My Competition With Lena
by Rax
 
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She was my first real girlfriend.
 
Lena introduced me to the wonders of sex (first blowjob), and to the
reality that some girls could be strong--stronger than me.
 
It all started happening in those awkward teen years. Lena and I were
both 16, but while some girls in high school were still developing, she
was already in full bloom. She was a petite girl, only 5'2" tall, but had
full, gorgeous breasts, not too big for her frame, rather perfectly
proportioned, and simply awesome to behold packed into a tight sweater or
burgeoning from a T-shirt. Most other girls were still on training bras,
so Lena really stood out. But what really got to me was the rest of her
body: Lena had incredible legs and just the sweetest, most perfect ass
you ever saw. She knew it, too, and had a wardrobe of tight jeans that
showed off her lean, long (in proportion to her short height) legs, and
hugged that tantalizing ass so perfectly you couldn't help but stare at
her when she walked away.
 
And Lena was pretty, to top it all off. Long, soft brown hair, sparkling
blue eyes, a wide, toothy smile. What could be better? Oh, that's right:
She also was a tomboy who loved to work out.
 
Lena liked to show off her athleticism in front of the boys. The first
time I encountered her was during a pick-up football game with some of
the neighborhood guys. Lena insisted on being included, despite her small
frame. Her reputation for rough play was apparently well known, but I had
just moved to the area and was surprised to see her--the only girl--in a
rough pick up game with other guys.
 
I was a gangly teen back then, skinny and with not much muscle to me, but
I was a good athlete and I knew how to play sports. I established myself
as the best passer and was playing quarterback, showing off some long
bombs and tight spirals, when during one play Lena, who was small but
quick on her feet, got around a block and came at me. I figured I could
dodge her and held onto the ball, but my deke move didn't fool her and
the next thing I knew she was leaping at me full on, striking and
grabbing me around my midsection. I let out an "Ooof!" sound and was
tackled hard to the ground.
 
Sacked by a girl.
 
The other guys let out a cheer and I felt my face go red watching Lena
receive her high fives back in the huddle. It was the first of many
physical humiliations I would suffer at her hands.
 
Lena lived just 2 blocks away from me, so we saw a lot of each other
during our high school dating years. She was as aggressive socially as
she was on the playing field, and basically asked me out. We started
dating, going to movies, etc., and just hanging out in her basement,
exploring each other's bodies, getting bolder each time.
 
I remember the first time i saw the weight set in her basement. She
didn't have any brothers, only an older sister (who was even hotter than
Lena; but that's a story for another time), so i couldn't understand who
the weights were for. "Does your Dad work out?", I asked her. "No, those
are for me, silly", she said matter of factly. "You can try them if you
want."
 
I went over to a curling bar with weights on either side. I had never
worked out with weights so I didn't have any idea what was heavy or not.
I picked it up, and curled. It wasn't too difficult, a little taxing, but
I was glad I didn't struggle with it. I put the bar back down.
 
"You're supposed to do ten of those", Lena said.
 
"Whatever", I said, a little annoyed that she had to point that out to
me. I picked up the bar again and started curling. When I got to five
reps I started feeling a burn in my biceps, and it was getting harder to
bring the bar up to my chest. By #7 I was clearly struggling, and after
barely getting the 8th rep to my chest, I had to put the bar down. My
arms ached and I was breathing heavily.
 
Lena had many qualities, but subtelty was not one of them.
 
"Oh my God!", she squealed with delight. "You couldn't do it!" She was
jumping up and down, clapping her hands, laughing. My face went red, and
of course I said "Oh, like you can?"
 
Lena skipped (literally) over to the bar, and said "Watch me."
 
She started curling and I was dumbfounded. This tiny girl was steadily
and easily bringing the bar up to her chest with seemingly little effort.
And I couldn't help but notice her hard, small biceps in her short
T-shirt. When she reached #8, she looked at me and said, "Oh, I wonder if
I can do these last two. It's soooooo heavy!" Then she cranked them out
easily and put the bar down. "By the way", she said, "I do 3 sets."
 
I didn't know what to say, but I was pretty angry. But Lena didn't seem
to care. She was taunting me mercilessly. "I'm stronger than you are!",
she kept repeating, in a sing-song voice.
 
Finally I got annoyed and said "Shut up, Lena. You're not stronger than
me."
 
She said, "Oh yeah? Let's arm wrestle and see!"
 
