I sat in the darkened room pumping my 50 pound barbell with increasing discomfort. At the end of my 20 rep set, it was only just inching toward my chest.
Across the small bare space my wife kept pace, lifting two 50 pound dumbbells. She, however, was not struggling. Her movements, though slowed to match mine, were even and effortless. Her eyes burned into me.
I dropped my barbell to the ground, and she lowered her dumbbells with painful care. She stood up and walked over to me, her eyes never leaving mine as she sauntered on the balls of her feed. Her face was set like stone, only her eyes sneering at my weakness.
As she sat on my lap, my member jumped to life. Her hot, hard body pressing down on me. Her impressive mass pushed my thighs into the seat. Her rock-hard glutes rubbed against my manhood creating an unsurpassable barrier to its straining desire for her body.
Looking down on me she bent to one side of the floor, then the other, picking up a 100 pound dumbbell in each hand. Still stony faced, she began pumping. There was barely a sign of strain. Just a slight sheen from the effort. The sweat trickled on to me, electrifying my skin.
As she reached her tenth rep, the veins on her gargantuan arms began to rise. Each arm seemed the size of my thighs. The finger-thick vein over her split-headed monster biceps was engorged and angry, fuelling her with frothing rivers of hot, pulsing blood.
As she finished her 20th rep, the veins had crept to cover her entire arms. The obscene forearms, pumped to freakish proportions and bursting with hard musculature, were writhing in them. Her largish hands seemed composed of veins, bones, muscular fingers and long talon-like nails. Although she was breathing as evenly as when she started, veins now pulsed on her forehead, across her thick bull neck, across her meaty pec slabs, over her 10 pack abs, disappearing here and there into the inches thick depressions between the fist-size chiselled abdominal parcels of muscle orgy.
And then there were a mass of veins that crept bunching into her muscle pussy. A split second after this thought I realised — the veins hadn't started pounding across this yoked she-beast because of the effort of lifting two hundred pound dumbbells for reps… they were feeding the chilling lust that consumed my wife while she jacked herself up to the hulking muscle monster that was about to feed on my outmatched, pathetically weak, male body.
My realisation was confirmed as she put down the dumbbells and stood. Veins encompassed the vast landscape of her jutting and super-cut thighs, layered over striations that made her legs look like freaky alien structures built to support some superhumanoid which was clearly physically superior to mere mortals… the veins fed into her aroused sex. Her vagina was dripping pre-cum, like a mouth salivating looking at the prey its about to devour.
I watched in arousal, fascination and horror as she flexed her inner thigh muscles and her musclepussy opened wide, like a snake dislocating its jaw to swallow its prey whole. And then she lowered herself, taking me into her, sliding down till my entire cock was inside her, then flexing wider again to take in my balls, rolling them around inside her.
The ecstasy was making my eyes roll back in my head when she clamped down, causing gut wrenching pain searing through my groin, bowels and belly, snapping me into reality. She stood up, raising me bodily from the seat and supporting my full weight with her overmuscled sex. Her legs were still wide apart as she was straddling the chair, but she began rolling her hips back and forth, rubbing her hyperaroused clit against my pelvis. Her head was thrown back as she enjoyed the moment.
I grabbed her flaring lats with both hands, pulling myself up to provide more resistance to her throbbing muscleclit while I licked her awe-inspiring nipples, having to work hard to cover the engorged brown protrusions with my saliva. Her lats filled and overflowed my hands, gigantic wings of muscle engulfing the puny man-fingers that grasped at them.
I held on for dear life as my wife's thrusting became more urgent — dragging my midsection into her while she filled the ceiling above me then bucking her hips forward and bunching her ass cheeks into tiny fists of angry striation — rougher, faster, harder — my hands lost their grip as the stone-hard wings spreading from her massive back seemed to grow even larger, blocking the light as I was tossed around like a rag doll, my eyes taking in the chair behind me, then a glimpse of ceiling then my wife's hellish form, bent over me, teeth gritted and spittle flying from her lips. She climaxed with a demonic roar, reverberating off the walls and shaking me to my core… her hands tore the chair in two, twisted shards of metal screaming as she ripped the tight molecular bonds like the fluffy stuff of so much fairy floss, spitting my genitalia from her monster cunt as I slammed into the floor, simultaneously releasing my massive load, which had been held in by her vicelike muscle tunnel, my abject fear making me sure that I would have pissed myself if the cum hadn't exploded first.
She leaned forward in a mind-blowing most muscular crab flex as her pussy went from gushing she-cum to dripping the hot sourness on to the floor. Her unbelievable cobra-hood traps engulfed her bull neck as her monster biceps exploded and everywhere her pulsing veins crisscrossed her gargantuan form.
I was hard again… and afraid...