A Different Charlotte's Web
by Caprishus, Caprishus@aol.com
This Jackson is an irresistable force, not immovable object

	Caution: Scenes below contain descriptions of a sexual 
nature. If you are a minor or if this isn't your thing, bail out 
now and it's all good.



	The closed drapes and single headboard lamp gave the hotel 
room an evening feel even though it was around 1 p.m. Two naked 
bodies on their backs on the right double bed beneath the lamp 
were right in line with the scene upon first viewing.
	But, upon a longer glance, one would notice that the bodies 
weren't touching. There wasn't the visible hunger of pre-coitus 
usually associated with nice, functional hotel rooms such as 
these. Nor was there the affection of post-coitus. Instead, there 
was a palpable aura of animalistic energy.
	Closest to the nightstand was a big-haired black woman who 
was short, but exuded an inexorcable power from her overall 
thickness and voluptuousness. Her right hand meandered around her 
bush gently, yet with purpose.
	Next to her was a long, lean Caucasian man staring at the 
ceiling with an intense thoughtfulness. His hands were at his 
sides, his arousal partial.
	The woman gave a drawn out moan, which, as was the case with 
her sultrily slow, Southern-accented normal voice, came out as 
much a purr.
	"You're driving me crazy," said the woman, name of Charlotte 
Jackson. "You're naked...next to me...and I can't have you."
	That voice...sometimes, it was all she needed to melt Jeff 
Davis into her mantoy. It had been that way since they had met two 
months before. Now, though, he seemed to be fighting it, fighting 
her. He was. He knew the next words out of his mouth would decide 
the course of the afternoon.
	Jeff took a deep breath. This wasn't going to be easy.
	
	Jeff paced the fifth floor of the Howard Johnson's hotel 
while asking himself for the second time that minute and 50th time 
in the half hour what he was doing there. In Gap khakis, last 
year's Nikes and a Polo golf shirt hanging out of his pants, he 
appeared to be just a tired business traveler taking a break.
	Oh, he was taking a break all right. But he wasn't tired, 
nor was he a business traveler. He was waiting for Charlotte.
	Every few seconds, he wished Charlotte would pull a Godot. 
He really had no business being here, on the sixth floor of an 
Atlanta hotel room. A 35-minute drive away were his wife and three 
daughters, in various stages of their school day. His wife had 
done nothing to deserve him being here. So, her body wasn't the 
well-toned, inexhaustible sex machine it had been when they were 
first going out. Hey, three kids and 10 years of aging do that, 
especially when you aren't devoted to the gym. But her devotion to 
Jeff was unmatched.
	But if Jeff was his wife's long, deep, but gentle addiction, 
like marijuana, Charlotte was Jeff's crack.
	They had met one Happy Hour at Nat Turner's, a bar/club that 
mixed hip-hop with old school R&B and funk. Charlotte, as she 
often did, wore a long-sleeved blue pinstripe jacket-and-slacks 
suit that didn't completely hide the billowing curves on her 5-3 
body. She looked like someone who could stand to lose a few 
pounds.
	Up close, as she got to Jeff when she saw his shy, amused 
smile at a scene across the room, there was something else. 
Everything on her seemed, thick, voluptuous. Her body, her neck, 
her lips, her voice. She had a small nose for a southern black 
woman, Jeff noted, but eyes that seemed more like light brown 
headlights and lots of dark hair moussed into a small mane.
	Big eyes, big hair...big muscles.
	That's what Jeff discovered after they slipped down the 
street to the HoJo's with discretion. They still hadn't touched 
each other aside from some stray leaning of flanks on each other 
in the Nat Turner's crush. Jeff was not about to disrespect his 
wife with public displays of affection to another woman.
	Two steps into the hotel room, Charlotte kissed Jeff with a 
deep sensuousness that actually buckled his knees. She stepped 
back and unbuttoned her jacket. Then, she unfasted her pants in 
what appeared to be a sequence choreographed to lock Jeff's 
attention, even as he began to undress.
	The pants dropped, as did Jeff's jaw. Her thighs were 
humongous with sweeping quads and gargantuan hamstrings. The 
monstrous flare of her calf muscles created a diamond effect even 
from the front. No wonder she had worn loose slacks. She was a 
little thick-waisted, but any tight pants or jeans that would fit 
that waist would be destroyed once those legs began exerting 
themselves in anything but a casual manner.
	Stretched to its limit were a pair of lingerie hose, which 
went with the one piece spagetti strap lingerie top coming into 
view. The discarded jacket had been covering bulging biceps, 
mammoth triceps and a shoulder-upper back region carrying cakes of 
muscle that undulated under her caramel skin with every shrug.
	She stood proudly, confidently, displaying a body as 
obviously powerful as it was feminine with her globular breasts 
and broad hips. Jeff thought she looked like a black version of an 
offseason shape Christi Wolf, the heavyweight bodybuilder he had 
seen in magazines and on a tape he had hidden among his NASCAR 
race tapes. Later, he would learn Charlotte and Christi shared 
similar dimensions, 5-3, 160-165 pounds.
	"I work out a little bit," Charlotte purred.
	She moved toward him slowly, each leg bulging with each 
stride, her muscular torso rolling side to side. Jeff realized she 
wanted him to drink in her muscularity -- be turned on, but a 
little intimidated, too. It always made a sexual partner more 
malleable.
	They traded massages. Charlotte's strong hands and forearms 
made Jeff sigh with each stroke. When they reversed, his hands, 
big as they were, quickly ached from trying to massage her thick 
thighs and powerful back.
	Her sexual manner wasn't domineering. It was merely the 
aroused patient pouncings of a healthy female huntress.
	Charlotte rarely moved quickly. This had the effect of 
making what was actually a 20-minute encounter seem to last two 
hours. From the missionary position, she was gentle with her legs, 
seeming overly conscious of the great power at her command. On 
top, those hips ground back and forth, side to side, circularly 
with an amazing eroticism as Jeff caressed the horseshoe juttings 
of her triceps.
	And when he took her from behind, she used her amazing 
muscle control to control his muscle. With rhythmic flexing of her 
vagina and inner thighs,  Charlotte pulled Jeff to the most 
intense orgasm he had experienced since his honeymoon.
	It was 10 minutes before he could summon the strength to 
walk the three steps to the bathroom.

