The Upstairs Neighbor - Part Two By Wanderer Why you should get to know your neighbors. This is adult material. Please do not read if you are under age 18 or laws in your country forbid you to do so. Part One can be found on the Wanderer bookshelf. Copyright 2007 by Wanderer I didn't have to consider Stephanie's offer for very long. Trading an occasional spanking for a chance at a fifty-four inch double D and a chance to suck on a three-quarter inch nipple? It was a no brainer. Especially for a guy thirty years old who wasn't very cool around women and dated very little. Not that I was ugly or anything. Actually I wasn't so bad looking, but as a lawyer I worked seventy hour weeks, and while I was very glib in a court situation I got tongue-tied around women, especially the good looking ones. So this was the best offer I'd had all year. Hell, it was the best offer I'd had in the last thirty years. I wasn't about to pass it up. But, being a lawyer, maybe I could negotiate a deal. I'd wait and see how it played out. "How come you're not married" I asked. "A good looker like you, you must have plenty of dates." "Oh, I have plenty of dates," Steph said. "Guys date me a time or two, then they don't call again. Maybe they act like gentlemen and hold my upper arm to help me across the street. Maybe they try to grope me. Maybe we hug. Whatever it is it doesn't take them long to figure out I have muscles. Big muscles. Bigger muscles than their muscles. The male ego can't handle that. I go through a lot of guys looking for one who can accept me as I am. No luck so far." "Do you think I'd be any better?" I asked. "I've never considered a relationship with a strong woman. I didn't even know that there were women who had big muscles, biceps like yours." "You should see my thighs," she commented. "Look, I'll always know where you are and I can track you down," she laughs. "Downstairs, eighth floor. I can come and get you. But you're probably like all the other guys," she sighs, "being a high and mighty lawyer with a big ego and all that stuff," and she gets a rather sad look on her face. Well, maybe I can cheer her up. "I dunno," I say, "I've never been with a strong woman, one that has muscles. Does it hurt? I'm usually surrounded by weepy divorcees. It might be fun to try someone different." At that comment she brightens considerably. "Want to give it a try? I'm good company." "And you can cook, too. That's becoming a lost art." "Did you like dinner?" Steph asks. "You bet," I say. "Dinner was great, Steph. From what I've seen and tasted here tonight you're a great cook. You're gorgeous. You've got a smokin' body. I think I could learn to live with a muscle or two. Why don't I help you with the dishes and then we can sit in your living room and talk about what's to come." "You're a doll to offer to help," Stephanie said. "Cute, and a gentleman too," she giggled. "What more could a girl ask for?" When we finished doing the dishes and Steph had put them away she thanked me for helping and also for the legal advice I had offered her. "Why don't we go relax on the sofa and watch some TV?" she says. "We could have a glass of brandy and get mellow." "You're so full of good ideas," I say. "Some guy should have snapped you up a long time ago. I'm still surprised you're not married." "Who wants a muscley broad?" she asks. " I have dates, like I said, but then they find out that I have bigger muscles than they do and that ends any chances of a relationship." "Just how muscley are you?" I ask. "Well, if we have enough brandy maybe I'll show you," she giggles again. "Promises, promises," I say, although I'm getting a little apprehensive as I'm not too muscley myself. Brainy, not muscley. Steph poured us a couple brandies and we went into her living room and sat ourselves on the sofa. She sat very close to me, so close that our thighs were touching and I got a whiff of her perfume and the flowery smell of her hair. Very sexy. She may have big muscles but she's sexy as hell. We're sipping the brandy and Steph says "It's still early, you up for a porno movie for the DVD?" That surprised me. Did I hear right? "A porno movie?" I asked. "Sure, I'm not a prude," she said. "I like sex just as much as the next girl. Or the next guy," she giggled. "I just don't get any." "It's hard to believe that a girl with your great looks and your great body doesn't attract guys like bees to honey. How about all those good looking guys you meet at the gym in your job as a trainer?" "Yeah, you'd think it would be easy," Steph said. "They would all like to screw me, but I'm not an easy mark. I don't want to be used merchandise. The gals come in. I offer myself as a trainer. They say 'Can I get a body like yours?' 'Takes years,' I say. 'But you can start now and see how it goes.' I sign them up. I offer my services to the guys as a trainer. They say 'Babe, I'm not looking to be a beauty queen, I want to build some muscle.' "'Well, if you want to build muscle you're doing that bench press wrong,' I tell them," Steph says. 