Sally and me
by nelek  nelek@gmx.at 
Chapter 2 : Never wake a sleeping giant 


It was almost midnight when I got home to find my big sister Sally in the
living room, lying on the couch, watching TV. She was obscured by the sofa's
backrest, but I knew it was her. For one, our parents go to bed quite early,
and two, no-one in our family is so tall that this much of their legs hangs
over the edge when they're lying there. Hell, I don't know anybody who's ever
been to our house whose legs would hang so much over the edge. "Hey, Sal!
Still up at this hour?" I put my backpack down and took off my sweater. "Did
you guys get my message? I would have come earlier but I didn't have an
umbrella with me so I wanted to wait until the rain stopped." I walked up
behind the couch. "Thing is, the ... oh." I saw that Sally was asleep. She had
been all the time and I didn't notice. I stood behind the divan, just watching
her rest.

She looked so peaceful, lying there, completely still except for the slow
movement of her chest, her body animated by the play of lights and shadows
coming from the TV. Turning my head, I noticed how short this couch actually
seemed with this giant lying on it. With her 6 feet 9 inches, each bare foot
was reaching far over the end, hanging in midair, supported by her calves that
lay on the armrest. Following her legs my gaze reached her thighs, those two
huge bundles of muscle. Her quads were phenomenally large, much wider than the
sofa. Even in the dim light I could see the striations and lines of her
enormous limbs. I knew that day had been her leg day, so she spent hours in
our home gym doing squats with a dangerously loaded barbell on her shoulders,
straightening her limbs in the leg extension machine or balancing on a
dumbbell with the ball of her foot. You know, the exercise that really makes
calves twitch and balloon, especially her gigantic ones. All in all, her lower
half looked exceptionally huge, even for her standards.

Over her slim waist and very short workout shorts my eyes went up to her
stomach and the hand that was laying there, holding the remote. Her upper body
was covered by a short-sleeved T-shirt that was way to small for her. I had
gotten it for her birthday two years ago, as it's by a band that we both like
very much. It's amazing that it even still fits somehow although I did buy an
oversized one because I knew she would grow a lot more. And, boy, did she
grow. The fabric wrapped around her belly but couldn't hide every single
muscular bump on her protruding abs. It went over her breasts, warping the
print on the front, and her nipples that would pierce through if they'd be any
bigger. I wondered what she was dreaming of. The material grabbed hold of her
traps and shoulders like it would fall off otherwise and clung to her mammoth
arms like I would too. She had one hand behind her head, making one lat flare
out and her elbow hang over the frame of her sofa. Because her arm was bent,
her biceps and triceps blew up and out, clearly winning the fight against her
sleeve. They looked so big and solid, so hard and strong, even though she
wasn't even flexing them. I leaned forward and rested on my forearms.

It seemed like half of her body was overflowing the couch: one of her thighs
bloating over the edge, her lat spreading out and her undoubtedly weighty arm,
all not lying on the sofa but being suspended over the floor. I wondered how
it was possible that all this vast and heavy muscle wasn't pulling her down.
Then, of course, I figured that the bigger half of her 320 or more pounds that
was still on the couch was holding her in place.

Everything must be quite uncomfortable for her, being cramped by the slim
furniture. She dwarfs everything: sofas, chairs, doors, exercise machines,
bathtubs. Okay, I've never seen her in the tub, but I'm positive that she
can't have a bath in there. Not without seriously remodeling the metal shape
of it when shy tries to squeeze her ample body into our comparatively tiny
tub. She could never get her immense thighs to fit in there. And even if she
did, she couldn't lean back, because her wide shoulders would get stuck if she
attempted to push back. So I guess she always uses the shower, but there are
problems too. Does she even have enough space in there? Maybe she can't even
bend down properly or reach her back, as wide as it is. She'd need someone in
the shower to soap her, even though this would mean that this someone would be
pressed firmly against her and her physique. That someone's chest mashed
against the washboard that are her abs, her pelvis grinding sensually against
his belly and his crotch pushing and rubbing against her thighs. Sliding up
and down her body to reach everything, from her toes to her neck, gliding his
hand over the mountainous, hard as rock shapes of her muscles. Lathering her,
standing there naked, glistening, as the water flows over their bodies until
every single inch of her is covered in soap. Asking her to raise her arms to
throughly clean her sides and armpits, then stepping closely to her so that
this certain someone's arms reach around her waist to get to her ass, the two
tight globes of steel, feeling her buttocks as his fingers move over the
bowling balls of flesh. Proceeding to ask her to spread her legs to cleanse
the very core of her womanhood, the epicenter of sex. Kneeling down and moving
his face to her crotch to closely examine the work he did and, if necessary,
licking the area clean.

And then of course it would be her turn to return the service by giving the
cleaner an extra strong rubdown with her large, strong hands. After all,
considering that he's just spent the last minutes eye to eye - or rather eye
to breasts - with the naked goddess there must be a lot of cleaning up to do.
She would hold him in place with one hand - because she only needs one hand to
hold anybody in place - and use the other to soap that certain someone up.
Running her hands over his much smaller frame, stroking his relatively weak
body with her lubricated fingers, massaging his torso to make sure he's
completely clean. Then lifting him up and holding him with one arm, while the
other goes to work on his legs. Watching her enormous muscles while being
hoisted up like he weighed nothing would of course have its effect on him, as
his growing member would start to press against the side of her breasts. And
since there's still this part of him to wash when she's finished with his
legs, she could use the opportunity and rub him clean down there. I mean,
really rub him clean. I tell you, I wouldn't mind being her shower companion.

