Sherry By The Collector A chance encounter with a strong girl Copyright 1998 The Collector This story is adult in nature and should not be read by anyone under 21. Send comments to ChuckSt35@aol.com I saw Sherry the first time in a coffee shop. She was there with someone who appeared to be her boyfriend. At first glance, she wasn’t someone I’d normally take a liking to. Her hair was cut short in a page boy, and she appeared to be somewhat, but only slightly, overweight, judging from the dress she was wearing. Bu I couldn’t help noticing her legs. So slightly on the heavy side, they were nonetheless perfectly proportioned, well muscled, and tanned and she was wearing see through pumps, her pretty toes painted a bright pink. Her legs were crossed under her skirt, a flowery print with plenty of fabric, hanging midway down her calf. Looking her over, she wore a loose white top that hung on her shoulders with the front just low enough to see the cleavage of her full round breasts. Her lips were only slightly painted, and she wore almost no makeup. By any standard, she should have been only average. But she gave off an aura that made men, and women, look twice, that make her more appealing than more beautiful women. She was animated in talking to the guy across from her. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she was smiling, laughing, and appeared to do most of the talking as he just nodded and listened. Clearly, she was in charge of the conversation. In what appeared to be a move out of the blue, she turned her arm up and flexed her bicep. I couldn’t see as I was too far away and her blouse was covering her arm. I was, however, immediately turned on by the thought of this woman having greater strength than I, and more muscular. So turned on that I had to control myself to keep from blushing. The conversation appeared to get heated. She appeared to turn suddenly angry and her voice forceful. I couldn’t help wondering what she was saying. He answered back in apparently equally angry tone. The kept exchanging words when, suddenly, she threw her drink on him, got up, slapped his face sending him over his chair, and walked towards the exit, past my table. I could tell by her gait that she was more hurt than angry. She walked with a look of despair on her face. I looked her over from the bottom up as she walked past. Her toes were kissably pretty, her calves strong and feminine. She glided towards me as I surveyed her body. With generous curves, this was clearly a woman built for comfort. Her large breasts rose and fell invitingly as she walked, begging to be caressed. I looked her in the eyes as she walked by, noticing a single tear running down her cheek. This was not the woman I thought, but a girl of 19 or 20. As she walked by, she caught her purse on the chair across from me, seemingly unnoticed by her. I reached down, picked it up and went after her. Outside, I saw her walking to my left as I went after her, glad she had dropped it, wanting just to talk to her. I caught up with her and kept to her pace, enough in front to look her in the eyes., “Miss, you dropped your purse.” Seemingly not hearing me, she asked, “What’s wrong with me? Why do guys always do this to me?” “I-I don’t know what you mean.” “Do you think I’m pretty? Do you think I’m attractive…and feminine?” I looked in her eyes longingly, wanting to say what I really thought, but knowing I couldn’t. Then I said stupidly, “I don’t think you’re pretty…I think you’re the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen.” She was taken aback…and immediately put on her guard, the way most women respond when they know they’re being pursued. “Well, if you think so, why can’t guys accept me the way I am?” “I don’t know what you mean. But I’d take you in a heartbeat.” “Not if you knew the real me.” She was now feeling somewhat sorry for herself. Being clearly baffled, I asked her, “What is the real you?” “These”, she replied, touching her right arm. “I still don’t understand.” “I look feminine right? I look like a normal girl?” “Sure, you look great.”, I said. “You’re going to run away as soon as I tell you, so I might as well anyways.” “Tell me what?” She stopped and looked me in the eyes. “Well, I have muscles, and I’m really strong. And I like it that way. What’s so wrong with a girl being strong?” I felt an immediate attraction towards her, as a familiar surge swept through me. I looked at her admiringly, gathering my thoughts. “A lot of girls have muscles”, I said. “And I knew some real strong girls from school, who were swimmers, gymnasts, and played sports.” I was trying to placate her and endear her to me at the same time. “And there’s nothing wrong with that..’ “No, I mean I’m REALLY strong…probably stronger than anyone you’ve ever met. And my muscles are really big. Put your hand on my arm.” I placed my hand on her sleeve, reaching for her bicep. It was small, but as soft, yet as solid, as I hoped it would be. “Well, that’s not any bigger than most people’s.” “I haven’t flexed my arm yet. Now see what you think.” With my hand on her sleeve, she slowly curled her arm. My fingers felt a rise under them as her bicep began to swell, as it got bigger and bigger. I caught her eyes for a moment, a smile as she glanced at me, totally aware of, and proud of, her strength. She continued flexing as my hand struggled with her bicep, as it got bigger yet, so big my hand could only reach up one side. It was smooth, perfectly round and as hard as anything I’d ever touched. “Oh, geez, they’re huge. I didn’t think any girl could have arms like that. Especially one so pretty. Are you as strong as you look?” “No, I’m a lot stronger. Are you gonna run away now?” “Why should I run away?” “Most guys do when they see my biceps, and find out how strong I am. Don’t you think a girl’s muscles are a turn off?” “N-no, I think strong girls are very…sexy” my voice shook. I was clearly intimidated by her strength, knowing I couldn’t last a minute if she had a mind to do anything to me. I-I mean, why shouldn’t girls be as strong, or stronger than guys?” She then look at me coyly, innocently, “What if a girl can dominate you with her strength? Is that OK too?” I looked down into her blue eyes, my own betraying my wanting her. I wanted to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. My face turned red as she approached me, her hand moving down my chest, finally reaching for me. She then looked me in the eyes, “I think you’d like that. I think you want to feel my strength against you, knowing I could do anything I wanted with you.” She started to hurriedly back away from me. She stood a good ten feet away, put up her right hand, curled her index finger and motioned me towards her. “If you can catch me…” She blew me a kiss, then she turned and started walking away from me, slow enough for me to catch her.