The Secret Fetish Pt. 03

One day, I touched her. I swear it was innocent, a move of practiced empathy with men and women I'd performed umpteen times over the years. It was because she was so hot that I'd avoided it up until that point. That day though, it was electric.

It was a baking hot afternoon and she returned from her lunch break and threw her gym bag down angrily. There was such power in the toss that I was drawn to her desk like a moth to a flame. Every muscle on her body appeared pumped and her bare arms were bloated with blood. "So, how was your workout?" I asked innocently as I came up behind her.

Her lips slowly curled up in disappointment. "Honestly," she said, "not the best. I was having trouble filling out the billing on the Thompson account and I think I carried my frustration into my workout. And it's hot enough to roast a pig outside."

I watched a single bead of sweat descend beneath her top and ride down the ridges of her pectorals. She was oblivious to my lechery, studying a piece of paper she held in her hands as she spoke. The simple maneuver caused her biceps to flare. As always, I took in every twitch in her body. I noticed that her normally tight post-workout clothes had been replaced by a loose tank. Her garb afforded me the opportunity to study her physique in finer detail as it moved and fetched on her muscles. A spider web of deep striations streaked across her pecs. The last remains of her female breasts had been worked away over years of heavy lifting. In its place were twin mounds of meaty pecs with a clear chasm in between that had to be, despite the lack of fat, a D-cup. A deep ravine between the muscles that must have been 3 inches deep descended the length of her chest. Stinging the material were two, proud cherry-red nipples. I tried to look away but was hypnotized by her beauty. God her pecs are huge. How much can she bench?

"You'd think that those poor weights would be sorry if you were angry," I joked. Lame. Why can't I be my usual witty self around her? For God's sake, you're a lawyer and after eight months you can still barely form a sentence around her without stammering. "I mean, you look so strong -- you could probably bench 250." Please tell me how much you can do. It will be in my thoughts and deeds for weeks.

"Ha, well, to be honest, I used to do a little over four hundred fifty and had designs on the world record but when Rae-Ann did like six hundred I knew I needed a challenge I could win That's why I switched over to bodybuilding. I did max out on the leg press out today for a change though and my trainer sat atop it too and it wasn't much of a challenge. But still, I just couldn't focus and so I came back early."

I looked at the clock. She'd been gone nearly two hours. Hardly early. "Let me see if I can help you then. As I hunched down to look at her document, my hand found her shoulder to try and comfort her. It was an experienced move, not designed to be sexual in any way. As I rested my hand on her hard shoulder cap though, it suddenly swelled and propelled my hand upward.

Great granite boulders warmed by her soft, supple skin were unlike anything I'd ever felt. My initial reaction was like being struck by a cattle prod and I found myself unable to move. Power radiated from her, and a cascade of striations arose beneath my hapless fingers.

When I realized that her response had been inviting rather than defensive the world seemed to speed up and my body reacted. Slowly, a sensation perforated my hand starting with pinpricks and eventually rising to an electric storm. My brain shut off momentarily and all that the world was her hardness, her strength, her muscle, her desires. Whatever she wanted I would be at her complete whim. She bit her bottom lip whether from consternation or knowing power I wasn't sure.

I caught the scent of her minty breath before my brain could decipher her words. "Could you rub my shoulders? They're quite sore." She cooed. My fingers twitched against the hardness and did all they could to penetrate what felt like corrugated steel. As my cock throbbed shame wormed its way through me but my physical desire won out over the guilt. I was overwhelmed, nearly paralyzed, and left helpless before her.

"Harder," her deep voice commanded, and I found my hands, against my own will, complying immediately. A tingling feeling as if recovering from a dead arm eventually made its way through me as she relaxed.

"Thanks," she declared, dismissing me as a queen might to her servants. "I needed that with all the stress. Don't worry, boss, I'll figure this out." Rolling her shoulder blades back so her enormous back pushed against the material my eyes finally unlocked their steady gaze on her shoulders and pecs and panned to a different body part.

Slowly, my senses flooded back to me in flashes like a lost memory and I let go of her mighty muscles. Even as I did so my hand twitched in regret. "Um, okay... I'm glad you got this," was all I could manage. Hesitantly, I retreated and kept walking when she called out and she called out.

"I hope you wouldn't mind using those magic hands on me again after my work out tomorrow." I'm helpless.