	The two months hence had seen them meet at Howard Johnson's 
several times a week, sometimes during lunch, sometimes during the 
late afternoon/early evening, always on the sixth floor. But, now, 
as Jeff paced the hall waiting for Charlotte, he wanted to try to 
break this habit. He almost hadn't called her that day, but he 
felt helplessly drawn to the phone, to her number, to this 
place...and to those muscles, their soft denseness, their latent 
energy.
	Well, Jeff thought, if I can't go cold turkey, I'll have to 
wean myself off of her.
	Just then, the elevator doors opened. Around the corner came 
Charlotte, dressed in long-sleeved yellow blouse and black slacks. 
With nobody else in the hall, they kissed and slipped over to 
their room, 630.
	Charlotte sat on the right double bed, pulling out the 
condoms they religiously used. Jeff went to the left double bed 
smiling shyly under Charlotte's steady gaze. He knew she 
appreciated his body, toned by the gym with little fat.
	"Look at you with your tight, sexy body," she drawled, 
drinking him in with those saucer eyes.
	Goodness, Jeff thought, with that face and that voice, she 
didn't need a body to get a man here.
	Jeff undressed. Charlotte stripped to the same lingerie she 
had worn on their first tryst.
	"Wait. We're going to do something different today."
	Charlotte, who had started to put her muscular arms around 
Jeff's neck, paused.
	"I want us to wrestle. Competitively. Here, on the bed."
	Charlotte stepped back. Again, there was the purring 
rumblings from her throat. She removed her lingerie top. Jeff 
pulled off her hose.
	They knealt on the bed. Jeff's right arm snapped out to snag 
her neck and pull it down. But his long arms were ineffective 
against her thick neck. Meanwhile, she grabbed his left arm and 
jerked him toward her. Now, they were in an embrace, his nicely 
muscled chest against her generous C-almost-D-cup breasts.
	For the first time, Jeff truly felt Charlotte's incredible 
strength. He tried to throw her down, but she almost wouldn't 
move. Then, with little effort, she hurled his 200 pounds to the 
same spot he had tried to throw her. She stayed pressed against 
his body as he jerked and thrusted to throw her off. She tried to 
grapevine his legs. Jeff kept extending them to prevent what he 
knew could be a leg-breaking hold.
	Still, he was all but pinned. She put her hands on his 
shoulders and leaned all that 160 pounds of womanmuscle on them. 
Now, he was pinned. He tapped her thighs to signal submission.
	Charlotte leaned back and reached for a condom. Jeff grabbed 
her wrist.
	"No. We're not going to have sex today."
	"We're just going to wrestle?"
	"Yes."
	She peered at him as if contemplating a Confederate flag 
sticker sharing a bumper with a "Pavorotti Rocks" sticker. But, 
she said, "OK."
	Again, they locked upper bodies. Jeff tried to go low to get 
more leverage, but Charlotte quickly shoved his head under her big 
left arm and locked it by grabbing one her bulbous right forearm 
with her left hand. Jeff could feel the feminine and firm meat of 
her bicep squeezing his head. He realized that she could crush his 
head if she wanted and he was powerless to stop her.
	Instead, she bulldogged him back so that he was on his 
stomach as she released the headlock to jump on his back. She got 
his head into a camel clutch while locking her thighs around his 
side. Helpless again, Jeff surrendered.
	Charlotte dismounted while taunting, "Are you going to put 
up a fight?" Charlotte taunted.
	"One as big as your butt," replied Jeff as he regained his 
knees.
	With that, Charlotte pounced at Jeff. This time, Jeff 
decided to use quickness and dodged her attack. Then, he came at 
her from behind in an attempt to get a full nelson.
	Even in the midst of this, Jeff couldn't help to be once 
again stunned by its breadth of Charlotte's back and the bulging 
masses of muscle bumping across it. Her lats were massive. He 
agreed with something he had read from bodybuilder Sue Ann McKean: 
the back has a very powerful personality with its mosaic of 
muscles and a strong back is sexy.
	Jeff snaked an arm under Charlotte's left armpit and onto 
