Sally and Me
By Nelek
Chapter 5: The Workout 


The familiar sound of rattling weights came from our 
basement. As I had been for some minutes 
now, I was standing on top of the stairs that led to our 
home gym, listening to the rhythmic clanging of metal as 
Sally did her daily workout. Pacing up and down the 
uppermost stair, I was trying to bring myself to do what I 
was there for in the first place: to dare and take the first 
step towards our exercise room. 

That was nothing new or risky, nothing I hadn't done 
hundreds of times before. I was going to join Sally in her 
training to watch her do some serious pumping of iron while 
I pretended to do an athletic workout myself. It's quite 
nifty, actually: in the unlikely case of her noticing 
something weird about my behavior, I could always chalk it 
up to the exhaustion. 

This is what I always do. Over the years, I have learned to 
successfully hide my lust for my sister's fantastic 
physique, keeping a straight face in her presence even 
though anything more than a short glimpse would be 
sufficient for me to cum on the spot, never letting her even 
catch a hint of my more-than-brotherly love for her, even 
though everything about her was designed to make me drool. I 
have spent years refining my strategies to conceal any hints 
of being smitten by her stunning looks; hide any clue of 
whose images I masturbate to, and generally appear normal to 
her. This time, however, I was a bit nervous about walking 
down there. Since the episode yesterday, when I got trapped 
in her closet and watched her move around naked, I was 
unsure how I was going to react to Sally's mighty beauty. 
But I knew I needed to go down there. Not only because I 
need to be with her, to see her, hear her, even smell and 
taste her, but also because I needed to prove to myself that 
I wasn't going to reveal myself for what I truly feel and 
therefore possibly ruin our great relationship.  

From downstairs I heard the clanging of weights start again, 
followed by the distinct groans accompanying her workout. 
Just the sounds of my sister had me getting hard already, so 
I checked the position of my cock again, confirming that if 
I were to grow erect during the following hour or so ##' and 
believe me, I will ##' it won't produce a visible bulge. The 
sounds meant a new set of whatever exercise she was doing 
and a chance for me to go down there. Because when I arrive 
in our gym while she is in the middle of an exercise, she 
won't talk. If she doesn't talk, I don't talk. And if I 
don't talk, I couldn't possibly screw things up. Taking a 
deep breath I boldly started walking. 

Arriving in the basement I looked around the room for Sally, 
who was nowhere to be seen. I followed the rhythmic noises 
and the grunts around all kinds of exercise machines to 
reach the far wall where we keep the free weights. The 
hissing got louder as I approached this divine being, 
covering the last few feet to the workout bench where she 
lay, beautiful as ever. 

She was lying on her back with a mammoth dumbbell in each 
hand, pressing them straight up from her chest. Her legs 
were spread wide to balance her enormous body; her big feet 
firmly on the ground, supporting her gargantuan frame. 
Unfortunately, she was wearing sweat pants, so I couldn't 
peer at her warm, moist inner thighs shimmering in the neon 
light of our basement, but it still excited me to see the 
outlines of her bloated legs against the not-so-loose 
workout pants. They were twitching underneath the fabric 
with every move, constantly tensing and relaxing with each 
rep she did. Letting my gaze wander over her swollen gray 
sweats I actually was kind of glad that she was wearing them 
because if the day before was any indication, looking at her 
naked legs and panties apparently would make me leak precum. 
Shifting my look I saw that her shirt had ridden up to 
expose the first row of her cobblestone abdomen, reflecting 
the light in its glistening skin. The lattice of her belly 
inflated with each breath she took, then receded as she 
exhaled. Every single of her brick-like abs was protruding 
from the area around them, slightly tensed in order to help 
keep her body straight. That is the beauty of watching Sally 
during her workout. She's doing, say, bench presses, an 
exercise actually aimed at her pectorals, and yet all of her 
superhuman body is alive, moving in a symphony of enticing 
muscularity.  

The other ridges of her tight abdominals disappeared under 
her shirt but remained perfectly visible, forming waves 
under the stretched cotton. The material soon bulged high up 
into the air as it encompassed a pair of magnificent breasts 
poorly held by a sports bra. I could feel the heat rising in 
me as images of yesterday's situation started replaying in 
my head, particularly ones of her naked tits gently swaying 
around. This was similar, yet different: every time Sally 
raised her arms, her breasts got squished between them, when 
she lowered them again, they immediately returned to their 
original shape of perfect roundness. At the same time they 
were subjected to the constant movements of her pecs 
underneath, jumping with every flex, taking the supple 
tissue of her bosom along with them, making them sway and 
wobble pretty much non-stop.  

