You Should See My Mom's By Merz Brandon finds out that muscles run in some families "If you like my muscles, you should see my mom's - nineteen -- twenty." Tina brought her elbows together for her final reps at the chest machine, then let the weight pull her arms apart at the same time it thrust her chest forward. Brandon stared for another moment at the pretty coed's firm bust thrusting against her thin nylon shirt. He sat at the leg machine next to the curvaceous girl and had been making small talk about her obvious fitness while he went through the motions of extending his legs with forty pounds loaded on. "Oh really? Fitness runs in your family?" Brandon wasn't counting reps, just putting in time because his father had given him a choice of lifting weights after school or bagging groceries in the super market he managed. Anything seemed better than that, and Brandon killed an hour three days a week after school mostly trying to pick up girls. He had noticed the lithe blonde many times at the gym, working with great discipline to crank through high reps as she worked her way around a circuit. She kept detailed notes of her weight and number of reps at each station. Before starting his campaign to pick her up, Brandon had made a point of following her at a couple of stations to reassure himself he could lift as much as she did for most exercises, although he quit after five or six reps while she did as many as twenty. He meant to get her into the sack, and had to assure himself she wouldn't embarrass him. "Oh, yeah. My mom, my dad - he's in the Air Force and has been in the Middle East all year. Even my grandmother." Tina stood up from the machine and ran her fingers through her long hair. "Dad and Grandma do mostly free weights, but mom and I like the machines better. I'm Tina." "I know. Tina Cameron. I'm Brandon Wilson." He abandoned the leg machine and followed her to the pulldown station. Tina set it to seventy pounds and began a smooth, rhythmic sequence of pulling and releasing. To have an excuse to stay near her, Brandon picked a pair of twenty pound dumbbells off the rack and did a few curls. Then he decided that was too much weight, so he pressed them alternately overhead a few times before starting in with shallow knee bends. All this time Tina had maintained her smooth, unhurried pace. "I pretty much use all the gear," Brandon lied. "I like to stay balanced. You mother lifts weights?" "Uh huh. She's a competitive body builder. She's getting ready for a contest so she's really buff now." She stood, stretched her arms overhead, then bent gracefully forward from the waist until her hands were flat on the floor. "You're really serious? A real female body builder!" A grown woman with muscles like he jacked off over in front of his computer! He had been attracted to Tina by her obvious athleticism, but her muscles were long and smooth, rarely knotting into sharp mounds during her workouts. They were more than enough to convince Brandon she was worth bagging, but she clearly wasn't into body building. More like the fitness competitors he had seen pictures of and watched on TV. Tina straightened, then smoothly raised her long leg and placed her foot on an exercise machine at about the level of her chest. She bent forward and pressed her upper body along the thigh with well defined quads standing out through her tights. Brandon was now staring at her crotch and again forced himself to look away, but not before Tina had correctly interpreted the direction his eye had wandered and rewarded him with a gleaming smile. "Yeah, very real. And a personal trainer. She's with a client now, but I could show you some pictures at my house. Want to do it now? I just live a couple blocks away and we can jog over." Tina switched legs and did a final stretch that nearly had Brandon exploding inside his gym shorts. Brandon followed Tina's bouncing bottom as she jogged effortlessly out of the building, across the parking lot and down the street. It seemed this would be the afternoon he scored on Tina, if she was just making up an excuse to get him to her house where she would screw him. Please, God, he thought. If he had ever felt like a jog his pace would not have been this brisk, but he was keeping up, he told himself. He figured they ran nearly a quarter mile before Tina turned in at a neat ranch style house that fit with all the others in the neighborhood. As she let them in he noticed she was scarcely breathing heavily, and he struggled to get his own under control. "We need to be quiet so we don't disturb Grandma. I'll grab mom's scrapbook and we can look at pictures in my room." She pulled a thick album from under the coffee table in the living room, bending at the waist and giving him another leisurely view of her splendid, tight butt. By now Brandon had no doubts that Tina's mind was running in exactly the same direction as his, toward a hot time in the sack. When she straightened he was standing close beside her so their arms touched. Tina didn't pull back from the contact and Brandon followed up by putting a hand on her firm upper arm. "Can I help with that? It looks pretty heavy." He gave himself about