MOST DELIGHTFUL WAYS By BOS Inside the circle that was outlined by the dinner tables occupied by about 50 guests, were a man and a girl, maybe 35 and 19 respectively, She was dressed much as a cheerleader. A ruffled yellow skirt came not much more than halfway down her thighs, and billowy sleeves came down to her elbow. She was an exceptionally healthy looking girl, with the red flush of youthful athleticism an her cheeks. And the image of exuberant youth was furthered by the stewardess smile on her face. She was tall, with long, larger-than-usual thighs, and long brown hair flowing halfway down her back. She was walking around the inner edge of the circle, smiling at the guests, much in the manner of a model. The man -- badly shaven and in prison clothes --- stood sullenly in the center of the circle, his body turned away from the setting sun. "My dear friends," said a man standing at one of the tables, "I would like you to meet our Cara. She is not only one of our most delightful young ladies -- as you can clearly see for yourselves -- but one of our most accomplished. Today, as a special treat, we will see her performing in her capacity as an assistant to our judicial system. Her shall-we-say "companion" is a man guilty of crimes far too unspeakable to delineate on this happy occasion. He is a man who is doomed. Doomed. We do not believe in rehabilitation here, not for a man of his type. However, he does have one hope for the future: If he can remain in the circle which our tables outline for five minutes from the time I say "begin", well, he is a free man. The only factor complicating what might seem otherwise to be a trivially simple task will be the presence of our Cara in there with him." At this the young girl's smile broadened infectiously. "Now," the man continued, "for the uninitiated among you, who don 't quite know why I call that a complication: a little demonstration. I call on our guest of honor, Mr. Judd Preston, on my right. As you may know, Mr. Preston -- an old college chum of mine -- is a national collegiate wrestling champion from America. He has high -- and,I happen to know, realistic -- hopes of representing that great country in the upcoming Olympic games in the light-heavyweight class. However, no, tonight we will not call upon him to demonstrate his wrestling ability." A laugh went through the crowd, which turned to Cara, who smiled shyly and blushed, as did Judd. "However, we would like to make use of his considerable strength. Cara, if you will." The girl walked over to the speaker obligingly. He continued: "Ladies and gentlemen, I have in my hand an ordinary egg. I hand it to my neighbors to test that claim. Shake it, examine it. You agree it is an ordinary egg? Fine. I hand the same egg to lovely Cara. Cara, my dear, which is your stronger hand? Your right! Fine. Hand me your left. Now I place this egg in Cara's hand, and her lovely fingers fold about it. Judd, if you will, try to either remove the egg from Cara's hand or force her to smash it. That is, either pry her fingers off the egg -- using both your hands in the effort -- or fold your hands around hers and squeeze." Cara stepped in front of Judd's portion of the table, and, with a ladylike smile a demure semi-curtsey, handed the gentleman her hand. Tentatively at first, looking at his host for confirmation that he had understood the instructions, but soon enough getting into the effort, Judd set about the task at hand, so to speak. He was surprised by his inability to quickly pry her longest finger off the egg, and he smiled in acknowledgement of the girl's strength. Then he tried to catch her by surprise, suddenly clamping his hands over her outstretched one and squeezing together. Nothing. The man smiled and squeezed again, redoubling his effort. Still nothing. Murmurs ran throughout the crowd. The nearby spectators could see the forearms bulging with effort -- male and female. All biceps were covered with clothing, but all forearms were bare. Judd, who was tuned into this sort of thing, couldn't help noticing Cara's forearm muscles. They were long and sleek and tapered, and if. you followed one up from wrist to elbow, you would not really get a full appreciation of just how substantial it was. You had to look at that part up by the elbow to get a full appreciation. It was massive! He wasn't sure he had ever seen an arm as good. He told himself he must have a distorted idea, resulting from the unusual amount of attention he was devoting to this observation. But damn! , that sucker was big. Then Cara, noticing his attention, made it dance for him. She lifted first her middle finger -- just a tad --- then her baby finger, then the two in sequence again. The result was almost a bubbling effect, with first her upper forearm bulging and retracting, then her lower forearm. She was teasing him doubly: with the instantaneous opportunities she was presenting him for getting one of his fingers between her fingers and the egg; and with the sight of her forearm muscles, which he was now trying to measure relative to his own. Suddenly Judd became aware of the passage of time. The passage of too much more would amount to an embarrassing defeat for him. So he maneuvered the girl's hand about in an attempt to get the best possible leverage, all the while alternately pulling at her long, slim, manicured, polished fingers and suddenly clamping down on her feminine skin. Cara let him put her hand wherever he wanted to -- on the table, over its edge, under his armpit (that is, between his arm and his side, so that he could work on it with his back turned to her), anywhere. But he was having no luck. And sweat was breaking out on his face, along with alternating grimaces of effort and embarrassed smiles, destined to tell the spectators that he really wasn't taking this all that seriously, All the while, the girl stood smiling, patient, obliging. In the middle of this effort, the host said,to the prisoner, "Mr. Huret, perhaps you would like to witness this." Sullenly, the man came over to Cara, who responded by wrapping, her arm affectionately around his waist, even as Judd worked at her other arm. She bestowed one of her smiles on the man in uniform, and she snuggled against him. Judd only gave up when he found that his hands were getting so slick with sweat only seconds after he'd wipe them off that he could no longer sustain any sort of grip. Then he stopped and shrugged his shoulders at his host. The latter said, "There is no time limit in this particular event, Judd. " Judd knew he was being teased by his old friend, and he said, "Very funny." "Then you concede?" said the host. "yeah, right, I concede," Judd said. At that, Cara -- using still only her one hand -- cracked the egg over the edge of a cup, to demonstrate that it was real. Then she wiped her hand on a towel and put it behind Judd's head-- demonstrating a reach whose length surprised him -- and brought his face to hers. She planted a long, lingering kiss on the man, even as she held the other in her other arm. And the host said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, the amazing Cara" and