Gene and May Introduction A few months ago (October 10, 2002, to be exact), I received an e- mail from a man who said that he had found my stories on Diana's website. He went on to say that he and his wife enjoyed reading them very much, because, as he put it, they strongly identified with the characters in several of the stories. He added, almost as a postscript, that his wife was the more muscled of the two. I knew at once that this was one lucky fellow; not only did was his wife sympathetic to his interest in female muscle, she was the object of it! I wrote back immediately, hungry for more detail. I had the unmistakable sense that theirs was a story that needed telling. To my delight, I found that he and his wife were quite willing to disclose the details of their relationship; how they met, their respective relationship histories (both bad and good); their meeting and subsequent marriage, and most importantly, the role that her muscles played in their sexual relations and consequently in the deepening of their relationship. A cyber-interview began. Two-and-a-half months and numerous e-mails later, I had enough information to write their story. The names are fictitious, of course, and I added some detail for dramatic effect. Nevertheless, the following story is as close to the truth as it can be, given these constraints. As I told the pair myself many times, they are lucky to have found each other. I'm sure you will agree. * * * The images of the Peruvian Andes were provoking awe in every one of the hundred or so members of the Toronto Travel Club.except one. Even though Gene MacDuff faced the silver screen, he stared unseeing, his heart pounding like a hammer. In his mind's eye was an image of a woman he had glimpsed through the half-open door of the ladies' room during intermission. Her name was May, and the two had exchanged pleasantries over the several weeks Gene had been going to the Wednesday evening meeting of the Travel Club. She was pretty and he had found her pleasant company, but had felt no great attraction. But he had never seen her without sleeves-until this night. May had been standing at the vanity, combing her hair, and had taken off her cardigan in order to free her arms. She had been wearing a sleeveless silk blouse. That was the important thing. As the members of the club oohed and ahhed, Gene sat alone among them, his mind playing and replaying his recollection of startlingly broad, powerful shoulders and a biceps that squeezed into a baseball-sized lump each time May pulled her brush through her hair. And he was hard for remembering it. And he ached for her. In his mind a plan began to form. Silently, he declared he would ask her for a date. After all, he thought, I joined The Travel Club in order to meet women. Why should I be shy about it? But then a plague of questions and admonitions came into his mind: How will I justify my sudden interest when I've been rather cool before? I should have acted a bit more interested before! Damn it all! What if she says 'no'? What then? Keep after her and act a fool? What if.What if? You silly bugger, just fuckin' ask her! Gene felt the outline of the theatre tickets in his vest pocket. I shall ask her if she would care to go see the play, he thought, and the more he thought of it, the better the idea felt in his mind. Thereafter he found it nearly impossible to focus on the film-the possibility that he might be able to contrive a way to hold her upper arm as they walked from his car to the theatre filled his mind and caused blood to flow into him. It is about this I will think over and over tonight as I lay tonight in bed alone, he thought. I will think of how her arm will feel when my fingertips make a quick assessment! God, I pray she says 'yes!' The flap-flap-flap of the end of the filmstrip brought the man suddenly to earth. Gene craned his neck to see her, but she was nowhere to be seen, and he panicked. What if she left during the film? Someone turned the lights on and he stood for a better look, his eyes moving from face to face; up one row, then down another, and then finally to the door. There she was, talking to the president of the Travel Club. Everything about her demeanor signaled that she was about to leave. Rudely, he pushed his way to the aisle, his eyes on his prize, the thought of what the sleeves of her cardigan concealed pulling him like a magnet. Then he was next to her, breathless, trembling, and at a loss for words. May was startled by his sudden approach. "Gene?" she asked, "Are you alright?" "May.I apologize for my intrusion." More words were not forthcoming. "Gene? Are you sure you are really alright?" Her accent was English; pure, lilting, cultured, precise. And there is more, he thought. She is interested. Yes. There is no mistaking it. She is interested, and she will say 'yes.' Words returned. "May, I have tickets to 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'". He paused, searching her English face for a sign of interest. There was a lifting of her brow, a slight parting of her red lips. Why didn't I see how beautiful she was when we talked before? "They are for next week-end. Would you care to go with me?" God and Jesus, please let her say 'yes!' "I love Shakespeare, Gene! Yes, I'd be delighted." * * * Gene and May sat side-by-side in a booth of the Boar's Head. She had agreed to have a drink to celebrate the performance of the Bard's comedy, and to mark the occasion of their first date. 