'I can show you the proper technique.'" "'Yeah?' they say. 'OK, Miss-Know-It-All. I'll take some weight off of this two hundred pound bar, you show me what I'm doing wrong' they challenge me. I don't think they give a damn about proper technique, they just want to see me flat on my back taking deep breaths with my boobs sticking up in the air." "'Oh, you can leave the bar as it is,' I tell them. 'I need to warm up first.'" "'What?' they say, incredulous. 'You're going to warm up with two hundred pounds?' "'Oh no, silly,' I say. They look relieved. 'I'm going to add a fifty pound plate to each end of the bar and I'll warm up with three hundred pounds.' Their jaws drop. Then they start laughing because they think I'm kidding with them." "'Like hell you will,' they say. 'You'll kill yourself. You'll pop those boobs like balloons,' they snicker." "'Well,' I tell them, 'I usually warm up with ten reps of three hundred pounds before I do my three sets of ten with four hundred pounds. I only max out with my heavy set of four hundred seventy-five pounds every other week. Have to give my little muscles time to recover, you know.' Did you ever see a male ego being crushed? It's not a pretty sight. But I can't be a hypocrite. I can't say 'Oh, Mr. Handsome, you have such big muscles, poor little me can only bench press the bar without any plates. Please don't put any weights on it, it might crush my boobies, tee hee, tee hee.' I wear a sweat shirt and long pants around the gym to cover up my muscles. The men don't know there's a broad who makes them look like sissy boys, but that's all I'm going to do. I'm not going to kiss ass to get the men to hire me as a trainer. I have enough women clients to give me a modest income and then I get spare time at the gym to work on my own body. But when the men see me benching four hundred pounds or four seventy-five then you can see why they shun me." "New guys at the gym who haven't seen me work out hit on me all the time," Stephanie says. "All they want is my body. 'Hey, babe, let's do something tonight. I'll let you feel my muscles, especially the big one down here,' and they grab their crotch and snicker. "When they're not looking I grab the two hundred fifty pound curl bar and put it on the floor. Then I say, 'Oh, sir, maybe you can show me how to curl this barbell, it looks so heavy,' I gasp. "'No, no, Sugar Pants,' Mr. Macho says, alarmed. 'Nobody can curl a weight like that except the really big boys. You start with that light twenty pound barbell over on the rack there, Honey Buns." "So I pick up the two hundred fifty pound barbell with one hand and I carry it over to Mr. Macho, who by now is crapping in his shorts. I put my other hand on the bar and I extend my two hands and hold it straight out to him at the chest level. 'Please show me the right way to do it,' I say. 'I don't want to pull one of my teeny weeny muscles.' "The guy is so flabbergasted he thinks it's a trick some of the other men in the gym are playing on him. It can't be a real weight. He reaches out, takes the two hundred fifty pound curl bar from me and promptly falls over, the weight pulling him down like a two ton boulder sinking in a river. 'Oh, dear,' I say, 'maybe I'd better find myself a real man who can handle such a light weight,' I giggle. Is it any wonder I don't get a lot of dates at the gym?" Stephanie is sitting up against me on my left side, so I commiserate with her problem, I reach my left hand down and pat it on her right thigh. Did she say to me "Wait until you see my thighs?" Well, we're sitting there, sipping our brandies, all relaxed, and it's like my hand is patting a heavy steel bar. So I take liberties, I don't know how she's going to take this - I start squeezing her thigh, and even then there's no give - absolutely solid. I can only imagine what this thigh looks like. "Fresh!" Steph accuses me. "Want to see it?" Sitting on the sofa like we are her short skirt has crept about half-way up her leg and I'm looking at a very big, full thigh. It sure as hell is bigger than mine, maybe as big as both of mine put together. So now she sticks her right leg straight out and I'm looking at her thigh and her calf. The quad muscles are running all over the place, big plates of muscle and tendons moving all over the leg, punctuated by some sizable blood vessels, and the calf muscle farther down the leg all big and swollen and curvy and looking positively solid as a rock. "Wow," I say, "your leg is positively huge!" "Silly," she replies, "I'm not even flexing it yet. Here, let me show you." Well, she wasn't flexing it. Now she tenses up the quad and the thigh expands. It seems to almost double in size. Now it's REALLY big, very cut, very defined, very scary to a guy whose legs almost give out when he has to run half a block to catch a bus. Those