Tough musclemom 2
by AC

I’d never known Liam that well, but after seeing his mom in the gym that day I decided I had to try to meet her, and he was my way in. I made an effort to catch up with him, and happily sacrificed my pride to ask if I could meet his mom. He gave me a strange look, but was happy enough to oblige! He suggested I come round on a Friday night. Apparently his mom worked out most nights at their house, but Fridays were the big night and she usually had a drink or two as well. I suggested she might not want to see me, and he agreed she might not, but I had to give it a go at least.

Two weeks later on the Friday night I showed up at Liam’s house. I tried to wear something casual but attractive – I had to convince her to give me the time of day at least – and I arrived a bit later than agreed (to let her get another drink in!). Liam gave me a weary look when I arrived, with “Well, I suppose you don’t want to see me then”. He told me where to find his mom, and said, “If she tells you to piss off, I’ll be playing video games upstairs.”

I walked down to the basement where the home gym was apparently located, feeling more nervous than I had in a long time. I summoned up my courage and knocked on the closed door. “Yeah, what is it?” came a voice from the other side. I steeled myself and pushed open the door. Liam’s mom was standing next to a row of hand weights, looking up. She was wearing black leggings and a t-shirt, her hair pulled back into a pony tail, and seemed (understandably!) surprised to see me enter.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“Hi” I responded. “I’m Andrew – a friend of Liam’s. He mentioned you might be down here, and I…” I hesitated… “well, I saw you at the gym a couple of weeks ago and I just wanted to let you know I thought you were amazing.” There, I’d said my piece. I could see her soften at the praise. And perhaps the recognition as she remembered me.

“That’s right,” she said. “I remember you – you were the kid who spoke to me after I beat that guy. Well, how about that – a fan coming to visit! Come in.”

Those were the words I was longing for! I didn’t need to be asked twice, and I walked further into the room and looked around. I was a small room for a home gym and it only had a handful of apparatus. I was no expert, but it looked cheap (perhaps second hand) to me, and I suspected Liam and his mom didn’t have a lot of money. The room smelt a bit of sweat, but right now it was the best smell in the world. Liam’s mom looked a bit sweaty, but not like she’d been having a full workout, and I noticed there was a bottle of vodka with a glass on a small table behind her.

I took all this in in a moment. “I’m Joanne,” said Liam’s mom, walking towards me with an outstretched hand. I shook her hand, and felt the power not just from the handshake but exuding from her body. It was exhilarating!

She must have been able to tell how I felt, and she looked confident and completely in control. I wasn’t sure what to say next, and I babbled something out. Perhaps it helped that I was so obviously nervous in her company – she liked to be desired by younger men. We chatted for a few minutes, small talk, getting to know each other. I told her I was studying, she told me she worked as a hairdresser. Two things were obvious after a minute or two: Firstly that Joanne wasn’t very smart, and secondly that she loved flattery and attention. A perfect combination I thought!

I was able to praise her and watch her bloom in front of me – and she glowed from flattery even if it was obvious or clumsy. I exclaimed over her body and strength, and she lapped it up. After a bit I summarised it with “I don’t think there would be any woman your age with a body like yours. Even half your age. It’s like you’re solid muscle all over – it’s almost impossible that a woman has no fat on her at all.”

She laughed. “It’s possible for me.” And she flexed her biceps, then her legs, turning around to flex her glutes and show off her muscular ass. Her ass was impressive – unbelievable for a 40-year-old woman – but I could see there was some fat with all the muscle. I didn’t mention this of course, just said, “That’s impossible! How is there no fat?!”

“That’s me,” she said proudly. “A naturally toned body and a lot of work in here. I’m rock hard all over.” And she flexed again to show it. “Well,” she added, in a slightly girlish way, “With a couple of exceptions…” And she looked down at her chest, then up at me and grinned. “They’re big exceptions!” I retorted, and she laughed.

“Anyway,” she said, “I should be working out or I will get soft.”

“Do you mind if I watch?” Despite how well we were going, the question came out starkly and I wasn’t sure how it would go down.

“Okay,” she said, smiling. “But I’m getting hot so going to take the t-shirt off.”