The root for this hypnotizing animation lay just a bit 
further north, right where the fabric descended from her 
ample boobs back to impervious flesh. Her pecs were plates 
of armor, raising like they were about to jump off her body. 
They showed through her shirt, with a nice muscular cleavage 
around her neckline and the shapes of deep, wide plates 
spreading and rising visibly. It looked like she was wearing 
a bulletproof vest under her clothes. Contracting and 
relaxing in a rhythmic fashion, they pushed against her 
shirt due to their unnatural size, whether flexed or not. 
Her sides were adorned with amazing wings as she stretched 
her arms towards the ceiling, making her back flare out. It 
was broad, juicy meat that formed her lats, filling her 
shirt completely as they spread from the rear. Even though 
this was only a small part of her vast and expansive back 
one could tell that this girl had the frame of a massively 
oversized cupboard or a highway sign or some other unusual 
simile. 

Sally's arms entered my vision as she lowered them down to 
her chest, with me finding myself stifling a gasp a second 
later. Her guns were huge; simply huge. The muscles on her 
arms jutted with incomparable curves as she held the 
dumbbells for a moment, allowing me to examine those slabs 
of beef. Though obviously not flexed, as that exercise 
doesn't involve the biceps, they were still bulging 
profusely due to her bent arms, filling her sleeves like 
they were especially sewn around them. I realized that she 
was wearing the shirt that was already slightly ripped where 
her arms form the biggest peaks; the green one I had 
prepared for her the day before. It looked like it would 
probably only need one powerful flex for her to ultimately 
destroy them, so I had my fingers crossed for me to be there 
when it happens. 

Suddenly the two dumbbells moved upwards again, pulling my 
eyes along with them. Stretching her arms made those triceps 
transform from a rotund hunk of flesh to fat roll of muscle 
right in front of me. When tensed, they formed a dense 
sausage, a worm of hard meat, sticking out of her limb; hard 
and impenetrable and at least as impressive when shaped like 
a big semi-circle of beef. Her biceps, extraordinary when 
rolled up to a ball, were just as imposing in this expanded 
state, still ballooning to give her sleeves a hard time of 
encompassing all that mass. They flowed into brawny forearms 
made of cords of solid tissue that throbbed because of her 
gripping the dumbbells hard. At least one vein was running 
from her large hands down over her arm, showing how much she 
was pumping herself up. She was quivering slightly, fighting 
to continue the exercise properly, loudly hissing as she 
sent the weights traveling further up into the air. 

Her arms were connected to the broadest rack of shoulders 
the world has ever seen. The sheer width of her body was 
amazing, spreading far wider than the narrow bench 
supporting her. She plainly had the perfect genetics to get 
such a build; firm and robust, large and heavy with strong 
bones. An advantage she used perfectly by pumping it up with 
big, big weights, evidenced not only by the bowling ball 
shapes bustling underneath the fabric. Tight globes of rock 
solid skin made up her deltoids, with every single strand of 
fiber billowing to give her her trademark awesome look of 
vastness. Each of these globes was seated to the side of one 
thick, chunky pipe of flesh leading to her neck; a bull of a 
neck, a work of art created by mega-heavy shrugs, right 
here, in our home gym. I didn't know where to look; her 
husky traps swelling with each minor adjustment to balance 
herself, or her immense neck pulsating through every 
repetition. 

A grunt made me turn to her face; a grunt signifying that 
she was starting to struggle with the weight. That's 
understandable I'd say, as it was espically huge and she 
had been at it for a while now, inhaling loudly as she 
lowered it for yet another rep. She grimaced, showing an 
intensely strained expression of stark determination to 
continue. Eyes focused, staring directly at the spot in 
mid-air where the dumbbells have to go, her forehead tense 
and furrowed, the corners of her mouth pulled back, 
revealing her teeth, clenched tightly, letting only a 
muffled ###ungh### through, hair tied back yet with several 
strands loose and sticking to her skin ##' she was the effigy 
of the athlete bent on finishing her training. Her skin was 
covered in perspiration, glistening in the light of our home 
gym. Beads of her sweat were constantly gathering all over 
her face and body, occasionally forming little puddles 
before suddenly trickling down her neck and cheeks in small, 
fast rivulets. They dripped onto the bench or were soaked up 
by the fabric of her shirt; a tiny spectacle she didn't 
even pay a millionth of the attention to that I did. 

