MASSAGE
By Merz
Hands-On Encounter of the Muscle Kind

"Go on in and get undressed.  Get on the table under the sheet. I'll be 
there in a few minutes once you're ready.  It says here you want half an 
hour?"

"Right, thirty minutes.  I've been working my arms and shoulders so 
concentrate there.  And I have a knot in my upper back that's killing 
me.  I want to work out the kinks before I hit the hot tub and then the 
showers and I?m on kind of a tight schedule."

"No problem.  We'll take care of everything and get you on your way."  I 
hated clients who were in a hurry.  The point of massage is relaxation, 
and having these dames who are always in a rush sort of defeats the 
whole idea.  But if I got her feeling loose there could be a good tip in 
it for me, and sometimes I've been able to move a client from 
therapeutic massage to the sensual type and really gotten a bonus.

I glanced up from the schedule book for the first time to see if that 
was a direction I might want to go with this one.  I doubted it.  She 
stood right about five and a half feet tall or maybe an inch more.  Her 
face was pretty with good bone structure: wide forehead, wide-set eyes, 
wide, strong mouth, wide chin.  That was promising, but under the damp 
sweat suit she looked awfully heavy, the sweat shirt fitting snugly over 
her round body.  One reason I work in a gym is so I can meet the hard-
body honeys who take fitness and exercise seriously.  It may not be 
professional, but I love to run my hands over some young sweetheart with 
smooth skin and no fat.  I couldn't guess this one's age, but not a kid, 
and with her size I figured not a regular in the fitness classes.  I 
looked back down at my schedule to discourage any more conversation.  I 
didn't need Tubby getting her rocks off by talking to this Personal 
Trainer and Massage Therapist. 


In the studio I oiled my hands as I studied the contours of the sheet 
draped over her.  "I'll start on the arms and work inward, then finish 
with the shoulders and that back you mentioned."  She didn't look as fat 
as I had guessed initially, but the hidden body was obviously pretty 
thick as she lay on her back.

"You work out much?" I asked casually as I reached under the sheet for 
her left arm.

She waited for me to pull it into view and to stare stupidly at its 
monstrous size and contours before she answered dryly, "Yeah, quite a 
bit."

Her arm was as thick as my leg.  From the thick muscles of the upper arm 
to the narrow elbow joint and on down to the bulging forearm with its 
maze of pulsing veins her arm had a distinctly hour-glass shape.  Its 
mass amazed me so much I had to heft it a couple of times before I could 
believe it was really as heavy as I first thought.  It was.  

I had to brace myself a bit to hold it angled above her body lying on 
the table so I could go to work.  Usually I try to be professional and 
detached when I give a massage, but this first contact was so 
unbelievable that my mind was crying for more proof that the arm really 
belonged to a human body beneath the sheet draped in front of me.  I had 
to fight the urge to whip the sheet off and see if there was some trick 
involved, like maybe she wasn?t pulling some sort of an illusion.

With a deep breath I started working her thick hand.  The palm was 
callused, and so were her knuckles.  My thumb couldn't reach any of the 
metacarpal bones beneath the rough palm, but I pressed along anyway, 
pushing the blood toward the rest of the incredible arm.  I flexed her 
thick wrist and moved on to the forearm but had to look quickly at her 
face to see if she was deliberately tensing it instead of relaxing so I 
could do my job.  She looked completely at ease, facing up at the 
ceiling with her eyes closed, breathing slowly and steadily.  It felt 
like was trying to massage a steel-belted tire.  I needed one hand just 
to hold her arm up, and my other wasn?t making so much as a dent in her 
dense flexor muscles.  I tried with my thumb, then switched to drive the 
heel of my hand against the unyielding surface but got nowhere.

"Don't be afraid to go pretty deep.  After a workout I really like to 
have my muscles stretched and worked.  It helps their recovery."  She 
sounded dreamy and distant, completely relaxed as she directed me to do 
the impossible.  It was like she was taunting me, laughing at the fact 
my best effort was totally defeated by her dense muscles.

