Helen

Helen came to visit. She had been on a six-month sabbatical in Mexico, taking voice lessons. She had studied opera as a hobby, and decided to take some time and really see what she could make of her talent. All winter she had been singing, swimming (for breath control and power), rollerblading, yoga, and in general taking care of herself. She was small, 5' 1" and just over 100 lbs., and with her short dark hair she looked every inch the diva.

She arrived dressed for travel, which is to say, casual but well-thought out to impress the other folks on the plane. She went up to change, and came downstairs in shorts and a T-shirt. I was surprised to see how well her body hand responded to six months of exercise and sun. Her legs were tan, smooth, and just a little muscular. I could see the curve along the back of her thighs where the muscle bulged even while she stood flat-footed on the floor, and her quads were toned, with an almost squared-off knot of muscle near the connection with her knee.

She laid flat on the carpeted floor to get a firm surface, and I knelt beside her. She held my fist against her lower abdomen, just above her pelvis. She sang a strong note, and as she sang she pulsed my fist into her. Each push caused a staccato interruption of the note. "You're supposed to be singing from down here," she said, "and this is one way to see if you're really doing so. If not, then pushing here won't have any effect, put pushing up here will." She moved my fist up to the middle of her stomach, and repeated the exercise. Through the thin cotton of her T-shirt I could feel an amazingly powerful vibration, and each time she moved my hand into her, I felt her strong and solid stomach muscles.

"Here, try it." She put me on the floor, and had me sing a note. A random note, since I can't sing. She began to probe me with her fist, and part of me was able to focus on the exercise. I tried to move my effort down low. But I was also very distracted by the feel of her hand on my body, down very close to my awakening cock.

That evening we went out to a local dinner club that has "open-mike night" for opera. A very interesting concept. Helen came down, dressed for dinner, and she looked elegant and poised. Her tanned smooth shoulders were rather wide for her petite frame. Her dress, with tiny spaghetti straps curving up over her shoulders, allowed me to see the muscles move as she walked. She had been swimming every day, and her upper body was fabulous. Her arms were slim but with a gently swelling bicep. And her lats were unobtrusive but distinct as a definite connection between her shoulders and her narrow waist.

At the club, she sang with incredible power. Each aria was a sensual assault. She looked lovely, and sounded like an angel. She looked right into my eyes as she sang, and I felt like she was singing just for me. I couldn't beleive how powerful and strong her voice was, even on the highest notes.

After dinner, we came back to my house. She told me she had one more surprise for me. She put on some music, and invited me to dance. After only a few moments, I realized that she was pretty good! She had been taking dance lessons! I was flattered that she would embrace my hobby like this. I began to wonder if she had more on her mind than just a friendly visit, or maybe my libido was getting carried away after hearing her sing. As we danced she looked me directly in the eyes, with a gaze that lacked any pretension or deceit. She wasn't being coy. She was seducing me while we danced. My hands felt her body move, and my eyes were locked with hers. Without a thought I bent and kissed her, and she kissed me back, long and hard, until I had to break away.

She moved behind me. Her hands slid around my waist and undid the buckle of my belt. My jeans slid to the floor, and her hands found my throbbing cock. She began to stroke me. Her hands moved slowly, fondling me through my soaking wet boxers. At last, she let go with one hand and walked around my body, until she stood directly in front of me. She was still fully dressed, and this turned me on. She began to unbutton my shirt with one hand, while her other hand squeezed my cock. When the shirt was unbuttoned, she said "Take it off." While I pulled the shirt off, she began to mash my cock up against my own belly with the palm and heel of her hand. She rubbed the underside of my shaft in slow, strong circles. Her eyes never left mine.

"My turn," she whispered, and took three steps back. Again, without looking anywhere but at my eyes, she began to dance. She hummed her own sensuous music, a deeper sound than her operatic voice, but with a hint of the power and control she hand shown me earlier. She let the straps slide down over her shoulders, and caught them with her arms crossed over her chest. She turned her back, and let the dress slide down to her waist, with her arms crossed in front at hip level. Her torso swayed, grinding her hips, and I could see her muscular back. She was so small, but had such a well-developed back. I could see that the lat muscles tied into her strong lower back, and there was a rather deep well between the lower back muscles. Below that I could see the curve of her small, round ass, as it moved behind the fabric of her silk dress.

