My Homecoming and Coming Out
By Muscle Fan, covert.1@hotmail.com



I was finally coming home after having been away for nearly a year. I would
have been happy to stay away, but I needed new clothes and it was a good time
to see my parents. In the time I was gone, I had taken care of my grandfather
after my grandmother had passed away, but he too had finally passed, most
likely from a broken heart.

My grandparents had lived in a rural part of the Midwest on a farm. Work was
difficult at first, but I had always been a woman up for challenges and new
situations. The only heat in the house was from a wood burning fireplace,
which meant that I had to chop the firewood as well as tend to the cleaning
and cooking. Taking care of the animals was relatively easy, although the
bales of hay were heavy at first.

I had always considered myself athletic so I found myself getting stronger and
leaner. Each day seemed to bring new found energy. 'Maybe it was that I was
eating healthier, getting plenty of sleep,' I thought, 'or maybe it was just
that well water, but whatever it was, I felt more alive.'

'Home,' I thought, 'the small town seemed larger,' as I drove down Main, past
the bank, the library and the post office. But I was coming from isolation on
my grandfather's farm, now my farm, where days and weeks could go by without
seeing another sole other than grandpa. In some respects, I thought, I'd be
sorry to go home, but now as I drove through town and saw people on the
street, I was glad to be coming back, even for a short stay. Glad too that now
I could have a man hold me, kiss me and make love to me. I found myself
driving one-handed while I massaged my crotch with my other hand.

I was about to turn on to my parents street when I spied Bobby's pick-up truck
in the parking lot of the local gas station. I pulled in and parked to the
side of the garage. I got out and went to the open bay of the garage. "Hey,
Bobby, what are you doing?" I said. Bobby and I had been friends before I left
to care for my grandpa, you might say, 'friends with benefits' at times. Yes,
we dated, had sex a few times but we were never in a 'committed' relationship.

He was under a sedan which was up on the hydraulic lift, tinkering with a fuel
line or something. He turned and I watched as his eyes widened and a broad
smile lit up his face. 'Still good looking,' I thought. "Carol!" he said,
"When did you get back?" I laughed lightly and said, "Just now, Bobby, I was
on my way home when I saw your truck." "So, what, you just couldn't resist me
and stopped?" he said and laughed.

He wiped his hands on a rag and came to me. We hugged and when he stepped back
he looked at me from head to foot and had a strange look on his face. "What,
what is it," I asked. "I don't know, it's, it's just that you feel different,"
he said. "What do you mean I feel different," I asked. "You feel bigger, more
solid, it's like hugging Ray," he said.

Ray Mitchell, the high school tackle and offensive lineman. Ray was a
classmate of ours in high school and went on to play college football.

"Gee, thanks, Bobby," I said, pursing my lips in a pout, "that's a fine
welcome home." "Ahh, Carol, you know that's not what I meant," he said, "You
just feel more solid." "Yea, you said that," I repeated. I lifted my sweater
and said, "I've gotten lots of exercise while I've been gone," showing him my
six-pack abs. "Wow, Carol, when did you become a muscle babe?" Bobby said and
ran his hand across my stomach. "Maybe it was all the fresh country air, clean
living and hard work," I said, "do you like it?" I could tell by the smile on
his face that he did. "What?" he said, eyes riveted to my abs. I tightened
them and I thought his eyes were going to pop from his head.

'Men are so easy to control,' I thought, 'and Bobby is the poster-boy for
controllable.' "Remember that time, Bobby, at Vickie's party when you and I
arm-wrestled?" "Uh huh," he said, and I lowered my sweater, so that he could
concentrate. "Well, I bet I could beat you now," I said. "What, arm
wrestling?" Bobby said. "Yeah," I said, "let's go in the office and I bet I
can pin you." "No way," he said and headed for the door to the office.

"If I beat you, you have to take care of me," I said as he stepped into the
office. "Sure, Carol, but you're not going to win," he said, "What do I get
when I win?" he asked. I laughed and said, "Anything your heart desires." "Oh!
Well, then, you're on, girl, have a seat," he said pulling out a chair for me
at the table that held the coffee maker and served as a waiting area for the
garage patrons.