To get some leverage I laid her arm on the table by her side with her 
palm facing up.  That way I was able to get above and to try driving 
first the heel of my hand and then my fist with my full weight behind 
it down into the brachia muscles and actually make an impression into 
the brawny mass.  With all the strength in my shoulder I worked upward 
along her forearm, plowing my elbow as deep as I could.  It felt like I was 
shifting stones with my bare hands, but I could tell she could feel it now.

She inhaled and muttered, "Nice.  That feels good."

I rotated her arm to get at the extensor muscles.  When I ran the heel 
of my hand up them, they felt like individual steel cables under the 
skin connecting her hand to just below her elbow.  I attacked each cable 
separately, my fingers digging in and straining to stretch them, twist 
them, pull them apart.

My finger tips were aching as I neared the insertion points.  "Hmmm," 
she sighed and I nearly started to cry from the pain and effort I was 
pouring into this one body part.

For her upper arm I got my leg up on the table and heaved her arm up so 
the triceps rested against my knee while I drove my elbow into the 
biceps and slowly plowed along both heads toward her shoulder.  I was 
able to get most of my body into it and got another "hmmm" as my reward.  
Shifting my knee around I was able to work on most of her triceps.

It was the hardest work of my entire life.  Her left arm went a little 
quicker because I knew how much force was required and what standard 
techniques to not even bother with.  Finally I was able to step away and 
try to catch my breath and cool down for a minute.  My fingers crackled 
when I flexed them, the tendons were tight and strained.  I shook them 
hard to get some blood back and maybe stop my hands from trembling so 
much.  

Now she was lying with her arms outside the sheet at her sides, pulling 
the cloth against her body so I could get a better look at her contours 
from her chest down past her hips.  It looked like a broad mountain 
range, her chest rising above everything and a pair of sharp nipples 
topping the round mounds of her breasts, a double dome at her relaxed 
abs leading down to the swell of thick thighs.  Her breathing came slow 
and steady, raising her chest and heaving her breasts up higher and 
contributing to the quick gasping of my own breath.  From figuring she 
carried a lot of fat, I now wondered if she had any.

She lifted her arm and reached her right hand over to rub the biceps.  
It looked like she was squeezing a loaf of white bread, squeezing and 
kneading the huge muscle that felt like an oak tree to me.  "Not bad,"
she muttered.

"I don't get it.  When you walked in you looked like Miss Five by Five.  
I took you for some fat cow, not a serious weight lifter."

"My gym bag is there in the corner.  Check out what?s on the top."  She 
shook her arm and the muscles that had taken all my strength to dent 
swayed majestically.

Her bag was as big as a duffle bag.  I looked into it and grabbed the 
canvas vest.  I started to pull it out, then stared at her in amazement.  
"This must weigh a hundred pounds.  You wear this thing?"

Now she was admiring her other arm.  "One hundred on the nose.  I wear 
it for my workouts and sometimes when I go for walk or a jog around 
town.  Maybe eight hours a day.  I get in a hundred chins and a hundred 
arm dips with it on, everyday in sets of twenty, on top of whatever else 
I work on."

"Jesus," I breathed out as I braced myself and pulled the vest, wet with 
her sweat, a couple inches clear of the bag.  "How strong are you?"  The 
words blurted out and I was immediately embarrassed.

"How badly do you want to find out?  I have a quick demonstration I 
could give you, but you wouldn't like it much."  She turned her head and 
gave me a look that dared me to follow up.

"What is it?  I think I have to know."

She held her left hand toward me with the thumb and index finger 
pointing at right angles.  "Grab my thumb with your right hand and my 
finger with your left.  Try to stop me from closing my hand.  The last 
guy who tried it said it felt like his hands got caught in a car door.  
Broke three of his fingers.  I laughed my ass off."  She half smiled and 
waited for me to make my move.

I knew that was a bunch of bullshit.  Nobody is that strong, stronger in 
one hand than I am in my two arms.  Bullshit.  But I looked at my hands 
and flexed my fingers, and they were still trembling from all the work 
they'd had to do on her arms.  I make my living with my hands and would 
be out of work with broken fingers.  Bullshit. 

"Time to roll over so I can do your shoulders."