She swirled around a full turn, and a half, so fast it was a blur of silk and skin. She was now facing me, with one hand lifted to cover her breasts (barely), and one held the dress almost like a curtain across her waist. Her small breasts were barely hidden by her forearm. I could see the curve of her small, A-cup chest. Below that her stomach was tan, smooth, with a hint of ripples dancing across it as she continued her dance. She showed me flashes of leg from behind the curtain of silk. And then she stood with her legs a bit more than shoulder width apart, and slowly moved her balance from one leg to the other, giving my a long look at each thigh in turn, the quads fully flexed.

Helen turned away once more, and this time the dress flashed over her back like a parachute, then slowly dropped to the floor. With her hands on the back of her head, she rolled her hips so that her ass rotated out towards me. On each rotation, I could see a small dimple in each side of her muscular glutes. Her ass was small, round, and as tan as the rest of her body. At last she turned towards me, naked, and began to dance in my direction.

By the time she reach me I was breathless, leaning against the wall for support. She kissed me, long and sweet. I had to bend over to allow our mouths to meet, and I held my hands in her thick, dark, beautiful hair. I had every intention of running them down onto her muscular body, but her kiss was so strong that I lost any conscious intent and could focus only on her tongue and mouth as she kissed me long, deep, until I was nearly dizzy. She broke off, and I found I was leaning on her. She was holding me up, her shoulder dug into my chest while her left hand pulled my neck down and into her waiting kiss. How both her hands pushed my shoulders up, so that I was leaning once again back against the wall, and she looked at me with her dark eyes and mischievous smile.

"I noticed the other day you got a little aroused during the singing exercises," she said. "Was it just the feel of my hands on you, or did you like the way I pushed you?" With the word pushed, she gently pushed her fist into the middle of my soft stomach, and I moaned involuntarily. Her grin got wider, and she ground her fist in deeper. Her small knuckles rolled along my stomach, through the layers of fat and into the muscles underneath. "Ah yes, you like this, don't you? You like the way I can push into your soft middle. How does it feel?" I moaned even louder. She leaned her head against my chest, and alternated slow-motion punches into my stomach. It didn't hurt, but I could feel the power of her shoulders and arms as she "beat" me, pounding my gut. My legs began to turn to jelly.

She paused her "assault" for as moment. "You know, I never was in a real fight. Were you?" I had to admit I had never been. "Well, I guess that in a fight between two inexperienced amateurs, you have size, condition, and training. You have the size. I'd say I have the conditioning. And I also had six months of aero-boxing and maung-tahi kick-boxing." With that she faked a knee to my groin that I frankly never reacted to. I would have been floored without even flinching, let alone reacting. She stood there, posed on one leg, the other knee against my crotch, looking up at me with such a smug expression that I had to react, albeit a few seconds late. "Don't forget the size!" I bragged unconvincingly.

She smirked, and backed off a step. "OK, let's go!" She stepped in and slapped me across the belly, which stung nastily. "Hey!" I shouted, in time to get another smack. I realized I could either get smacked until I began to cry, or I could try and grab her hand. She was far too fast, and even without moving her stance she managed to land two more slaps on my torso. I moved into her and grabbed at her hand. My next clear moment is lying on the ground, with her above me. She held my foot in her hand so that my leg was stretched uncomfortably far back, and her one foot was poised with the heel resting on my exposed and vunlerable crotch. She smirked again, and began to rub my cock with the arch of her foot. I was so embarrassed and turned on, I couldn't do anything but look up at her. She was so small, and not even all that strong, but she was quick, and great shape, and fearless. She was totally dominating me. I came in my shorts as her foot ground into my cock and balls.

