May
by MBP  mwfan318@aol.com 
May and me.


I met May a few months ago with our dogs. We lived in the same apartment
development and the animals were friends. May, who jogged daily with her
little Cocker Spaniel, was of Asian descent; I couldn’t tell which. She was
either Filipino or Chinese and actually appeared a mixture of the two. She was
always cheerful and friendly, and I liked to watch her run. May moved easily
on her toes, which was different from most joggers. She was young; around 22
or 23. Her upper body was petite but attractive: small breasts; narrow waist;
very lean build. Her face was cute but marked, as if she had some acne trouble
in her childhood, as I had. May was not beautiful, but she had something
special, which may or may not have had to do with her sparkling personality.
The other thing amazing about May was her legs. They were surprisingly thick
and very well-muscled. It was as if she was built with parts from two
different people.

My wife had died in a car accident shortly after I met May. Linda and I didn’t
have a good relationship; she was always unhappy and angry and had no friends,
and I was far from the best husband. Maybe this was the reason why May
appealed to me; she was the polar opposite. Linda’s death was hard on me. I
hoped, however, that she was finally at peace. As it always does, Life
continued, and I slowly emerged from the dark clouds, lonely, but more at
peace than I had been in years.

May knew Linda, as well, through our dogs. When May saw me shortly after the
accident, she immediately knew something was wrong. She handled it
appropriately for someone who was a passing acquaintance. As the months
progressed, we saw each other often, and (sort of) became friends. We’d see
each other with our dogs and talk about anything other than Linda. It was good
for me and helped me recover, along with other friends and family who were
supportive.

I don’t know how or when it happened, but at some point I began to see May in
a different light; as someone with whom to have a relationship; to see where
it led. I was of course always attracted to her, but then again, I was also
attracted to lots of women who I saw semi-regularly. It was different with
May; that I could feel. But there was a major problem: I was just a month from
my fiftieth birthday and there was no way that I could believe a young woman
would be interested in me. I wasn’t exceptionally rich, or handsome, or
debonair, and I was still quite overweight, although I was now exercising
religiously and had lost close to 30 pounds. I wanted to start a May-December
relationship, which would have been great if my name was December. I didn’t
want to ask out May, because if she wasn’t interested it would certainly ruin
our budding friendship. I remained friendly but lightly aloof to inure myself
against rejection.

There was, however, one problem with my behavior. It was probably transparent
to May. I had found during my nearly half a century on this planet that there
really is something to woman’s intuition; that, in reading behavior, women are
far superior to men. Linda, for example, meeting strangers for a few minutes,
could paint an amazingly accurate picture of their relationship; of each one’s
faults; and of other assorted details. It was always interesting to see,
although, as far as investigating the depth of my behavior, Linda was without
a clue. This made more sense as I got older. In her narrow focus, Linda saw me
as the man. And to be a man, I had to be strong when necessary, remorseful
when I did something wrong, smile when I was being reamed, often all of these
at the same time. I was to make money, defend my wife and make her life
better, while completely subjugating any feelings or issues I might actually
have. Linda could see into the future of strangers, but couldn’t see (or, more
likely didn’t want to see) into me.

But, what does this have to do with May? Well, she could certainly see through
my transparent ruse and understand that I was interested in her. Hopefully,
she’d simply discard it, and we’d remain what we were. She then surprised me
by asking if I wanted to come over to watch a video. Although I’m pretty
dense, I could see what was happening: May was asking me out in a friendly,
non-threatening fashion. This way, if I wasn’t interested, although May had
already surmised that I was, there would be no problem between us. The other
way to read the situation was to consider that she was simply being friendly;
that she really wanted to hang out and watch a movie. I discarded that view,
although it was possible. I readily agreed, and knocked on her door that
evening. In keeping with the détente atmosphere of our "date," I brought
dessert, but no dating paraphernalia, such as flowers.

