her or ramping up the sexual banter. Both were tempting, yet risked crossing lines I wasn't ready to cross, especially with our spouses likely to return any moment.

I watched in silence as she stepped to the side, set her wine glass on the floor, then walked toward the mirror. One of her legs suddenly swung up and her heel landed on the higher rod of the barre. Her foot extended straight, then she bent forward gracefully with both arms outstretched. Her nose touched her knee and her fingers fluttered down to her toes. Her angles were so clean, it was like watching a butterfly slowly close its wings.

Next, she gradually raised her torso, and amazingly, her foot came off the barre into the air. I looked down to her other foot and noticed she had raised to a full pointe, balancing her whole weight on two toes. With a sudden twist, she twirled around and leapt away from the wall, spreading her arms and legs in a grand jeté. Her form was perfect. I stood with my mouth open, rapt.

She landed nimbly, barely making a sound, then she turned and spoke:

"To answer your question, in high school I was recruited for both sports and dance programs. Basketball teams seemed to appreciate my height a bit more."

In a surreal metamorphosis, her posture suddenly changed, and she looked almost masculine as she feigned a dribble then stepped back into a fallaway jumper. I couldn't help glancing at her sweater as she raised her arms. It briefly flipped up with her simulated shot and I thought I saw the bottom of a bare breast...

"Ha, that was some contrast," was all I could muster.

I honestly felt overwhelmed. Not only was I enthralled by her body, but she seemed to easily control the flow and rhythm of every interaction between us. Keeping me guessing, forcing me to hang on her every word and movement. Any attempt I made to retake the initiative seemed to be met with a deft feint, then an overpowering drive to the basket.

I should have been deeply frustrated. But instead, I felt kind of numb; unable to think clearly, reluctant to fight back. But it wasn't from surrender or indifference. Rather I was captivated by her, stunned to finally meet someone who exuded as much confidence and power as myself. Or perhaps more.

"You know I was pretty offended earlier," she said in a leading way as she turned to face me.

"Oh? Why would that be?" I asked with genuine surprise.

She made an exaggerated pout with her lips. If anything, it was even cuter than when she smiled.

"I saw you laugh when Logan suggested I may be stronger than him," she said accusingly. "As if you don't think women are capable of the same things as men."

"Oh no, it wasn't that!" I responded, trying to look sincere, but struggling to conceal my doubt. "It's just that he's so much bigger than you."

Her pout disappeared, replaced by an impish grin.

"There's far more to power than just size," Kayla retorted mockingly, turning my own phrase from earlier back on me.

I still wasn't going to let her walk all over me, so I lifted my hand under my chin and leaned toward her.

"Enlighten me," I responded, mimicking her intonation from before.

She smiled in a touché sort of way that I found gratifying. Then her eyes flicked to the weight bench as if to suggest she would prove it to me.

I turned toward the padded side of the room, assuming she would follow, and started to mentally tabulate the weight Logan had been benching.

Without warning, something touched my leg, then my back, and my feet swept out from under me. My body flipped sideways and up into the air. I felt immediately vulnerable and insecure, like I was falling off the side of a cliff.

"Holy shit! What the fuck!" I screamed in surprise.

I looked up to see Kayla's smiling face above me and I could feel the bounce of her steps below. Her eyes gazed forward, and she looked pleased with herself.

I turned my head to look in the same direction.

"Oh my god!" I cried, unable to contain my amazement.

In the mirror, I saw my body cradled high in Kayla's sturdy arms. It looked natural and easy for her, as if I barely weighed anything. I glanced down at her abs, fully exposed by her sweater riding up. With her core engaged, they were spectacularly defined, like they had been chiseled from marble. The waves of muscle curved down and to the center, tracing a sinewed path to a vertical string of dark buttons on her white pants, the line evocative of a bare slit. I suddenly visualized Logan's allusion to sex with her, and imagined her powerful hips ramming down, practically breaking him...me...in half.

I'd never felt so small and weak, yet so alive and aroused. The circuits inside my brain overloaded. Nothing made sense.

Suddenly, she flicked upward, and I felt my stomach drop as I flew into the air. Reflexively, I reached one arm over her shoulder and the other around her neck to grab on so I didn't fall. My legs and back crashed down into her solid limbs, jolting with brief pain. No part of her seemed to budge as she easily absorbed my weight.

"Logan loves when I do this to him," Kayla remarked with a devilish giggle. "And he's probably more than 50 pounds heavier than you."

I looked in the mirror and tried to picture her beefy husband in my position. Her immense strength seemed unbelievable.

My eyes wandered up and I was struck by how submissive I looked with my arms clasped around her neck. A wave of discomfort shot through me as the initial shock wore off. I had gotten too comfortable, too complicit with her game. I'd never imagined anyone taking physical control from me like this before, much less a younger woman.

My brain flashed with danger signs. It seemed like my entire persona was being exposed for a fraud. Yet, ironically, my cock felt like it was on fire. I resented that I was turned on by this kind of degradation...I couldn't accept it.

"L-let me down!" I ordered in a shaky, panicked voice.