'A' drink had turned to two, and two had turned to three, and then four, and May's tongue had loosened. She put her hand on Gene's arm. "Dear," she began, and with that, Gene's stomach felt as if it had fallen through a trap door. He feared she would ask why he had held her upper arm for such a long time on the way into the theatre. He was afraid especially she would ask why he seemed to explore her biceps if (as he imagined she would say), he was only being solicitous, steadying her as they walked. She's found me out! he thought, and waited, heart in his mouth. In truth, May had not thought much about his hand and what it did when it was on her upper arm, but her question nevertheless put him off balance. "Please don't get me wrong, but can you tell me why you asked me to come with you tonight? You seemed, well, disinterested, or, shall I say, 'lukewarm' at best before last Wednesday's meeting of the Travel Club." Gene was filled with dread. What shall I tell her? Should I make a clean breast of it and tell her when I saw her muscles I knew I must know her? No! That is too bold! I must deceive her. "I may have seemed disinterested, May", he began, hoping against hope she was too intoxicated to detect the hollow tones of a lie told in the noisy tavern, "But in truth, I found you attractive from the start. I am not a fellow who carries his feelings on his sleeve, you see." Gene felt guilt settle upon him like a heavy blanket. May was not fooled, drunk though she may have been. "Gene" she said, "There is something." her voice had trailed off. "My, I'm drunk!" she suddenly exclaimed. "I can hardly think! Never mind, where was I? Oh! I remember! What made you." Her voice trailed off. The suddenly she leaned heavily against him, her lips by his ear. "Tell the truth now, my boy, why did you come round of a sudden?" Gene knew as he sat there, feeling May's weight against him, that this might well be an opportunity of a lifetime. A thousand images of women who had shoulders and arms like May's but were only seen from a distance, or were married, or were in other ways 'not right', leapt through Gene's mind, one by one. Images of his ex-wife, too, with her fleshy, ill- defined body came too, and with these came the recollection of how difficult sex had been with her. In order to have his orgasm with his ex- wife, Gene had had to conjure up images of women like the one who sat next to him now; the one whose muscle had felt like hard rubber as he felt it surreptitiously as they walked to the theatre; the one whose ruby lips were now inches from his ear. He felt her warm breath and said what he had longed to say to a woman like her as far back as he could remember. "Even as a lad," he began, "I yearned to be with a girl whose muscles were as evident as yours." There, he thought, I've said it at last. May was startled, and leaned away. Gene thought he had ruined everything. Merde! I've been too frank! May turned her English face away for a moment. She seemed a thousand miles away. Then she turned back. "I can't believe what I've just heard!" "May, I'm sorry. Forget I've said what I did!" "No, Gene. You misunderstand me. I've not taken offense at all!" Gene was speechless. "I'm just surprised, that's all. Really. I assure you that's all there is to it. I'm just, well, surprised." She patted his thigh under the table. "Why?" May crossed her arms on the table. Even through her blouse, Gene could see her round biceps. He noticed too how thick were the veins on her hands, and felt himself harden. "I wish I weren't drunk," she said finally. "What I have to say would be difficult enough were I sober!" "Tell anyway." "My muscles have always been a source of acute embarrassment for me, Gene." "I see. Go on." "Isn't it clear?" May asked, her blue eyes misting. "Imagine how I felt when boys would point at my arms and accuse me of being a boy dressed in girl's clothes! How do you think I felt showering with my classmates in school? God, the stares I got from the other girls! Gene, dear, I've felt a freak my entire life because of the way I was born." The lump in her throat made speech difficult, but she pressed on. "I've never gone sleeveless, even in the summer, for fear someone would notice and point and stare and laugh or make false accusations." Now she was crying, her face in her hands. This was a turn of events Gene hadn't anticipated. He had thought that at the very worst, she would take offense and leave in a huff. Now I'm over my head. I don't have the knack of smoothing things out when someone gets emotional. It hit him that he was being selfish; worrying about himself when May of the blue eyes and English face sat next to him crying bitterly. And he was mad with himself. And he scolded himself: Gene, you bloody fool, tend to this woman's feelings! "May, dear," he said. Please don't cry." Gene took his handkerchief from his pocket and offered it. He watched her dab at her eyes. May laughed, half in embarrassment at having cried in a public place and half at having told her escort her secret. Her mind was as suddenly full of thoughts and questions as Gene's had been only a few minutes earlier: He's such a dear, really. I