extended his arm toward her. Finally Cara released Judd and waved her free arm at the crowd, turning to face each section in turn, all the while maneuvering the prisoner out of her way, all the while beaming jubilantly. Still waving, she dropped the arm that was around the prisoner until it was holding only one of his hands, and she led him to the center of the circle. She dropped his hand and faced him. "And now the main event! " said the host. "Five minutes. Begin. " By this time the prisoner Huret knew that Cara was not to be taken lightly. He knew not just from the recent exhibition, nor from the fact that he had already seen some of the hosts other girls in action, but from the extraordinary revelation that had dawned on him while Cara was holding him to her side, My God, she was built! The feathery softness he was feeling. against his side would suddenly turn to rock when she would exert herself against the jock. Or maybe the change only occurred because she was trying to show him -- Huret -- something. He didn't know. All he knew was that one second he was sinking almost luxuriously into her body, and the next he was jolted. To his amazement, the audience didn't seem to notice any of it. Their attention was focused on her hand. But they would have been a great deal more amazed if they could have seen her thigh. Unbeknownst to them, it was beating his into submission as surely as she was defeating the jock, and more enticingly. It had taken Huret a while to know that she was manipulating his own substantial thigh around, but that was exactly what she was doing. When he caught on, he joined the battle, and it was on, though the combatants eyes never met, and the spectators never saw a thing. First she would let him into her,in a manner of speaking, relaxing her thigh, accepting him and almost enveloping him. Then --- quickly or slowly, depending on her whim --- she would expel him. Implacably, her thigh would expand and harden -- and harden and harden and expand some more --- until, despite his best efforts, the man was in retreat. Then routed completely. His thigh was pushed and pushed until the meat of it traveled against its will from being predominantly on one side of his knee to the other side. Still the girl pushed him back. And without ever moving her foot. Just that incredible, damnable thigh. There seemed to be no end to her ability to expand it. Finally, the ultimate victory, the terms of which had been implicitly agreed to without speech; the ultimate, undeniable conclusion, the equivalent of a KO in boxing or a pin in wrestling! The man was forced to move his foot, under the pressure of the girl 's advancing thigh. He moved it reluctantly. That reluctance sprang not only from unwillingness to admit defeat. He liked being thigh-to-thigh with her. Whether she was being soft or hard, she felt great to him. Even at her most flexed, there was an enticing layer of velvety smoothness above the muscles, and it made them all the more exciting, gave them a uniquely feminine quality. Besides, even when her thigh was at the peak of its self exertion, her upper body remained relaxed and soft -- both on the surface and below -- and he could be content struggling against it forever. He just hoped the jock wouldn't give up. But now there they were in the center of the circle. He must not think about how good she was to touch. Too much was at stake. And she was too strong. He must stay away from her. He backed off as she approached him with that smile. The spectators thought that it was the egg thing that earned Cara his respect. She took a quick, sudden step at him, and he jumped back, and she smiled all the more playfully. Now she was simply stalking him, and he was backing up, stalling for time. One of the host's other girls announced that 30 seconds had passed. But still Cara didn't appear, rushed. She just kept coming at Huret calmly, her long forefinger beckoning him hither enticingly, her ever present smile demonstrating undiluted, simple joy over the proceedings. When Cara did finally pick up the pace, it was only to add some drama to the proceedings. If she rushed forward, he hastened his retreat. Now the man was practically running away, backwards. Once he stumbled -- falling back against a table, disturbing the glasses and dishes of the guests. Cara was on him in a second. She had him bent backwards over the table, with her body pressed against his. Her hands sought out his and pressed them over his head onto the table, forcing a lady who was sitting there to scoot her seat backwards. Now Huret could once again feel the full power of Cara's young body. He -- and the other men at the table -- could see her firm, large young breasts straining upward against her chest. Huret knew he was lost. Cara winked at one of the male spectators, kissed Huret on the cheek and let him go. Then she stood next to and above him and took herself a cracker from the table and stood munching it contentedly as Huret straightened himself up. The female timekeeper announced that another minute had passed. The man suddenly shot an uppercut into Cara's belly, feeling that it should at least buy him some time. But Cara didn't seem to notice. She continued munching, then brushed the crumbs off her hands. The man started to back away, but she grabbed the top of the front of his pants and held him. Then she hopped backwards onto the table so that she was sitting on it, with her legs hanging over the side...largely uncovered. Then she pulled the man in and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him to her chest. And she whispered in his ear, "I want to put my legs around you now, sweetheart." Huret knew the possible implications of that, and he began to push at Cara's arms like a virgin fending off an unwanted pass. But he needn't have worried about Cara's arms. She dropped them from his back as soon as she had secured her legs around his waist, which was very soon, indeed. Now she leaned back, putting her palms flat on the table behind her, and let her legs do the work. She put on a little pressure, and the man's attention was immediately riveted on his gamular problem, as opposed to those possibilities for defense or attack at a higher plain, physiologically. Now Huret could see that thigh muscle whose appearance he had only heretofore imagined. Cara allowed him to look for a while, just as she had had the wrestler looking at her forearm. She enjoyed such male attention. And just as she had for Judd, she put on a little display far Huret, one which began just as the timekeeper announced that half the allotted time had passed. She riveted Huret's attention on her dancing muscles, and she allowed his hands to roam over her flesh. Up and down, fast and slow, her velvet smooth skin would parade. When he'd place a hand lasciviously on the meat of her thigh, she would transform it for him from flesh to steel, and she'd delight in the amazement in his eyes, knowing that it derived not only from the visual and tactile effects, but from the constriction on his ribs that resulted from said transformation. Now Huret's efforts were no longer