More about The Neighbor Lady
by Rich Carson
I couldn't believe it when I read Cris Leyven's story.

I'm not much of a writer, but I had to write this.  I've been 
thinking about it my whole life.  I found The Valkyrie web site 
about four months ago, and have been slowly reading through the 
stories.  I've also visited a lot of other web sites through 
Diana's links.  This has really opened up a whole new world for 
me.  I never had much interest in muscular women until I was 16 
(more on that later).  Until now, I would only just stare a 
little longer than I should when I saw an athletic female.  I 
was kind of embarrassed, and thought I was the only one who 
found muscles on women sexy.  I guess I know different now!
 
So, as I was reading through the Miscellaneous #7  Bookshelf on 
Diana's site, I was blown away to find a story about my 
neighbor, and that I was mentioned in it (at least I'm pretty 
sure it was me).  It was "The Neighbor Lady", by Cris Leyven. I 
must have read it about 20 times by now!  No, I'm not the 
beautiful athletic woman next door.  I'm one of the other 
neighbor boys who would drool over her, and jack off constantly 
when I saw her hard body outside my bedroom.  I'm the guy Cris 
calls "Rich Carson" in his story (not my real name, but I'll use 
it here.....the same goes for "Cynthia Sanders".  Cris was 
right, even though it isn't her real name, I knew EXACTLY who he 
was talking about in his story).  I will start out by saying 
this, my folks still live in the same house now as they did when 
this (these) stories take place, and so does Mrs. Sanders.  
Although Mrs. "Sanders" was just awesome 20 years ago (and quite 
a bit after), I am afraid to say that today....well let me just 
say she is a nice woman, but that time, and her lack of 
attention to her body, have taken their toll.  So, if anyone 
were to track her down as Cris fears, I think they would be very 
disappointed by what they saw, if you expect to see the woman 
described in mine or Cris' story.

I also want to say that everything written here is totally true, 
and most probably so is everything in Cris' story.  Whatever.  
Believe what you want.  I still find some of it difficult to 
believe myself.  But it did happen, and it also changed the way 
I looked at women forever.  Mrs. Sanders was not only special 
because she had muscles, but she seemed to know that's what a 
lot of men found attractive, even if THEY didn't know it.  Maybe 
she just figured out basic human instinct early on: that it is 
our primal desire to find the strongest body to carry our seed 
and ensure the survival of our line.  Maybe she figured out that 
even men, on their most basic level, find muscular women 
sexually desirable because of that.  No matter how much they 
might protest otherwise.

What did Cynthia Sanders looked like?  I guess the best 
description I could find for her body would be to compare her to 
another female body builder whose pictures I saw on another 
site: Collette Guimond.  Perhaps not as muscular in her upper 
body, but Cynthia's legs and buttocks are almost a perfect match 
to Collette's.  Cynthia's hair was straight and black, and her 
face was soft and feminine.  Perhaps like Wonder Woman (Linda 
Carter) who had been given a compact, muscular body.  She was as 
beautiful as Cris describes her.

I remember the Sanders family moved in next door October 1980.  
Although Cyn was polite to Cris' mom (she really was uptight, 
that lady.  I'm sure she thought Mrs. Sanders was the devil 
incarnate the way she flaunted her body around the neighborhood.  
And the way her son couldn't help but jack off when ever he saw 
her!), Cyn became very good friends with my mom.  It was cold 
for months, and I never had a chance to see her body.  I did 
form an opinion when I first met her, though.  I actually 
thought she was kind of fat, especially her butt.  I remember 
thinking in that cruel kid way that "Jeeze, the new neighbor 
lady sure has a big, fat butt."  I actually felt a little sorry 
for her husband, because his wife was still pretty young and 
already she was getting fat.

The only time I thought a bit different was when I snuck home 
from school one day in January to dip into my stash (of 
pot...OK, I was not the nice boy Cris was...I was a stoner).  I 
guess Cris had the idea that Mrs. Sanders never lifted weights 
because he never SAW her lifting weights.  I did that day.  I 
remember sneaking out into the bushes next to my house to toke 
up, when I heard some weird sounds  (a womans voice groaning and 
straining) coming from the Sanders' garage.  I snuck over to 
their garage window and peaked inside. I  was just floored when 
I saw our new neighbor lady lifting weights! 
 