half a minute inside her bedroom to glance at a photo or two before pulling off his shirt and getting down to business. A door opened down a hallway. Brandon and Tina froze in the middle of the neat living room. "Hi, I'm Monica, Tina's mom. My client cancelled, darling, so I got home early." Tall like her daughter, blonde, a straight gleaming smile, sparkling blue eyes: Brandon was struck by how attractive this woman was, and he desperately wanted to see what she hid beneath the silk robe that clung snugly to her frame. Blurting out his name he shook the golden hand she offered and studied the square shoulders and the defined tendons along the back of the hand as Monica looked him over closely, head to toe. "Would you like a cold drink? If you've been working out with Tina you're probably thirsty. Let's go outside on the deck, it's such a nice afternoon." Brandon followed in a trance, now staring at the high, tight butt that jutted against the thin robe. Like mother, like daughter, but Monica's rear was clearly wider and had more meat than Tina's. In the kitchen Monica stopped in front of the refrigerator. Brandon saw the robe's sleeve bulge when she bent her arm and pulled the door open, and saw the other sleeve thicken as she lifted out a large glass pitcher. "Would you get some glasses, dear? I'm afraid all we have that's cold is punch." Brandon noticed a six pack of beer before the refrigerator door closed, but knew better than to mention it. Now, if it had been just him and Tina as originally planned . . . Staring daggers at the older woman, Tina set out three glasses on a patio table. Monica poured, then set down the pitcher. "Have a seat, Brandon. It's such a nice surprise to find Tina bringing an exercise partner home with her." Monica studied Brandon's face with a smirking expression. "Do you two work out together often?" "Well, I'm in the gym a few times each week. Tina tells me you keep fit yourself, that you're actually a body builder. I think I might give that a try someday, after graduation. It's all in the posing, isn't it?" "Not all. First you have to build the stage-ready physique. It's a different approach to working out than Tina is into. Would you like to see my routine? Tina, you're probably bored to death by it all now. Perhaps you should go back to school and get your books and clothes. I'll entertain Brandon." "Maybe we should both be getting back. I'm sure Brandon wouldn't be interested, would you? I have a couple more exercises to do." Brandon sat on the edge of a chaise lounge, glass in hand and looked up at the steady blue eyes. "Oh, no, I think it would be neat." The word sounded terribly juvenile as soon as it came out of his mouth. "I mean, I really respect body building. I'd be grateful to see your muscles." That sounded pretty lame as well, but Brandon sensed he was picking up all the right signals from the gorgeous woman in front of him. He'd give anything to look under that robe, and even more if he could bed a hot, older babe like this. "If you like muscles," Monica smiled down at him as she began loosening the belt of her robe, "you should see my mom's. But let's not disturb her. Tina, back to school, dear. I'll take care of Brandon." Tina started to argue, began a couple of protests, flushed an angry red, then froze beneath her mother's icy stare. Monica turned toward Tina and opened the robe, her back toward Brandon. She murmured something Brandon couldn't hear. Tina looked her mother up and down, swallowed twice, then turned without a word to Brandon and stormed back through the house. Brandon and Monica heard the front door slam behind her. Monica turned to Brandon and flashed a gleaming smile at him as she removed her robe, then folded it and placed it on the table. Now she stood before Brandon in a small black posing bikini. Brandon thought he was going to faint. Monica stood about five feet seven inches, and her skin was a uniform golden tan. Relaxed, she looked smoothly sexy with prominent breasts standing high on her chest, a tight waist, and long shapely legs. He had never been this close to a grown woman this attractive wearing this little. The tiny scraps of fabric hid virtually nothing but a couple pubic square inches and the color of her clearly defined nipples. As Monica began to move into a series of poses, the smoothness evaporated as ropes of muscle bulged, shifted, bunched and exploded. Biceps, sharply peaked and split up the middle, rose and fell and rose triumphantly again. A flat stomach shattered into twin columns of bricklike abdominals. When Monica finally stopped her display and stood, gleaming with perspiration and every muscle evident under tight, gold skin, in front of Brandon he felt like he was waking up after a dream. He was sweating as freely as Monica and had forgotten the cold drink in his hand. Now he gulped half of it down. "Well, what did you think?" she asked him. "You're incredible. Fantastic. You're just unbelievable. Shit, I've never seen muscles like that. Oh, excuse me." He quickly drained his glass but couldn't take his eyes off Monica as she stood, hands on hips, two feet away from him. "All these muscles, they're from