muscle plates and those cables of muscle running up and down her leg are absolutely huge, and they are very, very hard looking. On impulse I hit my fist down on top of her quad. She giggles. So I'm going to stop that, I hit her harder. That only makes her giggle a little more. OK, now I'm getting a little mad. Maybe she's laughing at me. I swing my left fist down with all my might, but not making it look like I'm launching some kind of vicious attack. "Ouch," she yelps. Ah-ha, I got her, she's vulnerable after all. So much for big, hard female muscles. "You scratched me with your fingernail," she says. Oh. "Didn't you feel that at all?" I ask. "I hit your leg as hard as I could. I wasn't trying to be nasty, I just wanted to see how much your quadriceps could take." "Well, I didn't really feel it," Steph said. "But I'm not trying to put you down or anything. See, this is what turns guys off. They're going to show me how tough they are. They're going to get a reaction out of me and I don't even realize what they're up to. If I wanted to hang on to them I should probably say 'Oh, Mr. Muscles, you really hurt me, you big strong man you. But I just can't be that phony. Sorry. I hardly felt anything. Here, let me show you something. Want to try an experiment? Get on your knees between my legs, facing me." "OK, I'm game," I said, as she raised both legs straight out in front of her and spread them apart a little so I could get between them.Now her skirt had ridden up her hips a little more and I caught a glimpse of her lacy bikini panties, with the powerfully muscled quads running up to her hips, and that was causing some response in my crotch, so I tried to distract myself - I grabbed her calves. That was the wrong thing to do. They were big, huge, hard, sexy. Since when are big, hard, huge calves sexy? I guess since you can put your hands on them. I couldn't help myself, my hands started roaming over her calves and then up her thighs, feeling how hard and how firm and how big those muscles were. So OK, I started kissing and licking her big thighs. I was embarrassed, I'd only come up here to give her some legal advice and have dinner, and I was acting like some kind of teen age fool, licking and kissing and under some kind of muscle spell. I don't think it was really the muscles, she was just a sexy broad, and I was hard up. Or maybe it was the muscles. Steph giggled. "Why Mr. James, whatever are you doing? When I invited you up for dinner tonight I never thought I was going to have some big famous divorce attorney at my feet. I'm flattered. I never thought I would find a guy who likes muscles on a woman, but you don't seem to mind at all." "Well," I responded, "I wasn't looking for a woman with muscles, and muscles bigger than mine, but, if you don't mind my saying so, you're a complete package, and your muscles seem to give you curves in all the right places. I think I can live with a muscle or two. How big are these thighs of yours?" "Oh, only thirty-two inches, and my calves are twenty inches" Steph said. "I can only squat five hundred pounds. But I'm sure if I worked at it I could make them grow a little. Would you like that, sweetie?" Well, I think the bottle of wine we had for dinner and the brandy were getting to her. I know they were getting to me. We were beginning to call each other little pet names, like we were long time lovers, and taking little liberties. "Bet you can't squat with me on your shoulders," I said. "I can go you one better," she answered. "Stay on your knees and get stiff." "I'm already stiff," I answered. "Oh, I don't mean that kind of stiff, silly," she giggled. "Keep your body stiff as a board, stay down on your knees, and I''ll lift you." Lift me? Then Stephanie bent her legs a little at the knees so she could surround my waist as I remained on my knees, one leg at each side of me, the calves digging into the area just below my ribs. She tightened up her hold and I kept my body stiff as she ordered, and she lifted my two hundred pounds off the floor by just raising her lower legs at the knees and I could see her already massive quads get even bigger, if that was possible. It was a little scary. "Pretty good, huh?" Steph asked. "I can do even more things with these legs," she said. "I'm not sure I want to find out," I mumbled. With that we both had a good laugh. I was beginning to have a lot of fun. Maybe Stephanie's muscles weren't so scary after all. Or maybe it was the brandy. "I'm going to go fill up our brandy glasses again, and I'm going to hit the start button on the DVD for the porno movie. Maybe that will take your mind off my thighs," she giggles. "And anyway I'm getting horny from sitting next to you and drinking all this brandy, maybe the porno movie will take my mind off my wanting to rape you. And maybe it won't," she laughs. So Steph brings back the refilled glasses of brandy - this is our third glass - and we're watching the porn