She smiled again and gave a little nod, then carefully rolled so she 
slid underneath the sheet, showing no more of her body than before, just 
the contours of the wide back below her broad, powerful shoulders.   
With her face pressed into the doughnut shaped cushion at the end of the 
table, her arms were at her sides outside the sheet again.  The triceps 
were bunched up into the classic iron horseshoe shape.  I wanted to 
attack them with my hands, to tear into the muscles and rip away at 
them, to make them hurt like my hands and forearms were aching from all 
the work I'd had to do.

Instead I went to her neck.  Both my hands together couldn't reach all 
the way around it, and it felt as solid as her arms had.  My thumbs 
worked at the columns running up on either side of her spine and could 
move the tissue a little bit.  I leaned over her more so my chest was 
right against her back and I could get more of my weight over my hands.  

"You have a good grip - strong hands," she murmured beneath me.  I 
realized I was squeezing her neck with all my strength, like I wanted to 
strangle her.  Coming in from behind I didn't reach completely around to 
her throat so she wasn?t choking but anyone else I went after like that 
I would have broken their neck.  And she sounded like she was enjoying 
it.  

That arrogant bitch.  Nobody was as strong as she was pretending.  I was 
furious at the lying, arrogant bitch and for a moment looked at the 
wooden chair against the wall.  I imagined grabbing it and smashing it 
across her back, over and over, beating her body to a pulp right there 
on the table.

Instead I used the adrenaline to attack her shoulders, starting with the 
trapezius.  I tried grinding them between my hands until I couldn't 
stand the pain anymore, then drove my fist into the bulging muscle.  My 
fists felt bruised from where they had worked her forearms so I shifted 
and jabbed my elbows with my full weight behind them into the thick pads.  
She took a long breath and let it out, but didn?t complain.  "The knot?s 
a little lower," her voice came out muffled from beneath me.

This time I slammed my elbow into her back, into the latissimus next to 
her scapula.  She grunted so I really ground down on it figuring she 
must be hurting now.  She took another deep breath that raised me up a 
couple inches on her back, held the breath for a three count and slowly 
let it out.  "Nice.  That?s the spot."

I almost started crying as I lay across her back.  I panted for breath 
as I kept grinding my elbow into her, but I could tell it wasn?t going 
to hurt her or do me any good so I finally let off.  Still trying to 
catch my breath I oiled my hands again and then just to feel her skin 
and because I couldn?t resist it I rubbed up and down on her back.  It 
was like rubbing a knotted oak column beneath her smooth, lubricated 
skin on either side of her spine.  I rubbed a little more while I looked 
at her deltoids.  I had to finish up on her delts.  I gripped them, like 
gripping a couple of hard, round cannonballs and just gave up.

"That's it," I told her, trying to control my voice and my breathing.  
"You're done."

"Really?  Seems like we have time left.  But that wasn?t bad."  She 
gripped the table beneath her shoulders and arched herself up to look 
over at me.  "You ever get it on with a client?  That ever happen?"

I swallowed hard.  My t-shirt was soaked.  My hands were screaming in 
pain and my arms were too tired to lift.  

"You do go for women, don't you?" she added after I had stood 
speechless, just staring at her massive arms and the striations in her 
shoulders as they supported her.

"Yeah, I've got it on with plenty of clients.  Plenty of them."  I 
pulled my shoulders back and stuck my hand in my waistband and met her 
gaze, posing for her like a tough guy - a lady killer.

"I figured that pecker you were rubbing up and down on my back while you 
worked my shoulders wasn't just for show.  Is that one of your usual 
massage techniques?  I think I still have a coupe of minutes if you know 
what to do with it."  She lowered herself back flat, then reached out 
and grabbed my belt and jerked me against the table with one hand.  

She rolled on her side so she could look at me better, and that brought 
her bare chest into view for the first time.   Her nipples jutted dark 
from the pale hills of her breasts, a small portion of the mounds 
looking soft and the rest like solid, bulging muscle.  My throat 
tightened as I stared at an upper body that matched her incredible arms 
in mass and definition.  I was turned on and terrified at the same time.