It was cold out, so she was wearing a sweatshirt with the 
sleeves cut off at the elbows, and sweatpants cut off just above 
the calves, clam digger style. I couldn't see what her body 
looked like.  Her back was to me as she did some dumbbell curls.  
The weights were like something out of a Sears catalog....those 
ones with the plastic gold outsides.  A bench with a red vinyl 
covering was in front of her.  The bar on the bench uprights had 
what looked like a bunch of weight on it.  I remember noticing 
her big calves, and thinking "I guess since she's fat, it's 
right that she could lift a lot of weight. Kind of a bigger, 
strong woman.   Like Hoss Cartwright on the show "Bonanza" was a 
bigger, strong man."  When I returned home from school later 
that day, I glanced in her now open garage from my bike.  The 
weight set and bench were neatly covered by an old army green 
tarp.  I guess that's why Cris never noticed her lifting 
weights....because he never skipped school to catch Cynthia's 
afternoon workout!

Of course I never told anyone what I had seen.  So, for a while 
longer I just knew Mrs. Sanders as the friendly, kind of fat 
(and now strong) lady next door.  Things started to change soon 
after.  I remember very clearly that it was just before Spring 
Break (1981) when her and her husband dropped off the kids at 
some relative's house and went to Mexico for a beach vacation.  
I was put in charge of taking in the mail every day, feeding the 
cat, and all that.  I got kind of curious about the weights, and 
carefully uncovered Mrs. Sander's weight set.  I noticed the 
dumbbells and grasped the handles.  I could BARELY pick up the 
dumbbells I had seen her  so effortlessly curl that one day.  In 
fact, I could BARELY do ONE curl with ONE dumbbell using BOTH 
arms.  Now granted, I was kind of a thin stoner kid, but it 
still made me think how strong she was.  I could still deal with 
this, though.  I knew I was not that strong.  Besides, Mrs. 
Sanders was fat.  It was OK for her to be stronger because of 
that.  A big, fat, strong lady.

When they got back, I went over to collect the money they had 
promised me for the chore.  Even though she was wearing some 
blue slacks and a baggy white blouse, I noticed Mrs. Sanders had 
a nice tan.  That even for a "bigger" lady, she had a pretty 
face with pretty blue eyes that sparkled against her tanned 
skin.  Even still, in my mind, she was still older, she was 
still a mom, and she was still fat.

A week later it was my Spring Break.  I couldn't wait to get to 
the beach, smoke some ganga, surf, and check out the bikinis.  I 
had a crush on this girl, Traci.  Maybe she would be at the 
beach and I would hook up.  I made plans with my friends to meet 
Saturday morning to drive to Jacksonville Beach.  We had a half 
school day on Friday, and I raced home. It was sunny and hot.  
My brother and parents were still out of the house, so I fired 
up a bowl to celebrate the week's freedom.   I then jumped on my 
BMX bike and headed for the corner strip mall fully intent on 
stealing a few candy bars at the big grocery store there (a 
regular pastime) to quell the munchies.  I parked my bike and 
dived into the air conditioned grocery store.  I was casually 
walking the aisles to locate the store narc when I saw 
her....when I saw Mrs. Sanders.

It was the first time I had seen her expose more of herself than 
ankles, forearms, and face.  She was exposing A LOT more, and 
she was totally tanned from her Mexico trip!   It wasn't her tan 
that forced me to stare at her.  I wasn't sure what it was at 
first, so I stayed concealed behind one of those wire potato 
chip displays at the end of the aisle, and watched.  I remember 
everything like it was yesterday as I hid behind that wire rack, 
looking at her, trying to figure out what was possessing me to 
do what I was doing.  Everything mattered.  The Muzak version of 
Elton John's "Yellow Brick Road", the smell of the grocery store 
pine cleaner, the cold AC surrounding my thin sweaty body.  It 
is a moment I have relived by my self many, many times.

Yes, Mrs. Sanders was showing more of her body than I every 
thought she would.  Except for the short, loose sleeves, 
Cynthia's v-necked top fit her torso like a glove.  And her blue 
shorts were so short and tight, they may as well have been air 
brushed on. Of course she wore clogs.  Slowly it hit me. My pot 
slogged brain began to realize that Mrs. Sanders was not 
fat....not fat at all.  She was solid muscle!!

