Muscle Maturity Ch 03

With input from curl4ever - if you like this kind of story, check out his!

I drummed my fingers on the dashboard, humming a tune, as I waited. Judith had just emerged from the school building, and was walking across the carpark, waving to her departing colleagues. Smiling to myself, I quietly enjoyed the sight of her firm, full body and her womanly gait – graceful, strong, self-assured, nothing too overstated like exaggerated hip-swiveling... just the carriage of a confident woman with a fulfilling career and a muscular physique I wanted to run worshipful hands all over.

Indeed, I thought, for a certain Dr. Jay Johnson, the question of sex had been answered rather well. It was never really easy for those of us in academia to date meaningfully – we tended to move in very small and exclusive circles, given our natural dispositions and lifestyles. The primary focus of our lives tended to be the very disciplines we'd devoted ourselves to. This sort of thing dramatically curtailed our romantic prospects. Yes, meeting Judith had been a most excellent thing.

She and I had settled into a most satisfactory arrangement. We'd managed to juggle our respective schedules, and now we were meeting three times a week for workouts. Each time, she'd stay the night, and whenever she needed a lift to work, I was most willing and able to oblige. With the practical details settled, it was much easier for mature adults like us to get into the right frame of mind for more... pleasurable... concerns.

"Ooh, what's this? Heavy reading before heavy lifting?" I quipped, as Judith got into the car beside me.

She laughed, and held up the book in her hands. I read the title aloud: "The Work of Language in Multicultural Classrooms: Talking Science, Writing Science."

"It's what our circle is looking at these days. Maria's recommendation."

"Ah, your dedicated group of professional teachers. Sounds interesting. What does it deal with – the challenges of teaching diverse classrooms with different languages being spoken?"

"Good guess! But no, not as such. I think only one of the papers in this book mentions that, and only briefly. The title says 'Language', not 'Languages', you see. It's about the discourse we use in the classroom that affects how students end up perceiving themselves vis-à-vis science."

"Ah, I see," I said, as I caught on. "It's primarily linguistics." Also, it wasn't a single treatise, but a collection of academic papers.

"Yes, that's right. Not really your field, or mine, but this is really insightful so far."

As I drove us back to my place for the weekend, she elaborated on what she had found interesting so far. And it was interesting – something as subtle as the phrasing of a question could influence young learners to think of themselves as inquiring scientists, or as simple recorders and describers of accepted "truth", according to the Cartesian reductionist model. It was definitely important that students be positioned as active agents of observation and discovery, according to constructivist ideals, rather than simple transcribers of facts according to hidebound tradition.

But after a while, it became obvious to her that my mind was elsewhere.

"It's... my hip flexors," I sighed. "I must've strained them last week or something. Been bothering me all this week. Doesn't affect me standing or sitting, but I've been taking it easy on the squats and deadlifts. In fact, I'm thinking I might give them a miss altogether for a while, at least until I get back to normal."

"Oh, dear. Yes, that might be best. Let's take it a little slow for today, then, Jay. And for a while yet."

Naturally she would be accommodating, but I couldn't help feeling grumpy as I drove on. This was what we all wanted to stave off, after all, we who were into fitness – the ravages of time, and all that. Of course, there were the stories of elite athletes who bounced back from astonishingly savage injuries to set new records after their comebacks were done... but I wasn't an elite athlete, and I didn't have access to those kinds of rehabilitation programs, or special supplements to aid recovery. I wasn't doing too badly for my age, not too badly at all, but it didn't feel good to be reminded that my body was after all very much a human one, and rather advanced in years.

Still... on the bright side...

"I guess it's biceps day today!" I chuckled, as we went down to my basement gym.

Judith grinned broadly. "Just what the doctor ordered," she murmured, with a sly wink and a pat on my bum.

Well, I thought, time for her to take her medicine!

"So!" Judith planted herself onto a bench. "Tell me about biceps."

"Sure," I said, with a small glow of pleasure. My favorite subject – and here she was asking me to talk about it!

"Our workout doesn't have to be too complicated," I continued. "We can get away with just doing a few movements. Here, let me show you what you'll be working on..."

So saying, I moved to take hold of her arm and prop it up. "Flex," I said, not without a little anticipatory smirk.