As I said it, I struggled to break free, pressing against her shoulders and twisting my body this way and that. Yet she easily adjusted to my movements and held me fast.

"Now that's no way to negotiate, Dave," she said with a condescending tone. "What happened to studying the dynamics of the situation and personalities...looking for weak points?"

I felt my anger rise as I heard her mocking my power speech from earlier, and I turned up to look at her face, trying to think of something to say.

"Do you see any weak points yet?" she taunted before I could speak.

Her arms suddenly curled up, squeezing my body tightly to hers, arresting my movement. I could feel her sizable breasts mashing against my side. They were enticingly dense and springy. My mind whirred, trying to rectify the juxtaposition of her alluring femininity with the brute force of her physique.

"You know...I don't like to lose either," she continued with a cocky smile.

She abruptly loosened her grip and slowly uncurled her arms. I didn't bother to struggle this time. Instead, I felt a sinking sensation inside, a sort of resignation that was strangely euphoric. A recognition that I was powerless to fight back, that I no longer had control of my person. That Kayla had taken over.

My mind began to focus on the rhythmic throbbing of my cock and the supreme confidence in her voice.

"You know in Jiu-Jitsu class, none of the girls will grapple with me? They're all too scared," she said with a scoff. "So I end up fighting the men. There are some pretty buff guys at the dojo. Still...I never lose."

My body shuddered at the bravado of her words and the image of her ensnaring strong men in her wiry limbs. Just then, her arms reached bottom and began curling back up. I looked down to see her bicep expanding near my leg. It appeared even bigger than earlier. Her well of strength seemed limitless.

"So...have you figured out how to take the upper hand yet, Dave?" Kayla challenged with a brash lilt in her voice.

Despite my tremendous arousal, I couldn't let the young minx continue to humiliate and tease me like this. I had to regain my composure, find an opening to negotiate...

"Okay, I think you've made your point," I said more calmly than before. "You can put me down now."

"Ha! Have I, though?" she asked rhetorically, with a twinkle in her eye. "You know, I'll be honest...my arms aren't actually as strong as Logan's. Human physiology does have its gender biases."

"So why be offended at my reaction, then?" I asked, regaining a semblance of confidence.

She smirked delightedly, and I knew I had again fallen into a trap.

"If there's one thing I've learned from powerlifting, it's that strength isn't about one muscle group, rather it's about the total package," she countered haughtily, "More specifically, the coordinated leverage of many muscle groups multiplying the force of the body. And there are many parts of me that are way stronger than Logan."

As she said it, she pulled me tight to her, then bent over ninety degrees at the waist. I grabbed on for dear life around her neck, but it wasn't necessary. Her grip and balance were unshakable.

"Take my core, for instance," she spoke without any evidence of strain. "I'm ripped in places Logan doesn't even know he has muscles."

Her torso suddenly twisted up to one side, pointing my head toward the floor. Then she reversed course and swung me the other direction until I sat straight up. She slowly unbent her waist and shifted me back to center.

"Jesus..." I said spontaneously, unable to contain my awe.

Her arms loosened slightly, then she seemed to gather me in a protective snuggle. I couldn't resist tugging back at her neck and nuzzling my body against her supple breasts. My head leaned on her shoulder and the entrancing fragrance of her underarm wafted into my nose. Without thinking, I turned my head further into her, rooting into her sweater for the source of the scent. I wasn't sure, but I thought I felt Kayla chuckle slightly, just before she spoke again.

"For example, I'd estimate my legs are at least twice as strong as his at this point," she said matter-of-factly.

Just then, I felt my body begin to drop. I turned my head to look back in the mirror and saw her beginning to squat down. She caught my eye and I felt her arms cuddle me a little bit tighter. I had a peculiar sensation of feeling safe and cared for.

As we reached bottom, I felt my thighs and back alight onto her split legs, and I found myself cradled in her lap like a child as Kayla rested on her haunches. My sense of being nurtured was even more acute.

Then I felt a small rise and drop, repeated multiple times. My dick pulsated with each brief undulation.

"What are you doing now?" I asked, my curiosity a tacit admission of my withering inhibitions.

"Calf raises," she responded without hesitation. "Although normally I use a lot more weight."

After at least a dozen reps, she began to straighten her legs, making a show of how slowly she could rise, and how little exertion it took. Finally, her legs fully extended, and she stood straight as an arrow. I was reminded of her rigid posture earlier on the couch. Yet now she held over 200 pounds in her arms.

"So, what do you have to say now?" she asked in a serious voice, adding a brief encouraging squeeze with her arms.

"Well, I'm not sure what you think you've proven without Logan here to compare," I said, surprised to hear my cocky persona resurface.

"You're such a little asshole!" Kayla responded with a playful laugh.

My cheeky answer seemed to have struck a chord, as she tipped me forward and gently set me on my feet.

My head suddenly felt light, and I had a bizarre sense of disappointment, like I missed being up in her arms. I watched Kayla intently as she bent to pick up her wine glass, then she stepped back into her wedge sandals. My heart dropped as I realized she was probably ready to head back to the pool house. I wasn't sure what I wanted to happen next; all I knew was I didn't want my time alone with her to end.