Only then did my brain began to come to terms with the fact that 
I had been wrong about her.  Mrs. Sanders was not fat.  Mrs. 
Sanders was muscular!  It grossed me out for a few minutes....I 
have to admit.  Kind of like the feeling I got when I saw a 
scene in the movie "Altered States", when William Hurt's arm 
starts to bulge uncontrollably before he turns in to an ape-man.  
But the more I watched Mrs. Sanders' muscles, the less I was 
able to turn away.  Something about their shape and liveliness 
hypnotized me.  Something about the obvious physical power her 
bulging body had...and that mine so desperately lacked.  I tried 
to come up with some reasons to accept her body without getting 
excited.  Every perverse thought entered my brain, and every one 
I dismissed.  My only conclusion was that I was watching a woman 
with muscles, big shapely muscles.  And she was dressed in some 
of the smallest, tightest summer clothing I had ever seen.  Even 
more provocative than the sexiest girls at my school wore.  I 
was in a trance....

I stared at the backside I had confidently thought was too fat.  
Oh, I had been so very wrong about her.  The EXTREMELY small 
shorts hugged every muscular curve of that beautiful ass.  Only 
when it reached the dented sides of her gluteus maximus, did the 
material not contact her body.  Instead it bunched up and 
creased, stretching across to her enormous quads.  She stopped 
to reach up for something on an upper shelf, and her top 
exploded, revealing muscles on her back and shoulders.  Muscles 
I never thought ANYONE could ever have.  Mrs. Sanders briefly 
rose up on her toes and her calves flexed like I have never seen 
before or since.  They were HUGE.  I wondered if this wasn't 
some sort of weird hallucination brought on by smoking too much 
pot.  I hadn't even noticed the boner bunching up in my surfing 
baggies and brushing against a bag of potato chips.

I watched her biceps poke out as she loaded her basket with 
another item.  The lump seemed to stick up more and more with 
each thing she collected. She slowly walked towards me, looking 
back and forth at the groceries. I could hear her clogs knocking 
quietly against the floor.  I was amazed at what I 
saw...absolutely amazed.  Cynthia's tanned thighs just HEAVED 
with muscularity. They looked like two wild beasts barely under 
the control of their mistress, leaping around beneath her skin 
with each step.  I guess it finally hit home how muscular she 
was when she stopped next to a man.  

He was about a head taller than Cyn, perhaps 6' 1", and was 
dressed to go running in a tank top and orange nylon shorts.  He 
was in pretty good shape, and his legs were lean and strong from 
obvious running.  His arms had some bulges, either naturally or 
from the gym.  But then Mrs. Sanders stopped next to him on the 
other side of the aisle.  They had their backs to each other, 
and I began comparing their bodies.  It was no exaggeration to 
say that it would have taken two of this man's thighs to equal 
one of Cynthia's.  And her arms!  Her arms were easily as big 
around as his, and certainly harder....more defined.  In fact 
all of her body bulged and rippled in a way which left no doubt 
in my mind that Mrs. Sanders would easily win in a wrestling 
match...or in any other contest of strength!  My god!!

I saw the man turn and notice my neighbor.  Her back was still 
to him.  He took a long hard look at her tanned, massively 
muscled legs, and her large shapely ass.  Only when Cynthia 
turned to move did he quickly look away. Then he turned and 
stared again as she flexed her body down the aisle away from 
him. His lips parted slightly, and he began shaking his head in 
awe and disbelief.  Then he saw me looking at him through the 
potato chip bags, turned away with that "busted" look on his 
face.  

For the first time my fogged mind connected to my body, and I 
noticed my erect excitement.  Cynthia's magnificent body was 
rapidly approaching the end of the aisle, and I would be 
discovered.  I reached in my pocket, took my hard dick and held 
it flat against my stomach.  Just before I deserted my view 
point, I glanced at the man in the orange shorts.  He was again 
hypnotized by Cyn's exposed, tanned physique, and holding his 
grocery basket against his crotch.  Also concealing a boner, no 
doubt.

I ducked to the next aisle, and squat on my haunches in the 
salad dressing section, mostly so I didn't have to stand up and 
embarrass myself!  My heart was thumping rapidly as I heard Mrs. 
Sanders' clogs round the corner.  I prayed she wouldn't see me.  
My brain was so saturated with hormones and pot, I didn't know 
which end was up.  I was still wondering if Mrs. Sanders' 
hulking, golden muscles and teeny outfit were not part of some 
freaky hallucination.  I was so self absorbed in thought, I 
didn't even hear her call my name the first time.

