More Than A Wish

A Quick take from my wife's new novella, More Than a Wish.

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James was all in with my new program of lifting five days a week and doing cardio the other two. I found the routine comforting. After just a few weeks, noticeably rounded bicep peaks formed on my arms, a sheath of muscle on my legs, and more rounded firm glutes. James had always been obsessed with my tits but now he made me flex my biceps and cupped his hand over them to feel the muscles jump.

"I never would have guessed that smaller breasts would turn me on like yours do but what little you've lost in flesh, you've added in muscle, and then some. When you flex, I can see the striations in your chest," he caressed my chest with one hand and gently rubbed his pants with the other. I giggled and pulled away from him to start getting ready for the gym. I knew where this was headed, but didn't mind teasing him a little first. I swayed my hips in an exaggerated fashion and could almost feel his eyes scrutinizing the swells of my glutes. Recently, my body, and more specifically my flexing had become the gateway to sex for us lately. It had always been him protecting me and using his muscular body in shows of strength. But now, in what seemed supremely ironic given the difference in our sizes, he seemed to fawn over my muscles and liked me to pretend to be in charge. We'd always had a good sex life but now, because of my increasingly firm body, it seemed supercharged.

When we met, James had been muscular and prided himself on not just looking strong, but being strong. He was a bit obsessive about the gym and being strong and demonstrating his strength. I'd seen pictures of him as a boy and he was a whip of a kid, all arms and legs and toe-head blonde hair but at some point, he had filled out-- a lot.

Eventually, he'd trusted me enough to reveal how he'd been bullied as a kid, and his desire to be strong made sense. I reached up to brush the hair out of my eyes and flexed my bicep. Across the room, I could feel his eyes lock on my arm and follow my every move. It felt fun to move my body and see him get so excited. He had always played the protector with me but somehow this was more fun.

"You like that I watch your muscles, don't you," James asked, still lying in bed. Since I'd started my new regimen, I arrived at the gym even earlier than him. I'd finish with thirty to forty-five minutes of stair climbing that reminded me of my mountain hike. Even on the hardest setting, it had now become little more than a warmup.

I walked over to him and ruffled his hair gently. "Yes. I'm glad you noticed."

"How could I not? Jeez, your arms have gained an inch and your back is practically busting out of your shirts. But it's your chest that I can't get enough of." He put his hand on my chest and I obliged his touch by flexing.

"What's new?" I snickered as the muscles rippled under his hand and his breath caught a little. He thrust his hand down my shirt and found my nipple, gently rubbing his thumb over it, playing with the soft parts with his thumb and gripping my hard pec muscles with his fingers. I felt the wetness and weight in my groin and knew I was as turned on as he was with my burgeoning body.

There can be a different warmup session this morning, I rationalized. Our sex was urgent and rough, as we pulled each other's clothes off. And lately, I'd found myself on top of him, wanting to control the pace of my pleasure, not waiting for him to hit the right spot. Though I knew he was increasingly turned on by my experiments with dominance, it never lasted long. I could almost see the look on his face when the inner demons from his youth overwhelmed him. James would thrust me over, mount me, and remind me who was stronger, who was in charge. His overly aggressive thrusting was like a subconscious reminder that he needed to demonstrate that he was in control. As the recipient of his powerful thrusts, I didn't exactly mind. It felt good and I knew he needed to be on top to feel he was in charge, but I also knew how much he wanted to let me take control.