May was dressed simply and sexy in a cleverly neutral skirt, black top showing
off well her small breasts, and bare feet, to help advertise the well-muscled
legs already noted. It didn’t take long before her shirt and panties, and my
pants and underwear, were removed. We were on the sofa, her skirt hiked up as
she rode me wildly. I hadn’t had sex in many years - you see, I was married -
and it was over too fast. May didn’t seem to mind, but she asked me to stand.
When I did, she sat where I originally sat, and asked for me to climb on. I,
of course, protested, saying I was too heavy and would hurt her, but May
insisted. So I mounted her, noting with some relief that Viagra was not yet
necessary. This time I rode her wildly. The original orgasm had taken the edge
off, and I was able to last. May then did something totally unexpected: She
stood up in the middle of our thrusting. I stopped, tightening my grip as I
was wrapped around her and didn’t want to fall. May didn’t seem to be having
much trouble supporting my weight which was pretty incredible. Despite my
weight loss, I was still close to 200 pounds on my 5’6" frame. May was
securely under five feet tall and her slender upper body didn’t show real
muscle. She was supporting me with her powerful legs, and doing it easily. As
she was in- between orgasms, May whispered for me to continue, and I did,
until we were both spent.

Lying together on the sofa afterwards, I realized that it had taken several
minutes of energetic lovemaking to reach (my) second climax, and that May had
carried me the entire time.

"You are one strong little woman," I said.

May smiled and asked, "Did you mind? I like picking up men."

I didn’t mind and laughed at the double entendre. I had been lifted by girls
and women in my youth - of course I was never more than 160 pounds - and it
was a turn-on.

"Did it look like I minded?" I asked. I think May knew the answer to that one
as she kissed me hard. She started again, and I started saying no, but my
penis said yes, and of course he won out. This time, it was on the sofa.

We dated, doing all sorts of fun things, like having more sex, that I hadn’t
done in years. One of our cooperative activities was exercising. I couldn’t
yet jog with May and her pup since walking was still more than enough.
However, in our development was a small gym, and we shared running/walking
time side-by-side on treadmills. We stretched - boy it was fun watching her do
that - did calisthenics, and lifted weights. As May had continued to carry me
in various positions, and not just during sex, I started looking for signs of
strength in her, not just in her legs. I already well knew their power.
Shortly after we started mating - I mean dating - we had leg wrestled, and it
was no contest. But, like most women, the weights she lifted at the gym were
light, although with many repetitions. Still, there had been various
indications of non leg-related strength.

May always held up her end when we moved heavy items, although that really
wasn’t much of a surprise. Linda, who was not extremely strong, could and
would rearrange all of the furniture when I was out. She once moved a 200-plus
pound air conditioner from the reinforced top of the hall closet to the hall
outside our apartment. Linda always maintained it was leverage and know how.
May never asked for assistance with bottle tops. Sometimes, when we would walk
holding hands, and we started moving in different directions, May would pull
me to her path. I never turned it into a tug of war, but I secretly marveled
at the force it would take to actually move me. Some of her lifts of me,
despite being supported by her legs, had to require other strength. However,
all of these signs were like a lawyer’s lost case; they were circumstantial.
Unless I actually saw May arm-wrestling, or saw something concrete, I wouldn’t
know for sure. So ask her, I thought. So I did.

"May, honey, I need to ask you something."

"Go ahead."

"I know your legs are very strong," I said. "But, what about the rest of you?"

May thought about something for a second, took a good, hard look at me, and
decided to take a chance. At least, I found out later about what she was
thinking. How much to let me know.

"I can beat you at wrestling," May said.

I considered this for a second, logically, without tossing in testosterone
(which my former wife said I was without anyway). She was probably a little
more than half my weight. And, my upper body was certainly stronger than hers.
May was in much better shape. She was far more flexible than me; had better
stamina. She was less than half my age. Her legs were stronger, and wrestling
requires more leg strength than anything. I thought about it some more, and, I
actually had to agree with her (for now).

"I’m probably being a traitor to my sex, but I think you might be able to do
just that."

May giggled. How could she not love me? No man had ever admitted that such a
tiny woman could beat them in wrestling. She told me this later as she told me
that only one guy had ever beaten her in a match of at least five falls, and,
at the time, she was 11 and he was 17. He won by the huge margin of three
falls to two.

"OK," she said. "Let me think." She thought, giggling again at the sight of me
imitating her thinking. May had this way of moving her lip to one side and
putting her fist under her chin when she was lost in thought. It was one of
the things I found appealing, and I imitated it, and the other things, on
special occasions.

"I can beat you in the give game, make you move first in that contest where
two people lock hands and pull, trying to off-balance the other - I can’t
remember the name of that game - and probably overpower you in arm-wrestling.
Is that enough for you?"

"Don’t hold back, May," I said amusedly, as she had stated this very directly
and defiantly. "Give it to me straight."