The feeling of my cock growing, responding to this fantasy, brought me back
into reality. She was still sleeping, unaware of me staring at her, being
mesmerized and definitely aroused. I've waited for this to happen. For her to
fall asleep somewhere so I could touch her again, just like at the pool. That
incident was so incredibly hot, I thought I'd die from all the sexual charge
built up in me. So, there I was again, with my beautiful, sexy, massively
muscular and unbelievably strong sister in front of me, unaware of my desire
for her.

"Sally?" I asked. In my mind, this scene was always so easy and seamless, but
now she made me feel like a tiny weakling, gaping up at a goddess of
monumental size, even though she was just lying there, asleep. Up until that
point I thought that doing this the second time would be easier. It should be
so fluid, checking whether she was awake and then feeling her up, but my heart
was beating like mad, likely to explode from the tension in me.

Leaning forward over the back of the sofa, I asked again, this time a bit
louder "Sally?".

She showed no reaction, so I extended my arm and moved it towards the one she
had put behind her head. Before touching it, I paused and tried one last time
"Hey, Sally. Wake up!".

Nothing.

My fingers came into contact with her skin and immediately I felt my cock
stiffen more. Already I could feel how solid the muscle underneath was, even
though I was only touching her with my fingertips. I shifted my body forward
and wanted to put my palm on her biceps, to feel the round mass and watch how
there was no position my hand could cover or enclose it. There was only one
problem - her biceps were so big, they pressed tightly against her beefy
forearm. My fingers wouldn't go between the two mounds of rocks, so I pushed
harder until they slipped between the huge masses. Stuck in there, it felt
like I was in a junk press, but it was so worth it. She was demonstrating her
strength without even the slightest effort, holding my hand in place without
even moving. My fingers grasped the chunk of firm tissue and warm skin like
one would hold an apple. I squeezed and gave out a moan when the muscle
wouldn't give. It was tough and didn't budge, no matter how hard I tried to
dent it. I wanted to move my hand around this ball growing out of her arm, but
it wasn't easy with her grip on my hand. So I grabbed it again, amazed at the
sight of her unflexed biceps completely overflowing my hand. There was no way
I could hide this massive bulge with less than two hands. It noticed my
fingers going numb as the pressure on them was increasing, so I pulled back
before they would be entirely crushed. I started to stroke myself through my
pants with that hand, giving me a kind of muscle-induced "stranger", while my
other arm reached out and kept touching her arm. I should have used this arm
from the start, because this way I was able to see her face, not just to keep
watch whether she wakes up, but also to gawk at her lovely features.

My fingertips wandered over the deep ridges that separated biceps and triceps,
then headed upwards to examine the fat, veiny forearm that seemed to be twice
as wide as mine. I put my hand on it and it wouldn't go round. Of course, my
hand wouldn't go even round my own forearms, but if I squeezed, my fingers
would come quite near to each other. But not here. First of all, there was
nothing to squeeze. It was a big lump of hard tissue consisting of several
firm streaks of muscles, all flowing from her massive wrist into her
gargantuan biceps. Secondly, there was nothing to put my hand around. At this
size, it looked like I was touching a flat, solid piece of bumpy skin, not a
rotund, longish, basically cylindrical object. I might as well have tried to
put my hand around a beach ball or a car tire.

I licked my lips as I fingered my way down to her triceps, the large "U" under
the huge "O" of her biceps. It was a vast area, acres of flesh, being
discovered and explored by my eager hand. I could grasp the thick block of
robust meat with my whole hand, but if it were a ball (and as hard and round
as it was, it certainly felt like that), I couldn't get a good grip to throw
it. It was just too large. And just like every good ball, inflated so hard
that you couldn't put a dent in it, this part of her arm was as firm as every
other single bit of her body. I traced around the outline of the monumental
curve to the spot where the fabric of her shirt began and went back again
around the arch of her arm just to start over. Her sleeves should reach
halfway down to her elbows, but as it is with every short-sleeved garment she
wears, they get pushed back up immediately when her biceps move. Not when she
flexes, no, every time she moves her arms, even just the slightest stir, they
twitch and swell up, giving the fabric no other choice but to retreat towards
her shoulders, where it rests in the valley between her deltoid and her
biceps. I don't mind, as it gives me an excellent view over the mountain range
she calls her arms.

My palm landed on her shoulder, a bowling ball sized muscle of incredible
hardness. Again, I marveled at how my hand looked so miniscule on top of the
colossal area, at how much it dwarfed everything around it. It matched the
size of her biceps, both being larger-than-life examples of the amazing
development my big sister went through in the last couple of years. Building
her body up, through pain and sweat, through willpower and motivation, going
repeatedly past her limits, to become the ultimate fantasy: sexy, shapely
curves, feminine like no other, combined with strength that can be positively
frightening. I swallowed hard.

My cock was pushing against my jeans, desperately trying to break free. I
decided to leave it as it was, as the pressure of my pants against it was
quite stimulating. Also, it was safer to take care of it when I couldn't be
interrupted, like in a room with a lock on the door. In that moment, I wanted
to get closer to her, so I leaned forward more and more, the tips of my toes
almost leaving the floor, my upper body hovering over hers, holding myself
steady with my one free hand while the other reached for the grade A meat
before me.