As her face twisted with the effort she had to exert, I 
couldn't help thinking how beautiful she still looked. 
It's hard to believe how such an angelic face like my 
sister's can distort itself to such a grimace of struggle 
and exertion; and it's even harder to explain how this can 
still seem so stimulating to me. I guess it has something 
with what features contorted like that signify: incredible 
strength and hard muscle as well as the process of 
increasing both to maximum levels. Personally, I can think 
of only few hotter and more sexual things than my mighty 
sister displaying her incredible egree of power. 

It had probably only been a couple seconds since I entered 
the room, but I realized I should make myself look busy. 
Watching that body can easily make one lose track of time. 
As I was going to do anyway, I walked over to the stationary 
bike and started doing some stretching exercises for warming 
up. Sally continued her training, oblivious that I was even 
there. She goes into some sort of trance while exercising, 
unaware of anything going on around her. Even after 
finishing it takes her a couple of seconds to return to the 
present. Pushing oneself to one's limits like Sally does on 
a regular basis apparently takes up all the attention one 
can muster.  
And she does push herself; always going to failure on the 
last set of the exercise she's doing. And more often than 
not, she's not satisfied with the timing of her muscles 
giving out. Countless times I watched her let the weights 
crash down on the rack with a loud bang and yell some 
unintelligible growl or a simple ###Fuck it!### Yes, apparently 
all the immaculate sets with unbelievable weights she does 
right before that aren't enough to compensate for that one 
set she ###almost### finished.  

Then she would stand there, chest heaving, sweat dripping, 
steadying herself on nearby equipment before taking her 
water bottle. Drinking from it while walking around, her 
body would be tense, hulking, restless with unfinished 
business. She would swing her long, thick arms or legs 
around to loosen up some more, not knowing how much space 
she takes up when she does that; nor how huge and terrifying 
she looks when she starts assaulting the room around her 
with her bare, concrete boulders of limbs. When a girl 
that's over a foot taller than you and more than twice your 
body weight waves her muscular arms around with a grim look 
on her face, trust me, you do feel intimidated.  

Sally completed the set with a short, but strong roar as she 
couldn't bring the weights up anymore. She lowered her arms 
down her sides and dropped the dumbbells on the floor, their 
mass producing a loud bang even though they only fell an 
inch or two. Still on her back, resting from yet another 
grueling exercise, she relaxed her body completely and let 
her arms and legs hang loose. Those hulks, still bulging 
with humungous muscularity, are at that particular moment 
absolutely void of any power ##' as unbelievable as it may 
seem. She can't even raise her arms without effort. Lying 
on her back, resting that monumental body, her enormous 
ribcage inflated to huge proportions as she inhaled.  

Even though the room should be full of it, I noticed the 
complete absence of Sally's delicious scent. Looking around 
I saw both windows wide open, letting her exquisite essence 
escape from me. I decided to put a stop to that, but at a 
height of several feet over my head each window was 
completely out of my reach. Stepping onto a spare workout 
bench that stood by the wall I shut one but couldn't 
possibly reach the other without pushing the bench I was 
standing on over there. Unfortunately that was the corner 
Sally was lying in and she way lying on the other one. I 
pondered for a second how I could shut the other window, 
when - 

###Hey, there.###

Apparently Sally had returned to the land of the living. I 
turned around and looked at her, sitting there, hunched 
over, forearms on her thighs, biceps bulging in their 
relaxed state while sipping from her bottle, the soaked 
shirt stretched around her physique, showing beautiful 
curves as they reshaped the fabric.  

###Hey Sal,### I answered. ###Would you close the window for me?###

###Why? It's warm outside.###

###Yeah, but I wanna go on the bike and you know how there's 
draft between the door and the windows,### I said, motioning 
from one wall to the other. Even though there was no draft 
in our basement, I had used this excuse so many times before 
that at some point even Sally and our parents started 
feeling it. Sally nodded and walked over to the other window 
and raised her hand. It was so cool and strangely erotic how 
my big sister could just reach up and close a window I 
needed something of a ladder for. That's my dream girl, not 
only stronger than an army of me but also towering over my 
form by more than a head. 