"Rich....... Rich Carson." (there was no question in her 
tone...she knew it was me) "What are you doing here at the A&P?"  

She had stopped, put her basket down, and squat beside me at an 
uncomfortably close distance.  I could even feel the flattened 
bulk of her thigh barely brushing the hairs on my relatively 
spindly legs.  Her shoulder was pressing against mine, almost 
causing me to loose my balance. Instinctively I looked in that 
direction first....down at her muscular thighs and then at the 
bottom part of her now  revealed tanned ass.  Quickly I looked 
back at her.  I had this uneasy feeling she knew that I had just 
been spying on her.  And that she knew about the embarrassing 
secret that was cramped in my shorts...the uncontrollable hard 
on, erected in honor of her teeny weeny outfit and hulking 
muscles.

"Ummmm, hi Mrs. Sanders.  I'm just picking out some salad 
dressing for my mom, but I can't remember what kind she wants."  
Not a bad story, but as a stoner I was used to spinning a tale 
under pressure.

"So you rode your bike here?"  She didn't wait for me to answer 
and cupped my partly exposed thigh with her almost large, veiny 
hands.  "Not bad." she exclaimed as she gave it a gentle 
squeeze.  "But these noodles need some work...." and she reached 
up and flattened my puny upper arm (I was wearing a tank top) 
between her thumb and fore finger.

I looked at her well developed biceps, and then to her 
confidently grinning back at me.  I guessed she had manipulated 
exactly the response she was hoping for.  The guy in the orange 
shorts passed us, and glared down jealously at me.  Then Cyn 
simultaneously extended one leg and the opposite arm in a sort 
of fencer's lunge.  She reached across me for a bottle of salad 
dressing saying something like "Oh here's the one I like."  Her 
thigh pressed against mine, and I felt her straight, wiry black 
hair drop into my lap.  Her perfume is a smell I will never 
forget.  Her ropey shoulder muscles were almost under my chin.  
Their size made me feel very, very small.  She handed me the 
bottle, smiled, stood up and said "Good luck." 

 Her shorts had climbed up her ass and were stuck there.  I 
looked at her.  I could see where the now naked ass muscle made 
a dent in the side of her body.  She passed the basket into the 
hand nearest me and curled it up, making her biceps pop out 
vigorously.  Time stood still.  I'm not sure how long I stared 
at her strong sexy body....nearly naked and towering over me.  
The bulk of her thighs and ass appeared to take on even larger 
proportions at this angle.  Mrs. Sanders' apple sized biceps 
muscle was sticking up, hard and shiny.  Finally she turned and 
walked away, pulling down the backs of her shorts as she did.

I couldn't move, and I desperately pinched back an orgasm. 
Putting the bottle of dressing back, I gently stood up and moved 
my boner against me.  I rushed out the door to my bike and took 
off as fast as my little legs would carry me, crouched over to 
hide my hard dick.  I found my self in the woods nearby, at one 
of my favorite toking spots.  I urgently  peeled open the velcro 
fly of my surf baggies, whipped out my incredibly hard cock, and 
kneeled in some tall bushes out of sight.

"Mrs Sanders' body was not fat....Mrs Sanders' body was 
muscular!  Mrs Sanders showed off her body with tight little 
outfits!  She wanted everyone to SEE her muscles!!",  I thought 
as I desperately gripped my swollen cock.  After only about two 
strokes I came like crazy, my jizm spurting and splashing all 
over the leaves.   The orgasm seemed to go on forever.  Oh my 
god it was such an incredible release!  One like I had never 
experienced before.

With the need met, my cock finally subsided for the first time 
in about half an hour.  I put everything back in my shorts and 
lay in the bushes, stoned and cum drunk.  I no longer wanted to 
go to the beach with my friends.  I no longer cared if Traci was 
there...or anywhere!  I wanted to stay home and be next door to 
Mrs. Sanders and her beautiful, tanned, powerful.....muscles!!  
That was a day I would NEVER forget.