wonder if he meant what he said. Could it be that a man would find attractive what I've hated about myself? What would it be like to be with a man like Gene? What greater force than we two has brought us together? And then in her drunkenness she closed her eyes and pictures appeared in her mind. She had come in the bedroom from her bath, towel around her. Gene lay naked on the bed. "Make muscles for me, dear," he said. She let her towel drop to the floor. She bent her arms at the elbow. Her two round biceps swelled under her milk-white skin, and as if in counterpoint, blood flowed into his penis. "Touch it," she said. He began to stroke himself. His gaze was fastened to her burgeoning arms. "Come to me, May, my sweet musclewoman, don't delay another second.I'm afraid I will come here in my hand instead of inside you!" "That would not displease me. It would be a great compliment if the sight of my strong arms was enough to cause an eruption." She made her muscles jump. "Come for me, Gene, let me see your essence!" she commanded. The alcohol had made the pictures in her mind's eye especially vivid, and when in her mind's eye May saw Gene come her eyes flew open. She looked at Gene's kind face and blushed scarlet. "Are you all right, May?" "Yes. I'm fine. Really, I've just had a bit too much to drink. I should, er, we should go, don't you think?" "Yes, yes. Of course." Gene had taken hold of May's upper arm on the way to his car. She laughed, now that it was all out in the open. "Would you like me to flex my muscle?" she asked, laughing. "Please." Gene's eyes widened as his fingers felt her biceps slide up her upper arm and contract into a baseball-sized and baseball-hard mass. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" he exclaimed. "It's fuckin' incredible, if you don't mind my language." "Not at all, Gene," May said, her tight biceps quivering. "I love a salty tongue at the right moment!" In the next moment she had her arms around him. She brought his face to hers. She kissed him hard, pushing her tongue deeply into his mouth, squeezing the breath out of him with her strong arms. She pulled her face away. "Feel how strong I am, Gene! Do you like it?" She picked the little Scot up as if he were as light as a child. May's arms were like ever-tightening steel bands. Gene could hardly speak, but he could nod his head. Yes, he thought, beginning to see stars, I do like it, May, I like it very much! He was hard as a broomstick. May ground herself against him. "Gene, you rascal! You do like it, don't you?" * * * "Do you remember that night, May?" Gene's wife of twenty years put her hand on her husband's chest. "Like it was yesterday." "When you think back on our years together, dear, doesn't it seem almost providential, if I may say so, that the two of us should have met? I mean." May put her finger to Gene's lips. "I know what you mean. You, with your love of womanly muscle and strength, and me, with my womanly muscles." "Well, only in part, May." "In part only?" "Yes. There's more to it than mere physicality. Look how we've been able to help each other grow: for my part, I labored to keep my attraction secret from my mates, and in so doing denied myself what I really desired. Instead of seeking the kind of love object I wanted, I sought out the kind of woman I thought would conform to their parameters-Christ, I even married one!" He shuddered. "I did love her, dear, but not being able to fully express my ardor because of the shape of her undid us in the end." He looked at May. His eyes were brimming. "That's not the case with you, my sweet." May came closer still and threw a powerful thigh over Gene's legs. "And as for me," she said, her ruby lips again by his ear, "your love of my shape has given me the confidence to show what I am to the world. For the first time since childhood, I go sleeveless now, Gene, and to hell with what anyone thinks when they see my arms!" She laughed. "Just the other day, I was trying on a hat in the department store, and I caught a fellow staring at my biceps, moving around as they do when I have my arms up over my head.you know what that looks like, don't you, dear?" She stuck a finger in her husband's ribs. "Ouch! Damn, lassie, you don't know your own strength!" "Anyway, this fellow said my arms looked like they belonged on a stevedore!" "And?" "And I turned round and grabbed him by the shirt-front and said, 'Booger off!'" Gene laughed, but his wife's words had hardened him, and he put her hand on his hardness. May was glad. At long last she had found a man who had freed her from the cell in which she had lived since she was an adolescent. Lying next to her lover, she thought of how it used to be, living in a 'safe' place; a place of long-sleeved blouses to be worn in summertime when the other girls went sleeveless; a place where the insults of her classmates echoed, even as she fought to go to sleep; a place where boys thought of her as one of their own and never looked at her as they looked at other girls. Yes, she thought, it was a safe place, but I was alone there. But now I am free, thanks to this wonderful man, and being muscled as I am has allowed him to express his passion as he never could before. And as she thought that last thought, she felt Gene's hardness begin to throb and she grew wet between her legs.