sexual. Now he was simply defending himself, and the whole audience could sense the transformation. He pushed hard at Cara's legs, trying to get his arms in between her legs and his body. And failing. A minute-and-a-half left. Cara would like to have played with the man some more, but there was no time. Not much anyway. She put on enough pressure to leave him limp in about 30 more seconds. Soon she could feel the man's efforts growing weaker, could sense that her legs were helping to hold him up, that his own legs were not working as well as they had been. Then he was kneeling. She unwrapped her legs, and he fell to the ground at her feet. One man started applauding, and Cara, still sitting above the man, raised her arm in acknowledgement, and the whole audience began applauding, and she acknowledged them with a big smile and more waves. Then she slid off the table and walked around the prone man. Then she bent over and grabbed his ankles with her two strong hands. She dragged him back to the center of the circle, his face bouncing into the dirt all the way. Thirty seconds left. The man heard that and began to frantically kick his legs, knowing if he could only hold out a little longer ... Cara began to turn slowly in a circle. Then faster, dragging the man with her. Then faster and faster, until the man was completely off the ground, stretched out in front of her. Around and around she went, varying the man's height at her whim now. Sometimes his face would almost be touching the dirt. At another point in her revolution, his body would be as high as her shoulders. Faster and faster until -- just after the announcer noted the 10-second mark -- Cara brought him from the nadir to the apogee of his flight suddenly and let him go. The man sailed over the tables of the spectators -- in fact, directly over Judd Preston -- and landed 20 yards outside the ring. He moved enough to demonstrate to the spectators that he was not dead, but no more. "Ladies and gentlemen," the host said, "the amazing Cara!" The girl smiled more broadly than ever and bowed and received the further applause of the dazzled spectators. Then she one-hand vaulted over Judd Preston's table and walked over to the heap, Huret. She loaded him onto her shoulder, her one hand resting on his rearend, and her other waving to the crowd as she carried him away, to yet another round of applause. The host said,"Those of you who would like to see the remainder of Mr. Huret's fate may reconvene tonight in the tent at midnight, But let me warn you, the entertainment may be a bit -- shall-we-say -- "strong" for some tastes." Lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling after dinner, Judd was having difficulty believing several things. He couldn't believe what he had seen. He couldn't believe that he was actually here, that this was actually happening to him, that he was actually going to get to meet a girl who was strong enough to wrestle with him; after all these years of dreams, it could not possibly be true. Most of all, he could not believe how slowly time was passing. He was supposed to pick up his blind date at the girl's dorm at 6 p.m., an hour which seemed determined not to arrive. He just hoped to hell it was Cara, and not some goddamn tennis player. His friend wouldn't do that to him. Would he? When he entered the dorm he decided he hoped that the girl behind the counter was his. Not that he could tell all that much about how strong she was, but she was plenty big and a more beautiful blonde than he had ever gone out with before. She flashed a dazzling smile at him as he approached with about 174 teeth. "I'm supposed to pick up a sort of guide here, I guess. I'm Judd Preston." Sitting at a desk behind the counter with her chin on her closed fist and no apparent hurry to her manner, she said, "I know who you are, beautiful. Wanna wrestle?" Judd laughed nervously. "I'm not sure I'm ready for you," he said with what he thought was charmingly self-deprecating humor. The dreamy look never leaving her face, the girl said, "I'm not sure either, but I'd be willing to give you a try." She winked at him, and without ever taking her eyes off him, she picked up the phone. Into it she said, "Your hunk's here." Then she stood up and walked slowly to the counter, always keeping Judd focused on her cool, penetrating eyes. She put her left arm up on the counter in a wrist-wrestling position. "Come on," she said, as if she were inviting him into her bedroom. It was a good-natured sporting proposition, and Judd didn't see how he could decline, or even point out that he was right-handed, given his reputation. He offered his arm, and the girl pushed her long, billowy sweater sleeve up her arm, to just over her elbow. Immediately Judd noticed a resemblance between this arm and Cara's, though this one was longer. He didn't have time to ponder the comparison, though, because the wrapping of the girl's long fingers around his hand told him he was in for a battle, as did the confident look on the girl's face. But especially the wrapping. Her hand was as strong and masterful as it was elegant and slim. Her fingers seemed to disappear into the distance as they wrapped slowly and sensuously behind the back of his hand, and she squeezed in a way that Judd hoped was designed to psyche him out, because if she wasn't engaged in that effort, then her strength was even more impressive because of its accidental quality. However and whyever this had happened, Judd realized that he had the sensation that she was holding him, not that they were holding each other, and certainly not that he was holding her. He wasn't sure if it was possible for the holdee to win an arm-wrestling match, but he had no choice but to try. They started the contest proper, and at first there was no visible movement, except in the girl's arm. Like Cara, she could send a ripple all the way up her forearm with the slightest movement of a finger. Judd couldn't even feel her fingers moving, but he could sure see her muscles dancing. Soon she started getting a very slight advantage. Then the phone rang. The girl put on a surge of power and increased her advantage, then reached over for the phone with her other hand. She continued to talk into it as Judd just barely managed to hold his own. At this point a nearby elevator opened and another girl came out. "Hey," she said, "you'll tire him out!" With that she walked up to the counter and firmly separated the two hands, even as the other girl continued to talk into the phone, giving the new arrival a disappointed look. All of a sudden the new girl had her arm wrapped femininely in Judd's and was leading him out the door. She made a gesture to the clerk and the other girls present in the lobby that Judd couldn't quite see. Before Judd knew it, they were out the door and on their way, arm in arm. The girl said, "What would you like to see first, Mr. Preston?" "I think I'm looking at it," he said. "And call me Judd." "Now, now, now, Judd," the girl smiled. He asked her name. "They call me Beauty," she said: Judd could certainly understand that. Tall and blonde, she had the facial features