Nancy by Tom Adams

Nancy turns muscle worship into an evangelical event.

Nancy sits at the bar trying to ignore the man two stools away. He's trying his best, but he can't keep his eyes off her. She wishes someone would come sit down between them. No body does. She glances at him occasionally and he responds with a wide grin. Nancy turns away and rolls her eyes. After about fifteen minutes of this she decides to have a little fun.

Nancy slides off the stool she's on and glides her butt into a smooth landing beside "Mr. Wide Grin."

"Hi, I'm Nancy," she says with a smile.

He almost spills his drink, is sort of tongue tied, but does manage to say his name is Frank.

"Would you like to buy me a drink, Frank?"

"Sure, what do you want?"

"Scotch on the rocks."

"Waiter, that'll be two scotch on the rocks," says Frank.

The bartender's frown at being called a waiter fades when Frank tips him double the cost of both drinks. Frank knows how to impress the ladies, or so he thinks.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?" ask Nancy.

"No, go right ahead."

"Well, Frank, you've been staring at me for awhile. Why?"

"It's your muscles. They're very attractive. I've seen some women with big arms and legs, strong women, but they also look sort of fat. Your muscles are large, but they're lean. Know what I mean?"

Nancy smiles. "Why thank you, Frank. I lift weights, jog, try to stay in shape."

She hesitates a few seconds. Takes a sip of her drink, then turns back to Frank.

"Would you like to see more?"

"Of what?"

"My muscles, of course. We can go to my room."

Frank almost drops his drink. The bartender grins, winks at Nancy.

All Frank can do is nod his head up and down. Nancy takes him by the hand and leads him to her room, just around the corner from the bar and down the hallway. She invites him to sit down in a large, comfortable chair while she stretches out on the sofa. Her skirt rides up almost to her butt and she flexes the muscles in her thighs.

Frank's face turns slightly red. Nancy ask him if he'd like to take off his coat. He does. He sits down again, looking more relaxed. She smiles. He admires her muscles. Several minutes pass. No one says a word. Nothing.

Then.

"Do you know what muscle worship is, Frank?"

"Muscle worship?"

"Yes, Frank. Muscle worship."

"Is it some type of religion?"

Nancy smiles. "I'll let you be the judge of that, Frank," she says as she takes off her skirt and blouse.

Frank draws a deep breath as he takes in her powerful arms, shoulders, legs and hard, flat stomach.

"Which muscles do you want to worship first, Frank?"

He doesn't quite understand what's going on. But he knows what he likes.

"The ones in your arms."

Nancy walks over and stands just a few feet in front of Frank. She extends both arms parallel to the floor with palms up. Her hands ball into fists and her forearms slowly rise until they're straight up and then arc down toward her upper arms. 

Both biceps rise into hard, round peaks. The veins pop out. And Frank's eyes look like they're about to pop out of his head. He instinctively reaches up to touch the muscles, but Nancy quickly steps back.

"No, Frank. You can only look and worship. You can't touch."

"Do I have to pray?"

"You can if you want to, Frank. But for most men, it's a deep, almost religious sensation they feel inside them as they watch my muscles. There is really no need to pray." And she moves in closer again to slowly flex and relax her biceps, over and over again.

Frank's forehead is covered with sweat and there's a bulge in his pants between his legs.

"Which muscles would you like to worship next, Frank?"

"The ones in your stomach. I'll bet they're very hard"

"Like a brick, Frank. Concentrate on them and see if you feel something almost spiritual as you watch."

Nancy puts her hands behind her head and slowly thrust her pelvis forward. Her six pac abs strain against her skin. She stops, thrust her pelvis toward the rear and draws her stomach in toward her spine. Then suddenly her pelvis snaps forward and the wash board stomach is back. 

She repeats this slowly about a dozen times then stops and rest on the sofa looking Frank in the eyes. There is a small stain on top of the bulge in his pants. 

"Well, Frank. How do you like muscle worship so far?"

"It's great, fantastic, almost as good as sex, if only we could......................................"

"Touch." Nancy finishes the sentence for him.

"Oh, but Frank, we can't. That would destroy the spirituality. This is muscle worship. This is a religious experience for you. What would you like to see next? I've still got a lot of muscle left for you to worship."

He looks down at Nancy's thigh. His eyes travel to her calf, then quickly to the portion of her butt he can see. He doesn't have to say a word. She gets off the sofa and in doing so exposes her full back side to him for the first time.

Frank's sigh is very audible, almost a moan. She's wearing a pair of thong panties.

Nancy kicks off her shoes and runs her toes through the carpet. She turns to the side and raises her right heel, showing a perfectly arched foot. There is a slow flex that starts in her calf and spreads to her thigh and hips.

It's a perfect side view of a muscular woman's leg and butt. Nancy glances at Frank. His face is redder. His breathing more rapid. The stain on his pants larger. But all in all he seems to be OK. She wants to make sure before she goes into a final show of muscle.

She turns her back to Frank and spreads her legs slightly. This time both heels come off the carpet. The muscles in her calves arch to the back. The muscles in her legs flair outward.  Her butt becomes perfectly round and rock hard. She hears a thump and turns around.

Frank is laying on the floor. He's passed out.

Nancy rushes over to check his pulse, make sure he hasn't had a heart attack. Pulse strong. Skin color returning to normal. Breathing returning to normal. Thank God. She rushes into the bathroom, soaks a towel in cold water and bathes his face. He comes to.

"Frank, are you OK?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure, Frank?"

"Yes."

"What happened?" she ask.

"It was the muscle worship. The lust for your body went away and suddenly everything about your muscles became very spiritual. I longed for them, but in a spiritual sense, nothing physical. I guess that's when I passed out."

"Do you want a contribution, Nancy?"

"A what?"

"A contribution to muscle worship. This was a religious experience. At church a plate is always passed around for the congregation to make contributions."

"And it's always on a voluntary basis, Frank. It's up to you. I don't care. My life is dedicated to muscle worship. Monetary reward means nothing to me. If you want to make a contribution, that's fine. If you don't, fine."

Frank puts on his coat and leaves placing some money on a table on his way out.

Nancy waits a few minutes after he's gone and then goes over to the table. Five, one hundred dollar bills.

Nancy gal, when it comes to muscle worship, you're one hell of an evangelist. 

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