I jumped off the bench as Sally walked away from the corner, 
swaying her arms in every direction to loosen up. Watching 
her broad shoulders float over all the training machines as 
she meandered between them I slowly approached our free 
weights corner, ostensibly to stretch a little more before 
getting on the bike, but in reality to take a good look at 
the bench she just used. There it was, like I suspected, a 
big, wet imprint of her back, shimmering against the black 
upholstery. Kind of like a sweaty Rorschach test. 

I looked around and saw her standing at the far wall, 
drinking from her bottle with her back to me. Cautiously, I 
leaned forward without ever taking my eyes from her form at 
the other side of the room and ran a finger over the 
slippery surface of the bench. Reveling in the excitement of 
what was to come I lifted my hand to my face and slipped the 
digit in between my lips. I repressed a sigh when I tasted 
the faint, yet detectable flavor of her wonderful fluids, 
letting my tongue play around the digit in my mouth. Quickly 
I moved to the bike and climbed on it, not wanting to arouse 
any suspicion of why I still wasn't cycling.  

Talking 'bout aroused ##' while programming the bicycle's 
computer, I inconspicuously checked my pants and saw to my 
utmost satisfaction that, even though internally I had 
reached an advanced stage of sexual excitement, I still 
wasn't showing any external signs. 

Sally returned to my part of the workout area and sat down 
on the bench I used under the window. As I started to hit 
the pedals she leaned against the wall and relaxed, letting 
all of her muscular glory assume its billowing heights 
without even the most minor flex. Everything about her 
seemed to breathe as she rested; slowly inflating with every 
inhale before deflating with every exhale. But it wasn't 
only her torso that gradually moved. No, every single part 
of her was alive as she relaxed; her arms and shoulders 
throbbed with the living tissue still pumping. Because of 
the strain, her neck and traps pulsed as she gradually moved 
her head from side to side, her chest expanding along with 
every intake of air. I think I have to revise the comment I 
made earlier. The one about nothing being hotter than 
watching her work out.  

I'd say this was in a way much sexier than that; speaking 
strictly in the sense of eroticism. The exercise, the 
pumping of iron, the sweat and the grunts - that's not 
erotic, that's animal, that's sex. This, however, her body 
in absolute repose, is what eroticism is about: exquisite 
forms in a sheen of sweat, gentle curves subtly hinting at 
the power they convey, her enormous body only suggesting 
what strength lies beneath. Really, for a girl of only 18 
years ##' hell, for any person of any age ##' Sally's anatomy 
was indescribable. Sitting there, relaxed, with her whopping 
physique and its insane muscles under paper-thin skin, 
thicker and more potent than anything I could ever dream of. 
She wasn't even trying to do anything and yet, it was the 
most alluring posing, the most sensual display of a body one 
could imagine. Selling pictures of Sally, maybe even a nude 
calendar, would make me a millionaire in no time. 

She stood up, drinking the last remains from the bottle and 
stood in the middle of the free weights area. With her 
facing away from me I had an unobstructed view of her 
football field-sized back, spreading left and right to push 
her arms out. Her shirt was wrapped tightly around the huge 
plates of thick meat, showing off the awesome canyons of 
massive striations in each individual muscle group. Acres of 
cotton covered the wide planes of her lats, with dark, wet 
stains in the damp material accentuating the bumps on the 
uneven surface. A deep, deep gorge ran down the length of 
her back, clearly visible due to the two or three inches of 
stretched fabric in the middle. I imagined drops of her 
perspiration trickling down that vertical river bed, 
disappearing somewhere beyond the waist band of her 
trousers. Next to her deltoids were her infraspinatus, 
jutting nicely from the surrounding tissue, shaping a lovely 
knuckle that bulged from each of her lats. Yes, her 
infraspinatus. So often I googled the human anatomy just to 
put a name on each abnormal mutation on my sister's body. 

Chunky traps and wide, round shoulders floated above like a 
curtain rod, with her wings draped downwards like 
impenetrable iron shrouds of meat. They narrowed towards the 
small of her back, making way for a petite, yet robust waist 
of striped muscle adorning her sides. It's hard to believe 
how such a small midriff can hold an upper body like that 
aloft and stable; it looked more like a big military tank 
balanced on a wooden chair. But it did, with steely cords of 
beef, perpetually flexing and unflexing in rhythmic fashion. 
Below that lay her ass, the most beautiful work of art 
imaginable. Round, bulbous glutes filled her pants; tight, 
muscular, globes underneath the cotton fabric. I made a note 
to myself to get a closer look at that butt as soon as I 
could. Maybe she'll go for a swim in the pool later. 