of a fashion model and a chest that wouldn't quit. Judd couldn't imagine how a woman could be any more beautiful. She had a smile that would light up Finland in February, and she was apparently quick to deploy it, as she had in response to his little come on. It just made her all the more beautiful. She was wearing a light, summer dress that would cling to her curves now and blow enticingly away from her body when a moderate breeze came along. It came down to her knees, and it covered her arms in fluttering silk. The only part of her upper body it revealed began just above her breasts -- actually, it included the topmost portions of those not-to-be-denied explosions, but you had to be a little bit indiscreet in your peering to catch them -- and continued up over her shoulders and down to her shoulder blades. However, her sleeves came up past the top of her shoulders and covered the corners of them in airy bulges, thus making it unclear just how far out those shoulders extended. Withal, Judd was left guessing about the extent of her general muscularity -- a consideration that had been on his mind ever since encountering and watching Cara. But she was clearly athletic in structure, a vision of the exuberantly healthy country girl out for a day at the fair, wearing clothes that can be justified in terms of coolness and freedom of movement, but than can also be guaranteed to keep the boys' heads turning. Judd got right to what was on his mind. "Are you as strong as Cara?" he asked; Beauty laughed. "Isn't that an awfully intimate question to ask a lady on your first meeting?" Judd laughed. Then there was a silence. And Judd said, "Well, you gotta admit, you girls aren't exactly your everyday steno pool." Beauty laughed and allowed as how she would grant that. But then, again, the conversation came to a halt. "Well?" he said, and she "well-whatted" him. "You haven't answered my question." Beauty stopped and faced him, a look of mock exasperation on her face. She put her fists in her hips with some exaggeration and said, "Men! They're all alike! All interested in one thing. Well, I guess you're not going to stop until I show you something. But you have to promise me that after this we'll get on with the tour. I have a great deal to show you, and I don't mean of me. Promise?" He nodded dumbly. Beauty took his hand and led him over to a park bench. She put one foot up on the seat and pulled her skirt back to reveal the attached leg. Completely. Judd was stunned and overwhelmed by the sudden audacity of the move. And turned on. The leg was revealed from the just barely visible blue panty under the yellow dress to her bare ankle. On her foot she wore a sneaker with the kind of sock that does not come above the shoe but is held in place by a little fluff of fur -- in this case blue -- hanging over the back of the shoe, attached to the sock. He worried about passersby, but most were not staring, if they were catching glances. The leg was long and full and flawless, delicately curved just below the knee at the back of the calf, where Judd's eyes focused , at least until some movement of the thigh brought his gaze higher. Beauty took Judd's hand and placed it on her thigh, then -- with a quick exertion of that lively muscle -- she bumped it off. Or at least it seemed like she bumped it off. For at about the same time she lowered her foot to the ground and covered it up with her dress. Then she wrapped her arm in Judd's again, and they were walking. Judd was reeling. He couldn't believe it was over. He couldn't believe it had started. But now it had started and ended, and he had never had a chance to enjoy it. He tried now to remember what Beauty's thigh had felt like. But he thought his memory was playing tricks on him. What he remembered was a silky softness and a steel-like hardness. How could that be? And could she really just pop his hand off her like that, just by flexing her muscle. Naw. Must be some sort of trick. But now they were just strolling along again as if nothing had happened at all. "Now over here is something we're very proud of," Beauty was saying. But Judd was not much interested in her words. He tried to get her back onto the subject that did interest him, but she said, "Now, Judd, you promised." The tour dragged on, and Judd mainly looked at the girl and plotted how to get her into his room later that night. She seemed friendly enough, but was she just doing her job as a guide? And if so, just what activities did her job entail. His host had been vague about that. At one point in their walking, Judd -- being as subtle as he could -- wrapped his large, strong hand around Beauty's tricep and bicep. Beauty gave him a sly look, flexed slightly -- enough to demonstrate to him that she was certainly like no other woman he had ever been with socially, winked at him and then -- with a sudden relaxation of her arm -- was out of his grip, turning to the side and walking away from him, talking about another tourist attraction. He scrambled to catch up. They stopped to dance at a local night spot. On the floor, doing a slow, romantic step, they looked much like any other young couple. "You're an incredible lady," Judd said as they danced. "I know you' re probably strong enough to pull that bartender over the bar and hang him on the chandelier. But here you are melting into my arms as softly as if you're just a helpless little girl and you need me to protect you against the world. If I didn't know better, I'd buy it." Beauty leaned back so that she could look Judd in the face. "If you're trying to sweet-talk me, Mister, you're doing a pretty good job of it." He kissed her, and she let him, but only for a second. Then, at Beauty's insistence, they continued the tour. And it was not the tour Judd had in mind. "All right," Judd said, back at his room, "you've been teasing me all night with these incredible muscles of yours. First they're there, then they're gone, and I never do get a chance to see just how impressive they are. For all I now, they're not even all that great, and you've got me fooled with these little tricks. Time to put up or shut up. Let's go!" He clapped his hands together like a coach urging on his team. Beauty, who was sitting on a sofa, with her arms spread across its back, at first just smiled at Judd. Then she pursed her lips as if she was thinking, even as her eyes peered into his. "Okay," she finally said, slapping her hands on the top of the sofa. "Let's play a little game. Close your eyes." Judd looked at her skeptically, and she said, "Aw, it's okay, sweetheart. You don't have to worry: Beauty won't hurt you." By the time she finished the statement she was standing and patting his cheek. Beauty began to roll her silky sleeve up over her bicep. Then she thought better of her plan, however, and rolled the sleeve back down, so that the man would experience the feel of her upper arm muscles under not only the enticingly feminine layer of velvety soft, pampered skin that covered them -- indeed, camouflaged them until she was ready to deploy them -- but under the silky material, too. Holding her right arm up in the