She tossed off the sheet and sat up on the table so we were eye to eye.  
Still holding me at the beltline she used her thumb to push the end of 
my belt back through the buckle and undo it, then unsnapped my pants the 
same way.  With the top of my pants open, I didn't have to look to know 
the end of my dick popped into view and I didn?t do anything to hide it.

She slid back on the table and indicated that I should get up there with 
her.  "I'll have to be on top," she stated matter of factly.  "Tough 
shit if you don't like it that way,  but remember I'm trying to keep my 
arms relaxed and they'd have to do most of the work if I had to manage 
you on top."

I only hesitated a second before shedding my clothes and climbing up 
next to her.  If she wanted me this bad, I'd give it to her her way the 
first time and then take over.  I reached to cup her breast and move in 
for a kiss.  She grabbed my cock in her fist and threw her leg over me, 
scarcely responding to my lips and not wasting more than a glance at my 
body.  She rubbed some oil off her arm onto her right hand and used it 
to lube me up a bit before starting to push me home.

She slipped my dickhead in, then rammed twice with her hips to get 
everything inserted while holding my shoulders so I wasn't shot clear 
off the table.  For the next five minutes or so she gave me the beating 
of my life.  She clamped me so tightly between her thighs I worried 
she'd crush my hips.  She bucked against me so hard I could actually 
feel the bruising of my chest and abdomen.  I started to cum after just 
a little contact with her incredibly hard body, feeling her iron arm 
muscles and reaching around to her wide, tapering back.  In a flash she 
grabbed me around my root and squeezed just enough to keep me from 
release as she continued mauling me.  When she came a little later she 
let go and gripped my shoulders while her thrusts got even more 
frenzied.  She moaned as she came at the same time I was screaming at 
the pain her hands inflicted in my shoulders.  Then she collapsed on top 
of me and I realized I had just been fucked by two hundred pounds of 
steel.

Pinned beneath all her weight while she caught her breath, I couldn't 
move and could hardly breathe myself.  She took one deep breath and 
finally pushed herself up and off of me, taking a quick survey of the 
damage she had done, then looked me in the eyes for the first time since 
she started and gave me the half smile again.  ?Not bad.  I didn't feel 
anything give way so you must in as good a shape as you look.  Not many 
men are."

She rolled off and stretched, setting all her muscles into powerful 
motion.  "I'm in town two more nights.  Tomorrow I work my back and abs.  
I'll be at the gym about 7:00 in the morning and I'll come in for a 
massage at 5:00.  The next day it's legs on the same schedule, and then 
I have my fight scheduled for 8:00.  If you?re still able, you can come 
and stand in my corner.  I have to warn you, massaging my legs can be 
tough."  

She picked up the heavy wood chair in the corner like it was a feather.  
"I suggest you use some tools on my back and especially on my legs.  I 
have some leather gloves if you want to try punching the muscles soft, 
but that works best if you trained in boxing so your hands and wrists 
are toughened up."  With one hand on the back and one on the seat she 
twitched and snapped the back off of it.  Holding the seat in both hands 
she drove her knee through an inch of hard wood so the bottom of the 
chair collapsed into bits ands pieces.  She picked up one of the chair 
legs, tensed her thigh and snapped the wood across the bulging muscle.   

"No time for the hot tub now, but you got me good and relaxed.  Rest up 
tonight and I'll see you tomorrow at the same time."  She snatched the 
weight vest out of the bag while she fished around in the bottom of the 
bag for a clean set of sweats.  The clothes and the hundred pound vest 
looked about like equal strains for her.  She dressed quickly while I 
continued to watch every movement in disbelief.  She dumped the vest 
back into the bag, zipped it and picked it up.  "I'll drop the fee for 
the massage at the desk."  

I'm most proud that I didn?t start to cry until the door to the studio 
closed behind her.  I didn?t see the fight she told me she was in town 
for because during our second session I had a sort of breakdown.  My 
counselor says a few more sessions and maybe I can try going outdoors 
again, just him and me.  He won?t let me leave this place because I 
might run into a woman and women scare me so much now that I start 
crying again and black out.  Maybe some day.