She quirked her lips and complied, clenching her fist. Her arm muscles jumped into relief.

I proceeded to outline her anatomy. "This here, on the outside... that's what we call the long head of the biceps. And here, on the inside..." I traced my finger along the lines I indicated, "you have the short head, and together, these are the biceps brachii. When people flex, and you see their 'peak' rise, it's the biceps brachii."

"So, Aimee has a pretty nice peak, doesn't she?" Judith remarked.

She was referring to one of her colleagues with whom we had been chatting sometime last week, within the vicinity of the school. The conversation had turned to Judith's workout regimen, and Aimee had playfully rolled up her sleeve and flexed her surprisingly defined biceps.

"Well, sure... she's got surprising definition, yes, but look, my dear, you've got more mass." I prodded and squeezed her flexed arm. The firmness was extremely pleasant. "I don't have to tell you whose arm I prefer, I hope."

"Isn't that just fat, though," she chuckled self-deprecatingly.

"Not at all!" I protested. "Look, look here – hardly any jiggle below your triceps. This little bit is fine, it's perfectly normal. You're not a bodybuilder in contest shape, not at the moment. In any case, you have more mass on your upper arm because of two reasons. First, your triceps are more developed than Aimee's. Triceps actually make up the majority of the bulk on our upper arms, and we use triceps a lot in daily life, so... advantage: you. Second, there's another big muscle underneath your biceps: your brachialis."

"Where is it?"

"Here... right here."

"I can't... feel or see what you mean. Isn't that still my biceps brachii?"

"Well... it's underneath..."

"Let me try flexing harder..."

She began grunting softly, and her arm trembled slightly with effort. I suddenly became very conscious of the way my erection was pushing against my underpants, and I swallowed hard.

"I... um... yes, see, there it is, you see, that muscle is neither the long head nor short head, but that's what gives your arm its mass..."

"You know what, Jay? My arm isn't good enough yet to model it properly." She lowered it. "Let's try yours."

I obliged, but instead of performing a biceps flex I showed her the outside of my arm, while performing a side chest pose, gripping my right wrist with my left hand. "You can see it better like this. I mean, I'm no Schwarzenegger..." I quipped.

Judith was running her fingers along my upper arm and kneading it. "It's so firm..." she murmured, and bit her lower lips slightly. "Very impressive, Jay. You've clearly worked at this."

I tried unsuccessfully to suppress a surge of prideful pleasure. I had worked at my biceps – in fact, I worked them much more than I did my other muscle groups.

"Well," I said shyly, "not to brag or anything, but my one-rep max for strict curls is 110lbs. I'm actually the state record holder for Masters 3, in my weight class. Did that last year. Not sure about this year, though... probably some young up and coming lifter could break it."

"Not likely, I think!" she exclaimed, looking up at me with new eyes. "Jay, you should've mentioned this! That is really impressive."

"I'm glad you think so." I couldn't help beaming broadly. I had always been proud of my aptitude for biceps curls, but never before had I found occasion to impress a woman with it. Within the circles in which I moved, it was not common at all to find women impressed with this particular kind of feat, involving raw physical prowess.

But this was Judith.

She squeezed my upper arm even harder, with an intent look in her eyes. "Well, no wonder I lost that arm-wrestle that time," she remarked. "You stud muffin, you."

I couldn't help it – I burst out laughing and relaxed my pose.

"What," Judith said, laughing as well.

"I've... I've just never been called that before."

"Really? Never?"

"No, not ever. Oh, my goodness... This is a new high point for me. I feel really accomplished now. I just got called a stud muffin by an honest-to-goodness Amazon queen."

"What!" Now she was the one dissolving into helpless laughter. "You just called me an... an... Well, that's a new one for me!"

"But you are! I mean... look at you!"

"Well, look at you!"

Mutual appreciation could be a very pleasant way to spend a few minutes pre-workout, we were discovering.

She stood up, and we pressed close together, squeezing each other's upper arms and savoring the delicious firmness. Or at least, that is what I was feeling, and I assumed she felt likewise. She grunted with pleasure as she dug her thumb into my biceps brachii.

"I need to get me some of that," she said, through gritted teeth. Then she planted her lips on mine in a fierce, hard kiss.