I was 16 and reedy, but I stood at least 5" taller than Lena and still
thought of her as a girl, and thus the weaker sex, despite what I'd just
seen.
 
We got on the floor on our stomachs, facing each other, and squared up
our elbows, gripping each other's wrists. Lena was smiling broadly and I
looked into her beautiful blue eyes,noted her long brown hair spilling
all the way down to the floor. No way was this pretty little girl going
to beat me arm wrestling.
 
Lena said "Go!" and she immediately took the lead. I was taken aback by
the force of her initial assault, and the strength of her small wrist. I
resisted hard and stopped her progress about a quarter of the way and we
held each other there in a stand-off for a good half a minute, but I
couldn't get my wrist back to the starting level. Then I noted my wrist
starting to shake a little with fatigue. Lena held steady and started
making small giggling noises as she began to move my wrist downward. I
fought back as hard as I could but when she got my arm past the half-way
point I knew I was finished. My wrist hit the floor and Lena sprang up to
her feet, shouting and clapping again like a cheerleader.
 
Oblivious to my shame and embarrassment, Lena said "Let's go lefty!" and
got back on the floor in front of me, putting her left elbow up. I had no
choice but to put my own arm up, but I was still trying to process
getting beaten by my small girlfriend.
 
Lena yelled "Go!" again and I actually let out a whimper as she slammed
my wrist to the floor in less than 5 seconds. This time Lena stood up and
put her hands on the hips of her tight blue jeans, and just stared at me,
shaking her head.
 
"Wow, Michael", she said. "You REALLY need to start working out." Then I
watched her perfect tight ass sashay in her jeans as she turned away and
started walking up the stairs of the basement.
 
"Where are you going?"
 
"I'm going to tell Suzanne that I just kicked your ass at arm wrestling!"
 
"Don't!", I said, but she was already up the stairs.
 
Suzanne, as I've alluded to, was Lena's older sister, and the most
beautiful girl me--or anyone who gazed upon her--had ever seen. A fashion
model by the age of 17, she was now 19 and destined for stardom as either
a runway supermodel or movie star. She was that hot. You'd never know she
was Lena's sister. Not that Lena wasn't beautiful, too--she was. But
Suzanne was tall where Lena was short. She stood 5'11" and had long,
straight golden blond hair to Lena's wavy chestnut brown. One thing she
did share with Lena was an incredible body--long, up to her armpit legs,
and a sublime, perfect ass. Every guy who ever saw Suzanne was bowled
over, and wanted desperately to impress her. One of the greatest moments
of my life was when Lena first introduced me to her sister as her
boyfriend and Suzanne said, "Ooh, he's cute, Lena!"
 
So the last thing I wanted now was Suzanne to learn I was a weakling who
lost to her little sister at arm wrestling. But it was too late. I heard
voices upstairs and then the unmistakable sound of girls laughing
together. A moment later I heard Suzanne's voice calling downstairs:
"Don't worry about it, Michael....I can't beat her at arm wrestling
either!"
 
It was hardly a comforting thought.

Arm wrestling with Lena was a wake-up call. I bought my own set of
weights, and started working out--not obsessively, but enough to increase
my strength significantly, and as we moved towards our senior year in
high school together, and my body started to fill out a little more
naturally, I got to the point where I could beat Lena at arm wrestling
every time--at least right-handed.

Amazingly, despite her staying the same 5'2" pixie she was when she was
16, two years later she still beat me lefty--every time. My only
consolation was that it was always close--no more losing in 5
seconds--but Lena still reveled in my frustration as the minutes ticked
by and I began to fade, watching helplessly as her hand forced mine to
the floor or table top. But she had kept up her strict work-out regimen,
so even though I was getting stronger, in some ways, she was as well.

Lena and I didn't stay an item consistently through high school. There
were break-ups and get-back-togethers in between...the usual high school
song and dance. But at least we always remained friends. And the arm
wrestling became a kind of ritual for us, even when we weren't going out.
If I came over her house to hang out one day, at some point one of us
would challenge the other, and we'd go at it.

Eventually, we bypassed the righty arm wrestle entirely and focused
solely on left arm vs. left arm. This was pretty much at my insistence.
While Lena admitted she couldn't beat me right-handed any more, I was
unwilling to concede her left-handed superiority, and kept promising I
would beat her. I never did.