For a moment I thought she might have nothing on underneath, but she was wearing a grey sports crop top. And off she went with the workout – arms, back, chest, legs. I was in heaven watching her body straining as her rock hard muscles bulged out. To keep it from being too weird, I kept the conversation going, and it was easy to talk to her. We chatted about all sorts of things, but it always came back to her – how strong she was, how incredible she was – and after 30 minutes or so she seemed completely comfortable with me.

When she stopped for a break we had a drink together. She was sweating a lot now, and wearing a tight top and leggings she looked amazing. “Have you always been this strong?” I asked.

“I’ve always been a strong woman, but I only started lifting weights after I had Liam. And I’ve always been tough too.”

“Yeah. The punishment you took in that fight in the gym the other week was insane – I’d never have believed any woman could withstand that,” I interrupted.

She had that confident, satisfied look again. “I was 20 years old when I had Liam, and I went through labour without any pain relief at all.”

“What, nothing?!” I continued to be surprised by Joanne.

“Not a thing, And I didn’t make a fucking sound. The midwife said she’d been doing the job for over 15 years and she’d never seen anything like it. She said she’d seen some tough women in labour, but never anyone as tough as me. Liam was a fucking big baby too – over 4kg.”

“4kg?!” I said, shocked. “You must have made some noise pushing him out?!”

“Nope,” she looked at me proudly, “I loved the challenge of childbirth – I wanted to prove how much I could take. And I didn’t need stitches either.” She looked down to her crotch as she said this. “I still remember the doctor’s face when he came in to stitch me up. He saw the size of Liam, then he looked between my legs. He just had this look of surprise on his face – couldn’t believe a woman could stretch that big. See – I’m not just big on the outside!” She patted herself between the legs and looked at me with a meaningful smile – not sexual, just superior, like a woman who knows she’s the best.

I was genuinely lost for words at this, and she seemed to enjoy my discomfort.

“What’s the matter? Don’t like me talking about my vagina?! You didn’t like it at the gym that time either, did you – you wouldn’t take me on!”

“It’s not that I don’t like it. I just don’t know what to say – you’re just too good!”

“There’s not too many women like me, that’s for sure,” she said.

She returned to the workout now, on her back at the bench press. “Can you help me with this?” she asked. “Might as well use you for something while you’re here. I can go a bit heavier if you’ve got it.” I was only too happy to oblige, standing over the weight as she lay down and got herself into position. From my vantage point I looked along the length of her magnificent body, and straight down at her chest as she did the first rep with a lot of weight on the bar. I needed to concentrate on what I was doing – didn’t want to let her get injured cos I was too busy staring at her! But as she arched her back with the weight, my eyes were drawn to the mound of her crotch as she pushed up her hips. The black leggings didn’t show her feminine organ as clearly as the grey bike shorts at the gym had, but her impressive bulge was still very visible. As she did her fourth rep she glanced up (or maybe just felt my stares – or more likely just knew) – “Are you concentrating?! Or are you too busy looking at my muscles?”

“You got me,” I responded, “Although just one particular muscle really…”

She laughed again. “Well, you wouldn’t be the first guy looking at my crotch when I’m working out. I’m not embarrassed about being a well endowed woman.”

Her last item was the pec deck. I wasn’t sure if she had a usual order of training, or if she’d saved this till last for my benefit, but I was looking forward to seeing her working on her massive chest. She loaded up what looked like a huge amount of weight and settled herself for the challenge. And I watched as her massive upper body bulge with each rep, her arms going in and out and her muscular chest hardening. I didn’t speak for a minute or two, and she seemed happy with me watching, just admiring her.

After a while she stopped and said, “Let’s make it a bit harder” – and added a couple more weights to the total. I felt like she was doing this to show off now, not part of a normal workout. “You’ll never move that!” I said.

“You watch me, little boy!” she retorted. “Watch my strength.”

And with that her shoulders hardened and her arms strained on the levers to pull the massive weights up. Her face contorted with the effort, and at first I thought it was too much for her. She let out a guttural cry as she poured on the power, and her arms started to move in. She was shaking with the effort, and I could see feint veins starting to appear across her chest as her giant muscles were tested to their limit. “Come on!” she shouted now, as her upper body started to win the battle with the weights and her arms closed together. And then she let them out again, shaking with the enormous strain now, but she didn’t let the weights just drop until almost the last moment.

