Genie Part 9
By Muscle Fan, covert.1@hotmail.com
A fictional short story of a young muscle maiden and her life.


I stood and motioned for him to follow me. I led him into my bathroom and
turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature of the water. He understood,
but stood there. I began to unbutton his shirt. He didn't resist.

I slipped the shirt from his shoulders. He was muscular, but not as big as I
am. I ran a hand over his shoulders and across his chest and down to his abs.
Next, I unbuttoned his pants, allowing them to fall to the floor. He wore a
pair of boxer shorts and his erection was barely contained. I smiled at him
and with my fingers in the waistband of his shorts, drew them over his hips
and let them fall to the floor.

His 9-inch penis was rigid. I grasped it with one hand and he moaned softly. I
ran a finger around the tip of the head. Still holding him, I opened the
shower door and led him inside. The water cascaded down on me and I moved him
around so that he was directly under the spray. As we turned, his cock brushed
my thigh.

I grabbed the soap and washed his shoulders, neck and chest. I worked slow,
working my way down his body. Reaching his penis, I lathered it, stroking
gently. I continued down, soaping his thighs and calves. Getting to my feet, I
turned him to face the front of the shower and pressed my chest against his
back. Reaching around front, I rubbed his flat, smooth chest and abs.

I scrubbed his back much the same as I had his front. I worked slowly from top
to bottom.

We traded places and it was his turn to wash me. He stood about 5'-7", so he
was head high with my chest. I intentionally brushed his lips with my nipple
on more than one occasion. This proved distraction enough that on the third
time, he lightly touched the nipple with the tip of his tongue.

I guided him to his knees and positioned his head so that he could use that
marvelous tongue on my clit. He seemed to enjoy pleasuring me. I climaxed with
a shudder, my juices being washed away by the spray of the shower.

He stood and continued lathering me, front and back. We shampooed each others
hair and rinsed. Stepping from the shower first, I handed him a towel from the
rack and took the other for myself. He dropped his and taking mine, proceeded
to dry me from head to foot. He finished by wrapping the towel around my head
in a turban fashion. Only then did he dry himself.

It certainly was nice being pampered.

Rather than getting dressed, I pointed to his clothes and motioned for him to
follow. I lead him to the laundry room and opened the washer. He tossed his
clothes into the machine, added soap, and turned it on.

'All right, Diego, time to go to sleep,' I said, and again I made the gesture
indicating sleep. He nodded and headed in the direction of the garage. Before
going through the door, he turned and said, 'Thanks, goddess.' I smiled at him
and said, 'that's good, Diego, very good.'

I turned the lights off in the house and headed to my bedroom. I got on the
scale in the bathroom and was surprised to see it said I weighed 180 pounds. I
looked at my reflection in the mirror and didn't see an ounce of fat anywhere.
I was lean muscle, 180 pounds of lean muscle.

I crawled under the sheet and turned off the bedside lamp.

I woke at 2:00AM. At first I didn't know what woke me, but as I lay there, I
heard the movement of a drawer being opened. 'It must be Diego,' I thought,
'I'd better go see what he's doing.'

I put on my robe, certainly not out of modesty, but because this evening was
cool. I padded softly out of my bedroom in the direction of the kitchen, but
then I heard another drawer being opened. The sound was coming from Alicia's
office. 'What's Diego doing in there', I thought. I turned in that direction
and as I neared the door, I saw a faint light. It was the light from a small
flashlight. 'Odd,' I thought, but proceeded to the door and peeked around the
corner.

There, going through the desk was the figure of a man. Not Diego, but a large
man, perhaps 6'-1" or 6'-2", dressed in black. He had a shaved head and was
stockily built. He held a small flashlight in his left hand while rummaging
through the drawers with his right. A pillowcase lay atop the desk, obviously
to put whatever he thought was worth taking in to it.

He didn't look up or hear me as I entered and flipped on the overhead lights.
Startled, he dropped his flashlight and his hand instinctively went for a
knife he had laying on the desk. 'Back away from the door, lady, and you won't
get hurt,' he said deeply, holding the knife in front of him. He came around
the desk and made for the door. I held my ground, although I had never faced a
man with a knife bfore.

'Drop everything,' I said, 'and get out of here.' He continued to come towards
me, knife in hand, holding the pillowcase and his loot in his other hand.
'Look, lady, back away, I don't want to hurt you,' he said. I didn't budge.

He stopped three feet in front of me. 'Move!' he shouted. I looked at him and
said, 'If you want to leave you'll have to go through me first.' He took
another step in my direction with the knife held out in front of him, swinging
back and forth slowly, the bright blade gleaming. I quicky grabbed the man's
wrist that held the knife and twisted, snapping it with ease. He let out a
yell and dropped the knife. He also dropped the pillowcase and held his broken
wrist with his uninjured hand.

I bent down and picked up the knife and holding it by the handle, put my thumb
against the six inch blade and snapped it off the hilt. 'Cheap knife,' I told
him, 'you really should have gotten out when I told you to.'

'Screw you, bitch,' he said, 'you broke my wrist.' I walked up to him and
backhanded him across the chin. I didn't hit him with much, but it was enough
to snap his head back and draw a trickle of blood from the corner of his
mouth. Now, his wrist momentarily forgotten, he touched his mouth with his
good hand and saw the blood on his fingertips.

He came at me and hit me in the stomach. Either he was weak or pulled his
punch, but I barely felt the blow. I gave him a quick jab to the ribs and new
instantly that I had cracked one or two. He yelled again and doubled over
clutching his ribs. His arm with the broken wrist was cradled in his
midsection.

'You fight like a girl,' I said, 'a little girl.' This time he straightened up
and jabbed at my jaw with his good hand. He was slow and missed by a mile.
Grabbing his good arm, I stepped behind him bringing it high up on his back. I
may have dislocated it because he yelled again. 'What's your name, bitch?' I
asked. I was angry now.

He continued to struggle, but I had him by the arm. 'Jack,' he said, 'my name
is Jack.' 'OK, Jack,' I said as I encircled his chest with my free arm,
'here's what I want you to do. I want you to kneel on the ground, do you
understand?' 'Screw you, bitch,' he said again. 'I knew you wouldn't do what I
told you, Jack,' I said, 'now I'm going to break a few more ribs. And you know
Jack, I really love doing this.' I gradually squeezed, because I wanted to
make it last. The snap of the ribs was distinct. First one rib cracked, then
another and finally a third rib. I smiled, although Jack was not enjoying
himself.

I let Jack go and he fell to the floor, sobbing. 'Please, stop,' he begged.

To be continued ...