What I started noticing around this time as well, was an increased
arousal for her--especially during and in the moments right after she
beat me. I could feel myself getting hard during our contest, and the
instant she pinned my wrist down I thought I would burst through my
pants. Lena didn't jump around and yell anymore when she won--instead she
would affect this non chalant attitude, usually just smiling and looking
directly at me with those big blue eyes, saying "I win again", and that
would be it. But it was exactly that matter-of-fact demeanor that drove
me crazy with desire. And often there was nothing I could do about it,
because she was dating someone else at the time and we were "just
friends."

Then we both went away to college and saw less and less of each other.
Once in while during the summers, but I'd be working during the days and
hanging out with a different crowd most nights. Lena had a steady
boyfriend around that time and the couple of times I did see her we
didn't even arm wrestle. It just seemed like it would be too weird, or
not right.

Then something happened during our Sophomore year at College. I got a
letter from Lena one day about a month before the term was ending and we
would be heading back home for the summer.

Hey, Michael!
How ARE you? I miss you SO much! Things are amazing here--I had a great
semester, and I have so much to tell you about. I really miss hanging out
w/you and I hope this summer we can see each other more...I'll be
lifeguarding at the beach but only 3 days a week and should have a lot of
free time so let's not blow each other off like we did last summer, OK?
Oh, BTW, I have been hitting the gym like EVERY day this semester, and I
am a TOTAL hard body now! You better start working out cuz when we arm
wrestle--your ass is grass!!! :-)
Love, Lena

I could hardly contain my excitement, and wrote Lena back:

Hey L...
I'm really glad you want to hang out this summer--it's a date! Oh, and
I'm so not scared of your "total hard body". In fact, I predict I'll beat
you lefty this time, and while we're at it--if you want to have a series
of contests, like the Olympics, I hereby challenge you. I've got some
events in mind to see who's really in better shape. You game--or are you
chicken?
M

Lena wrote back the following week:

Michael--Bring it on! I will take you on at ANYTHING you can think of.
You are so gonna regret challenging me. Be prepared to have your ego
crushed, little man :-)
L

Honestly, I wasn't the least bit worried. I had filled out a lot. I was a
full 5'10" by now and a good 160 pounds. I looked good with my shirt off;
I was young and fit and no 5'2", 105 pound girl was going to beat me at
any physical contest. No way, no how. I could hardly wait for summer.
 
The day I went over to Lena's house for our contest I was full of sexual
tension. I had broken up with a girl I was dating in college and my
ambitions of "playing the field" hadn't turned out the way I wanted. I
was riled up and horny and then I saw Lena. She was in her basement doing
stretches on a mat. She was wearing a pair of shiny black shorts and a
black sports bra. Her lean legs were smooth and muscled. Her long brown
hair was tied back in a ponytail, but what really got me were her arms.
 
We hugged and after some pleasantries Lena said "Check this out", and
flexed her right arm. A hard bicep popped up, defined and impressive. She
urged me to feel it and I did, and it was rock solid. She had definition
throughout her arms and even her shoulders looked like they had packed on
some muscle. But she was still a 5'2" girl, pretty and petite. And I
refused to believe I was in any danger of losing the contests I had
suggested. I had written Lena back one more time and laid out the 5-event
competition menu:
 
1. Righty arm wrestle
2.Lefty arm wrestle
3. Push-ups
4.Pull-ups
5."Mecry" wrestle
6. *Mystery event.
 
I told Lena if those were too intimidating for her, since they were all
strength based, she could replace one with something like sit-ups or a
road race but she just laughed and said she was sure she would win every
one. She wanted to know what the "mystery event" was, though....and i
said I would let her know in due time. It was basically my fall-back
event...a back-up in the unlikely event I would lose all the other
contests.
 
Lena was chomping at the bit so we got down to it. We went down to our
stomachs on the mat and locked wrists for a right-handed arm wrestle.
Lena hadn't beaten me at this since that very first time we arm wrestled
when we were 16. Now, 4 years later, I had no doubt I would beat her
easily.
 
We started and it was clear Lena had become a lot stronger. We were
deadlocked for the first minute, neither able to move the other. Then I
felt that familiar uncertain shaking in my wrist and Lena began to inch
me downward. My resistance flagged even more when I stole a glance at her
bicep, which was like a hard, round baseball. Her hands, though, were
small and feminine, her fingernails recently painted a light beige, and
it unnerved me how tight a grip she had with such a tiny hand. As she
pushed me halfway to defeat she looked into my eyes and saw my
discomfort. "You're going down, Michael", she said, and a moment later my
wrist was pounded solidly into the mat.
 