Her lats was my next destination or, to be precise, her one lat that spread
out from her side. One impressive wing of power, a thick, large plate of
muscle, big enough to sit on. Even completely relaxed, they're strong enough
to push her arms out, making them hang at a bit of an angle. But when she
raises her arms, they fan out like a superhero's cape, except not flapping in
the wind but staying perfectly still. I probed the one I was holding and
groaned in pleasure when it wouldn't give the slightest bit. You'd think I
should be getting used to finding every body part of her being as hard and
rigid as iron, but every inch of her I touch surprises me anew. I fondled the
muscle and almost drooled at the fact how it filled the shirt completely.
There was absolutely no air between the muscle and the material stretched over
it. I wished I could touch the mammoth slab without the fabric between her
skin and my fingertips, but I didn't miss out on much, since the warmth of her
body and the tension and brawniness of her flesh went through it like it was
nothing.

My forearm came in contact with her breast and immediately I steered towards
them. I put my hand on the ball and moaned; it wasn't hard, but soft and
tender, unlike anything else about her body. It seemed I had found her soft
spot and, boy, was I gonna enjoy that. Groping it while watching my fingers
dig into the flesh and then watching the firm tissue go right back to its
original, round shape. I caressed the lump, rubbing over her bosom,
occasionally grabbing it and lifting it, feeling the weight that was perfectly
appropriate to its size. I could feel her nipple against my palm and started
playing with it. My fingertips touched the small, but longish bulge that grew
out of her and fondled it. I groaned again when I thought I could feel it
growing between my fingers, responding to my touch. A quick look confirmed
that Sally was still asleep, so I pushed my thumb against it, noticing it
getting harder and bigger. It was a good thing actually that she was wearing a
shirt, because otherwise I would have leaned forward and started sucking her
teat. Letting my tongue play around it, fighting, toying, flicking it until
maybe she would leak some tasty milk for me. Good for her that I couldn't
access her nipples, because I probably would have sucked them dry. But I was
more than happy - very happy actually if you'd check my pants - to be
squeezing and fondling her like that.

Her breasts went right into the big plates that adorned her chest. Following
that track, I felt the mass under the fabric going from soft but firm to
absolutely rock hard. Her pecs bulged out giving her a deep, sensual cleavage
even if she didn't have any breasts at all. I wanted to feel as much as
possible of her pecs, the humungous foundation made of luscious meat to hold
her bosom up and pointing forward, better than any bra could do. Noticing that
she wasn't even wearing one right now I let out a long, pleasure-filled "aah".
My hand rubbed over the sphere once again, a feeling now heightened by the
sort of new fact that I was separated from her skin by only one thin layer of
fabric.

I found the outer lines of her pecs and fingered them, pushing her tit away
with the back of my hand. Following the tough pec-cliff along the sea of her
abs my hand reached her cleavage, the fjord of her teats. Over it strechted
the fabric, like a bridge stuspended over the bottomless gorge between two
mountains, going forward as it lowered and connected with the ground again.
The destination of this tour was the deep ravine in the middle of two muscles,
a broad riverbed of thick flesh. I let my fingers run up and down this rift,
feeling the striated muscles of her chest. I pushed my fingers into the wall,
groaning in pleasure as I was back on solid muscle, familiar territory so to
speak. I was amazed at how blessed this girl before me was. Not only the
amazing willpower and genetics to shape herself into a living and breathing
muscle freak, but also graced with big, sexy tits and a beautiful, adorable
face to make her irresistible to any man, especially me.

My penis was as hard as possible against my jeans, as big as it could get
confined in the prison of my trousers and was oozing pre-cum into my
underpants. I could feel the sweat that had formed on my forehead, wetting my
hair, so I wiped it away. Breathing heavily I surveyed the body in front of
me, like a wanderer who had just climbed a mountain and rests while looking at
the hills surrounding it. It definitely felt like that because I was out of
breath, sweating and there were some really beautiful hills I could look at.
And I didn't want to stop, I wanted to take further advantage of this
situation, as I didn't know when I'd get an opportunity like that again.

The next stop would be her abs. Her hand was lying there, but I wasn't gonna
miss out on those delicious blocks of beef. And I know they're delicious, I've
tasted them. So I repositioned myself with my feet standing firmly on the
floor so I wasn't at risk of losing my balance and maybe falling and landing
on her. I took her wrist with one hand and tried to lift it off of her. God,
it was heavy. Not like I couldn't move it, but I was really having a hard time
doing it. I gently held her forearm with my other hand to help me shift her
massive, weighty arm away to expose her midriff. Apparently I didn't do it
smoothly enough, because suddenly I heard:

"Jake, what are you doing?".

I froze. It felt like everything about me stopped at that second: my heart
thumping, my pulse beating, my blood flowing, my hair growing. Even my
wristwatch was probably standing still. Her voice uttering five little words,
completely harmless in itself, has pushed the pause button in me. I could only
stand there, holding one arm that was getting heavier and heavier each second.
Obviously, if you wake up and find your little brother holding your arm up,
you don't expect him to be molesting you. Hell, even if you wake up and find
your brother groping your tits, moaning while his other hand disappears
somewhere in his pants, the last thing anyone would expect is him using you
for his depraved sexual needs. You'd think he's swatting a fly or something.

