Once in lust with Amy
By Tableturner
The story of a fifteen year old former computer geek who turns the tables on her teacher, using her hardware on his software



When the winter retreat began, I was excited.  Heck, I was twenty four years
old, and I needed something that would be a break from my regular job as a
computer programmer.  Sure, the retreat was for kids who were into computers.
But it was a much more enjoyable experience for me to teach these bright and
eager 12 - 17 year olds, then to go into my office everyday.  For certain, a
week in Maine over winter break was just what I needed to break the monotony.
It was actually my third year on staff, having started my senior year in
college.  The kids were rather geeky and awkward of course, but nice enough.
And they knew their computers.   And I felt that the social aspects of the
week were incredibly important.  It was good for these basically non-athletic,
not popular kids, to be 'big' in their particular element. It was a neat thing
for which to volunteer, and a fun thing to be a part of.
The kids last year were kind of impressed with me, because they saw me as a
well rounded person.  Not only am I excellent in my field of computers, but I
also box.  Not pro mind you, but I have always been good with my fists.  At
least since starting lessons when I was twelve!  Anyway, the kids were kind of
thrilled that a computer geek could be a bit more physically adept than they
were used to seeing.  Some of them were even a bit inspired by me

When Amy Southerland walked into the dining hall to collect her name tag, I
didn't take much notice.  She wore a heavy, black trench coat to protect her
from the cold, and thick glasses that probably were the result of too much
time in front of the computer.  The truth is, she most likely would have gone
all week with out being noticed by me.  But when she asked me if I was still
boxing, I couldn't help but take notice of her.
"Excuse me?" I asked.
She laughed a little and asked me if I recognized her.  Truth be told, the
camp gets about two hundred kids per winter, and I had no idea who she was.
She informed me that I had met her when she was thirteen (two winters ago),
and in fact, inspired her to move beyond computers into more physical
endeavors.  
"Are you boxing?" I asked.
"No," she giggled. "But two years ago, I joined my gymnastics team at school,
and I also lift weights.  It's really because of you that I do it, Jason!  I'm
the best gymnast on the team!"
I was impressed that I had made enough of an impression on this young lady to
change her life. Then smiling, she reached out to shake my hand.  I smiled
back at her, and locked fingers.  Her grip was like iron.  She squeezed
tightly, hurting me ever so slightly and said, "I may be even stronger than
you!"  She moved on, laughing as she went.  But from that moment on, I would
notice Amy Southerland. 

Everywhere Amy went that first few days, she wore that trench coat.  Inside at
seminars, at lecture, at discussion.  Quite frankly, it bugged me. I wanted
her to take off that coat.  I kept imagining a super woman of sorts, and it
was oddly exciting to me.
That night, I had been working on my presentation, and missed dinner entirely.
The kids were in little groups, and I noticed a bigger group in the corner of
the dining hall.  I walked over, and there was Amy, still in that black trench
coat, arm wrestling some of the boys. She just wiped them out so completely,
that it was hurtful to them.  But she always was really sweet about it, saying
things said like 'good try' or 'maybe next time'.  She saw me watching and
said, "Want to give it a try, Jason?" 
"I don't want to hurt you, Miss Southerland," I replied.
The fact was, I didn't know if I could win.  I knew, as a twenty four year old
man, it could be awfully humiliating to lose to a fifteen year old girl.  I
mean, my skills at fisticuffs was one thing, but to lose a test of strength
would still be tough to swallow.  Like I said, I expected some type of super
woman.  She didn't have time to reply to my dismissal of her challenge, when
Frank Peters walked forward and said "I'll take you on, Amy".
Frank Peters was at least six feet two inches, and two hundred and twenty
pounds.  And while I was five eight and one hundred and sixty, Amy was only
about five five and one twenty, I would guess.  (Even under that trench coat.)
Frank was also not a computer geek.  He played football on his high school
team.  He was solid.  
Amy didn't look too confident, but she was game to his challenge.  Frank faced
her, and they locked hands.  
On 'go', Amy got the quick jump and pressed Frank half way down to the table.
He recovered, but couldn't move her up from the position, but she wasn't
moving him down either.  For about thirty seconds, they were locked in that
position.  No quarter was asked, none was given.  Then, Frank started to mount
an offense.  Thirty seconds later, Amy was down.  "Well," I thought, "She's
not super woman.  But if she handled Frank like that, well, she'd probably
beat me."
"Wow.  You're amazing Amy," said Frank.  
She laughed, ever the good sport.  "Maybe I'll get you next year, Frank."
She turned to me, and challenged me again.  I declined.  I could see the
twinkle of her eyes behind those thick glasses.  She announced to the watching
group that it was me who made her into a more physically minded person.
"Sometimes," she continued, "I'm shocked at what I can do now!"