Not the start I wanted, especially since I was convinced she would never
beat my good right arm. Now i was faced with the prospect of the lefty
challenge, which I'd never won before. Lena put her left elbow up and saw
me hesitate.
 
"Want to back out, Michael?", she taunted.
 
"No", I said, less confidently than I wanted. We gripped up. Lena said
"Go", and it was like being thrown back in time. I was suddenly that
skinny 16-year old again as Lena took my wrist and planted it into the
mat in mere seconds.
 
Lena got up and undid her ponytail. Her hair had gotten longer since I
last saw her, and was thick and wild. She swirled it around her head,
gathering it back to re-tie it. She said nothing, which was very unlike
her, a girl who was a real motor-mouth and never at a loss for words. But
as I watched her play with her hair I realized she was speaking volumes:
The muscles in her arms were jumping up and down with the movement, and
it was a show--her way of saying "I wasn't kidding when I said I hit the
gym...I may be small but my muscles are not. If you didn't prepare for
this, you're toast."
 
I was still on the mat, staring up at her, trying to fight back both my
embarrassment and the hard-on that was growing under my own shorts. Lena
put her hands on her hips and I noted as well her wash-board abs. I was
glad she didn't agree to a sit-up contest.
 
"What's next?", she said.
 
"Push-ups", I said. "Do you want to go first?"
 
"No, losers first", she said with a wicked smile.
 
I glared at her and got set. On a good day I knew I could do 50 push ups,
although more often than not I started to tire around 40. But I felt if I
could get at least to 40 I'd be safe. I got off to a good start, and the
first 20 were easy. Lena counted off with each ten I did. I hit 30 and
still felt pretty good. Approaching 40 my breathing got heavier and I
started to feel a burn in my chest and arms. I was about finished when I
heard lena say "40", but forced myself to push out one more and finished
at 41.
 
I felt pretty good and was sure I had this one wrapped up. I took a
chance at said to Lena, "You do realize you have to do the guy
push-ups...not the girly kind on your knees."
 
Lena let out a derisive snort and got herself set, her legs well off the
mat. "Give me a count at each set of ten", she said, and started.
 
Lena's small body began moving up and down like a piston. She hit ten in
a matter of seconds, then 20, and was still speeding along at 30. She
slowed down a little near 40 and I was mentally hoping against hope she
would fall short. But when I was forced to call out "40", she did one
more, then stopped and turned her pretty face to look me in the eye, and
said "Watch this, Michael." Lena then did five more push-ups.....counting
them out herself.
 
 
She stood up, breathing slightly, but not appearing too taxed by the
effort. "45! A new personal record!! What can I beat you in next,
Michael?", she said.
 
I couldn't look her in the eye, and said quietly, "Pull-up contest."
 
"Oh, goody", she said, and walked over to the bar she had placed in the
basement doorway. "I think I'll go first this time."
 
I started to realize that since Lena weighed barely over 100 pounds, she
had far less body mass to pull up. That combined with her pure muscle
would mean...well, that I was about to lose contest #4 to a girl.
 
Lena gripped the bar and let her body hang full. She took a deep breath
then pulled herself up, chin past the bar once, twice, three times--then
three more.
 
"My goal is to get to 10", she said, "But 6 isn't bad for now. Your
turn."
 
My arms were still sore from the push-ups, and I knew that pull-ups were
not my strong point. Truth is, I had never been able to do more than 4
before giving out. I managed three, barely, and felt Lena's eyes on me as
I struggled to get my chin past the bar one more time, and failed.
 
"Sooooo....Michael, have you won any of these contests yet?", she asked
after I let go of the bar.
 
I didn't find any of this amusing so I said "Shut up, Lena...i'm just a
little out of shape right now."
 
"A little?", she said.
 
I glared at her and felt my shame and humiliation turn to anger. Because
I towered over her in height, I still felt like I could overpower her,
and the next contest would finally be a direct confrontation of strength
that involved a kind of combat. That classic kids' game--the Mercy
Wrestle. I had seen Lena do this before--she often challenged her
gorgeous sister Suzanne to a mercy wrestle if they were both fighting
over something, like who would get to watch what shows they wanted after
dinner. It always ended after just a few seconds with Suzanne begging
Lena to let go, her hands twisted backwards almost instantly, a comical
scene since Suzanne was so much the taller of the two, but Suzanne was no
match for Lena in the strength department, and I knew I at least had more
strength than a fashion model.
 