The months and probably years that followed I was totally insane 
about checking out Mrs. Sanders body.  I can still remember the 
feel and smell of my dad's old rifle scope.  Soon after I saw 
her in the A&P, I had stole it from his closet to spy on my 
barely clothed, very sexual, very muscular neighbor lady.  I can 
remember like it was yesterday, moving the sight retical to 
different parts of her thighs or ass or arms, or even her small 
"handful" titties.  Of course, every time, stroking my hard cock 
and cumming like crazy into one of my socks as I spied on her 
from my bedroom window.  Cynthia was truly amazing.  I 
desperately wanted to impress her, and started doing pushups to 
improve my "noodles".  I was a lust filled school boy, and 
sought every opportunity to let her know I was working out.  
Each time she smiled patiently, and listened to my bragging. 

Of course I wasn't the only one.  My older brother and even my 
dad had to put their tongues back in their mouths when ever Cyn 
passed by.  It was certainly no secret when my brother 
constantly jerked off to Mrs. Sanders in his room next to mine.  
I always thought my 54 year old dad was "above" that sort of 
thing.  That is until one day.   I was skipping class again 
after lunch, hoping to try to catch Cyn at her weights, and burn 
a bowl of ganga.  Masturbating to Mrs. Sanders' rippling body 
while I was stoned had become to me like shooting up was to a 
heroine addict.  

Suddenly the howl of a lawn mower broke the silence. I peered 
out my partly opened window...Oh Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!  She 
was out slaving in the lawn again, pushing the mower through her 
front yard!  I couldn't tell if her green bikini top was the top 
part of a swim suit or a sexy bra!  Simultaneously I grabbed the 
rifle scope, picked up a sock, and whipped out my already stiff 
cock.  I was dashing from room to room for the best view when I 
heard my dad's car pull up in the drive.  Damn!  I put my boner 
away, ran and hid in my room.  I heard Cynthia's voice drift 
across the yard.  I looked out and she was talking to my dad, 
who had bypassed going inside.

Cynthia had been mowing the lawn dressed in nothing but her itty 
bitty shorts, clogs, and the "bikini top".  The mower was shut 
off beside her, the twang of it's motor still hung in the air 
with the smell of fresh cut grass.  I carefully looked through 
the rifle scope.  I could see the sweat beading up on the mounds 
of her hard flat stomach.  The mounds were tanned muscle, like 
everything else on her body. Instinctively my shorts were again 
down around my knees and my boner was in a sock and in my hand.  
My heavy heartbeat moved the scope up and down with each "ka-
thunk".  I slowly stroked my erection, savoring every second.  I 
could almost make out what they were saying with the bits of 
conversation I could hear and their gestures:

Dad (making a motion as if he were curling a dumbbell): "So, 
you've been lifting weights?"
Cyn:  "Oh yes.  Every weekday now for years."
Dad:  "Well you sure have an athletic build, Cyn."
Cyn:  "Oh, I'm sure my legs would be fat if I didn't lift"  Cyn 
looks at my dad.  

My dad looks at Cyn's legs for probably longer than he should.  
I could see the lingering glance, and it made me a bit angry at 
first, since my dad isn't supposed to do that. He's married to 
my mom.  And besides dad's are supposed to have a strong will 
power.  Let me add that my dad was no scrawny bookworm like 
Cris' dad.  He played football in college.  He was pretty 
athletic.  But I saw the unsettled look he gave Cyn's sexy legs, 
and it didn't stop there....

Cyn:  "But now I have very strong thighs.  Here Toby, feel 
them."  She pulled up what little material was covering her 
massive upper thigh, and ohmygod flexed.  Her muscles bunched up 
into tight knots.  My dad reached down, squeezed, and quickly 
removed his hand as if it felt too good.  Or maybe it just 
surprised him how hard she really was.  I don't know.  It was 
almost as if her legs had shocked him.

Dad:  "You certainly do have strong legs!"
Cyn:  "My rear is pretty hard too...."  and she points to it, 
steps back, and squeezes the shapely mass taut.
Dad: (clearing his throat nervously) "I'm sure it is, Cynthia" 
Cyn:  "Well, here, Toby.  Don't you want to feel it?"
Dad:  "I'm not sure that's really appropriate....."
Cyn:  "Oh jeeze, Toby.  We're friends, it's nothing."  Before my 
dad can pull away, Mrs. Sanders grabbed his wrist and placed 
Dad's hand squarely on the peak of her ass and held it there for 
a second or three.  I'm not sure if Dad could have pulled away 
if he wanted to!
Dad:  "Yes, it feels very hard too."
Cyn:  "Well, you don't look like your in such bad shape there, 
Toby.  Here, make a muscle for me."  Dad pushed back the sleeve 
on his shirt, and flexed his biceps.  It was a pretty good 
size....but I looked over at Cynthia's arms.  Her biceps were 
most surely larger.  