lifting weights?" How stupid, he told himself. What else would they be from, eating spinach? He would die happy if he could ever get Monica with her big tits and all those muscles, into bed. He was aware his dick was about to rip through his gym shorts but was turned on past caring. Monica flexed her right arm again and studied it with a critical eye. "Fifteen inches. Nice peak, good definition. Would you like to feel?" She took his right hand in her left and guided him to his feet. Her golden breast brushed his arm and he couldn't tell if she was about to put his hand on her flexed arm or her firm melon. Either way, he knew where this was headed and couldn't believe his luck. At that moment Brandon heard a door open inside the house and heavy footsteps cross the kitchen to stop at the refrigerator. Open and close, and then the sound of a top popping off a beverage can and the heavy steps again. Monica's eyes suddenly looked as fearful as a deer in the headlights. She froze for a moment, then scrambled to grab her robe from the table and wrap it closely around her without taking time to put her arms into the sleeves. The newcomer stopped in the doorway. Her shoulders filled it. The woman was a little shorter than Tina or Monica, but would far outweigh either. She took a long drink from the beer can and studied the scene as Brandon gaped at her. The weight was concentrated in broad shoulders, thick arms and chest, and in bulging, powerful thighs. The beefy arms blossomed from the cut- out armholes of a sweatshirt damp with sweat, the massive legs showed below cropped sweat pants. The faded gray of the sweat suit matched the tangled, damp hair that tumbled to her thick neck. "So, Monica, does he think your tits are worth what you paid for them?" The gray-haired woman finally broke the silence and took another swig of her beer. "Mother, this is Brandon, a school-friend of Tina's." Hearing himself described in these terms made him feel like a child in the presence of grown-ups. Just when he had hopes of bedding the beautiful muscle-woman she was trying to erect a chaste age-barrier between them. "Brandon, my mother, Ruth." "Uh huh, a friend of Tina's. But I don't see Tina. Good to meet you, Brandon. I take it Monica was putting on a show for you. Did she offer you a feel yet?" Under the steely gaze Brandon was painfully aware of how big and obvious his hardon was, and how desperately it was crying for release. "Monica, why don't you go inside and work on a letter to your husband or something. If Brandon is interested in fitness I'll be happy to entertain him for a little while." She took another swig from her beer can. Although talking to Monica her eyes never left Brandon. Another swig, then she crushed the can in her fist, shifted the wreckage in her hand and crushed it into an even smaller wad of aluminum. She held up the shiny ball in her leather, fingerless glove. "I miss the old steel cans," she sighed, still skewering Brandon's eyes with her own. "Give my best to your husband, Monica." Monica started to speak, then thought better of it and quickly retreated into the house, her robe still gripped tightly around her. She didn't look back or offer Brandon a goodbye as she disappeared inside. "You been working out with Tina before Monica got hold of you? Or hoping to." She put an odd emphasis on the words "working out." "I'll bet that Tina would be tough to keep up with. She says she's interested in fitness competitions. Drives me crazy with these weird toadstool pushups and stretching her legs up higher than they got any business going. A little kinky, kind of a turn-on, but I guess it's better than just settling for show muscles and plastic tits like her mother. C'mon in. Let's have a talk. You lift?" Ruth finally released Brandon from her stare and turned toward the house as she continued speaking to him. He didn't consider not following as she went through the kitchen and opened a door to the attached garage. The carpeted garage floor was littered with benches and large barbells. A welded steel rack held a large assortment of dumbbells, with more lying here and there on the floor. Brandon guessed the temperature had to be eighty degrees, which he thought accounted for the obvious sweat on the powerful woman. Ruth crossed to one of the thinly padded weight benches and prepared to lower herself onto her back. "How about bringing me those dumbbells by you. I have to do a last set here. So you lift weights with Tina?" Brandon started to stoop for the weights she meant, then stopped and looked quickly at the waiting woman. By his count each dumbbell weighed a hundred pounds. "Oh, yeah, Tina and I were lifting before we came over here for a break." Saying it reminded him of the sort of break he had hoped for with Tina. And then he thought of her beautiful muscular, big-titted mother. He wasn't getting any breaks today. Frustrated he grabbed the weights and heaved upward. He got the pair about half an inch off the ground before thinking better of the effort. "You can bring them one at a time if you like." She sat waiting, appraising his efforts with the unwieldy weights. Gripping one of the dumbbells with both