"You know I have even more reason to be offended," Kayla spoke flippantly, as she turned and stepped back toward me.

"Oh?" I responded sarcastically, then I saw an easy opening to wrest back my dignity and carelessly took it. "I thought I had been a rather gracious host. It's not like I didn't share a $7,000 bottle of wine with you."

I immediately realized my mistake.

"Hm," she grunted dismissively as she stared down at my crotch and took a slow sip of her wine.

I felt a rush of embarrassment. She looked like she was staring at an insect walking across the floor, just before squashing it. After what felt like an eternity, she looked back up.

"What model of Vacheron do you own, Dave?"

She broke out in a mocking laugh, and I again found myself short of words. Her jabs had become hooks, and each one seemed to land easier than the last.

She stepped closer to me and swallowed another sip of wine.

"You know without realizing it, you just made my point," Kayla spoke derisively. "I happily let you show off your fancy Chambertin. One would think you'd have the courtesy to let me show off my family label in return. But then you poured yourself a short glass and haven't even bothered to taste it. It's almost like you think my wine's not good enough for you, Dave."

I felt the sting of her rebuke and immediately regretted my snobbish half pour. But while she was right that I hadn't tried it, I certainly wasn't avoiding it.

"Ah, that's not it at all," I said defensively, and made a move toward the riser where I had left my glass by Tammy's. "It's just that I forgot --"

I barely made it a step before she slid in front of me, blocking my path. My crotch bumped into her rigid leg, and I felt my cock compress then bend up, freed from the downward position I had stuffed it in. It now jutted straight out, touching her lower thigh.

I looked up gingerly toward her face and felt my cheeks flush as I saw her knowing smile.

"You know, I noticed..." she said, her voice trailing off.

"What?" I asked, feigning innocence, my heart in my throat.

She stood silently, looking down with a sly smile, studying me. I felt so fucking small. With a mind of its own, my cock twitched into her leg, eliciting a bigger smirk.

"...I noticed you staring at my tits earlier..."

Her free hand lifted up toward the back of her head. My cock pulsed again on her leg.

"...maybe trying to figure out how big they are..."

She tugged at her ponytail. With her arm up, I could smell her again. My nostrils flared and I subconsciously leaned forward, desperate to breathe in her powerful essence.

"...or perhaps trying to decide if I'm wearing a bra..."

As she said it, her arm moved even higher and my eyes shot down to see the bottom of her bare breast come into view, inches from my face. It was full and round, without any overhang. I noticed how it splayed to the side as I had suspected. My breaths grew short, sniffing in her wonderful odor as I ogled her partly exposed breast, my penis bouncing up and down repeatedly against her.

Finally acknowledging my hard-on, Kayla began to sway her hips subtly back and forth, tantalizingly rubbing my clothed tip on her thigh. Each tiny movement revved me up a little more as I stared in thrall at her underboob.

The moment seemed to go on forever, and my sense of anticipation rose. The negotiator in me knew this was the prime opportunity to turn and walk away. Scorning her right then would have immediately shaken her, swinging the power balance back to my side. Giving me a chance to take the upper hand.

But it wasn't to be. I was entirely under her spell. Utterly powerless. My feet remained glued in place.

Her sweater suddenly dropped back down and her long blonde tresses cascaded past her shoulder. I sucked in a quick breath in surprise, taking in the fresh aroma of her hair. My senses had grown incredibly acute, entirely trained on Kayla, registering each minute movement, every trace scent. As if the rest of the world had ceased to exist and there was only her.

"Hold this," she said casually.

I turned my head to the right and saw her wine glass held expectantly near my shoulder. Without considering why, I started to raise my arm. It felt as if lead weighed it down, like I was in one of those dreams; confronted by danger but suddenly unable to move.

Noticing my hesitation, Kayla dropped her shoulder slightly. I felt her right hand reach across and take hold of mine, then lift it up to the suspended glass. I felt like a puppet on a string, submitting limply to her control as she guided my fingers to curl around the stem. Then she took two steps back, and in one motion, pulled her sweater over her head and cast it away.

My mouth suddenly salivated, and my groin muscles clenched as I gazed upon her beautiful tits in all their glory. They were indeed far apart and not huge, but each was its own individual work of art. Full and luscious. Curving up from the bottom to puffy, cone-shaped areolae topped with gumdrop-sized nipples that aimed slightly up and out to each side. Her boobs were wonderfully proportional to her body -- which, given her Amazonian stature, made them deliciously large in absolute terms.

Kayla re-closed the gap between us, causing her breasts to sway back and forth with her gait. She stopped just short of my body, with one of her nipples below and to the right of my lip, angled directly up toward my mouth. My breathing reduced to small gasps.

Her hand gently took the wine glass back. Then she dipped two fingers in it.

"You know..." she began in a sultry voice, spacing her words sensually, "...something so rare and wonderful isn't just tasted..."

Her fingers lifted from the glass and moved to the upturned peak of her breast.

"...it's meant to be experienced..."