She laughed and said, "Want to try your luck? Win a contest, get a China
doll." It turns out she was Chinese.

When I stopped laughing, I said, "I’m not going to bother with the balance
game. You’ll win that on legs alone. However, I’d like to try the other two."

"Hokay." She stood up and put her small hands out. I suggested we get on our
knees, to even out the height, and May agreed. We locked hands. If you are
unaware, the objective is to twist the other person’s hands and wrists until
they give. I actually thought in advance that I might not win. If this seems
unreasonable, considering I still felt that I was a lot stronger in the upper
body than May, it’s not. When I was young and strong, a number of the girls I
dated were able to break at least even with me in wrist contests. We didn’t
try the give game, but sometimes we’d be holding hands and attempt to twist
the other person’s wrist. Girls who were much weaker than me could easily hold
their own. There is something in the way the wrist and the hand are structured
that makes this so. I don’t have any written evidence, just empirical fact,
but try it sometime. Anyway, our contest started, was hotly fought, and the
better man, actually the better woman, won. May had strong hands anyway - she
was stronger, compared to me, than any of those girls I had dated more than 30
years ago - and twisted until I gave in to the pressure. This left one event -
the one in which I was most interested: arm-wrestling.

Although there is technique involved in arm-wrestling, strength is
ultra-important. This was my final stand. I hoped to do better than Custer.
After losing the give game, I didn’t even bother to dwell. I lay quickly on
the floor, and put up my arm. May needed to get a thin book to level our arms.
We clasped hands, and I looked at May. She really didn’t have any real muscle;
my arms were much thicker and the every third day weight lifting was making me
stronger. Her upper body was very smooth and slender. Her hands were strong
and her forearms, I noticed for the first time, were big for her size. Still,
I was brimming with confidence. It was one of the reasons I didn’t bother with
the wrestling first. Losing may have demoralized me. This way, I had lost
something that was acceptable. And I was so much larger and more muscular than
my girlfriend that it was easy to feel confident. And I did; for a total of
three seconds.

The match had started and I had pulled swiftly and strongly, expecting to win
pretty quickly. I had arm-wrestled a number of females for fun. The stronger
ones were easy to put down but with them I had at least felt resistance. I had
never lost to a female, although there were about a half-dozen women that I
knew earlier in life that I thought would have had a chance to beat me had we
arm-wrestled. I wasn’t weak; a strength testing machine in the Canadian
Science Museum in Toronto had judged me to be just above average strength for
a man. Which, according to the chart at the Museum, was twice as strong as the
average woman. With May, I took the advantage, but she had held firm; she
wasn’t even halfway down; the match was far from over. It is often easier to
hold a position than to be aggressive. I read somewhere that an old-time
strongman’s toughest arm-wrestling competitor was a woman. She couldn’t beat
him, but could hold him in a locked position for quite a long time. May was
holding hers very well. I pushed hard but couldn’t budge her much. Still, I
was moving her inexorably down. But then, my progress stopped. May had taken
the initiative and was moving me back! Our position was almost the same as
when we started.

I looked at May. She was straining, flat out. I also looked at her slim body,
smooth arms, sexy, small breasts and it was a surprising turn-on to understand
that this small woman was my match. My erection was unbidden, but was
invisible to my opponent. She was pulling for all she was worth; I followed
suit. The stiffie disappeared as the match raged, with my slight advantage the
only indication that we had actually started. But it had more than started,
and was starting to get long, especially for me. May, as was mentioned
earlier, had incredible stamina, which is why she preferred wrestling at least
five falls. I was too old, and too out-of-shape to arm-wrestle a long match.
Realizing this, I summoned up the reserve of my reserves, and went for the
win.

Did I win? Did I? You bet I didn’t. May did. I succeeded only in moving her
slightly, after which she realized I had nothing left. Her demeanor swung from
business to playful, as she teasingly controlled my now dead arm. May posed
with her feet up behind her, which she knew I liked a lot. Then she pulled my
arm down and me over, at the same time. I couldn’t see her face, but I could
"hear" her smiling as the hardness had returned. My arm might be dead, but the
rest of me was alive and kicking. I could only use one arm, but May did all
the work, eventually carrying me up to bed, where we finished a surprisingly
erotic night.

May and I are now living together and plan to marry in the spring. Of course,
I expect her to carry me over the threshold. Wouldn’t you?

.