flexed bicep pose -- but not yet flexing -- she took hold of one of Judd's hands with her free one and placed it under her tricep. Then she said, "Now put your other hand on top and lock your hands together." Judd, smiling, did as he was told. His big, hammy hands wrapped the girl's upper arm in their grip very comfortably. "Lock as tight as you can," Beauty said. Smiling again, Judd obliged. "Are they tight?" she asked. Indeed they were. His long, strong fingers locked together almost as securely as they would have if there had been nothing at all between them. "Do you think you can hold on like that if I flex?" Beauty asked. Judd nodded. "You sure?" asked Beauty. Judd urged her on impatiently. "Okay," the girl said. Suddenly her arm exploded in Judd's hands. Now her arm was at her side, relaxed, and Judd's hands were empty. "Wait a minute.," said Judd, smiling now with embarrassment. "Let's try that again." His eyes were open now, and he kept them that way. "A little slower this time?" Beauty asked, teasing him. "Yeah, a little slower." Obligingly, Beauty offered her arm again, and Judd took it, this time being more careful to secure just the grip he wanted, meanwhile savoring the feel of the lady's softly obliging skin under the filmy -- yet tough -- feminine material surrounding her arm. In the guise of finding just the position he wanted, Judd managed to rub his palms here and there over Beauty's enticingly covered skin. Beauty smiled knowingly and allowed him this liberty. Now he was settled in, and the lady's arm was soft and yielding and seductive as it could be -- was firmly in his powerful grip. He nodded at the girl, and slowly her theretofore straight arm began to curl. She kept her hand open in a graceful spread. Slowly the soft mound of flesh in his grasp began to take on life. The experience was exhilarating for Judd. He wasn't sure what excited him about what was happening. It was more than being turned on sexually. In a more general sense he was aroused, turned-on, excited by the undeniable demonstration of the fact that this vision of feminine loveliness before him was not just some sort of passive sight or yielding object, but a real and powerful being with the strength and vitality and apparent willingness to pursue her own interests, independent of what anyone might think. Whatever it was, this combination of feminine beauty and strength was doing something to him inside that was -- he thought the word -- overpowering. Something he liked. At this moment he wanted to be around this combination the rest of his life. The absence of it would, he felt, bring a paling over his existence, a dampened, unfull quality. It amazed him that the revelation to him of this sort of femininity should be such a completely positive experience for him. After all, he had built his own life around the image of the macho male; his past and his future alike were bound up with his identity as an extraordinarily strong, athletic, peculiarly male figure. If these girls here were a match for him in strength, what happens to that image, that life. He even had the sudden, wholly unacceptable thought: What if one of them could beat him at wrestling? That much of a revelation he was not interested in having. In this period when all his energies, all his thoughts were focused on making the Olympic wrestling team, he did not need to have his ass kicked by some chick, however delightful and irresistible she might be. His competitive juices flowing, Judd clamped down all the harder on Beauty's arm, knowing that the opportunity to do so might soon disappear. But it was strange, clamping down with such complete exertion on a female. It was something he had never expected to do in his life. And it certainly felt different. Judd had done a lot of clamping down in his life. Never against silk before, to be sure; but a lot of clamping. And this was definitely different. Beauty was going about this slowly enough for him to contemplate the differences; she was obviously enjoying dragging this out. Her arm was moving -- and her wrist was turning -- almost imperceptibly. Two things were different about Beauty. Her arm was shaped different somehow. Rounder? What was it? That was it: She didn't have all the jagged cuts and juts and almost unconnected slabs that a really strong guy would have. Her arm was -- except for the valley's that separated bicep from tricep -- one smooth, round, gently curved surface. But beyond that it felt different. Unmistakable, atop and surrounding all that undeniable might, was a surface of skin that wassoft, seductive, alluring, undeniably feminine, something you wanted to sink not only your ...arms into, but your lips, if you weren't afraid she'd suddenly flex her muscle and knock your teeth out. He enjoyed readjusting his palms and fingers. By now Beauty's elbow was bent at a 90-degree angle and her fingers were pointing more or less straight up. And her bicep was heading the same way. She could already feel Judd straining to cement his grip. Their eyes met, and Judd's showed increasing respect for her, and her smiled widened. But Judd was confident that he would be able to hold on now. There couldn't be much more expansion left in her arm. It had already expanded a good deal more than one would have guessed, even giving what he already knew about this extraordinary girl. Now she wasn't bending her elbow any farther at all. She was just very, very slowly twisting her wrist. Her elongated fingers were turning in the air as if she was modeling a wrist watch and wanted to give everybody in the room a view of its face. Her face had the bearing of a model -- with its happy-to-be-here, room-lighting smile -- as much as her lovely hand did. If there had been an audience of 200 people, not one of them would have noticed any sign of strain in the girl's demeanor. Judd, on the other hand, was definitely straining. Beauty's tricep was widening in his grip, and her bicep continued to reach farther and farther toward the ceiling. Judd's eyes narrowed in disbelief, then his mouth gaped in astonishment as -- inexorably -- his fingers began to slide apart, no match for the burgeoning, volcanoes of power under that silk. This was the reaction Beauty loved: the stark, stunned, flabbergasted look on the face of male observers. Judd could see that in her eyes and her smile -- which was widening just as relentlessly as her muscles. Judd made a last effort to confine the slow motion explosion, but it was a joke, and he knew it. He might as well have been trying to squeeze a lead pipe. Beauty thought his effort was cute and liked him more for it. Finally, though, the outcome of their little contest was manifest; Judd's fingers were really just resting on the lady's upper arm, barely in contact with each other, and certainly not locked, not by any definition. It was undeniably apparent not only that the measurement of her upper arm circumference was far more than anything that Judd's combined hands could contain, but that if she wanted to flex those mighty logs to their fullest, his presence was simply irrelevant. Finally Judd acknowledged the obvious. He