She walked away, and I was just wishing to die. Sure, it was erotic, but here I was on the floor, beaten, with a load of cum in my shorts. She returned with a towel, and with gentle hands, she began to wipe away the semen from my belly. She reached into the waist of my shorts and cleaned my cock. When she was done with her gesture of goodwill, she extended her hand down to mine, and pulled me up. I was still trying to decide between playing it cool and all for fun, or acting hurt and angry. Frankly I wasn't sure how I really felt.

Before I could pick a course of action, Helen took me off guard by announcing, "You know, I was pretty turned on too when you had your hands on my stomach during the exercises today. It was hard for me to focus on the scales. And tonight ... well, singing always has an erotic component, but when I sang the Romeo and Juliet aria, I was singing that right at you. And when I was done I was hoping that everyone would assume the moisture on my legs was sweat." She stepped up to me, and took my hand. She turned her back to me, in close, and put the palm of my hand on her stomach, up high, just below her breasts. She slid it down over her flat abdomen, down to just above the pelvis, and began to sing. I could feel how grounded she was, how her strong legs allowed her to project her voice. My hand felt the contractions of her diaphragm. I was amazed at how long she could use each breath. Her lungs were large, strong, and she sang from down deep in her body. It was so directed and concentrated I never paid a moment's attention to her shapely ass against my balls, or the way my cock stiffened and dripped pre-cum on the muscles in the small of her back. She turned again, and began to roll my cock between her bare hard stomach and my soft one, moving her body in a gentle swaying motion. It had been only a half hour since I had come to explosively, and now I was ready again.

She stepped away and said, "Show me how you like it." What? "Show me how you do it yourself. I want to learn how you like your cock stroked." She turned and went into the kitchen, and came back with the olive oil. "Do you ever use this?" I admitted I had. She poured some into my hand, and worked it into my palm with a strong, sensuous massage. We both knew that I was thinking about that massage, and wishing she was stroking my cock and not my hand. She stepped back, and leaned against the counter, arms crossed and not looking the least bit uncomfortable and being naked and watching a grown man stand there with a hard-on and two slick hands. I shyly reached down and began stroking.

She licked her lips and her eyes moved greedily between my eyes and my hard-working hands. I was getting very close, very fast. "Do you ever stick a finger up your ass?" she asked. No, I had to admit I didn't. "Hmmm. Do you ever look at pictures of naked women?" I admitted I did. "Do you look at pictures of women with muscles?" I admitted that, too. She picked up the bottle of oil, and drizzled it across her chest from nipple to nipple, and began to rub it into her body. Her small, strong hands brought her nipples errect, and began to wander down towards her crotch. I couldn't take it. By the time she had reached her navel, with her stomach glistening and rippling, I stood weak-kneed and shot a fountain of cum.

Once again she played the gentle nurse, and cleaned me up some. Then she kissed me chastely on the cheek, and went off to her guest room. I went to bed, and despite my reeling mind, I fell asleep almost instantly.

The next morning we went for a motorcycle ride. Helen wore tight blue leans, serious knee-high black leather boots with steel toes, and a tight short sleeveless T-shirt that showed plenty of her flat, hard stomach and round, muscled shoulders. Over this she wore a black leather jacket. She climbed onto the bike behind me, and we rode out into the country to a great breakfast place I know. We had a pleanst ride there, and a nice meal. She could really put the food away! On the way home, she snuggled in real close, and her hads wrapped around me in a very freindly, but not exactly sexual way.