movie. Two very well stacked women - believe me, very well stacked - are giving this guy a blow job, and you can see by the look on his face it's the real thing, this ain't acting. So Stephanie says, "I'm better stacked than those broads." Now that throws me. Thank God for this potent brandy! I'm going to play along. I'll put her down. Maybe she'll give me a peek to prove me wrong. "G'wan, they hire these babes for what they've got up front, they're all double D's, and they've got to be at least forty inches around. These gals are professionals. You're nicely built, but you don't have that kind of measurements, Steph." "Listen, Buster," Steph says, a little irritation creeping into her voice. "I'm a double D, just like those babes, but I'm a fifty-four double D, just like I told you, so take that, Mr. Doubting Thomas. And another thing - see that blonde? Well, mine don't hang low like hers, mine are right up there. My pectoral muscles keep my babies right where they need to be. That blonde better hit the gym and work on her pecs. She could use me as her trainer, that's all I got to say." Well, being a lawyer I am kind of a doubting Thomas, as she called me. I need proof before I accept an outrageous statement like fifty-four double D. Maybe men have egos but women have egos too, probably more so than men, and since I'm praising the two well built broads in this porno I think Stephanie is showing a little bit of female jealousy. "G'wan, Steph, you've got a great body like I told you before, and you probably are a D, maybe even forty or forty-two, which is plenty good, but fifty-four, and double D on top of that? Come on, you've got to be kidding me." If I can make her think I don't believe her maybe she'll show me. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. Like I said, Stephanie and I are sitting on her sofa and watching these two hot babes doing this guy. We're touching each other, shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh, and I'm enjoying it. I think Steph is too because she's leaning into me, she's not moving away. Maybe it's the brandy. I'm sitting on her right side. I feel her right hand move behind my back and under my right armpit. Great! We're going to cuddle! I haven't cuddled with a female in maybe a year, and I don't have to push it, she's making the first moves. Then she puts her left hand under my left armpit and all of a sudden I'm airborne. I can't believe it! it's like I'm weightless and suddenly I find myself sitting on Stephanie's lap. I wonder, shouldn't it be the other way around? ""You picked me up!" I gasped. I weigh two hundred pounds and you picked me up and put me on your lap! What kind of woman does that?" "Well, you picked me up in the building elevator," she giggled. "I guess I can pick you up in my own apartment." "No, I mean you physically picked me up! My whole body! Just how strong can you be? You're sitting there - you didn't even need to use your legs to help you!" "Oh, don't make such a big deal out of it. I told you I was strong. Did you think I was lying to you?" "No, but how many women can pick up two hundred pounds while remaining seated on a sofa?" "Well, at least one," she giggled. "Do I scare you?" Being a lawyer, I had to ponder that question. "A little," I admitted. "When a woman meets a new man does he scare the woman?" "Not if you're me," she laughed. But don't look a gift horse in the mouth. A guy as hard up as I am should take it any way he can get it. Gorgeous babe, hot body, if she wants to hold me on her lap who am I to complain? Then she grasps my left wrist with one of her hands and my right wrist with her other hand. I get alarmed and try to pull my hands out of her grasp. No way. It's like steel bands are holding my hands in place. "What are you doing, Steph?" I ask. "Let's not do anything foolish now." For answer she places one of my hands on each of her breasts. Wow! Are they firm - and big! Huge! "Not fifty-four, huh? Not double D, huh? What do you say now, Mr. Smarty Pants? And I was going to let you taste one of my three-quarter inch nipples, too," she giggled, "but now you get zilch!" Now I was really alarmed. She was going to deny me. "Ah, come on," I begged, "nobody has three-quarter inch nipples. That's unrealistic." I'm sitting on the lap of this gorgeous babe, cuddling into her fifty-four inch chest, wishing I could nose my way into her fantastic cleavage and get my hands around one of those fantastic breasts and her nipple into my mouth and worried that if I do or say the wrong thing she may break every bone in my body. "Well, I have half a mind to show you," Steph says. "You're such a Mr. Know-It-All, it would be fun to knock you off your perch." "Yeah, yeah," I taunt her. "I'm a lawyer, I need to do research." Does Steph let Howard do research? Does Howard help Steph relieve her state of hornyness? Could he stop her? Read Part Three of "The Upstairs Neighbor" coming soon.