removed his hands from the silken blouse and offered one of his hands in congratulation to the winner. She slid her hand all the way into his -- not just a feminine one-third -- and wrapped her other hand around the back of Judd's head and drew his face to hers, where she planted a lingering, gentle kiss on his lips. When Judd started to respond by raising his free arm to the lady's back, she responded by suddenly squeezing his clasped hand. Instantly the man fell to his knees. He also let out a surprised squeal. As she stood above the man, looking down on his broad back, Beauty knew she shouldn't have done that, caught him by surprise by that. She sat down on the sofa immediately behind her and eased up on her grip, allowing the man a look up her long thigh, which she obligingly crossed for him. "You weren't going to take advantage of me, were you, Judd?" she asked the man on her knees. "Jesus, what the hell'd you do that for?!" he said. She released his hand and noticed that while his unmolested hand went to the other one to comfort it, his eyes never left her body. "Aw, did I hurt you?" she said. "I'm sorry. I thought you could take it. I guess sometimes I just don't know my own strength. I promise I won't do it. again. Here, let me make it all better." She reached down for his hand and gently pulled the man up to the seat beside her. Then she brought his abused hand to her lips and began to lightly kiss it all over. "There is that better'!" she said. "You know, it's too bad your hands aren't bigger. You never did get the full show." At first Judd wasn't sure what she meant. Then he realized that she was saying that her bicep could be expanded even farther than she had yet shown him. He found that hard to believe, but then so was everything else he had been experiencing. "You mean there's more?" he said. Beauty smiled slyly at him even as she continued to minister to his hand ever so gently. After some delay she said, "I guess I owe you this." She released his hand and brought her two hands to the top button of her blouse. Watching his eyes ignite with anticipation, she slowly began undoing the blouse. His eyes followed her hands all the way down, catching glimpses of her tanned skin and her white bra here and there. Still sitting, she shrugged the blouse off and sat there in all her glory. Well, almost all. The white bra was still there and was apparently going to stay. But it did reveal the full, round, proud tops of those incredibly impressive globes. Judd realized now that because of the billowy nature of the blouse, he had not heretofore understood just how built Beauty was; "built" in the traditional sense of the word as it applies to women. Judd was amazed to find himself sitting here with this girl in this half naked state. Amazed, thrilled and aroused. His senses were nearly spinning, but he knew one thing: If that bolt of pain he had experienced in his hand when he tried to make his move on the girl was the price to be paid for this visual reward, it was a price that was well worth it. But she wasn't only rewarding him. She was rewarding herself. She had become hooked on his admiration, and she wanted more of it. She raised her bicep so that it was horizontal to the ground, and she watched his eyes travel from her breasts across her broad shoulder to her arm, as he got his first sight of what he had heretofore only felt through her blouse. She bounced the mound there a couple of times for him and saw that she had his attention entirely riveted at that spot, of which she was so proud. She smiled so much more broadly at this success, at his amazement, that the flash of her pearl-white teeth brought his attention suddenly to her face. Noticing the gleam in her eye that told him that she knew what was going on inside him, he said, good naturedly, "Pretty proud of yourself, aren't you?" "I just like to make our visitors happy," she said, batting her eyelashes at him. "I'll even let you touch it, if you'll promise that you'll still respect me." He put his hand on her bicep, feeling the velvety-smooth skin give way under his gentle touch, recognizing the feeling. It was, quite simply, the feeling of a healthy, young woman. Beauty, reacting to his approaching hand like an outfielder catching a fly ball, relaxed her muscle as his hand came near, catching him, as it were. And, whereas he was expecting to feel taut muscle, he felt only feminine softness. Then she playfully popped her muscle back up, and under the velvet of her skin he felt an imposing hardness, impressive and powerful. Instinctively he pushed back at it, testing it. Though he locked his thumb under her tricep to increase the pressure he could bring to bear, Beauty's muscle gave way hardly at all. Oh, there was a little give, and that modicum of movement -- of the female body giving way against a male advance -- aroused Judd. But then the girl's arm muscle was coming back up, despite the fact that he had not released his downward pressure. And that movement -- the male body giving way against a female advance, an advance accomplished without apparent effort and accompanied by Beauty's devastatingly feminine smile -- that movement aroused him even more. It made the preceding excitement -- the sort he had felt many times before -- puny and forgettable by comparison. Nevertheless, he struggled to end -- to reverse -- his retreat. As he did so, with no success, Beauty said, "Tell me when you think it's fully flexed. If you're right, I might give you a prize." Her eye's glowed at him mischievously. Judd had thought it was fully flexed. It was certainly big. Big enough, it seemed to him, to have separated his fingers in the previous exercise. Now his eyes narrowed on the subject at hand. To facilitate his concentration, Beauty brushed her lone, billowing blonde hair away from her arm. The feminine, helpful gesture -- accompanied by a feminine toss of her head -- far from helping Judd, momentarily distracted him. It even caused a slight jiggle of her breasts, yet another distraction. Beauty saw his eyes dart -- almost involuntarily -- to her breasts, then back to her arm, with another little, momentary mammary glance. Beauty giggled. "Ready?" she asked. Judd nodded at her. Suddenly there was a quantum leap in the hardness and size of the lady's bicep. Judd hadn't seen it coming. She hadn't folded her arm any tighter, or twisted her wrist or done anything at all that he could detect. The bicep seemed be growing all by itself. He didn't even notice any effort in Beauty's eyes. But the roundness of the already round bulge became rounder. And the fullness became fuller. And the hardness under the soft,velvet skin became harder. There were no veins popping, none of the signs of strain associated with male bodybuilders, or, for that matter, females who have been starving themselves to get down to contest weight. Her arm was a vision of unmarred, feminine loveliness, as inviting to the lips and the touch as the thigh she had briefly showed him earlier. She asked him, "Do you think that's it?" Judd laughed. "If that isn't it, I think I better find myself another training