“You’re unbelievable!” I said at the end. “How many reps of those can you do?!” The question was really a joke, and she laughed. She looked drained by the effort but her eyes were very bright, elated.

“That’s about my limit,” she said. “There’s a lot of weight on there.”

Watching her hard body straining I was getting pretty turned on. She must have noticed this, and without warning she suddenly reached forward and grabbed me in the crotch. My cock was hard – I’m average length but quite thick – and she squeezed a bit and said “Not bad – you’re pretty hard.” I hadn’t expected her to do this, but I didn’t recoil, just stood there and let her feel me.

“Not as hard as your crotch,” I said in the end.

She laughed and let go. “That’s true. I got hit there with a knuckle duster once.” She said it reflectively, almost as an afterthought more than a boast.

“What?! In your pussy?”

“Yeah. A couple of years ago. I knew he was going to hit me but I didn’t realise he had a duster. I remember exactly what he said – ‘I’m going to split you open’, and I said, ‘Go on then – split me open!’ Then he smashed my pussy with a knuckle duster. He hit me sort of side-on, trying to hit it along my crack.”

“How many times did he hit you?” I asked incredulously.

“Twice. The second one opened me up a bit too. It hurt, a lot – but my cunt took it. Took a couple of days for the bruising to go down though.”

I looked at her, her incredible womanhood proudly bulging out of her leggings.

“You don’t look at my face much do you?” she suddenly chided.

“Your face can’t take two punches from a knuckle duster!” I responded, and she laughed again. “Did it really take only a couple of days to recover? What about when you took all that punishment in the gym the other week – are you okay now?”

“I’m tough,” she said, and again that look of pride appeared on her face. “My pussy was fine two days later after the gym session.” Even allowing for a bit of exaggeration, this was a surprising claim.

“That’s incredible,” I said, “And what about your chest? That guy destroyed your tit.”

“My tits were fine,” she replied with some vehemence. “It hurt me a bit at the time, but a couple of days later they were back to normal.”

“That’s not even possible! It’d take a few weeks for a woman to recover from that.”

Fire appeared in her eyes now, rising to the challenge. “You don’t believe me? You can hit me in the chest now.”

“No way!” I said, but couldn’t believe my luck.

“I’ll show you how tough I am. Come on – two punches, one on each side. As hard as you can. And if I make a sound you can have ten more punches.”

“You won’t be able to take them in silence,” I said, incredulous, “No woman could do that.”

“Well, I might make a grunt – but I won’t open my mouth,” she insisted. “Do you wanna hit my tits or not?” she added as I hesitated.

She was standing in front of me, hands on hips, her shoulders back to push her chest towards me. I could feel the power coming from her, and she looked amazing. Her body was glistening with sweat now, and I looked at her sports top and prepared to hit her most sensitive areas. Obligingly her nipples had hardened and stood out through the material now. “Your body is making it easy for me,” I said, “I’ve got targets to hit now.”

She looked down. “My nipples have let me down – too big! It doesn’t matter – I like a challenge. I can take a nipple punch.”

I took half a step back, bunched my fist and slammed it into her right breast. I probably didn’t give it quite full power, as I was concerned that even a woman like her couldn’t take a full on punch and I didn’t want to break her ribs or anything. I needn’t have worried though – her pecs were rock hard and well able to protect her. But I felt my fist hit the one soft part of her body, and her breast gave way as I crushed through it and rammed her nipple against the hard muscle behind. It was a good punch, on target, and it must have been agonisingly painful – surely no woman could take a tit punch like that.

But Joanne could! It certainly hurt her, and I saw in her face as she absorbed the pain and controlled herself. I heard an “Mmmrrrr” from her, and she doubled over briefly and held her breast in her hands, but she didn’t open her mouth. Unbelievable! I must have looked genuinely amazed, because her pain quickly gave way to satisfaction as she looked at me. “Weren’t expecting that were you?” she taunted.