Her back expanded as she extended her arms forward, 
stretching her shirt to breaking point. She then went on to 
raise and shake, bend and straighten her arms to loosen up 
for her next exercise. Watching her do some stretching I 
started to pedal harder in excitement of what was to come. 

Sally went over to a barbell with some weights on both 
sides; the one I used yesterday when I did some lifting. She 
put it on the rack and loosened the collars on each end, 
then started taking off the plates. Obviously the 
60-something pounds on it were far from giving her any 
challenge at all. I stared as she grabbed plates larger than 
the ones she had just removed from the rack ##' holding two of 
them per hand - multiplying the amount of weight I used. But 
she didn't load the bar. Instead, she brought two even 
larger iron disks ##' also carrying them in only one hand ##' 
and shoved them onto the rod before adding the plates she 
prepared a moment earlier. I failed trying to calculate the 
weight she had accumulated as I wasn't sure how much each 
of the disks measured. In any case she had completely 
demolished my meager achievements by casually preparing a 
barbell of stupefying dimensions. I had maxed out using two 
medium weights on each end which she had replaced with three 
plates looking twice the size of mine and another even 
larger than those. 

And this was just her warmup.

A pair of large, muscular hands wrapped around the steel 
pole and lifted it off the rack. Sally returned to where she 
stood earlier, a couple of feet away from me, right in the 
middle of the empty area, only this time positioning herself 
sideways to me. I was amazed at how much closer to me she 
seemed to stand just by turning 90 degrees to the left, 
that's how wide her body is. Her arms ##' or rather, her arm 
since I could only see her left arm - hung loosely by her 
side and were already splitting into distinct muscle groups: 
forearms of strong ropes broadened towards her elbow, where 
they bundled before erupting in two directions. Firstly, her 
biceps, which even in this state bloated in an obvious 
attempt to try and out-bulge her chest. The fat vein that 
ran down her swollen biceps was throbbing just like my cock, 
pulsing in anticipation of the imminent pump. 

Then there were her triceps, shaped like a very gentle arch 
as they were neither completely flexed nor completely bent. 
They just swelled without any motivation, protruding from 
the back of her arm as she was finding a stable position. 
With every slight move she did to bring her feet into a 
steady setting her giant limbs just danced and rippled, even 
though they were just resting. After settling herself her 
hands began to adjust their grip on the bar, letting her arm 
take a life on its own. Every time her fingers clutched that 
steel rod, some part north of her wrist jumped and surged, 
receding when she loosened her hold again. It went on like 
that, her fantastic appendage swelling randomly, with every 
movement exaggerated on her mighty oversized frame. Then, 
after some more shuffling the show could finally begin. 

Slowly the bar started moving, floating higher on a 
semicircular path. Already, even after it had only traveled 
a few inches, Sally's arm sprung to attention and ascended 
to a size worthy of long and flowery descriptions. I have to 
refrain from processing what was happening in fear of 
running out of superlatives early on. Suffice to say that 
they were larger than anything I could wrap my hands around, 
arching in wide, perfectly round mounds of gleaming skin. 
Her shirt tried its best to enfold the growing mass, but was 
undoubtedly destined to fail ##' evidenced by the rip in her 
sleeve. It hasn't reached the point where it would tear 
further, but already it was spread open by that inflating 
branch. She was only doing a simple barbell curl ##' but just 
like everything she does it was explodingly amplified by her 
sheer size. 

A coating of fine sweat made the sleeve cling to the insane 
heap of beef, keeping it from riding up towards her 
shoulders. The fabric stretched along with the ever 
expanding breadth of my sister's body, enclosing the 
steadily growing muscles and hugging them tightly. Swerving 
with wonderful contours of those huge hunks of flesh, her 
arm broadened with the strain she put in to raise the 
weight. The more she bent her elbows, the more the two cords 
rose from her limb; one heading north to model a fantastic 
peak of carnal titillation, and the other spreading south to 
mold itself into an inverted dome of cathedral proportions. 
 
Right before my worshipping eyes her arm bulged in all the 
right places as it inflated from her wrist to her elbow. 
Reaching the copious breadth of her forearms before flowing 
into a block of gargantuan scale, wrapped in the smoothest, 
most perfect skin one could ever lay hands and lips on. 
This astounding, otherworldly body was the personification 
of solid, as her arm flourished to amazing size. Her hands 
reached shoulder height, the climax of that first rep, 
making the balls that grew out of her arm protrude in a 
monstrous hill. At the top of that exercise her arms were 
fully tensed, petrified from the amount of beefy muscle 
contracting against the power of gravity.  