program." Beauty didn't seem to respond. At least she didn't seem to until Judd felt her arm growing even harder under his grasp than it had been. Now her smile was growing with her arm. Judd was almost speechless. "Holy sh ..." he managed to get out before he ran out of air. Beauty was in her glory. The open-mouthed man was now testing her bicep for any give he could find. He could find none, not below the skin, no matter how hard he pushed at her. He got caught up in the task and brought both his arms into play. At that Beauty decided to blow his mind. When she was certain he had all his strength and all his attention applied to the task of containing her muscle, she began to expand it. Against his best efforts, it grew and hardened and grew and hardened, never losing its roundness, never developing any veins, just blossoming like a flower that is not to be denied. Judd shifted his position to get even better leverage, and Beauty smiled casually, noting that perspiration was forming on his brow. She stopped the expansion and just held her position. She let the man check her out. Her arm was steel, Judd thought; velvet covered steel. His fingers pressing against it -- with whatever leverage he could secure -- were nothing. He searched everywhere for some give. there was none, anyplace. And Beauty watched with growing satisfaction and amusement as his face betrayed growing respect for her and growing disbelief. Finally he turned his face to hers. "You're unbelievable," he said, in what amounted to little more than a whisper, his mouth having grown dry from lack of normal attention. "Do you think that's it?" the girl asked. "You're kidding!" he said. She wasn't. Whereas heretofore Beauty had not bent her elbow any farther than she had upon originally raising her arm for Judd and had not twisted her wrist in a way that would affect the size of her bicep, she now did both. Suddenly. The result was a quantum change in her shape that practically bounced the man's fingers off her skin and left Beauty with an upper arm whose dimensions were -- particularly when compared to their original, relaxed dimensions -- simply astounding. Judd stared at it in complete perplexity and then looked at the girl's face -- as if asking her to confirm what he was seeing -- then back and forth once again, Beauty finally relaxed her arm and wrapped the hand at the end of it lightly around the back of Judd's neck. She drew him firmly toward her and planted a kiss on his lips. "You're a terrific audience, sweetheart," she said, her lips still only an inch from his. Then she gave him a peck on the cheek and suddenly stood up. With a snap of her fingers, she undid her skirt. Now -- to his amazement -- she was standing in front of him in all her glory. Well, almost all. She wore tiny, almost transparent blue panties and that enormous white bra. Nothing else. She rested her hands on her hips and she spread her legs. And she let him look. God!!, what a sight, Judd thought. A goddess. An unbelievable blonde goddess. The Goddess of Strength. Her long, powerful legs tapered flawlessly upward to thighs that looked like they could crush a torpedo or lift her to the roof in a bound. Instinctively he imagined himself falling at the young girl's knees and kissing those huge, awesome thighs. He had never had such a thought before in his life, falling at a girl's feet. But, while the thought took him aback, it did not prevent his eyes from savoring the rest of her body. Then the vision spoke. "Wanna wrestle?" it said. She, Judd had to remind himself this was a real person before him, not a piece of sculpture, not a fantasy, not a goddess. She graciously gave him time to compose himself. He tried to accept her invitation, but no sound came out of his mouth. As he swallowed and tried to get his mouth lubricated enough to function, she took his hand and raised him to his feet and began to unbutton his shirt. When it was off, they squared off. While Beauty's smile never left her face, Judd's countenance changed every few seconds, reflecting his confusion and nervousness and sexual arousal. Beauty took the initiative of locking up with him. She knew that -- what with him being a potential Olympian in wrestling -- her best bet lay in her strength, not so much in the skills she had developed in her training here on the island. She wanted to get her strong, broad shoulders in under his chest somehow and lift him. She had him backing up. When his back came into contact with a wall, she took the opportunity to push farther into him and lock her arms around his chest, enfolding one of his arms within the circle of her arms. As her chest pressed into his sensuously while she improved and tightened the circle, the two wrestlers made eye contact at very close range, and Judd realized that the girl had never stopped smiling while he had been concentrating on stopping her advance. When she had him completely under her control, Beauty fell to her back, or rather to her shoulder, turning as she hit the floor; so that now the man was under her. She kept her arms locked around his chest, and she dug her shoulder into him. And she spread her legs wide, wider than any male opponents of Judd had ever been able to manage in this position or a similar one. She did almost a complete split and placed her feet flat on the floor, so that now all her weight was on only three points: her two feet and her shoulder that was digging into his chest. And now she raised up on her toes, so that nearly all the weight was on her shoulder. Her strength traveled up her mighty legs, crossed over the V her body formed at her panties and then traveled back down her almost inverted torso, into her shoulder. Judd was amazed by the amount of pressure she was able to bring to bear on him. He had been on his back plenty of times as a wrestler, and in roughly similar positions. But it had never been like this before. He had never been helpless. With only one arm free of the girl's grasp, and with his legs unable to come anyplace close to engaging hers -- so widely split was she -- he could hardly even imagine a strategy for release, much less begin to effectuate one. And as time went by he became more and more helpless, because the pressure the lady's beautiful bare shoulder was bringing to bear on his muscular, hairy bare chest was becoming unbearable. It was sapping his wind, and, with it, his strength. It was over just that quick. One move. Judd had never lost a wrestling match that quickly before. Beauty held him flat on his back like that until he knew his strength was too far gone for him ever to be able to mount an escape. Finally, finding it easier than talking, he patted the lady's enticing shoulder with his free hand. Beauty released him, looking as if the smile had never left her face. She stood above him just for a moment -- her legs spread wide enough to straddle him and perhaps a little wider -- then offered him her hand and pulled him to his feet. She patted him on the cheek and left him alone with his thoughts while she visited the bathroom. Judd had plenty of thoughts, and they did not come linearly, but all at