hands and positioning himself astride it, his back carefully straight, Brandon lifted a hundred pounds and staggered over to the waiting woman. She accepted it with one hand and hefted it up to her right shoulder while Brandon returned for its mate. "I guess you must be into fitness like Tina. Me? Strictly power," she commented as she rolled smoothly down onto her back, the weights supported by her arms. Once in position she paused with the dumbbells steady and level with her chest. "Maybe you should give me a spot here." She didn't wait for him to move from the foot of the bench where he had handed off the second dumbbell, but began shoving the bars with their rows of black plates smoothly up and down. She made snarling noises as she exhaled, and inhaled in abrupt gulps as she cycled back to the deep starting position. For a moment longer Brandon stared in disbelief as two hundred pounds of iron were fought repeatedly off the surging, swelling chest, as the arms expanded with muscle and blood. He stood next to her head by the sixth rep and had his hands on her elbows following the seventh rep as her arms started shaking with the effort. For the eighth his hands were cupped beneath the hard bellies of her triceps. "Go ahead and feel the pecs," Ruth gasped out as she powered up an eighth rep. "That's where the real action is." With his hands on top of her chest Ruth slowly lowered the bulky weights and pushed out a ninth, then paused at the top before slowly letting the weight sink back. She roared like a lion from the effort of controlling the slow descent while at the same time Brandon felt himself coming in his shorts. Muscles like cannonballs slowly stretched out flat but still hard and thick as the weights came down and the shoulders spread. "Nine it is," Ruth said, and swung the weights to give herself momentum to sit up again out of Brandon's groping hands. She dropped the dumbbells one at a time onto the thin carpet and sucked in breath after breath. "Strictly power." She stood and faced Brandon where he still crouched by the head of the bench. Her broad chest heaved, its width exaggerated as she held her shoulders back and the pumped arms away from her sides. Veins like hoses pumped away along her arms. Her face and arms were scarlet with beads of sweat dripping from her forehead and running down her cheeks. Brandon thought she was the most terrifying thing he had ever seen. She grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it up to use as towel to wipe the dripping sweat from her brow. Lifting the shirt revealed a flat stomach, not defined like Monica's but looking dense and rock solid. Her face was returning to its normal, healthy pink color by the time she finished wiping it and let her shirt drop again. "You want to try some, Beefcake, or shall I move along? No, I didn't guess so. You don't need the big show muscles to handle the weight, but you have to have more mass than you're packing, even if what you had was better quality." "Here, watch this. This is the only room in the house without a mirror, because I don't care how I look lifting, just how it makes me feel. And I keep the thermostat up so I don't get chilled and tight. That's a good way to tear a muscle. But if I have an audience I might as well give you the whole show. You saw almost as much of Monica in her little bikini as I'll show you, but none of that silly posing stuff. Just power." She walked to a huge barbell, stacks of forty-five pound plates collared at each end. With her foot she rolled it a little and glanced back over her shoulder to be sure Brandon was directly behind her. Then she pulled her shirt off her bare torso and dropped it beside her. Columns of muscle framed her spine and spread across her upper back. Brandon felt his knees weaken as he stared in disbelief. A woman had just removed half her clothes in front of him and now stood naked to the waist just a few feet away. Never mind she was more heavily muscled than any guy he had ever seen this close, he was staring at a half naked woman and that was driving him wild. Then she stripped off her shorts and shoes and Brandon had to sit down on the end of the bench before he passed out. Ruth straddled the barbell and stood for a moment just focusing on it. Then she crouched, grabbed the bar with one hand in front of her and one behind, and heaved upward with another lion-like roar. She forced the massive weight to rise with her until she was upright her thighs bursting with power, her shoulders inflated with strength, her upper back flaring wider. Keeping the weight under control she returned it to the floor, paused a moment and repeated the process again and again until she forced out a fifth deadlift, her entire body quivering from the effort. She looked over at Brandon as she slid the bar a couple inches forward and backward where it pressed against her curling triangle. With a great sigh of release she quickly lowered the bar so it landed with a loud thud. "Wooee. Four hundred pounds, Beefcake! If it moves between my legs it better feel like steel! God I love this stuff!" Ruth sounded exultant from her performance. She pounded one fist loudly into