But, of course, if you were actually fondling your mighty muscular sister, and
she wakes up, you don't think quite clearly. You're horrified, in terror,
nearly crapping yourself while your brain goes out the emergency exit.
Thinking she's gonna kill you for touching her private parts, you can't really
come up with an explanation for why you're standing there. Instead, your head
fills with images of her at her most powerful. I've seen her pushing weights
beyond belief and handling unbelievable masses of iron like one would handle a
shopping bag. I've seen her getting up from her exercise to pose in front of
the mirror, making her sweaty, gleaming muscles balloon to incredible size.
I've seen, heard and felt her letting out an earth shattering roar when she
squeezes out one more rep to top off her amazing feats. All those memories,
combined with her monstrous, Herculean, gargantuan frame right in front of you
can make you forget that she is your sister and that she loves you. You're so
scared, you almost shit your pants because your mind's stopped functioning
just like mine at that moment.

"Are you trying to take the remote?"

Here's the thing: when you've just spent an eternity being paralyzed by shock,
even though this eternity is only two seconds long in real terms, you don't
immediately see the opportunity to get off scot-free. You're still mentally
someplace else so you can't really jump at the perfectly innocent excuse she's
just provided you. I turned my head and looked at her face. My bodily
functions were coming back as I saw her grinning broadly up at me.

"What?"

I was still a bit slow. You try rebooting your mind after a blackout.

"You were trying to take the remote, weren't ya?"

I relaxed a bit, because obviously she hadn't noticed anything and I had the
ideal chance of getting out of this with no harm done. Looking at the remote,
at the arm in my hands and then back at her face, I knew the whole matter
would be settled if I just said something like "I checked, you've fallen
asleep! I didn't want to wake you!" but I still felt like the deer caught in
the headlights.

"Well, no, I, I ... er ... was..."

-"Yes, you were!" she exclaimed in mock anger. "I was just resting my eyes
during the commercial breaks and you try to steal the remote from me, you
little brat!"

She was very much in a jokey mood, so I wasn't afraid of her anymore. But I
still wanted to get out of there as fast as possible.

"Look, Sal, I was just..."

-"Someone should teach you a lesson about taking things from people in their
sleep!"

"Teach? What do you-?"

I couldn't finish the sentence. As quick as a wink she had dropped the remote
and was suddenly gripping my wrist instead. I instinctively tried pulling my
arm back, but she had grasped it gently, but without a doubt very firmly. Her
other hand shot up and placed itself under my armpit, effortlessly holding me
in place. Before I could react, she had hoisted me up in the air as if I
weighed nothing. I let out a very aroused moan, that luckily could be
interpreted as an exclamation of amazement, and felt my cock rebelling
strongly against the confines of my trousers. Thank god for denim, as I was
sure that it wasn't showing. I often imagine what it would be like to be
lifted by Sally, being elevated to her eye-level, my feet dangling over a foot
over the ground, but I never imagined it to be so erotic as this quick,
fluent, by-the-way motion. After all, I do weigh 140 pounds.

She pulled me over the backrest of the couch and positioned me on herself. I
was lying on her at a slight angle, my chest pushed against one of her
breasts, my belly grinding against her abs, my legs brushing her hard thighs
and my crotch pushing into her pelvis which made me groan again. As I was
about to slip off I intuitively grabbed something to steady myself. It was
sturdy but warm so I immediately knew I had gotten hold of her arm. Again, I
groaned, but saw that it went unnoticed because she was laughing quite loudly
at the sight of me struggling on the uneven surface of her body. My other hand
searched for something to lean on and found her shoulder. I wanted to stand up
and remove myself from this ultra-hot scene - a paradox at first thought, but
rubbing my boner against my sister could result in troubles. Straightening my
arms and putting my legs on either side of her waist, I momentarily managed to
escape the gravity my sister apparently held me with.

But the second I had propped myself up I was held in place again by sheer
force of attraction - her attraction, to be precise. I was looking up at her
angelic face, looking into those big eyes, her sensual lips that still formed
a big smile and the dimples framing her cheeks as she uttered the most
beautiful laugh one could ever hear. My eyes went south and marveled at her
bulky neck, her muscles contracting and relaxing with each chuckle and burst
of giggles, as it spread left and right into her big traps. I looked at my
arms and noticed two things: first, how much less I filled my sleeves than she
did, and second, how far apart my hands actually were. She was so broad, I
couldn't believe it. From up close it looked impressively wide. There wasn't
more time to examine the body in front of, or rather under me, because she
started moving. It felt like those movies, where the hero sees the ground
vibrating and shaking only to have it turn into a big monster, revealing that
he'd been standing on it all along.

Sally had noticed that I was trying to climb off of her and stopped me. The
biceps I held was raising and becoming firmer, all under my palm. Her hand
came nearer and grabbed my shoulder, making it impossible to move my arm or my
upper body. As she moved her other arm to do the same on the other side my
hand slipped off her shoulder, so it was free to put up a fight. I grasped her
biceps and pushed back with all my might, which acutally slowed her down. Only
for a second, but still. My palm pushed against the hardening rock jutting out
from her arm in a futile attempt to stop her from conquering my other
shoulder. The feeling of my hand against her bulging muscle was another
turn-on in a long list of many in these minutes, another thing that would have
made me moan. Lucky enough, I could disguise the moan into a sort of grunt of
struggling, an idea I should have had much earlier. As expected, within
seconds she had me completely overpowered, holding my upper body and arms
totally still. I struggled, but all the power I could muster was no match for
the playful way her mighty arms were restraining me. Swallowing hard I looked
at the mischievous grin she was still sporting. Her left hand started its way
down towards my hand. Never letting go of my arm I reveled in the firm and
strong grip she was exerting on me. She grabbed my wrist and pulled it toward
the other. I could see where this was going and started fighting against her
grip, trying to escape, even though I knew that resistance is futile. Sally
took my wrists in one hand, her fingers going almost around both of them,
holding them tight. She raised her arm up with mine, not only immobilizing me
but also exposing my belly and armpits to her mercy.