I could tell that she squeezed that flesh, hard. So hard, in 
fact, that she seemed to squeeze out a drop of sweat from 
that peak of a living wet dream. A little bead appeared, 
right in the middle of what can only be described as an 
ocean of perspiration, and almost immediately began its 
enviable way down the sides of that mammoth boulder, running 
over massive bends and dents. I expected it to keep flowing 
until it would reach the south pole of that globe my sister 
calls her arms, but it seemed to be absorbed by her skin; or 
rather, evaporated by the nuclear levels of body heat she 
produces during her workouts.  

Then the thickly-muscled bunch of meat started loosing up as 
she let her hands wander south again. Her tremendous curves 
began to melt back into their original positions without 
failing to convey the inherent power. As the bar reached the 
height of her pelvis I had watched the display of mounting 
and pulsing muscle all over again, this time in reverse. 
Hard, turgid tissue shifting under her skin, living and 
breathing, completely at her will, prepared itself for 
another round of the most marvelous gun show. Luscious 
shapes like horseshoes and medicine balls presented 
themselves, as the epitome of mighty strength through every 
second of their transformation from concrete pillars to 
bloated lead balloons, forming pinnacles of unmistakeable 
solidity. 

Once again I fail to find words adequate of describing the 
firework of sensual magnificence. Sitting here at my 
keyboard, torturing myself by reliving moment for moment the 
spectacularity that is beautiful Sally, knowing too well 
that mere words could never accurately portray the vastness 
of my big sister.  

She went on to repeat the move, then again and again and 
several more times before finishing the set and putting the 
barbell back on the rack. The weight was then loaded with 
several more of those large plates before she went back to 
blowing any spectator's mind - in this case, solely me. I 
watched as she kept at it, repeating the exercise, 
unrelentlessly performing the task with an astounding degree 
of professionalism, providing breathtaking visuals in the 
process. 

With a loud clanging sound Sally put the weight on the rack 
again, having completed the first set. And then she rested. 
She wrapped her hands around the barbell, not to use it 
again, but to steady herself against the rack, which creaked 
under the additional weight exerted on it. Again, her body 
was heaving with deep breaths, making her back expand to 
impossible breadth. This relaxed pose in its serene 
tranquility was worthy to rival images of deers quietly 
drinking from a pond, yet did nothing to get my pumping 
blood to calm down. 

I turned away from the view to have some water, as the last 
minutes of cycling combined with erotic imagery have made me 
sweat, pant and also thirsty. Looking around my bottle was 
nowhere to be seen, which meant that I must have left it in 
the kitchen. I decided that taking a break from the fabulous 
show Sally was presenting me wouldn't be a bad idea since I 
had grown quite a bit in my pants. Letting my head hang I 
looked at my pedaling feet as well as my package which was 
still tucked away nicely and inconspicuously. I sat up and 
stopped the bike, wanting to just walk out and leave the gym 
without even glancing at Sally.  

But barely had I gotten through the door I heard her voice 
call me. 

###Jake, where are you going?###

I turned around to see my big sister still resting against 
the weight rack. Standing there like that she was so 
gorgeous it actually made my dick throb. But I didn't let 
on. 

###I left my bottle in the kitchen. I was just gonna fetch it.### 

###Hey, would you fill mine up, please?### she asked, motioning 
her head to her empty bottle standing on an adjacent 
machine. Cool as an ice cube I nodded and walked over to 
where she was standing. Proficiently ignoring her imposing, 
mighty, hot body as I approached her monumental figure 
towering over me, I grabbed the bottle and casually headed 
out the gym. 

As I climbed the stairs I quietly smiled to myself, looking 
forward to what beautiful Sally had in store for me when I 
returned.  



-------
End of chapter 5, part I.

Hey there, everybody. 
Shamefully, it's been more than a year since I last shared 
the story of Sally with you.  
I want to thank you for your emails and comments and hope 
you enjoyed this rather short chapter. I promise that more 
is on its way and that I will try to work faster.  

Also I want to thank michael-leonard for editing my stories. 
Without him, this would all be a rotten mess of grammar and 
spelling errors.  

As always, please send me your opinions.
nelek (at) gmx.at