She then took Dad's biceps between her thumb and fingers as if 
to test it.  She felt it for a second and then slowly squashed 
it nearly flat like an over ripe grape.  That just blew me away, 
and my cock was now harder than ever!!  Cyn then flexed HER 
biceps.  The thing popped up so high it was almost scary.  My 
rifle scope was fixed on Mrs. Sanders' freakish bulge, and I saw 
Dad reach over to feel it.  I know he was trying to flatten it 
to get revenge for what she did to his biceps.....he tried for 
what must have been 10 or 15 seconds!  It was no use......he 
couldn't even make a dent in it!!  Mrs. Sanders just smiled 
defiantly as she held the flex after he pulled his hand away.  A 
look came over my dad's face that I will NEVER forget.

The sight of my dad fruitlessly trying to dent Mrs. Sanders hard 
muscle got me so excited I came like crazy.  It took every ounce 
of will power I had not to scream Cynthia's name at the top of 
my lungs as waves of cum spewed into my sock.  When I looked up, 
my dad was pointing at his watch....making some excuse to leave.  
I heard him open the front door  and literally run into his room 
and start rummaging in his closet like a madman.  He was 
muttering loudly to himself in words I thought would never exit 
his mouth:

"Where in the FUCK is that scope???  GODDAMMIT!!  Where IS that 
fucking SCOPE?"  I then heard him rush into Joel's room.  "OK, 
Joel, where are your fucking binoculars?" he muttered "WHERE IN 
THE FUCK ARE YOUR BINOCULARS?  Oh, there they are.  Thank 
GOD...."

He ran back to his room and slammed the door.  Meanwhile Mrs. 
Sanders had started up the mower again, and was working on the 
piece of lawn next to our house.....dressed in her teeny tiny 
outfit.  Cynthia's tight ass muscled its way around in those 
little shorts that hid not one motion.  It was almost 
frightening watching her back and arms bubble up when she pushed 
the mower up to change directions.  Her amazing, hard body just 
flexed and flexed and flexed as she pushed the mower around.  I 
was watching her through my scope again, and my dick was getting 
harder and harder.  I knew Dad was watching her too.  How could 
I not know?  I could hear him through three walls, masturbating 
in biblical proportions...........

Oh MY god......oh MY GAWD!  Oh 
CYNthia....Ohhhhh....OHHHHH....sssssIN-the-
AHHH...Unnggggahhh...UNNNNNgggaahhh!!!....your 
BODIEEEE....OHHHHhhhhuhhh....you muscular BITCH you!!.....you're 
SOOOO strong...sooo VERY strong...oh CYNthia... SEXY 
CYNthia!!!.....

He was really going at it, the sound of Cynthia's lawnmower 
mixed with his noise...his masturbation noise praising Cyn's 
muscular body.  Something was pounding like crazy against the 
wall.....his head, the bed posts, or something.... and the whole 
house was shaking.  Shit was even vibrating in my room.  I was 
watching the neighbor lady the whole while. Sweat had begun to 
slide down the small of her muscular back and soak her shorts, 
turning them a dark brown.  The same for her hard stomach.  She 
was close to windows now, her tanned, weight lifting muscles 
just kept relentlessly flexing and flexing as she pushed the 
mower around the yard.  My dick was easily completely stiff, and 
cumming again was going to be no problem.  My dad's loud moaning 
was making me even more excited....

Ohhhh GAWD! OH MY GOD CYNthia....your THIGHS....your HARD 
thighs...and your ASS...in those TIGHT LITtle shorts.  
gawd....Ohhhh...OHHHHHH!!...your HARD STRONG assssssss....Ohhhh 
my god....Ohhhh MY GAWD....your stuuu-ron   àg 
ARMS....Unnngggahhh....your BIG STUUU-RONG-uhhhhh 
muscle....OHHHHH your MUSCLE!!!! Sssoooo HARD and SUPER 
strong....super CYNthia....ohhhh YESSSSS....sooooper 
CYNthia.....Ohhhhahhhh god YESSSS......super CYNthia......super 
CYNthia.....YESSSSS.....Ohhhhhh SUPer CYNthia and your SUPer 
mmmMUUSCLE!