"And now for your punishment."

I was feeling a mixture of horror, excitement and lust as she brought up her
hand and started caressing my flat chest. She didn't spend a long time there,
because soon she went right for the kill and pushed her fingers into my pits
and tickled me like I knew she would. Only it was much worse than what I had
tried to prepare myself for in those few seconds I had. Her long, almost
muscular fingers dug deep into that extremely sensitive area, hitting the
right spots like a specially designed missile. I was laughing hysterically,
giggling loudly like a maniac, shrieking in pain and pleasure as she handled
me like an expert torturer. My body was twitching erratically, jerking around,
having spasms like a big, fat murderer being executed. But there was no avail,
all of me was held in place by one hand holding my wrists. She only let me
relax in those short moments when she switched from one armpit to the other.
Then the tickling, the laughing and the spasming would start all over again,
seemingly with no end.

At one point I got one hand free and immediately wanted to stop her. I put my
hand around her wrist and tried to pull it away but it wouldn't move a bit. In
fact, Sally didn't even bother to take my free arm and put it back into the
vise where my other arm was still securely kept. Still trying to end this
amazing but confusing feeling, as it was pleasure but also agony at the same
time, I clutched her biceps and pushed it away from my body. It didn't have
much of an effect because you know who I was pushing against and also because
I couldn't really gather my strength anyway, being weakened by the continuing
assault. But I didn't stop trying, as it meant feeling her biceps in action,
enclosing the hard ball while it contracted into a round form and squeeze the
lengthened shape when she extended her arm again. I couldn't even make a dent
in her arm, let alone stop her doing to me whatever she wanted. I felt so
helpless at the hands of my big sister, being handled by her so easily. A
thought that made me grunt and moan in between bursts of loud laughs while my
crotch rubbed against her stomach, over the muscular bumps under her shirt. I
had to do something to get away, because my cock was reacting wildly to this
stimulation and I was afraid I could go off very soon.

So I reached up to the hand that was holding mine, wanting to loosen the
fingers that clamped around my wrist. Fat chance. Her fingers didn't budge a
bit and only moved when she tried to catch my hand again. I pulled it away
quickly and tried desperately to figure out a way for her to release me.
Trying to pull her arm down, I put my hand on her forearm and pushed. It was
fruitless, as I kept jerking and couldn't build up any pressure on it. I tried
it differently, turning my hand, putting it on the other side of her arm and
pulled. This way I could use my body weight by leaning sideways, away from the
arm holding mine up and over the edge of the couch. It even had an effect, as
I felt myself slipping away from her, giving me a second of hope that I have
made my escape. It was a nice second, thinking that I've gotten out of it. But
immediately I could feel the grip on my wrist pulling me back up, back on top
of her. She even used her tickle-hand and pushed me back by my shoulders.
Something that she really didn't need to do, as her one hand can easily hold
me up, a fact she demonstrated more than once. Maybe she used her other hand
to tease me and mock my relative weakness, or maybe she didn't want to hurt me
by heaving me up by only one arm.

But the moment she didn't tickle me gave me a crack at doing something to
really get away. The problem was that I didn't have the slightest idea how I
could use this. The only thing I could think of was pointless, but I was
determined not to give up without a fight. So I lunged forward and buried my
hand in her exposed, yet fabric covered armpit. I tried to get back at her
even though I knew she isn't ticklish. My fingers stroked the cavern but
without reaction. I could see from the corner of my eyes that Sally was
watching me with an amused grin, but I was busy getting trying to get any
reaction from her, feeble as my attempts may have been. After a short while
she decided that I've had my shot at tickling her and proceeded to go back to
my pits. She extended her arm and reached over - with my hand still there. It
got trapped between her bulging biceps and triceps and her chest, cramming it
in the rock shelter.

"What are you trying to do, Jake? Tickle me? Tickle me like... this?"

With that she went back to her full offensive on me, getting back to making me
jerk around and giggling maniacally, this time trapped at two places: one of
my hands being held up in hers, the other trapped in her armpit. I attempted
to pull it back free, but she had secured it safely there and wasn't about to
give it away just like that.

Sally paused for a moment, giving me time to regain my breath. I wasn't gonna
beg her to stop. I knew it was useless as she was enjoying herself too much.
And she knew that I was enjoying it too much. She saw that I was coming back
down and started again, only this time, she headed for my belly. The sudden
sensation on my midriff surprised me, as it was apparently much more sensitive
than my pits. I jerked back in an uncontrolled motion, even getting both my
hands out of their respective locks. The joy didn't last long, as I lost
balance and fell backwards on her thighs before rolling sideways down and
landing on the carpet. Landing on her thighs wasn't painful as such, but I had
definitely felt it. They were hard, stocky and certainly firmer than the rug.
But I didn't mind because I was free!