Lena and I moved into the center of her mat. We interlocked our hands,
mine far bigger. I curled my fingers as tightly as I could and set my
arms and felt her do the same. Lena said "Go!", and we began the
struggle. For a full minute we pushed and twisted for advantage, but
neither could get the upper hand. Lena's small hands were anchored by her
strong, un-yielding wrists and while I didn't feel any pain from her
efforts, I couldn't break through her defensive set either.
 
As the deadlock continued we started to shift our feet and were soon
making small circles around the mat, still gripping and trying to twist
each other's hands into a vulnerable position. Then Lena got clever and
reversed the direction of the circle we were making, going back
counter-clockwise, a move which surprised me and momentarily broke my
concentration....and my grip. She immediately sensed my hands let up for
just a second and pounced on the opportunity. I felt my left wrist go,
bent back and resulting in a short, sharp pain that forced me to let out
an involuntary "ow!", and a corresponding giggle from Lena. She worked
the left wrist, twisting and pushing and forcing my body into an
uncomfortable lean downward to the left. I didn't want to let go, which
would have been an automatic forfeit, but hanging on meant being forced
down to one knee on the mat as I struggled hopelessly to reverse Lena's
assault. My other arm was still high in the air as I bent on my knee with
Lena working the left wrist, her smooth strong legs now right in front of
me, and I was staring at her shiny black shorts in my face as I felt my
left hand get turned  almost fully backward.
 
I let out a yell. "Stop!"
 
"What's the word?", Lena said cruelly.
 
"Mercy!", I screamed "MERCY!"
 
Lena let go and then took her foot and placed it on my chest, pushing me
over onto the mat. I started massaging my aching left hand, still wincing
with pain as Lena stood over me.
 
"I told you, Michael", she said. "I told you your ass was grass. So now
that I;ve won every contest, what's this mystery event?"
 
I got up and turned away from her. "Forget it", I said. "You win, OK?"
 
But Lena was eager to show off more. "No, no no", she said. "You have to
tell me!"
 
"I....fine. It's a wrestling match. I was going to challenge you to a
wrestling match."
 
"But i just beat you in a wrestling match."
 
For some reason this comment really annoyed me. Bad enough this small
girl had just thoroughly humiliated me in 5 different contests of
strength, but she didn't even know what real wrestling meant.
 
"No, Lena--a WRESTLING MATCH. We don't just wrestle with our hands--it's
a full body contest that doesn't end until one person pins the other one.
Don't you know anything?"
 
"Don't get pissy with me, Michael. I know what a wrestling match is...I
was just messing with you. So? You gonna chicken out or what?"
 
I didn't really think it was going to come to this, and needless to say i
had never wrestled a girl before, but I felt I had to salvage some pride
after Lena proved beyond any doubt that she was stronger than me. But I
figured she didn't actually know how to wrestle, and that my ridiculous
weight advantage would put me over the top.
 
"Let's do it", I said.
 
Lena immediately tried to tackle me like she did that time playing
football. She hit me hard but didn;t take me down and I grabbed her in a
bear hug, dropping both of us to the mat. Lena rolled and got free of my
grip and then jumped on my back as I tried to get up on my hands and
knees. She got an arm around my kneck and put me in a headlock, but even
with her strong arms i was able to break her hold and I spun around on my
knees. She was facing me now on her knees as well and we squared up. She
grabbed my wrists and started to force me backwards. I almost toppled
over but twisted enough to throw off her push, and got my hands free. I
tackled her from my knees and took her down, but she rolled over on her
stomach and then pushed upward, arching her back. I had a grip with one
of my arms around her mid-section, the other over the top of her arched
back. I was trying to get her to turn over on her back so I could just
weigh her down with my heavier body, but she wouldn't budge.
 
Then she did something wholly unexpected...she took one arm and put it
around the back of my neck and thrust her arched back forward, keeping
hold of my neck. I felt myself being flung over her back onto the mat,
where I landed on my own back, disoriented and a bit dizzy from her flip.
Lena was on me in a flash.
 
She straddled my chest with her legs on either side, and while up til now
I had only experienced the strength of her arms, I now realized she
hadn't neglected her legs in her work-outs. They were like iron--all
muscle, and she had me clamped so i couldn't move my upper body at all.
 
Then she grabbed my wrists and started pushing the to the mat. She
out-muscled me in the mercy wrestle when we were both standing, and now
flat on my back with her entire body sitting on my chest I had no chance.
I struggled and pushed back as best I could but after a couple of minutes
I ran out of steam and she pinned me.
 
