Mom and Tonya - Part II By KArma Mom and Tonya test their strength one more time. Mom and Tonya - Part II It had been two weeks since my late night tete-a-tete with Tonya. There had been several times when I actually held the telephone receiver in my hand, ready to call her, but had then forced myself to hang up. No matter my desire, I was unwilling to risk an accusation of seducing a minor. My thoughts were often of her, though, and I occasionally found myself rubbing my arm at the memory of her strength pitted against mine. I pictured her tall, muscular body and remembered how her hard, straining biceps felt under my exploring fingers. I finished wiping the dishes and went downstairs to the quasi-gym where Denise and I spent much of our free time. I looked unenthusiastically at the free weights, treadmill and other equipment scattered around the room. I finally picked up a small dumbbell and began doing some desultory curls. I watched my reflection in the full-length mirror on one wall, half-unconsciously admiring my flexing biceps and mentally comparing them with Tonya’s. Tonya’s... "Damn!!" I threw the weight down and stalked over to the mirror. I stood, hand on hips, glaring at my reflection that was glaring back at me. "Get a grip!" I scolded myself. "You are a grownup now, so get over this fucking obsession with a girl half your age! You’re acting like a goddamn midlife-crisis-suffering man!" Giving my reflected image a final glare I went back upstairs. Still needing some physical activity to break out of my funk, I grabbed a basketball and went out by myself to shoot a few hoops. My usual partner, Denise, was over at Valerie’s house and wouldn’t be home for several hours yet. I was working up a pretty good sweat and giving Lisa Leslie a run for her money when I realized that someone was walking up the driveway to our house. I stopped dribbling and tucked the ball under one arm as I turned and saw Tonya. She stopped several feet away and just stood, weight on one leg and arms crossed, looking back at me. "Hi," I finally said. "Hi," she replied. "Is Denise home? I thought we’d run out and grab a bite to eat." "No, she’s over at Valerie’s. Didn’t she tell you?" Tonya shrugged her broad shoulders. She looked down at the ground and frowned. "Denise and I aren’t quite as close as we used to be," she said slowly. "I think she’s ticked because... Well, after I..." I nodded understandingly. "She’s pretty proud. I think you bruised her ego and shook her confidence a little. Give her time, though. She’ll get over it." I grinned a little bit. "Speaking of getting over it, how’s your arm?" She shot me a look, angry at first, but then a small grin crossed her face. The grin turned into a rueful chuckle, and her head came up. "Okay, okay!" she said. "I get the point." She rubbed her arm for a second. "It was sore," she admitted. "God, that was some match! How are you feeling?" "Fine - now," I admitted in turn. "Denise did wonder why I did everything left-handed for a few days." She grinned again, more comfortable now that I had acknowledged our prior relationship. "How ‘bout a little one-on-one?" I gestured with the ball. "Sure," she replied, and eagerly caught my pass (So to speak). We played a game to 15. I had watched her play once before and knew she played an aggressive, physical brand of playground ball. Our game was no different. No fouls were called, although we each were sent sprawling a time or two. It felt good - maybe too good. The game had a lot of close physical contact, Tonya with her hand on my hip as she guarded me, our bodies colliding chest-to-chest as we jumped for a rebound. No quarter was asked and none was given as she ran me into the ground. Forty-five minutes later, with her the victor, 18-16, we stood bent over, hands on knees, gasping for air, T-shirts sweat-stained. "Good game!" I panted. "God, you’re tough!" "You noticed!" she gasped back. "You’re not too bad for an old broad!" She deftly avoided my half-hearted swipe at her. She straightened and went to retrieve the ball. To my amazement she "palmed" it and picked it straight up with one hand. I knew that that simple act was much more difficult than it looked. It took big hands and strong fingers to palm a basketball. She saw me gawking at her and grinned. "Not so bad, huh?" she asked. "It’s a good party trick I use to intimidate the boys." She thoughtfully looked down at the ball and held it straight out. "I’ve got really big hands." She glanced back at me, and her grin grew wider. Not saying anything I motioned for her to toss me the ball. When she did, I spread my fingers and gripped it just like she had, then held it out for her inspection. It was her turn to gape at me. "Wow!" she said excitedly. "That’s really cool! Your hands must be almost as