I stood up - unknowingly even steadying myself on her very thigh with one hand
- and wanted to leave, but Sally wasn't finished with me. She had sat up,
placing one foot on the floor next to me, and watched me get up with that
mischievous grin again, snickering as she saw me noticing my hand on her
thigh, quickly pulling it away. I turned around and wanted to walk, when I
felt her hand on my wrist again.

"What the...?"

I turned around and saw her smirking. My eyes went downwards from her face
over her bulging shoulders, her ballooning biceps that pulsed in excitement
and anticipation of what she had in mind for me, her swelling forearm to her
large hand, encircling my wrist and holding me in place. Her other arm darted
forward and grabbed my bicep, now holding me even firmer. We both stood - or,
in her case, sat - there not moving for a couple of seconds.

Suddenly she pulled me towards her but turned me during the quick move so my
back was toward her. At the same time, she stretched out her leg she had put
on the floor and raised the other she still had on the couch. As I was
traveling backwards I saw her legs appearing left and right of me. Sally had
spread her legs and was now pulling me between them. My lower back connected
with abs, while she closed her thighs around me, locking her ankles together.
It was impossible for me to escape, as she still gripped my one arm with both
of hers, rendering every movement out of the question except she wished so.
But even if she'd let go of my arms I couldn't leave, as my legs were held by
her massive thighs, ever so slightly squeezing mine.

"Jake, are you trying to run away?"

I know that voice, and I knew in that second that she was just playing. That
made me relax, but I was still uncomfortable as I was detained in a freaking
pair of hypermuscular thighs. She leaned forward and I could feel the warmth
of her body on my back. Her left arm encircled me from the left, her right
from the right, trapping my upper body in a muscle hug. I felt her breasts
pushing in to my back, her biceps compacting my arms, mashing them into my
body. This situation, me being literally engulfed by her, was very hot. I
can't think of another word, it was just so hot. It felt hot and probably
looked even hotter. Small guy held by the super hot big girl. I twisted and
struggled to get free, mostly because I actually wanted to go, but also
because it made her increase the pressure on me. I moaned repeatedly as she
pushed her muscles into mine, immobilizing me even more. Now I could feel the
pulse of her body, the slow movement as she breathed in and out. There was
something she wanted to do to me, and I was torn between fear and excitement.
I was standing there, mammoth legs wrapped around my thin ones. Huge, round
thighs pressing mine together. One big arm enveloping my stomach. The other
enclosing my chest.

"I'm not yet finished with you."

I could tell she said that with the most wicked smile on her face, I could
almost smell the devilish teasing. It was useless to try and prepare for what
was to come. I didn't know what to expect, I only had a slight idea and if it
was true it would be hell no matter what I did.

Sally relaxed her grip on me a bit, but wasn't releasing me. We were quiet for
a moment, before she swiftly leaned back, making her legs and arms wander up
my body. Then, before she had completely laid back on the couch, she tightened
around me again and lifted me up and took me with her. My feet left the floor,
as I was now held by her thighs around my pelvis and by her arms around my
chest. I was hurled backwards in controlled motion, even though it didn't feel
like that. Mid-air, she shifted her touch, so when I landed back on the sofa,
her in the position she had slept in, I was a bit lower.

This whole change of positions took only one or two seconds, so I had to
orientate myself. My arms were free, the pressure on them was gone. But I
could still feel her hugging my chest, as I noticed the weight on my torso.
Her ripped abs were huddling against my back. Looking down, my eyes widened at
what I saw: her huge, mountainous thighs had wrapped around my midriff,
crossing just over my crotch. Big, thick cords of muscle encircling my waist
and rubbing ever so slightly against my sides. Round, bulky rocks, covered by
soft skin, shaped like the ultra sexy legs I had for so long wanted to feel up
close were pressing from left and right. Each a bundle of strength and power,
a pack of brawn and energy, heavy as it rested on poor, lucky me. Tough and
unmovable flesh, hot and heavy, tightly enveloping my stomach, exerting
pressure on it although she wasn't even squeezing - just holding me in place.

Automatically, I put my hands on each thigh to pry them apart. I heard Sally
giggle at the feeble attempt of breaking this hold. I was clearly about to
lose the game she thought we were playing. Lifting my head to look up at her I
could only move it a bit till the back of my head bumped into her breasts. I
craned my neck and turned up to her face but I could only get her breasts to
push against my cheeks. Which was mostly the reason I kept trying to look up.
She took both my hands in one of hers as easy as you and I pick up flowers and
held them over my head. My arms pushed against her breasts, but she didn't
seem to mind. Again, Sally had me at her mercy. She was tantalizingly slow as
she put her free hand on my belly. I shivered and started to wiggle, as if
that would get me out of her fleshy grip. Logically, that was out of the
question as she held my hands tight, had her heavy arm on me and my legs lying
under her punching bag-sized ones. I could barely move - and I loved every
second of it. But I couldn't let her know that, so I grunted again. It's
amazing how in those few minutes I've gotten used to just automatically emit
an annoyed grunt instead of a sexual moan.

Her hand has worked its way in my shirt and I felt her bare skin on mine. I
shuddered even though her touch was very warm and gentle. She adjusted her
grip on my hands and my belly. Relaxing her thighs for a moment, shaking them,
shaking me with them, finally bringing them back into position and default
firmness.

"So, where were we? Oh, yeah..."