When I went to bed that night, I kept seeing her face.  For some reason that I
could not fathom, I really wanted to see if she was stronger than me.  I knew
in an all out fight, I'd win of course.  But in a wrestling match, or in an
arm wrestling match?  I didn't know.  And I needed to!  I just needed to know
if I was stronger.  I dreamt of her in that trench coat that night.  I wanted
to see the body under it.  I wanted to have the body under it. 

The next day, every time Amy walked by me, she gave me a friendly hello.  But
all I could think of was that I had the chance to arm wrestle her, and I
turned her down.  My luck changed when I saw her all alone in the study room.
She invited me over with some computer questions.  Then, she made one more
challenge.
"Okay Amy, let's do it," I said, a smile on my face, a little fear in my
heart.
She pushed aside her work and put her hand up.  
We locked hands.  
I said, "Ready, set, go."
And we froze at center.  
"Wow, I'm impressed Jason," she said.  Then she pushed hard.  But I didn't
move.
"You should be," I smiled.  I pushed hard too, and I started to make head way.
	
She looked a little surprised, and suddenly, she began to really bear down.  I
could see the muscle underneath her coat begin to bulge with the effort.
Slowly, my strength began to fade, as hers increased.  Then, as suddenly as it
began, it was over.  I had lost.  She stood up and said "Good job, Jason".
And reached out her hand.
I don't know what happened to me, but I lost my humor.  I pushed her hand
aside and said, "Forget it."  I started out.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Jason," Amy said.  "There's no need to be a sore loser
about it."
I stopped and faced her.
"I'll be honest with you," she went on, "I have been training for the chance
to beat you.  I just thought it would be so cool to do that.  There's no need
to be ashamed, or hurt.  You really did inspire me."
I walked over to her and held out my hand.  When she took it, I squeezed hard.
"Ow!  What are you doing?" she exclaimed.
"You beat me in an arm wrestle, it doesn't mean you're stronger than me," I
said.
I was so angry.  I didn't know why, but I knew that I wasn't going to give
this young girl the upper hand.  Amy was physically hurt by the ferocity of my
grip, and I clamped down on her harder still.  She let out a yell, and dropped
to her knees.  
With her left hand, she reached for my chest.  I tightened my grip and she
instead grabbed at my hand, attempting to peel it off.  I rubbed her knuckles
together, saying, "Hand's off!."
She did what I said. 
"Please let me go," she asked.
"Nope," I answered.  
"Please.  Why are you doing this, Jason?"
"To prove that I can kick your butt," I said.
I felt her try to squeeze me back, but I had the leverage at this point.
"Trying to squeeze me back?  The only way you're getting out of this is if you
cry for me."
She looked at me, disbelief and hurt in her eyes, and I tightened my squeeze.
Rather disappointingly quickly, she cried.
"Louder please."
She sobbed for me to release her.  But I couldn't.  I needed to dominate and
humiliate this little girl who thought she was so tough.  I pulled her hand
out in front of her and put her on her stomach.  I twisted her arm behind her,
and sat on her back.  
"You want to screw me, Amy?"
"No," she said, begging.
I put my mouth up to her ear, and licked it.  She pleaded for mercy, but I
couldn't give it.
I turned her around and sat on her stomach, still maintaining a grip like a
vise.
"I-I'm sorry.  Please, I-I'm so sorry."
I don't know what possessed me to do this next thing.  But I leaned down and
kissed her.  She begged me to stop, but I didn't want to, so I kissed her
again.  I had all the power, and was loving it.
I took off her glasses.  She had beautiful eyes, and a lovely face.
"Not as strong as you thought, huh?" I mocked.
"L-look Jason.  I-I-I never meant to embarrass you. I'm sorry.  My hand^E" her
voice trailed off.  
I kissed her again.  I polked my other hand through her trench coat, and
slipped it under her shirt.  I was stunned by the muscular feel of her
stomach.  I felt that six pack.  I wanted her, and now.  
It was when she felt my hand caress her, that she reached her legs up, and
wrapped my waist.  Instinctively, she squeezed me so hard, that I let go of
her hand.
She pleaded again, "Please let me go, Jason."
I couldn't answer her as there was no breath coming to my lips.
"Please," she continued, "let me up!"
But I couldn't answer her.  My ribs!  Suddenly, she noticed this.