Bobby took the seat across from me and placed his right elbow on the table. I
placed mine next to his and we joined hands. I could feel him tense as I
squeezed his hand. "Go!" I said and he began to bend my forearm back. He was
stronger than I remember, maybe from working on cars or playing football in
high school, but I was still confident I could beat him.

Slowly I willed my arm to push and slowly his forearm retreated. He gritted
his teeth and I could see beads of sweat on his brow and upper lip. I smiled
and he grunted his disapproval. 'Silly boy,' I thought, 'you're not so tough.'
He tried to prevent the inevitable, my pinning his arm. When I released my
grip, he said between breaths, "Wow, when did you get so strong?" "I've been
working out," I said, "splitting logs, mending fences and lifting bales of
hay. Did you think I was on vacation or something?" I grabbed a wrench that
was lying on the table near the coffee maker and bent it in half. Bobby stared
at the twisted metal with his mouth open. I smiled and tossed it aside.

"Yeah, yeah, OK," he said, "You won, I can't believe how strong you've
gotten." "Uh-huh, now are you ready to take care of me?" I asked. "Sure," he
replied, "What do you need, new brakes, an oil change, what?" "Oh, no," I
said, "I need you to service me, not my car." He stood there wide eyed and
said, "What?" I didn't like Bobby for his mind, but he was built like a
stallion, and I had been without a man for almost a year.

I shut the door from the office to the pump islands and locked it, turning the
'Open' sign around to read 'Closed'. Sitting on the edge of the table, I said,
"Unbutton my jeans, Bobby, and take care of my pussy. I want to feel that cock
of yours inside me."

He ran his tongue around his lips and unbuttoned my jeans. "Your legs are
bigger," he observed as he slid my jeans down my legs. Once he was done, he
began unbuttoning his own jeans. As he pulled his jeans free from his hips,
his manhood sprang free. "Hmm," I said, "I see you're as ready, willing and
able as ever." "Look at your legs," he said, "they're more muscular than
mine." "Yeah, well, that's not saying much, is it?" I asked, "Now how about
taking care of my needs and a little less talk."

Bobby was a good lover and I was more than a willing participant. Having not
had a man for so long and only taking care of my own needs, the memories of
the two of us flooded back. I wanted the moment to last, but I was also eager
to feel the excitement of that first orgasm. Thoughts swirled through my head
and I was panting when I heard, "Bobby Johnson, what the hell are you doing?"

It was Linda Franklin, former prom queen, cheerleader and all around stuck up
bitch. Bobby's hips froze but I held him inside me and looking over his
shoulder said, "Get the hell out of here, Linda, no one invited you to this
party." "That's my boyfriend, slut," Linda hissed. I glanced at Bobby who gave
me a sheepish smile. I turned back to Linda and said, "Apparently Bobby isn't
exactly committed to the relationship."

She grabbed Bobby by one shoulder and pulled him off me. "Look, you whore, why
don't you just crawl back in that rust bucket of a car and haul your ass out
of town?" Linda said. She had always had a big mouth, but her father was the
bank president, head of the Chamber of Commerce and she sang in the church
choir. 'She always gets things her way,' I thought, 'but I might just change
that.'

I laughed. "Nice speech, bitch, Bobby wants a real woman, not some little
daddy's girl like you," I said. Her face reddened and I could tell that I
struck a nerve. "Bitch?" she asked, "I'm not the one have sex in a gas
station." I laughed again, and said, "Maybe you should try it, it might help
get that stick out of your ass." She balled her fist and drove her right into
my abs. I will say, I gave her an 'A' for effort.

"Oh, ouch, like some little wimp like you could hurt me," I said, "why don't
you run along baby and come back when you grow a pair?" She delivered a
combination of punches that had no effect, and this seemed to make her
angrier. I was losing my patience with her, and pushed her back. She stooped
and picked up the wrench I had bent and rushed me with it held over her head.
"Bitch!" she screamed and I grabbed her wrist, before she could hit me with
the tool. I think there was an audible snap as I broke bone and then she
literally wailed and sunk to her knees. I looked from Bobby, who had his back
to the far wall and was watching wide-eyed, to the girl on her knees, cradling
her broken wrist.