Lena smiled and let go of my wrists, then tousled my hair and got off me.
She stood up and I followed, slowly, feeling drained and humiliated all
at once. Lena put out my hand for me to shake and I took it.
 
Then I looked at her, shaking out her long brown hair. The sexiness of
her small, tight body, her full, round breasts in her sports bra, and
those amazing lean legs leading up to her perfect ass held by those
small, shiny black shorts all combined to turn me instantly hard. And it
was the first time I realized fully that being defeated--especially in
such a domineering fashion--by a sexy girl was the ultimate turn on for
me.
 
Without thinking about it, I grabbed Lena by the shoulders and tried to
kiss her full on, moving my hard member over her shorts, hoping she would
return my kiss.
 
But Lena pulled away and shoved me hard in the chest. "Whoa, whoa,
Michael....what's the deal?"
 
I couldn't put it into words how hot I was for her at that moment. I
could only stammer "Come on, Lena....please...."
 
"Michael, we're not going out any more....and I have a boyfriend at
college."
 
I was just breathing heavy, and felt incredibly frustrated.
 
"You didn't tell me that....I mean, how could I assume you had a
boyfriend if you were willing to wrestle me like that..."
 
"Well, I do", she said, "I'm sorry if you thought different."
 
It was too much for me to take. I was sex deprived, burning for Lena, who
I'd never seen or felt was sexier at that moment. I moved toward her
again and went to kiss her but she grabbed my wrist with both her hands
and twisted it hard. I was thrown off balance and fell to the mat and she
kept hold of my wrist, twisting even harder as I yelled out for her to
stop.
 
"Promise you won't try to kiss me again and I'll let go."
 
"Alright, alright..."
 
"Say you're sorry."
 
"I'm sorry!"
 
Lena let go, and it was all i could do to keep from crying. My
frustration was boiling over, and combined with this utter humiliation by
a girl less than half my size, it was a dark moment I wished would just
pass.
 
Lena was still angry, and said "You'd better go."
 
I did, and then was forced to wrestle with my own confused thoughts. Why
did this humiliation turn me on so much? How could I reconcile my fervent
wish to have beaten her in all those contests and prove I was stronger
with the fact that her proving just the opposite made me want her more
than ever? How is it possible that i actually got pinned by a small girl?
 
I thought my first initiation, when I was 16 and Lena beat me then, was a
defining moment, but 4 years later, it was topped by the same girl. Lena
introduced me to the mysteries and pleasures of sex, but to something
much darker as well, and I would never be the same.
 
-----------------------PostScript----------------
 
Readers of this story and "The Tara Trilogy", which can also be found on
DTV, will no doubt notice similarities and wonder if the stories are
true. They are.
 
After this incident, Lena and I lost touch for a full year. I think we
were both too embarrassed--her for me, and me for myself--to talk about
what happened, and it was easier to stay away from each other. But a
couple of years later, when we had both graduated college, we met up
again. Lena had initiated the contact, and neither of us mentioned our
competition. She seemed completely oblivious of it. She was also a very
different person. She had stopped working out, and had developed a fairly
serious drug problem...something to do with a bad break up from a bad guy
that spiraled out of control, and she told me tale after tale of her life
in a stream of consciousness, hyperactive manner. I just sat and
listened.
 
At one point I couldn't help myself and said, "So, Lena, how about an arm
wrestle?" She started laughing and said "Oh my God! Remember that???", as
if it had happened ages ago. She said "Well, I'm not really strong like I
used to be, but OK"....We did both arms and I beat her in easily, in
seconds, in both. All the steely hard muscle she had a couple years back
was gone. She was now just a small girl with thin arms and a thinner body
that no longer had that sexy hardness to it. She just looked emaciated,
and it was sad.
 
I apologized for challenging her and she said "Oh, it's OK. You were
bound to get stronger and bypass me anyway", and I realized it was true.
 
I had started paying more attention to my body after she wiped the floor
with me in her basement that day. I worked out regularly and was very fit
now.
 
And it all stayed that way for more than a decade. I got involved in
sports, indulging my talents for soccer especially, and was convinced
that my humiliation at Lena's hands then (and my sexual arousal due to
it) was a fluke, something in my past, that would not rear its head
again. I didn't take women seriously in an athletic sense, and felt
convinced of my superiority.
 
And then I met Tara.