I Love NY

A mature muscle woman knows it and shows it!


One of the benefits of living in NYC is the amount of people that I encounter
during any given day. The public buses put me and anyone else for that matter
shoulder to shoulder with strangers.

A particular warm spring day found me on a bus toward my apartment. It was a
busy weekday in 2004 and the bus was crowded.

Curiously scanning the mass of fellow riders my eyes were stopped by a pair of
black patent leather high heels. I don't have a shoe fetish but I could
instantly tell that the wearer must be a woman with confidence and flare. As
my eyes moved from the shoes up past her ankle I saw - now, part of the
interest in seeing so many city women dressed professionally or to go out for
the evening is the baring of their legs that get so much exercise in their
heels - the mysterious woman had calves that were shaped out of steel and
connected to her ankles by vivid strands of tendons like iron bands.

Unfortunately(?), this was all I could see of her... the bus being crowded by
your average out of shape city dweller.

Another bus stop comes and goes and my continued peeking at my mystery woman's
diamond-shaped hard calves is building a frustration of wanting to see the
rest of this rare treasure dug up among the asphalt streets. A few riders
depart.

Now, I look up to where her hands grasp a support bar. Long slender fingers
meet a neat French manicure, her hand makes a fist around the metal. I follow
vascular veins that stand out on the back of her hand to a forearm that is as
hard and roped with muscle as this mystery amazon's calves.

Each jerky stop or lurch of the bus communicates into her vascular, shapely
hands and forearms... the muscles contract and stand out.. I imagine the metal
beneath them being crushed under the might of this woman's strength... a city
bus weighing in tons succumbing to the power deliciously on display in a
woman's hands.

I can see her now... and she sees me.

She is not tall. 5 ft. 5 maybe. I put her age as a good 10 years my senior
(she looked around 50). Apart from the peek I had of her muscled hands and
feet what catches my eye next is her shortly cropped hair that is tinted
platinum blonde. The bangs of which feather themselves into her hazel eyes...
eyes that the confident owner now trained on mine.

Beneath the hazel eyes her cupid's bow of a mouth painted bright red curls up
on either side. She KNOWS. This 50-ish year old is giving me the look of a
hungry cougar. I catch the sign of her standing taller, elongating her entire
frame.

I dutifully look at what my feline dominatrix wants me to see and appreciate.

Her platinum short hair and hazel eyes are set off by a mid-length black and
sleeveless dress. The neck hugs her throat but the lack of showing cleavage is
made-up by the breast hugging tightness of the fabric. A perfect arch of
c-cups stretch teasingly as if wanting to escape... they look firm and
enhanced to about 36 inches. A bolt of electric gratitude and excitement at this
woman's display of her body tugs at my entire nervous system... Her eyes
invite mine to see more.

As she elongated her body with the aide of the metal bar above her head she
moved her eyes downward to settle on those calves that presided over the
leather shine of the black high heels. I dutifully followed her gaze. She
propped herself up on her toes causing her calves to contract and shine with
the tightness of pure muscle thundering beneath her taut skin.

Diamonds can only cut diamonds I crazily though... and she was cut.

I took her display of muscle and self-confidence and turned them into a rare
opportunity afforded in daily life. I moved my gaze from (hungrily.. for she
lay her feast at my table with no reservations!) her calves up her legs. A
solid swoop of thigh that insinuates itself at the firm base of a rear which
is perfectly able to stop traffic and hearts at will... I moved my gaze
slightly forward and took in the insisting and assured v-shape of... DING!
"This is Third Avenue." - the driver announces that there are only three stops
left on this route... I hoped for more time exploring my new rock-hard friend
before she suddenly disappeared out the door of the bus and into the millions
of people in the city streets!

She moves toward the rear exit door of the bus.

(Don't go now! My head screams).

Her back to me now, I am quickly burning the images of this beautiful strong
woman's arms, back, ass and legs.

The bus moves on. She is still before my eyes. Hers are cat-like as she turns
her head to smirk at me! (More show for me....ow!) My desire is causing
literal pain in my chest and groin. I take her invite to take her body of hard
work in and I look. "You see?" she seems to speak, "I go to the gym to work
hard and make my body not only strong but desirable to look at. These
child-like mommies and secretar... oops. sorry, Executive Assistants can not
touch my amazingly strong body and determination.... and I notice men like you
too.. appreciative of what I have made myself and longing to brush your hands
against my steel-velvet body and ego"!

The hands grip the supports on either side of the exit door.. (my ears listen
for the bell that announces the next stop and possible fleeting departure of
my "friend")... I move my attention to her arm which are at right angles now
as they grip the side supports. With the rocking motion of the heavy bus her
bicep muscles perform contracted flexes in time. She looks unabashedly at her
power building up the blood increasingly at once sharpening and highlighting
the veins that pound her biceps into mighty sharp peaks. I am awed.

She flicks those eyes and cupid bow red lips at me again... Yes... I admit to
her in my head, now swimming with the possibilities that my imagination makes
as symbolized by continuing electric shock-waves punishing and pleasing my
senses. I want to touch ... feel your strength and willingness to let your ego
burst like mass of muscle through your tight dress...Please ... I want...

I smile big and ... DING! She's out the rear door and gone.