She was both moaning and crying. My jeans were still down around my ankles and
I thought I'd teach Linda Franklin a little humility. I said softly, "Lap my
pussy, bitch." She ignored me and I took her chin in my hand and tilted her
face upwards. "Look at me!" I said sternly.

"Carol, ah, maybe you should let ... " Bobby started to say before I looked at
him and said, "Shut up, Bobby, unless you want me to break something of
yours." "No," he said meekly and seemed to press himself deeper into the wall.

I moved my pussy to her lips and said, "Come on, sissy, tongue that clit." I
could feel her breath on my shaved pubis. Slowly she touched my labia with her
tongue and I said, "That's it, come on, I need to climax." I released her chin
and grabbed the back of her head by her hair and held her against me, grinding
myself into her face. "Hmm," I moaned, "That's it, that's it. Stick your
tongue in there, ahh, ahh, yes, yes," and I came with in a rush.

It took me nearly a full minute to get my breathing under control and I
released my grip on Linda's hair. She was still sobbing as I pulled my jeans
up.

"Look," I said addressing Linda, "We were never friends and I'm sorry I broke
your wrist, but I just needed a man. I really didn't know you and Bobby had
something going." At this point we both looked at Bobby who, I'm sure, wished
he was back under that car in the garage bay.

"I didn't intend to hurt you," I continued, "either physically or emotionally,
OK?" I stood up and extended my hand to help her up. She took it with her
uninjured hand and got to her feet.

She looked into my eyes and said, "I'm sorry too, Carol, for being a bitch to
you, even in school," and then she turned once more to Bobby and said, "and as
for you, sex is great, but are you going to cheat on me with every woman who
pulls in here?" "No, baby," Bobby said, "it's not like that, Carol came in
here and ... " I cut him off. "Look, it was me, I needed sex, Bobby was here.
It was that simple, I used him to fulfill my desire, well almost." "Almost?"
she asked. I smiled. "Yea, almost," I said, "until some crazy woman pulled him
off of me. But it all worked out, you gave me a better orgasm than Bobby would
have." "Did I," she said, smiling. I nodded, "You did," I said, "Now I better
be getting home."

"Will I see you again," Linda asked as I headed for the door. "Maybe," I said,
and I looked at Bobby, "You better take care of her or I might steal her, I'll
bet she's a wildcat in bed." Bobby smiled and moved beside Linda and put an
arm around her waist, "She is that," he said. 'They do make a nice looking
couple', I thought, as I walked to my car.

I got home to my mom and dad. Dad worked for the gas company and mom was a
physical education teacher at the local high school. 'That's where my interest
in sports and athleticism came from,' I thought. They both came through the
front door as I pulled into the driveway.

"Oh, Carol, welcome home, honey," my mother said, and wrapped her arms around
me. Dad hugged us both. "It's good to be here," I said, "even if it's for a
little while. I've got to head back to the farm in a couple of days." And I
did. One of the neighbors ranch-hand was watching my grandfather's place for
me. "We know, honey," my dad said, "do you have a bag?" He walked to the car
and took my duffel bag from the back seat. "What do you have in here," he
said, "bricks?" I took it from him and said, "Let me carry it, I don't want
you to strain anything." Once inside, my mother said, "Let me have a look at
you, you look like you've gotten bigger, not just tall, but more muscular."
Leave it to my mom to notice that. "Maybe," I said dismissively, "what's for
dinner?" "We're having the usual," dad said, it was Sunday and we always had
fried chicken on Sunday's. "Fried chicken," I said and mom smiled. "Yup, why
don't you go shower while I finish up in the kitchen," my mother said, "dinner
will be ready in a half hour."

I went to my old room and dropped the duffel bag on the bed. I kicked off my
shoes and padded to the bathroom and turned on the water to let it warm up.
Back in my bedroom, I got out my bag of toiletries, a fresh T-shirt and a pair
of shorts and then stripped off my clothes. I had outgrown most of the clothes
I took to my grandparents and was in need of new ones. I headed back to the
bathroom which is off the hall between two of the bedrooms.

Now at this point, I need to explain that mom and dad are very liberal on what
we did or did not wear around the house. The only exception to that was
mother's rule about sitting at the dinner table. Dad and I were expected to
wear pants or shorts and a shirt in the kitchen, and certainly if we had
company over. Other times, you could find mom or dad with a shirt or trousers
and pants. It was only the three of us and our nearest neighbor was a quarter
mile away.