We got home, and I was wondering if we were going to end up in bed. I didn't know what to expect, but I had played it out several different ways in my head. Once again she surprised me. As we walked into the house from the garage, she asked "Do you like the way I dominate you?" I replied that I was not much into the whole domination scene. Whips and leather didn't do much for me, but I did like muscles, and I sure did like the way she took charge of me. "Well, what if I like dominating you? What if I like being strong and tough?" I gulped, and told her that she was plenty strong and tough, as she had proven last night. "So you admit that I can beat you? I can get you hard, and make you so weak. I can punch harder, faster, and I can take you down and hurt you if I need to." I said yes, it was all true, but I hoped that hurting me wasn't her goal. "No, I don't need to hurt you as long as we both know who's boss. Do we? Let's be sure." She took off her leather jacket, leaving only her cut-off T-shirt with bare midriff. "Hit me." "What? I can't hit you!" I exclaimed. For one thing, I don't hit girls, and for another, even if she was in great shape, she was still a lot smaller than me, and if she was a sitting target I don't see how she could escape injury. "Try it, softly if you want." So I did hit her, slowly, the way she had "hit" me last night. My fist didn't dent her. I leaned into it, and I could budge her torso as a whole, but not her stomach muscles. "Harder," she urged. I hit her for real, then harder, then with all my might. It had become almost a game, like hitting one of those test-of-strength games a the arcade, so I was surprised to suddenly notice that her face was scrunched up, not just with effort, but with pain. A tear ran down each cheek, and a red mark began to appear on her stomach where I had hit her.

"Helen, I am so sorry! I got carried away!" She shook it off, and told me in an angry voice, "No problem. I got worse during class once." With a final shake of her head and arms she said, "Your turn. I counted five punches." "Five! No way, I was just tapping you the first time!" I whined, a little surprised at my cowardice. "Scared of a girl? OK, you can walk away." I realized that this was where she could leave forever, her pride wounded, so I said "OK, let me get ready." I took some deep breathes, and while I did so she took a few steps away and threw a few punches. She looked good. Really good. Her jabs snapped out like cobras, and her whole body turned with each uppercut. I was a little nervous, but I figured she'd have little experience actually hitting someone. Aeroboxing is all well and good, but I wasn't worried. Reminder here: I had never been in a fight, so I had never really been hit in the stomach before.

I tensed my stomach, held my arms out to the side, and gritted through my teeth, "Ready." She moved over to me, with a rather strange look like she was in the zone, following her training. She planted herself in front of me, and I had a goof view mainly of the top of her head. Her hands were held at shoulder level, fists clenched. She stood with her feet square to me, straight on, which I later learned was a practice stance used to work both sides equally. I wish I had videotaped it, because my view was limited in space, and in time. I recall seeing her right shoulder drop, then almost immediately her whole body turned as her arm extended into the leftside-center of my stomach. Her fist was driver by all the power in her small, muscular body. My world exploded in pain, and I had no air to scream. Her left landed so fast it seemed I hadn't even fully comprehended the first punch. And then, in the weird way times warps during a beating or a car accident, it all slowed down and I had a lifetime to anticipate the third punch. I had no air to make a sound, no way to surrender, and besides it was less than a second since she had first hit me. The blow landed right where the first one had, and my damaged muscles flared agony as Helen's small bare fist slammed into me. Fortunately, by this time my body was on its own way to salvation, as my knees had cleverly buckled, sending me soundless to the floor.

I suppose she got me onto the couch, because that's where I came to a few hours later. She helped me to bed. It seemed there was nothing broken, except my pride. I went to sleep with an aching stomach, and a raging hard-on. The next morning I woke to find her beside me. She whispered in my ear.

"No way!" I protested, with a note of desperation.

"Well, if you insist, I still have two punches coming." She made a few practice punches, those close-to-the-body full-torso rotations that used every muscle from leg to shoulder. I whimpered involuntarily, and looked down at the floor. I knew that if she hit me for real I would fold over and vomit. "OK, I guess we have agreement." she smirked. She walked into the bathroom,

When Helen returned she was wearing a very pretty flowered silk kimono. I could see the small, hard points of her excited nipples. And down below her waist I could see the bulge of the head of her 8" strap-on dildo. "I beat you, so now I guess I'm going to fuck you." she purred. By this time I had no pretense of shame. She could do what she wanted to me. She called me over, and made me kneel in front of her, She opened the kimono, with none of the teasing and shyness of her first night's exhibit with the silk dress. She just opened it, threw it back and off her body, leaving me to stare at her muscled torso and the huge, dark-blue plastic cock she wore. "Suck it," she commanded. I greedily complied, only to find myself gagging as she forced more and more of it into my throat. She pushed me back, until I fell over in an awkward heap. She was on me in a flash, pinning me, laying her body on top of mine face to face, and kissing me. She kissed me until I had to breathe, and then further, knowing she could hold her breath far longer than I could hold mine. Finally she released me, but I was already dizzy and gulping for air. She slapped my face, almost gently, and said "Suck it, or you have two punches coming." She moved up and over my face, and began to fuck my throat with her cock. My only recompense was seeing her magnificent body as she did full pushups over my face, her legs spread and her chest pulsing with effort. After an eternity, she stood, and motioned me over to the couch.