her other gloved palm and walked back to the bench where Brandon sat speechless. At the bench, inches from Brandon, she planted one hand and one knee and leaned down to grab one of the hundred pound dumbbells. As he jumped up she got into position for dumbbell rowing. She turned and looked directly at Brandon's stained shorts at eye level. "Way to go, Squirt. You got anything left?" And she began methodically raising and lowering the dumbbell, gasping in breath as it rose and exhaling loudly as she lowered it. Ropes of muscle churned in her shoulder and upper arm and down her side. Her pink breasts dangled from her powerful chest, the position exaggerating their size. She dropped the weight and stood, feeling the size and hardness of her pumped right arm, not even looking at Brandon. "Here's the program, Beefcake. Tina's off limits to you, 'cause the only thing on your mind is balling her. Get serious about exercise so you deserve to touch a hardbody like hers and you might have a chance, but you better plan on having dinner and meet the family before trying to take her out. Get it? And stay away from Monica. She's married and she's lonely and she'd never forgive herself if she let herself fuck a school kid. You want to dance with any woman in this house you start with me." Ruth abruptly reached a hand around Brandon's back and jerked him hard against her. It felt like hitting a stone wall. "And just imagine how little of you all these muscles will leave behind. Do we have an understanding?" The overwhelming animal scent of the old woman, the sweaty feel of the tight skin, the unbelievable hardness of the thick muscles pressing along his full length all terrified Brandon at the same time it was turning him on more than he had ever been before. He made a half-hearted effort to resist the single arm she used to crush him against her before giving it up as futile. "Uh, yes . . . yes, ma'am," he choked out. The lines on the mature face looked like seams in granite, the eyes blazed like jewels. He tried to meet her stare, but had to look away. She held him a moment longer before using her powerful body to bump him a foot away from her. "Glad we have this understanding. Now you better get back to school, school-boy." She turned away and began pulling her shorts and shirt back on as Brandon scrambled out of the garage and out of the house. "You wouldn't have got anything out of it, anyway, honey. He'd come in about six seconds and you'd be left feeling guilty for a long time." Ruth had another beer in her hand as she walked into Monica's bedroom. The bodybuilder lay facedown on her bed, still wrapped in her robe. "Guilt feelings never seem to bother you, do they? All right, I was thinking about screwing a kid less than half my age, but what about you? Does this mean my grandchildren won't be safe from you either? If Tina's boyfriends aren't safe from you does this mean you'll go after her husband when she gets older?" "At my age you never feel guilty about sex, just surprised. I didn't fuck him. And I'll say it again: I never fucked your husband. He was being a jerk right after you married him and I forced him to give me a good licking, to teach him a lesson. That's what you walked in on. I think he's turned out fine and we haven't had any misunderstandings since then. But this kid, if Tina's interested in him one of us needs to have a long talk with the girl. She may have read the book about the birds and bees, but she should be ready for the "Joy of Sex", and with her strength and flexibility she'd do serious damage to that little snot. And you've been wanting it for so many months he might not have survived getting caught between those thighs you like showing off. I mean, you might know your own strength but you might not be ready for some kid's weakness." Monica resisted the image, but then had a fit of giggles as she pictured squeezing an out of shape teenager with her powerful arms and legs. "Oh God, am I becoming as bad as you? Maybe we should both be locked in a cage so tourists can look at our muscles without getting too close. I'll never be able to look that boy in the face again." She rolled over to look up at Ruth, letting the robe fall of her chiseled physique. "I don't think he'll be hanging around anymore, so we just need to get Tina to raise her sights a little bit. Look, you're depressed and you miss your husband. Let's go sit in the hot tub and I'll help you get your rocks off. I'll even play with your gorgeous plastic tits and tell you how amazing they are. That'll take your mind off it and we can both forget the latest little wimp who followed Tina home. Be great if she brought some of those big football players home - not that either of us would want to cut in on her action with someone she was really interested in, but if they didn't work out . . ." "Mother, you're disgusting. Do you think Tina's old enough to join us when she gets home? I owe her an apology and maybe it's time to explain she can get sex anywhere but kids her age should be looking for romance. Leave the casual sex to more mature women like you." Monica rose from the bed, gave Ruth a hard hug and led the way to the hot tub.