It was a kiss from a warrior woman, I couldn't help thinking as we locked lips. Just what I imagined an Amazonian kiss would be. My epithet for her was not inaccurate. Our previous kisses had been similar, but also a little softer and more sensual. Judith was fired up today, it seemed. She turned her face slightly so that her full lips clamped upon mine sideways, sealing the sides and leaving no gaps. Then her tongue pressed in urgently and found mine, and I gasped at the slick warmness as our tongues swirled and twirled together in a frenzy.

She moaned, sending the vibrations down deep into my throat. It always amazed me, how resonant her moaning was, when I could feel it with my own nerves. I closed my eyes, and pressed forward a little harder, seeking to control the kiss. But she pressed back just as hard, causing the cords in her neck muscles to tighten. She wasn't giving an inch.

And our mutual biceps massage added another dimension to our kiss. We maintained our grips on each other's upper arms. In fact, we slowly increased the squeezing pressure put forth by our fingers. As we did so, the sinews and tendons in our arms tensed even more. Before long, I felt as if I were squeezing hard rocks in my hands. Her muscle density was simply astounding.

Then finally, we broke apart, panting heavily. We had left red imprints on each other's upper arms, marked each other's muscles. She looked from side to side, licking her lips appreciatively still. Meanwhile, her hips still ground gently against mine, rubbing against my crotch as she swiveled in small slow circles. My rod was fully stiff by then, and bulged out prominently under my shorts. She kept on pushing against the head of my cock with the front of her mound.

"Time to show me how you get these arms of yours, stud muffin."

"Ready when you are."

Nice little testosterone boost before our workout, I thought to myself. Our passionate kiss had been something of a warm-up – at least to get the blood pumping, certainly.

Judith opted to keep her top on for the time being at least – she usually loved driving me to distraction, but this time we both agreed it'd be better for me to focus on conveying what I wanted to share.

"First, I'm going to show you strict curls."

"That's the name, what it's called? Strict curls?"

"That's right, and it's pretty much what it sounds like." I showed her – leaning against the wall while holding a straight bar. Empty, to begin with – no point piling on the weight plates when I was just showing her the movement.

Her eyes gleamed as she took everything in, while I performed the movement slowly. I made sure to do it with good form; no rocking, upper back and butt braced against the wall, arm muscles only. My heels were, as per competition rules, not more than 12 inches from the wall.

"You see how well it works the biceps. Plus, notice how I'm leaning forward slightly, while still having my upper back touching the wall. So you see, at the top of the movement here, there's still tension on the biceps," I said, grunting slightly with effort as I spoke.

She reached forward and poked my arms. "I can see that. And feel it."

"Good for maintaining the tension. Time Under Tension – 'TUT', we call it. It's a valuable tool for muscle-building, in general. And, this exercise shortens the range of motion, the ROM. I like strict curls for quite a few reasons," I explain. "You see, if I stand straight... and just perform curls with the straight bar..."

"Oh! That doesn't look comfortable."

"Indeed, it isn't. You see how my arms flare out like this, at the top of the movement. This movement works the muscle the most... and yet, you can see how bad it is for the joints. My wrists have gone out beyond my elbows. I don't want to train like this," I said, shaking my head. "It shortens my lifting lifespan – what there is left of it!"

"Yes, I'll avoid that too, I think."

"So yes, strict curls, and my state record is for that, anyway, not powerlifting curls. There're guys out there who can curl around 200lbs... of course, they weigh a whole lot more than me. But I'm pretty proud of what I can do, honestly."

"And you should be," Judith said warmly, reaching out to stroke my upper arms. "You are very impressive, Jay."

"Why, thank you," I said, glowing inside.

"Here, let me try."

She braced her pelvis against the wall, as I did. I handed her the bar, and then watched as she experimentally curled the bar up.

"Ungh, I can feel the strain. Feels... pretty good, actually!"

"You got this. That's great form, yes. You really know how to move." I wasn't just doling out empty compliments either. Judith really did move well, and she was a quick study.

The theoretical framework about the different "types" of intelligence – kinesthetic, spatial, and so on – has already been thoroughly discredited as unsound, but there's still a sense in which some people are just more "in tune" with their bodies. Judith was one of those with a natural aptitude for learning movements. I wasn't – if we were to take up samba classes, for instance, my two left feet would quickly show themselves, to my chagrin.