Cynthia then bent over to clear the clogged mower chute of 
grass.  Her shorts climbed way up, showing off her incredible, 
tanned glutes.  Dad was obviously watching her.  I could hear 
him banging away in the other room, faster and faster at the 
spectacular sight!  I dropped the scope and couldn't hold back 
any longer.  We both came with my dad moaning "super CYNthia, 
super CYNthia!" over and over.

I was spent, totally spent.  I remained quietly stashed in my 
room.....while the unmistakable squeak - squawk meant my dad had 
probably flopped on to his bed exhausted.  Cynthia had finished 
with mowing, and now had the push powered edger out.  
Unbelievably, my cock was hard again.  Mrs. Sanders' 
unstoppable, un-dentable hard weight lifting body just kept 
flexing and flexing, moving the edger back and forth, back and 
forth.  Dad must have seen her, because I could hear him start 
masturbating again.  Still the sounds were echoing through the 
air conditioning ducts.  The bed was squeaking violently,  and 
he just kept moaning...."super Cynthia...super SINNN-the-ahhhh!"  
he was probably in there for an hour, and he must have came 3 
times.

Dad finally recovered.  I heard him straighten up the demolished 
closet, return Joel's binoculars to his room, leave the house, 
and drive off.  Mrs. Sanders was still flexing about 
outside....Dad's ghoulish, worshipful lust name for her was 
ringing in my head...Super Cynthia, Super Cynthia, Super 
Cynthia.  I kept watching her though the rifle scope.....with 
her big muscles crammed into tiny cloths.  I thought about the 
way she made my dad loose control like that.  I thought about 
her squashing his biceps flat.....and how he was unable to dent 
hers.  Not only could Mrs. Sanders beat my dad up, she could 
make him desperately jack off like there was no tomorrow!  Oh my 
god.  OH MY GOD!!  Her edger was making a rhythmic grinding 
sound as I watched her.  I picked up my sock and started 
masturbating again.  Mrs. Sanders was stronger than my dad!!  
MRS, SANDERS WAS STRONGER THAN MY DAD!! She WAS Super Cynthia!!!  
Amazingly I came again, my balls dry heaving into the sock.

That was another day I'll never forget.  My dad still doesn't 
know I was in the house that time.  Even though "Cynthia" was 
not my neighbor's real name, Dad's lust name was a lot like 
"Super Cynthia".  The name never left me.  I know it's hard to 
believe all of that, but as I said at the start, this stuff 
really did happen.  Truth is sometimes more interesting that 
fiction.

One thing I can say that is definitely true in Cris's story is 
when he wrote that he got really turned on because Mrs. Sanders 
mentioned she had bought a too small bikini.  One that was so 
small her husband wouldn't let her wear it to the beach.  Or at 
least he tried to get her not to wear it.  I know that's true, 
because I SAW that bikini the one and only time she wore it out 
in public!

It was Fourth of July weekend, 1982, and I was 17.  As I said, 
our families were good friends.  I was often invited along on 
outings to help watch the Sanders' two small kids.  A task any 
normal 17 year old would have found to be torture.  But then, 
there was Mrs. Sanders to figure in.....just being around her 
was enough to get me to do anything!  Our families rented two 
condos, right next to each other, at Jekyll Island (Georgia).  
On the second day I went over to take the kids to the beach (and 
hopefully see Cyn in her bathing suit!).  As I approached their 
sliding glass doors, the screen was open, and I could hear Mr. 
Sanders voice:

"For the last time, Cyn, NO WAY......"

I stopped in front of the doors only to see Mrs. Sanders and her 
husband standing inside.  Cynthia had on the smallest, sexiest, 
purple bikini I had ever seen in my life!!  It was something 
like Christy Brinkley would wear in Sports Illustrated....only 
Mrs. Sanders looked better!!  I mean her big bulging body made 
the suit look even smaller.  I just stared at her...

Cyn:  "Oh, Hi Rich.  I'll bring the kids out."
Mr. Sanders:  "Just hang on.  We're not settled here yet." turns 
to me, totally staring at Cynthia  "Give a minute, OK Rich.  
This is a PRIVATE conversation."