She sat me up on the back of the couch, and took a tube of KY and generously lubricated by cock. She placed one small, strong hand around the base of my cock, and counted "one". She put her other hand above it; "two". Then three, and a half. I was puzzled, but then she put her hand around the base of her rubber cock. "One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six." I moaned helplessly, and she knew that she had me, even without threats. I was about to be fucked by a 5' 1" woman, who was less than half my weight, but whose dick was almost twice as big as my own.

She positioned me behind the couch, and bent me over it. She had positioned a stool so that she could stand and put her cock at the height of my ass. She was so small she needed a stool to fuck me, but she was dominant anyway, and that alone almost made me cum. I could look to the right and watch in the mirror, as she took more KY and began to stroke her cock. I trembled with anticipation, and she took her slick hands and began to lubricate my ass. Her thumbs made gentle probes, and it felt wonderful. I had never had anything more than caress my ass before, but it seemed like I was in for an amazing experience.

She pressed the head of the cock against my anus. I was watching, and it was breathtaking to see this long, dark cock stretch from my ass to her pale delicate-looking body. She began to grind, and told me "Relax, relax like you would on the toilet." This was a mildly disturbing piece of advice, but I tried it, and the head popped into me. It was so big! You know how big a simple cavity feels in your mouth? Well, same thing ... this object was in my ass, and it felt like a baseball bat. After a moment, I had relaxed enough to let it in another inch or so. I could see in the mirror how much was still left, and it was a LOT. "Helen, this is ... interesting, but I don't think I can " when WHAM she slid it in another two inches. Now in porno stories, two inches is nothing, but I thought I had been hit with 10' of PVC pipe. I tightened up, and that pushed her halfway out before she regained the upper hand. I should have struggled for freedom, but during the instinctive push, I learned another thing about getting fucked in the ass. When it slides out you feel exactly like you're taking a dump, which you have been conditioned NOT to do since childhood. So I stopped pushing.

To sum up: I am under duress. I am under Helen, who despite being smaller than me has got me bent over with a cock in my ass. And I feel like I am crapping all over the place. I did not want to do this anymore. I wasn't in pain, per se, but I was in great mental discomfort. And that's when she really began to fuck me.

She pinned me down on the back of that couch, my legs just off the floor, and she began to stroke me. "Might as well relax and enjoy it," she murmured. I wanted to fight, I wanted to regain the dignity that was being denied me every time that cock slid in and out of my ass. I wanted to stand up to her, but she had me beat, physically and mentally. I gave in, and with each stroke she went deeper and deeper into my ass. At last her pelvis slammed into my cheeks, and each stroke now lifted me half an inch off the couch. Wham, wham, wham, she pounded me without tiring, and I could see her strong legs in the mirror, working her body up into me and lifting my large torso up at the top of each stroke. The rhythm began to tell on me; my cock and balls were gently slapping on the couch's back cushions on each stroke. She pounded me, sweating, and in a parody of maleness she began grunting, deeply. And when she grunted, it came from the belly, down deep, a primal growl that was female and yet so much more powerful than me. Finally she came, aroused by her own power, as the motion stroked her own clit. And at that moment I came too, a huge wet explosion on the couch. My cry was drowned out by her ecstatic exultation, and I almost came twice just listening to her impromptu vocal performance.

Her plane left that afternoon. I was totally in love with her. She had made me come multiple times, without once having normal intercourse or oral sex. She could have me any way she wanted, and I was eager to see what the future would bring.