With no further ado she had pushed her fingers into my belly, making me laugh
at the top of my voice again. For a second I started to jerk and kick around,
but immediately the "Sally-press" put an end to it. It was painful how I had
to endure this abuse, but then again I was having the most wonderful time as I
was closer to her than I have ever been, even though I was shrieking with no
end. She quickly put more pressure on me, contracting her arms and legs,
putting me into actual physical discomfort. It hurt, but on the other hand, it
was her muscles, her strength, directly on me. Inflating her body to smother
me even more. Hugging me closer to her. It was bliss. A groan of pleasure came
from my mouth, but it sounded like agony.

I don't know for how long the tickling went on, because all of the time I
could only focus on the idea that this beautiful, freakishly strong girl was
holding me. Again, I thought about how utterly erotic the whole scene must
have looked: a guy - not a big guy, not a small guy - trapped the hold of a
much bigger, muscular and obviously stronger girl, without being able to break
free, him disappearing somewhere around her crotch area, being held and
brought closer and closer to climax by her touch. She stopped increasing the
stress on my limbs and held the pressure there. At this exact level, which
would be somewhat uncomfortable for anybody, it was orgasmic pleasure for me.
My senses were heightened, as I wanted to remember every single microsecond of
this experience. Her soft breathing I could hear as she held me easily but not
totally without effort, the weight of her arm on my chest, the individual
bulges that were pushing into me, her hand firmly gripping my wrists, each
breast pressing from behind, with her two nipples occasionally brushing
against the back of my head, both quads as they totally dwarfed my legs,
squeezing me. A big squirt of precum wetted my underpants as I was at the
point were any stimulation would probably make me explode.

Well, not literally, because my erection was pressing against one of her
thighs and has been since she took me in her thigh-hug. But I was close.
Somehow my cock got shifted in my underpants and it was pushed forward, so it
produced a big, fat bulge on the front of my jeans. And it was all thanks to
my magnificent sister, who could excite me like no fantasy or internet porn
could. She didn't seem to notice, as she was busy with my upper body. Her
thigh was hard, like I was pressing against a wall, although I can't imagine
that would be a good substitute. I could actually feel it slightly contracting
and relaxing with each of her movements, as her huge frame exaggerated
everything about her. Involuntarily, I tried to sit up. I don't know why, at
the time it felt like the thing to do. At first she held me back, pulling at
my arms, letting me fight. She enjoyed my struggle to get away from her grip,
I heard her laughing. When she let go of me I immediately leaned forward and
put my hands on her thighs again, feeling the tight muscles. The surface was
soft but with massive mounds of live meat pulsing right underneath. I let my
palms go up and down the ridges of each muscle, feeling the perfect definition
under her skin. I kept exploring the huge domes of warm flesh, letting my hand
go downwards, feeling the walls of her inner thighs. Usually not the place you
let your brother touch you.

The legs around me sprung to life and I quickly wedged a hand between each
thigh and my body in a helpless attempt of holding them back. They had
contracted as Sally had sat up and hugged me from the back again, immobilizing
my upper body and my arms from the elbows up. I had become desperate to get
away because I was so close to eruption. And, boy, what eruption that would
be. As her hand found its way into my shirt and teased me about the
tickle-attack that was about to commence by softly stroking my skin, I knew I
was in big trouble. I could sense that I was so close to cumming, I wouldn't
be able to contain myself during the next minutes. In another pointless effort
to get away before it was too late, I tried prying her legs apart. Looking
back, it's clear to me that both my arms wouldn't stand a chance against one
of her legs, especially as constricted as they were, but being locked in
between them your perspective and judgement is somewhat distorted. However, in
that moment I thought that with a good grip, all my force and the better angle
by pulling her inner thighs apart rather than pushing them away I could slip
out before she started to "punish" me again. Nope, no chance.

For what felt like the hundredth time that evening she tickled me again. Yes,
my body started jerking, yes, I started laughing, yes, it hurt and felt good
at the same time. I can't say that I was getting used to it, because every
single time it felt like a glimpse of hell. But I wasn't paying attention to
that anymore, but to the orgasmic, mind-blowing sensations I felt in the
crotch area. My stiff cock, standing as straight as possible in my denims, was
grinding against her thigh repeatedly. We were constantly moving, as I was
squirming to get free and her trying to hold me still. Her thighs flexing and
relaxing, rubbing up and down, growing and growing more, all against the bulge
in my pants. I gave off moans of "Ah, ah, ah" that she probably interpreted as
laughs of "Ha, ha, ha". I still had my hands on her legs, pushing them against
the rock-hard masses that were compressing my body. Cords of solid muscles
were thickening and hardening like a bunch of angry anacondas, holding their
prey with no chance of escape. The way those bundles of strength were
springing to life right before and all over me was an amazing feeling. She
briefly tensed her legs, squeezing me more to which I responded with a loud
grunt in between laughs. Mindlessly I started humping the big mass pressing
against my loins. Up to that point I was wiggling and squirming to get out,
pushing my crotch into her again and again, so the reflexive hump wasn't
really a change.