I went around the corner and didn't say a word.  I stopped 
within earshot.

Mr. Sanders:  "See? Now your even turning THAT poor boy on. This 
is insane.  There is NO WAY you are wearing 
that....that....little bikini in public.  It's just TOO SMALL.  
Please, Cyn.  Maybe on another day.  This is the 4th.  EVERYONE 
will be at the beach.
Cyn:  "Look, I spent all of this money on it.  Just let me wear 
it today, and then it will never be seen in public again."  
Mr. Sanders:  "OK, but just this once.  I'm really getting tired 
of every guy staring at you. It's bad enough that you run around 
the neighborhood dressed like you do.  I know you're proud of 
your body, but this is getting ridiculous!  I swear that Leyven 
boy's dick will fall off as much as he whacks off when you're 
around.  So just this once...."  He opened the screen door and 
stuck his head out.  "OK Rich, you can get the kids now."

I came back inside, but Mrs. Sanders had gone upstairs.  I took 
the kids to the beach, and ANXIOUSLY waited for Cynthia to 
arrive.  And then she appeared, beach bag in hand, and a towel 
wrapped around her waist.  She unfolded a chair next to me and 
the kids, took off the towel......oh my unholy god!!  She had 
revealed the smallest non-g string bikini I have ever witnessed.  
It fit her powerful body perfectly.  The sides of the bikini 
bottom rested high on her hard hips, showing more of her 
athletic flesh than I ever dared imagine.  I excited me even 
more because I could see the tan lines of her old bikini.  They 
made it readily apparent how much smaller this new suit really 
was!  Well prepared with my dark sunglasses, I gawked 
discreetly.  I was helping the kids build a sand castle, while I 
eagerly checked out "the muscular mommy" only a couple of feet 
away!

A few minutes later, the kids decided to bury me in the sand.  I 
placed myself in good viewing of Cyn's chair as they covered me 
up.  I was keeping in control of myself. That is until Cynthia 
finally settled in and started rubbing tanning oil all over 
herself.  Fortunately, or unfortunately I was now totally buried 
in the sand.....unable to move....looking directly at Mrs. 
Sanders' gleaming, tanned, muscular body.  I pretended to be 
asleep.  The kids were giggling at their new "prisoner".  My mom 
took over watching the kids, who would have nothing to do with 
freeing me. The three of them went to the ocean's edge to play.  
Dad and Mr. Sanders were out for a walk along the beach.  I was 
trapped.  It was just me, muscular Cynthia, and her new too tiny 
purple bikini.

The more I watched her the hornier I got.  Every little move and 
her gleaming muscles would flex out of her skin!  My boner was 
trying to push its way into the wet sand.  It found its way down 
the leg of my shorts.  I was so turned on,  my cock was burning.  
Then Cyn raised her torso off of the chair to swat a fly.  Her 
top was undone, and she left it behind for a split second, and 
was back face down on the lounger.  I had seen Cyn's pale, naked 
breasts!  I couldn't fight it back any longer.  I came right 
there in the sand next to her...right in my pants.  I did my 
best to try to hide it, but I let a couple of strained breaths 
escape as the hot fluid left my dick and poured on my leg.  
Cynthia heard me, looked over, and smiled slyly.  

Then she did up her top,  got up and made her way to the water. 
Her oiled muscles heaved in, out, and around that little bikini.  
She went for a quick dip, and then walked slowly back to her 
chair.  As she strut along, Mrs. Sanders reached up, gathered 
her hair and squeezed the water out of it.  Biceps jumped around 
in her arms.  Every eye at the beach was on her, and she seemed 
to know it.  I watched her incredible body flex and flex and 
flex in my direction.....Super Cynthia. Then she laid out on the 
chair again, the water beading up on her hard, oiled, smooth 
physique.  I came again at the sight of Super Cynthia's muscles 
in that teeny forbidden bikini.  I still think about it 20 years 
later.

So there you are Cris, if you're reading this (and everyone 
else).  There is the true story of that "too tiny" bikini.  I 
actually saw it...it was probably better than you could have 
imagined it!!  I guess those are my most vivid memories of Mrs. 
Sanders.  I have hundreds of others, and probably so does Cris.  
In any case, I'm glad he wrote that story.  I'm glad I'm not the 
only one who still thinks about Mrs. Sanders.  

The end?