"Jason?"  she giggled.  "Hello?"
I pushed with all my might at her thighs, but couldn't move her.
She laughed.  "My, oh my, it appears the tables have been turned."
Now I hadn't wanted to do this, but I realized that it had come down to my
having to use my boxing skills against her.  I raised my right fist up.
"Oh no you don't," she said, as she squeezed me even tighter.
My hands opened, and she grabbed my knuckles in her strong hands.  Her right
hand was hurting from my punishment, but her left started to crush me.
"Amy!"  I gasped.
She let me go with her legs, and started to try to turn me over into a school
boy pin.  But in letting me go with her legs, she had made a mistake.  I
pulled my hand free, and we struggled for the superior position, as I started
to get the leverage on her.  I had her on her back, with her wrists in my
hands, and began to force those hands down to the ground.
"No way," she said, determination and grit dripping from her lips.
Slowly she began to turn me over onto my back.  She slid her wrists out of my
grasp, and grabbed my wrists.  She pushed my arms to the ground.
"I win," she said, breathing hard.
She slid up to my face, and put her knees on my hands.  Then she took off her
trench coat.  She wore a long sleeve turtle neck, but I could see her arms
underneath.  They were not huge, but slender, and they were pure muscle.  
"You want a piece of me?  Why don't you take it?" she asked, as she playfully
started to flex her muscles in front of  my face, making her shirt rise.  They
peaked beautifully, as did the member in my pants.  She felt this, and brought
her elbow down on my nuts.
"Gross!"  she shouted.
I cried out in pain, and made every attempt to throw her off of me, but she
grabbed my hands and began squeezing the knuckles together, as I had done to
her.
"Stop^E" I begged.
She whispered in my ear, "Cry first."
I tried to buck her off of me, but she simply squeezed harder.  She grinded my
knuckles, and I begged her to stop.
"Why should I?  You were going to rape me!" she said indignantly.  "Maybe I'll
rape you!"
This was too much for me to deal with, as I tried every bit of my strength to
get out from under her control.  No way was I going to let this happen.
Suddenly, she put her lips onto my mouth, and forced her tongue inside of me.
"Cut it out!" I demanded.
"Stop me", she laughed, as she did it again.
"Please don't do this to me," I said, my tone changing.  I wanted to punch at
her, use my skills, but I couldn't move my hands.
"I can see why you liked this, Jason.  It's invigorating."
She started to move her hips on me.  I saw on her face that she was stunned by
what she was doing, but wanted more of it.
"What are you--" 
"Shhh!" she answered as she started to squeeze my hands even harder.
I couldn't believe it.  She was masturbating on me.  I was furious.
"Cut it out, Amy!  Amy!"
She clamped my hands down hard.  I let out a weak moan as I began to have
tears fill my eyes.
"Amy.  Amy, I'm crying for you.  Please stop using me like this.  Please."  I
was sobbing now, and she looked at me and smiled.  
Then, she violently slid off of me, pulled me into a sitting position, and
wrapped her legs around my waste.  She squeezed hard, as she forced me back
down, my back arched over her legs, which now sat underneath me.  She began to
sway and ride me. Her body would shudder with each orgasm, causing me even
more pain.  I would beg her to release me, thinking she had enough pleasure.
But she wouldn't, she kept going and going.  I was sobbing the whole time.
She would look at me, sometimes caress my face sweetly, and other times, look
right through me.  The last time, she just slapped my face, and said, "Shut up
already!"  Then she kissed me and had what must have been her best one,
because I almost passed out from her thighs.
When she finally released me, she pushed me over onto my face, and stood up.  
"What made you so cruel, Amy?  I wouldn't have gone that far on you!" I said
through my tears.
"Maybe, maybe not," she replied. "But anything you would have done would have
been too far."
"You're lucky I didn't have my hands free," I retorted.  "I would have taught
you a lesson today."
She laughed.  "Well, the week is young.  You know where my room is.  Come on
by tomorrow night, and you can try again."
My jaw dropped.  I couldn't believe that she would say this to me.  
"I'll be there," I said.
She walked up to me, and I cowered.
"I'm so frightened.  Eeek."
And off she went.  But this wasn't over.  Not by a long shot.