Honeybun Pumps Iron Chapter 2
By Mr. Purple 



(comments to Mr.Purple357@gmail.com)

Contains incestuous relations between consenting adults (well sort of
consenting).

'Honeybun, I'm home,' I yelled as I walked into the house. It sure was
great being home every day before 6:00. I heard the familiar clink of weights
from the basement. Better still. I tossed off all my outer clothes and walked
downstairs in my tee shirt and boxers. My pulse was already picking up.

Usually, I'd workout with weights for about a half hour, then I'd spend the
rest of the time spotting Sue on the bench, measuring her muscles, massaging
and oiling her muscles, and having at least one or two explosive orgasms. My
life had become perfect.

Except it wasn't my wife lifting, it was my daughter. She had the bar loaded
with two 45 lbs plates and was rapidly raising it from the floor to her
shoulders than pressing it overhead. She repeated the move again and again so
fast it was almost a blur.

I looked down at my boxers. I had to get out of here now. Before I took a step
back, she spotted me. Still holding the bar overhead, she smiled and said,
"Hi, Daddy, come and watch me lift." This time she slowly lowered the bar to
the floor. Her biceps and delts bulged as she did. She came over and hugged me
to her. I gasped as the wind whooshed out of me. "I tested out of having to do
my last midterm so I came home early."

She stepped back, flexing her lats as she did. Her large breasts bounced up
and down in a sports bra way sheerer than anything Sue ever wore. Her nipples
and aureolae were almost completely visible. "That's great, Katie." I forced
my eyes back to her face. She hadn't seemed to have noticed I was in my
boxers. Hopefully, they'd pass as gym shorts. "I'll leave you to your
workout." I started for the stairs.

"No, stay," She grabbed me by the upper arm and effortlessly pulled me over to
the bench. "We can chat while I finish my workout." She added 10 lbs. plates
to each side of the bar and began lifting it again.

"Are you sure you should be doing so much weight? You could hurt yourself if
you drop it," I said, becoming mesmerized by how her triceps and shoulder
muscles rippled with each rep. Man, I had to get out of here.

"Don't be silly, I can clean and jerk 200 lbs for reps. I'm getting ready for
a crossfit contest next semester. I'm going to win." She loaded another 100
lbs. on, then turned the bar so her butt was facing me. She deadlifted it, her
taut butt and long silky smooth thighs bulged with each rep. Oh, god, I began
to get an erection. Had she intentionally turned the bar so her butt would
face me? No, that's ridiculous.

She kept talking about her workout, courses she was studying, and this
crossfit contest. I could barely pay attention as she went to the pullup bar
and started rapidly lifting herself up and down. On the twentieth rep, she
held herself with her upper arms at a perfect 90 degrees to the floor. Her
biceps swelled. They weren't as big as her mom's, but they popped more and
they looked like they were carved from stone. Every muscle in her arms and
shoulder stood out. Drool formed in my mouth.

She smiled at me. "I'm getting stronger than ever. Check this out." Still
holding the arm position, she extended her legs out. Her eight packs abs
tightened into a corrugated steel wall. Precum wet my boxers.

She dropped to the floor, "All I have left to do is some stretches." Standing
on her right leg, she lifted her left leg up beside her face and held it
there. Her tight short, shorts pulled up exposing her creamy inner thigh
almost to the edge of her crack.

I forced myself to look at her face. That may have been worse. My daughter is
beautiful, and I'm not saying that as a loving father. Katie is objectively
beautiful by anyone's standard. I can't even begin to list all the issues her
mom and I had since middle school because of it. She locked eyes with me,
whipped her long, honey blond hair, and winked at me.

Oh, God, I had a horrifying realization. She was doing this on purpose. I had
to get out of here before I shot my load right in front of her. I looked
around desperate for something I could hold over my shorts. I saw a magazine
on the floor. I'd grab it and run for the stairs no matter how bad it looked.

Before I could, she said, "Mom mentioned that you guys were wrestling." She
lowered the left leg and did the right. I forced my eyes to look just over her
shoulder.

"What? I mean what did she tell you?"

"Just that you two were wrestling for exercise."

"Oh, yeah, no biggie." I swept up the magazine with my foot and grabbed it.

"I want you to wrestle me."

"Are you nuts," I said. If I'd had false delusions that I might be able to
outwrestle my wife, I had none about my daughter. Katie had been taking
martial arts classes since she could toddle. "I'm an out of shape old man and
you're a fourth degree black belt crossfitting whatever."

"We're not going to really fight silly, just wrestle ... for exercise."

Go, go now. "No, that's enough, honey. I'm going upstairs. I'll see you at
dinner." I raced toward the stairs, before I got there, she stepped in front
of me. I tried to walk around her but she blocked me again.

She held out her hands, "If you want to get by daddy, all you have to do is
get past me."

This doesn't look good for Tom, maybe Honeybun will rescue him, but probably
not.