My father was coming out of their bedroom as I was going to the bathroom.
While I didn't cover myself, he saw more than he bargained for. "Wow, Carol,"
dad said, "You've really put on some muscles." "It's that farm life, lots of
exercise," I said before entering the bathroom and shutting the door.

I put my belongings on the counter and looked at myself in the mirror. 'Dad
was right,' I thought, "I have gotten more muscular.' I flexed my arms and saw
biceps where before I had none. Not just biceps, but small mountains of
well-defined muscle. I cupped my breasts and tensed my abs and admired how
defined the muscle group was. I ran the flat of my hand over them to feel
their hardness. 'Linda's punches were like blows from a feather duster,' I
thought, remembering her trying to double me over. I allowed my fingers to
play over my pubis where a short time ago, Linda's lips had been. I inserted
first one and then two fingers into my vagina, savoring the feeling.

With my free hand, I opened my make-up tote and withdrew a small vibrator.
Pushing the switch to the on position, I withdrew my fingers and ran the tip
of the machine across my clit. My body took control and I plunged the humming
phallic deep inside me. Minutes later I climaxed squirting my cum onto the
floor and counter. It took a full five minutes for the euphoria to subside.

I wiped the counter surface with a towel and stepped into the shower,
immerging twenty minutes later refreshed.

I toweled off, dressed and leaving my things in the bathroom went to the
kitchen. Mom's fried chicken is to die for and I ate like I was ravished. I
helped clear the dishes and dried them as mom washed. After that the three of
us settled in the living room to watch television. Dad was wearing a pair of
sweatpants and a T-shirt, mom was in her flannel pajamas, sitting at one end
of the couch. When I walked into the living room both mom and dad's mouths
opened. I had on my spandex shorts and a cutoff T-shirt. The shirt was an old
one that I liked and just couldn't seem to bring myself to throw away, but it
was tight across the chest and arms.

I sat down on the couch at the opposite end as my mother. "Have you been
lifting weights, Carol," my mom asked. "No, just working at grandpa's farm," I
said, "but I have gotten bigger, so I need to go shopping tomorrow before
heading back." "Well, whatever you're doing, you look great, honey," my father
said. "Thanks," I said, "I stopped at the garage and saw Bobby Johnson."

"You use to go with him, didn't you, Carol," my mother asked. "Yeah," I said,
"that was years ago, now he's going with Linda Franklin." "Old man Franklin's
daughter?" dad asked. "I remember her from school," mom said, "I thought she
was stuck up." "That seems like an unlikely pair," my dad said, "I bet I know
who wears the pants in that two-some." I chuckled at that.

"Look," I said, "I've got something to tell you in case you hear it from
someone else, Linda came into the gas station while I was there." "Yes, dear,"
mom said. "Well, I was having sex with Bobby in the office," I told them. My
mother looked at my dad who said, "Maybe that's a little more than what we
want to know, Carol." "Perhaps, but I want to tell you the story," I said,
"Linda came in while Bobby and I were, you know, doing it." "Uh-huh, go on,"
my father said, now interested. "Carol, is Linda going to blab this around
town, about you and Bobby having sex?" my mother asked. "I don't think so,
mom," I said, "Because I had her go down on me."

There was a long pause and I was about to ask if my mother had heard me when
she said, "You had her go down on you, so what, are you a lesbian?" I looked
from my mother to my dad and back to my mother before I answered. I wanted to
choose my words carefully.

"To answer your question, mom," I began, "I'm not a lesbian. If anything I'm
bisexual. I like sex with both men and women, but either way, I'm the one in
control, just like with Linda." "How do you mean," my dad asked. I told them
the story of what happened including breaking Linda's wrist. When I was done
they both looked at me and my mom said, "Thank you for being honest with us,
honey, we appreciate it," and she moved closer to give me a kiss. "Yes,
thanks," dad said.

We watched a little more TV and then I said, "I'm going to turn in, good
night." They each said good night and I went to my bedroom felling much better
that I had finally come home and told my parents about how I felt.

It felt good to tell my parents the truth. The next day I got items for the
farm, clothing and some food and drove back to my new life.