once. Everything had happened so fast. She was a formidable foe, that was for sure; but she had messed with his mind, then caught him while he was still in a state of shock. Besides, it wasn't a real wrestling match, was it? In the Olympic trials there would be none of this pushing a guy against a wall; and while it was true that she had held him on his back indefinitely, he wasn't so sure that she had achieved a pin in the formal sense of the word: Making his shoulderblades touch the mat. Both of them at the same time. Well, maybe she had; after all, the rule is they just have to touch for an instant. At any rate, he wasn't likely to come up against a guy who could do the splits like she had. In the midst of his attempts to rationalize his defeat, he. was also having other thoughts. The backs of her thighs flashed in his mind as he had seen them as she was leaving the room. One would be soft and alluring and the other -- the one she was stepping on at the moment -- would be muscular and alluring. Then they'd switch. Well, anyway, now he understood the rules; they were okay; they were fair enough, so long as he understood them. And now he had had a chance to get his wits about him. He needed a rematch. Badly. Beauty kept him waiting. His eyes wandered to her skirt-and blouse lying there on the couch, and he became aroused. He tried to control that. To get his mind off sex; the task for now was to beat this girl in a wrestling match. He laughed at himself even as he had that thought, but he knew it was true. It was like falling off a horse. This thing had to be resolved right now. He did not want to have to live with it. He paced in the living room, becoming impatient. Finally he went to the bathroom to see what was taking so long. Beauty was sitting on a bench in front of a vanity mirror. Her back was to Judd. She was no longer in panties and bra, but a diaphanous peignoir which covered both and which she had apparently had in her purse. She was brushing her hair. Judd was stunned by the sight. She was a vision of feminine allure, and the allure was heightened by the most extraordinary bulge that occurred in her arm with every stroke of the brush. Like a tennis ball, her bicep would bounce up and down, and her arm would be transformed from a vision of feminine grace to a vision of feminine strength and back. He was mesmerized. "Oh, hi," she said brightly, apparently just noticing him in the mirror. Once again Judd found that his mouth would not work on command. When he did get it properly arranged, he said, "How about a rematch." Beauty put down the brush and turned to face Judd, disbelief on her face. She shook her head in amazement -- knowing that Judd had known that she was preparing for bed. "You men," she said, getting up and walking past him as she pulled the peignoir over her head, "You're all alike." He followed her into the living room, his mind once again seized by her beauty. But he shook that condition away. And, to bring to bear one more change in circumstances from their previous encounter, he took off his pants, thus facility better freedom of movement than he had last time. "Oho," Beauty said. "Getting serious, I see." She also raised her eyebrows in appreciation of his physique and his taste in underwear. Now, in nearly equal near nudity, they once again faced off. This time, in accord with his plan, Judd was the aggressor. He dropped in at her left leg just as he would against a male opponent. He was slightly sheepish about needing to wrestle entirely on his own terms like this, but he wasn't about to take any chances this time. Beauty loved his aggressiveness. She was attracted to the way he was hustling under her, scooting after her as she reflexively tried to pull her leg from his grasp. Suddenly -- with speed she admired -- he was out from under and then behind her. She had been leaning on him, so when he made the move around her, she found herself on her hands and knees on the rug, with the man kneeling behind her. He was on her left side, and his right arm was wrapped around her waist, his palm facing upward, covering her navel. In that position he found her incredibly soft and smooth. He could hardly believe he was wrestling seriously with her. But he was serious. Damn serious! He threw his left forearm across the front of the girl's left arm -- her palm being planted on the rug, supporting her body -- and pulled hard inward, collapsing her arm and brining her left shoulder to the mat. He put all his weight into keeping the girl flat on the mat. That required stretching out atop her. Their legs meshed sensuously. And his arms kept coming into contact with her intrusive breasts. His crotch began to swell, but he was determined to concentrate. They jockeyed for position like that for minutes, the man on top of the writhing woman. He could not turn her over, but she could not dislodge him. Suddenly the girl turned over onto her back. The man sensed that the idea was to grab hold of some part of him in the process and keep rolling, so that he would come out beneath her. But he was wise to that. He threw his legs in the opposite direction from that in which she was rolling, and he grabbed one of her arms as it passed. The result was that she was stopped in her tracks, flat on her back. From there he needed only to wrap-up her arms so that they were pointing up uselessly. This he did, with expert speed. If she had been a guy, Judd would also have attempted to pull one of his (her) legs back into the air so that he (she) couldn't use it for leverage. But he looked down at the pillars extending from her frilly blue panties, and something told him to stay away from them. So he put all his effort into containing the upper part of her body. He wasn't sure if he pinned her in the formal sense. But before too long the girl said, "Okay." Judd felt a hundred percent better about this whole day. The girl was taking her defeat well, and now he felt he could go to bed with her secure in both his own athletic future and in their relationship. He felt not simply that he had evened the score, but that he had demonstrated that any time he really was paying attention, he could bat her. It was important to him. To bed they did go, and it was like nothing he had ever experienced before in his life. Afterward, as she lay curled in his arm, the man stroking her golden hair, He said, "You know, you really had me scared there for a minute, tiger." She didn't like the condescending note in his voice. He continued, "I'll bet if I wasn't in top shape, you could really make me sweat." He could feel Beauty's body freeze. She unwrapped herself from him and sat back on her haunches, naked in front of him. "I've got news for you, tiger," she said. "I let you win that second fall because I like you, and because I wanted to make sure you'd be ready for the sack." "Bull," he said, though he suspected he might be getting himself in trouble. "I'll bet you a week's worth of the most fantastic lays you ever imagined that I can pin your pretty ass five times in five minutes. If I win the bet, you get nothing ever again. You willing?" she asked. The End.