At the same time my upper body was engulfed by two mighty arms, pressing my
much smaller frame into hers. I felt two giant biceps pushing into my sides,
hard and a little pumped from holding her kicking and jerking little brother
still. One going round my chest, holding my shoulder, the other keeping my
still just by its very presence, while alternately tickling and caressing my
stomach. Removing one hand from her thighs, I wanted to pull my arm out of her
hug. However, wherever I tried to move my arm, I bumped into unmovable skin.
She noticed me having a go a getting out of her embrace but held me tight. I
tried moving my relatively thin arms against the bulging masses of muscle but,
of course, without a chance. Sally even slowed down her tickling to give me a
shot at breaking free of the skin covered straight jacket. At first she just
wouldn't move an inch, entertained by my show. Then she sort of demonstrated
me the muscular prison I was in by flexing her biceps and forearms without
cramping me more. I watched and felt them going from solid and large to
absolutely rock hard and gargantuan, turning into steel against me, showing me
exactly where I was. I pushed against her arms like you would when you try to
get through a large group of people standing close and not letting you pass.
Only this was much harder and wouldn't budge, more like trying to get through
a forest made of iron. After some time she raised her arm and hugged me again,
only this time under my armpit, letting my arm free. Instantly I put my hand
on her biceps and pushed. I wasn't thinking clearly. I was clutching at
straws. Straws? I know this is only a figure of speech, but I think this is
the worst comparison I have ever made. Sally's arm a straw. Pah!

My efforts, as weak as they appeared to her, made her giggle.

"Do you know, ...?"

I turned my head up to see her while she was talking. That meant rubbing the
side of my face against the balls that were her tits. She quickly stuck her
fingers into my belly again, stimulating me again to make my whole body go
stiff. Actually, my body going stiff made me arch my back, pressing my head
even more firmly against her breast. It was like a wonderful cushion, I never
wanted to leave. Being mushed against her, I could feel her nipple through the
fabric of her shirt at the side of my mouth. It was so dangerously close, I
had to restrain myself from just sticking out my tongue and licking it, just
feel the smallish bulge with the tip of my tongue. Before I could do anything
stupid I quickly turned my head up. She was hunched over, looking down at me,
smiling. God, she was beautiful.

"Do you have any idea how cute you look when you struggle?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't answer. Lying there, so close to coming, I needed
just one last, tiny bit of stimulation to push me over the edge. I didn't have
to wait long:

"And how small you look?"

That did it. That simple, innocuous comment she made, absolutely without any
patronizing or condescendence, was the last drop needed to make the dams break
and let out a flood. And it certainly felt like a flood. Gazing up at her
gorgeous face, my head pressed against her ample breasts, one hand on her
jutting biceps, the other on her massive thigh, while being squeezed between
her mammoth legs made me ejaculate like never before. Actually, I was amazed
that I have been able to hold it for so long. Without knowing it, she had
pushed all the right buttons in me to go off like a garden hose, drenching my
underpants with my cum. Everything I had built up during that evening came out
in big squirts, creating a mess down there. It was already the most intense
orgasm I have ever experienced, but then she flexed her thighs. Apparently her
grip on me had gotten a bit lose in the last minutes and she felt like she
needed to readjust. So the two giant pythons around my waist pushed down on my
throbbing cock, making me emit a loud grunt. My whole body went berserk from
the overflow of pleasure in my brain, making me light headed. I reacted by
first pushing back into her breasts, then shooting forward before being
stopped by her titanic arm. Sally pulled me back into her tits and held me
still easily, while her other arm worked its way back into my shirt.

"Where do you think you're going?" she giggled.

As her large hand started to tickle me once more on that fateful evening, my
spurting became stronger, harder and faster, all thanks to her. Grunting and
uttering random sounds during that time, I clutched her biceps hard, which
made her think I was still trying to get away (an idea which, for obvious
reasons, I had already given up). So she flexed her whole body and enveloped
me even more in her rock hard cradle. I think that's where I sort of blacked
out. I think, I'm not sure. I do remember losing track of time, going to a
wonderful place where I could hear color and smell sound, feeling like I've
gone to heaven for a second, but I never lost track of the sensation of her
massive, hard flesh around me. The tough muscles of my sister, bringing me to
my most powerful, most intense and best orgasm I have ever experienced up to
that point.

When I came to, she was still tickling me. I wasn't wiggling as much as I did
before, probably because all my energy had emptied into my pants. She sensed
that I had given up on resisting her and stopped.

"What? You're already giving up? Did you have enough?"

I wanted to answer "Yes, please no more", but all I could muster was some
vague mumbling. But she got the message, because she moved her thighs to put
me on the floor and stood up. I was standing there, breathing hard, my knees
feeling like they could collapse any second, while she was sitting there,
trying to stifle a laugh. She was so cute, like a little girl. A big little
girl.

"That was fun, little brother."

She stood up and placed herself directly in front of me, setting her breasts
at the height of my face. Putting a hand on each of my shoulders, holding me
up as if she knew I was throughly spent, she happily exclaimed:

"We should do this again!"

I turned my head and looked up to her face that was grinning down to me, just
like it had been all evening. I smiled and jokingly said:

"Yeah, maybe. But then I'm the one holding *you* still."

She burst out laughing and went on to playfully hug me. I hugged her back,
putting my hand on her broad back but without any erections forming. She had
leaned forward to put her head on my shoulders, so my face wasn't pushed into
her cleavage. Even though I just orgasmed, that could have brought me back up.
Sally planted a gentle peck on my cheek and stood tall again.

"Good Night, Jake." she said and ruffled my hair.

"Good Night, Sally." I said as she left the room.

End of chapter two. Yes, there could be more, but only if you write me. Right
now! ideas, wishes, love or hate to spread, anything?

nelek@gmx.at