Van, part 1



I love to hear his screams. His face scrunches up, eyes bulge in disbelief,
and his body quivers in complete ecstacy as I exhibit my control over him. I
feel a trickle of cum sliding down the striated crevices of my inner thighs
every time I think about what I do. 
My name is Van. I am 37 years old and a college professor. I teach dietetics
and physiology. I have studied the human body my entire life, and am very
proud of my own. I discovered my unique build at a very young age. 
As a child, I would always beat up the little boys and stand up for girls. I
never lost, and gained a reputation as a bully. When I got older, I figured
out I couldn't continue beating up boys if I was to get any dates, so I found
another outlet; I raped them. I don't always do it against their consent. I
mean, I am attractive and have no problem getting dates. Who wouldn't want a
5'7", 140 pound red head with measurements like 36-24-32? My body is my pride
and joy. It is hard as a rock and, if I may say so, overdeveloped. I love the
fact I can take my DD-cup sized breasts and make them dance by flexing my
chest muscles. 

Anyway, I can't help myself. My Ph.D. may reflect my intelligence, but it does
not reflect how animalistic I am, primordial even, when controlling men. 
I get wet thinking about it. 

I will never forget my first time. I was 12 and my neighbor was a 17 year old
jock. He had all the awards, including MVP of the high school football team
and winner of the local bench pressing competition. He benched 350lbs in the
200lbs weight class. 

I was just a little tomboy, playing touch football with the rest of the
neighborhood kids. I didn't do anything extraordinary that day, but he
wouldn't stop looking at me. To be frank, his stares made me feel
uncomfortable.

After the game he approached me. "What's your name, little lady?" he asked.
"Vanessa, but you can call me Van," I replied.

"Well, Vanessa, I'm John. I was impressed how good you are at football. Did
you know I play for the high school?" 

"Yes, I did." 

"And did you know I am a weightlifter?" 

"Yes, I figured that."

"Well, Van, I couldn't help but be impressed by the size of you legs. Do you
lift weights?" 

"No, I don't." 

He then snickered and told me to follow him. I did.  We ended up in his garage
where he had a full set of weights, bench and all. He told me to spot him
while he did a few reps. He told me he was going to bench 200lbs five times,
and if he started lift to slow, I would just need to grab the bar and give him
a little help. 

He pressed 4 solid times, but had trouble on the 5th. I believe he was faking
it, but it didn't matter. When I wrapped my hands around the bar to help him,
he let go. There I was, in total astonishment, holding a 200 pound bar by
myself! 

He sat up, turned around and told me he was very impressed. I dropped the
weights and proceeded to leave. I was embarrassed. I mean, I knew I was
strong, but I didn't want to be a freak. I had a bad enough reputation, and
just wanted to be desired as a woman. He told me to please come back. 
When I didn't, he grabbed me and threw me down onto the hard cement floor. He
jumped on top of me and said, "Now, let's see what those little preteen
muscles look like!" He ripped my shirt off. I was scared, but somewhat
invigorated. When he bent his head down to kiss my bulky arms I thrust him
upward, causing him to land on his own back. Not even realizing what I was
doing, I flipped over and screamed, "No, let's see your little muscles. I
ripped open his shirt to see a hard, buff, six-pack waiting for me to caress
it. 

It almost seems like a dream, a trance, but from my recollection I held his
hands above his head with one arm and watched him weep in terror as my hard,
yet to be developed preteen body grinded pelvis's with him until his screams
turned to horrendous moans and my tender young pussy had drenched both he and
I. 

That was my first encounter. I thank John for introducing me to weights. I
also thank John for showing me the savage lust that had resided in me for so
many years, but had not known of the sexual pleasure that comes with muscular
sex. 

The only thing that overrides my love for weights is my libido. Fortunately, I
have no problem finding a man when I need satisfaction. Now, if I could just
get them to not scream so much . . . .