that mighty neck. But with one burst of power, Charlotte threw 
off, rolled over and pinned him again. She rolled off.
	Jeff had felt her wetness. Like most physical women, 
physical people, exercise was something of an aphrodisiac for her. 
Now, as she moistened her fingers with her juices, he knew he 
might have to leave right now before her arousal overcame both of 
them.
	It was here that Charlotte said, "You're driving me crazy. 
You're naked...next to me...and I can't have you."
	Jeff was sweaty, tired already from the strainings against 
an manificently powerful opponent. Fatigue, he thought, not only 
makes cowards, it often makes fools.
	"Well, you've proved your body is much stronger than mine. 
Following the diet and regularly scheduled workouts that have 
given you such a physique require a very strong mind.
	"So, you have the stronger mind and the stronger body, but 
you want something I'm not willing to give."
	Charlotte nodded. She slowly turned to Jeff and placed her 
left hand on his stomach. She used it to brace herself and pin him 
as she threw her legs over his.
	She had reached the correct conclusion: she would have to 
take what he wouldn't give.
	Jeff's upper body jerked and he grabbed her shoulders. 
Charlotte grabbed his wrists. The pain was instantaneous. Even if 
he hadn't felt like his wrists were being pulverized, he doubted 
he could stop the omnipotent musclewoman in bed with him from 
pinning his wrists to the bed. Then, she put her knees on his 
shoulders, her feminine just inches from his face.
	"Kiss it," she demanded.
	Jeff hesitated. Charlotte leaned over for the condoms, 
presumably, Jeff thought, because she feels my erection near her 
back. But she opened the condom and with some deft use of fingers 
and fingernails, fashioned a sort of female condom to put on her 
bush.
	"Kiss it," Charlotte repeated, "or I'll will crush your head 
until you pass out. You'll have no hope of escape and no 
explanation of what you're doing in this hotel room naked with a 
condom on."
	She ran her hands over her thighs, as if needing to remind 
Jeff of their power, while tensing her robust triceps. Then, she 
did a double biceps flex. Jeff gulped and began to kiss her bush.
	"Yes, Jeff..." Charlotte cooed as she began humping his 
face. "You've played a very dangerous game. You are right, I'm 
stronger than you. And you don't tease a powerful woman. We 
destroy when angry. Ooo, yes, lick it, bathe in it..."
	Jeff suddenly hoped she pulled him out before she orgasmed 
and crushed him out with those titanic legs. In fact, she grabbed 
his head and yanked him up as she reclined with another condom in 
hand. Before Jeff could speak, his soldier was jacketed and he was 
all the way into Charlotte.
	"How does it feel to be with the spiderwoman?" Charlotte 
asked as her mammoth thighs constricted around Jeff's middle, 
causing him to gasp and swear he could hear something being 
stretched and torn from his ribs. "Or, is it the praying mantis?"
	The second of fear betrayed on Jeff's face hadn't gone 
unnoticed as Charlotte effortlessly muscled him in and out of the 
her again. She taunted, "I could just fuck you to death. It would 
be so easy for me. But, then, I couldn't have the fun of fucking 
you anymore..."
	With that, her entire body began undulating with the great 
power one usually associates with a wave coming from the ocean. 
Her tremendous arms crushed him to her chest. Jeff realized he was 
totally in her power, totally in her control. There was nothing he 
could do, physically or mentally to stop what was coming.
	Which was, of course, both of them.
	
	Jeff removed Charlotte's phone number from his memory. He 
skipped Nat Turner's happy hour and, in fact, Nat Turner's 
overall. He would occasionally meet his wife at Booker T.'s for 
lunch and, sometimes, afternoon delight. He even switched from the 
semi-hardcore gym to which he belonged to a Bally's. He took 
Interstate 75 straight home every night and called when he had the 
least delay.
	After all, Jeff reflected, crack is too addictive, too 
powerful, too dangerous to leave via any route except cold turkey.