big as mine!" Her stress on the ‘almost’ was unmistakable. I raised an eyebrow as she grinned impudently at me. "Almost?" "Shall we see?" Her look was challenging and my knees were weak. I shrugged. "Why not? Come on inside and let’s get something to drink first." A few minutes later we were standing in the kitchen, feeling better after several long swallows of lemonade. We looked at each other. Tonya laughed a little nervously and cleared her throat. "Well..." she started, then laughed again. "This is a little silly, isn’t it? I mean..." "What? You’re not curious anymore?" I asked, giving her another out and hoping she wouldn’t take it. She shook her head. "No, I’m still - shall we say - interested?" Suddenly her nervousness was gone. She resolutely put her glass down and turned to face me. I smiled and put my glass down as well. We faced each other squarely. I brought up my right hand, palm facing Tonya. She looked at it for a second, then quickly brought up her left hand, positioning it palm-to-palm to mine. The initial contact of warm skin almost made me gasp, but I swallowed it and looked at Tonya. Her smile was gone and her eyes were deep. For several seconds we stared unto each other’s eyes, enjoying the feel of the slight contact. We then looked more closely at our hands. We both had broad palms with long, strong fingers. It was as if I had my hand up to a mirror, any difference was so negligible. Our eyes met again but neither of us moved to break contact. Without any thought or prior intent, our hands slid until our fingers linked together. I gave our interlocked hands a little nudge, trying to bend her wrist back. As I knew she would, she resisted. This time Tonya moved first. She brought up her other hand to shoulder level, fingers spread, then smiled at me in mute invitation. Wordlessly we interlocked fingers and began our next test of strength. We remained there, feet firmly planted, nothing else moving. As in our arm-wrestling match we started slowly, gradually ratcheting up the strength we were applying through shoulders, arms, wrists and hands. Anyone watching would have thought us at ease until a closer examination showed the clenched teeth, labored breathing and taut muscles that revealed our duel. Our eyes remained locked the entire time, gazes searching for any sign of weakness or reduced will to conquer. Tonya’s brown eyes stared determinedly and unblinkingly into mine. The battle continued, now with both of us at full strength. I wasn’t about to underestimate either her power or stamina, so I went quickly for the kill. Excruciating millimeter by millimeter I forced her wrists back. Her eyes never wavered. Our hands hadn’t moved from shoulder level. This was no battle of leverage, but of pure muscle power. Our arms trembled slightly from the effort we were putting forth. Tonya’s arms rippled with muscle, veins evident under the surface. Our big hands were clasped so tightly together they were getting numb. Still we struggled, me with a slight advantage, but unable to force her any further back. Suddenly, Tonya’s eyes closed. But not, I realized, in concession. Her breathing almost stopped, and I felt her resistance increase. She stopped me and unbelievably began forcing my wrists back, first to even, then back further. I battled, groaning from the extreme effort, and managed to hold her off. Straining as I was, I still managed to notice her chest swell to magnificent proportions, nipples straining to poke through the damp T- shirt. I couldn’t resist, and stumbled a step closer until my own erect nipples barely made contact with hers. Tonya moaned at the unexpected touch, and her pressure relaxed for a split-second. Taking full advantage of her momentary lapse, I poured everything into a last attempt. Distracted, she couldn’t resist quickly enough, and in a few seconds I had her at an extreme disadvantage. She struggled mightily, but vainly, to fight back. A minute later, almost on her knees, she managed to whisper, "Enough... You win... Damn it!" I immediately eased the pressure, and fell to my knees facing her. We unlaced our numb fingers and recovered together, arms wrapped around each other, chins resting on each other’s shoulders as we gasped for air. Swaying together, breasts pressed tightly together, we regained our composure. Finally after a very pleasurable eternity, we raised our heads and looked at each other. Tonya’s eyes were as deep a brown as I had ever seen them, and she gave me an absolutely heart-melting smile. Slowly she took her arms out from around me and cupped my face with both hands. I ignored the faint peals of alarm as her faces lowered to mine, then I felt her warm breath and her warm lips and her warm tongue, and suddenly God was in her heaven and all was well with the world.