She was cranking out the reps slowly, making sure to get the movement right. I could see her shoulder muscles working to stabilize her arms. She was also "pinning" her elbows in place, without my having to tell her to do so – really, she was a natural at this.

"Well, that's the movement. You got it. Hole in one."

"How many reps?" She panted and grunted softly – and most fetchingly – as she cranked out the reps. Her biceps seemed to be becoming more pumped before my very eyes.

"Well, it's up to you for now. You can just try a few sets of 10, or even up to 15. But today, I'll show you how I work up to my max."

"That would be lovely."

As she handed the barbell back to me, I noted how flushed her upper arms had become. She'd gotten a nice pump going already, and not just in her arms but in her shoulders as well.

Next, I showed her preacher curls.

"Oh, so that's what this is for," she said, as I positioned myself at the preacher bench. "I can't say I've ever seen any preachers do this, though," she said, dryly.

"Relatively few do, I suppose. Anyway, this is pretty simple. I prefer to do it with double dumbbells, like so, but you can do it one arm at a time." I proceeded to demonstrate.

"This is for hitting the long head... so you get that nice big bulge at the top. You don't have to straighten your arms fully at the bottom. Just as long as you can feel the stretch in your biceps, like this. Maintain the tension. And curl up, to here. Right angles is fine. More than that, and you see how you lose the tension in the biceps? A lot of people in the gym make this mistake. If the forearms are perpendicular to the ground, and the weight is resting on stacked wrists and elbow like this, then the biceps aren't getting worked at all. You see?"

"Yes, I see," she said, leaning in for a closer look and peering very carefully at my arms. She bit her lower lip again. "Show me again, Jay."

I obliged, making the movement slow so she could take it in better. Her gaze seemed focus on how my biceps would contract with the movement.

"Mmmm," she said. I got the distinct feeling that she was no longer paying attention to the specificities of the movement.

Not that I minded, really!

"Is there any reason you use dumbbells instead of the barbell here?" she asked suddenly.

"No, you can use the barbell if you like. The straight one. But watch your wrists, though. Stop if there's joint strain or discomfort."

"Right. Let me try now."

When she sat down at the bench and put her arms out – I helped by putting two light 5lb dumbbells into her hands – her upper arm looked nice, I thought, flattened against the leather padding. I liked how it looked when her flesh was squashed like that, giving the appearance of more mass.

"You could stand to sit a little higher... edge of the cushion about halfway along your arms... yes, that's it."

When she began curling, I became lost for words.

It was really such a thing of beauty, I thought, to see a strong, beefy woman's arms working like this. Rep after rep she cranked out, pausing a little at the top of the movement – just as I'd taught her, arms crooked at right angles. And at the bottom of the movement, her forearms were parallel with the floor, and her biceps bulged as they supported the suspended weight of the dumbbells. It was a light, modest weight, but sufficient to get a good pump started.

"I can practically feel my biceps peaks growing," she commented. "This feels really good."

"You think so?" I said, smiling again. She was such a kindred spirit. "That's why I love curls, really. To me, there's no other isolation exercise that feels as good. Gosh, I wish I could curl forever," I exclaimed.

"No reason why you can't," Judith laughed, standing up from the bench. Still holding on to the dumbbells, she raised her arms and performed a double-biceps pose. My breath caught in my throat.

"Hmm. This doesn't actually work the biceps at all, does it!" she remarked. "Now that you've sensitized me to feeling how my muscles work, I can see that if I do this..."

She proceeded to perform side curls, but with her arms straight out to the sides.

"... yeah, I can definitely feel, this isn't actually a biceps exercise."

"Nope, it most certainly is not. It's not much of anything. It keeps the anterior deltoids – the front shoulders – under tension for the duration of the entire movement, and to a lesser extent the lateral deltoids – middle shoulders – but does next to nothing for the biceps."

"Yet, this is what I've seen some people doing in gyms, for the arms, they said!"

"They are... well... misinformed. If done with dumbbells, it's not really a useful exercise. This needs to be done with cables and pulleys, in which case it becomes what we call 'hero curls'. You know, because we look like heroes doing them."