“Okay,” I responded, “Let’s see if your left tit has recovered as well as you say…” And I smashed my fist into her other breast. This time I gave it everything I had, and hit slightly down to try to crush it into itself. I felt the difference with the angle as her breast tissue bunched up and was compressed by the punch. I can’t imagine how much it must have hurt, and Joanne buckled forward making a sharp groaning noise, like an “ohhhhhh” with a closed mouth. She cradled her left tit with both hands, but again recovered almost immediately – and true to her word she hadn’t opened her mouth!

“I don’t understand,” I stammered, “How did you do that?! It’s not like your breasts are small!”

I could see the punches had hurt her, but she was swelling with pride now. “My chest’s as tough as a man’s,” she said. Obviously this wasn’t true, and in her supreme confidence she’d gone too far – but I was keen to test her claim!

I laughed, as though it was a joke. “My sister says breasts are the most sensitive part of a woman, and girls can’t even withstand them being squeezed a bit. So I don’t think it’s possible for any woman’s chest to match a man. Unless she had no boobs at all I suppose. Even then, my sister reckons women’s nipples are way more sensitive than men’s.” I was babbling now, and I knew it. But Joanne had a faintly amused look on her face and I could see my words were hitting the mark.

“I’m as tough as a man, and I’ll prove it,” she said, taking a swig of vodka. “I’ll beat you in a chest punching contest right now.”

I was taken aback by this, although I suppose I shouldn’t have been. But I couldn’t back out now. And anyway, I didn’t want to. I was sure she would hurt me, but the chance to see how much her tits could withstand was just amazing. She had already had two punches, so it was her turn to hit me now. She didn’t ask me to go topless, and I faced up in my t-shirt and received two incredibly hard punches to my pecs. And I have to say it hurt, a lot! She was a strong, solid woman, and she could punch! I cried out and gasped a bit from the shock, and she laughed at me.

“Still think your chest is tougher than mine little boy?” she gloated. “How many punches do you want?”

“Five,” I said, without thinking about it. That was a lot to get back – but I thought maybe I could finish her off in five hits. She read my mind. “You’ll need more than that to take down my bosom,” she said, and pushed back her shoulders to present her mighty chest for punches.

I did a quick repeating one-two punching both breasts, and she buckled forward into my punches grunting “uh” with each blow. But that was about it, and I was getting worried when I finished and she seemed largely okay. She cupped her tits and rubbed them with her hands, but she took it well, straightening up to me proudly. She punched me back in the same way, and it probably wasn’t quite as bad as the first two punches. Still, I could feel my chest getting bruised, and I was amazed that Joanne’s sensitive female tissue was able to take that sort of punishment.

I had to make sure I didn’t lose, so for the next turn I slammed all five punches into her left breast. I wound up properly for each one too, trying to hit her hard in the same spot each time, aiming for the large nipple standing out from the sports top. The first one she took like a trooper, giving a loud yell but hardly moving, even as I smashed my knuckle into her nipple. Because she stayed still I was able to hit almost exactly the same spot with my second punch – and this time even Joanne couldn’t take it without buckling. “Urrrrrr,” she screamed out as she went down. Then came up again quickly, almost ashamed of her pain.

“You can’t say that didn’t hurt you,” I said.

She looked back defiantly, the determination in her eyes almost frightening, “Hit me harder! You can’t hurt my chest.”

I must have looked shocked, and she seemed to grow in confidence in front of me. And I did hit her harder, the third punch narrowly missing the nipple but crushing her mammary and thudding into the hard wall of muscle behind. This time she didn’t move at all – just yelled out “Nnnnaarrrrrrrrr” while staring at me intensely. Her hand didn’t even go to her breast this time. She was still staring at me and almost shouted, “Come on!”

I was amazed yet again, and I smashed her left boob once more, this time hitting right on her nipple again. And now I had broken through even this mighty woman’s defences. So many full force punches on her most tender female target finally sent her to her knees. She screamed out, followed by a gasping, almost whimpering sound from the ultra-tough 40-year-old woman. Then she controlled herself and rose again, cradling her battered left breast in her hand. But she still looked defiant – fired up and confident.

“I can hurt you,” I said.

“My chest is tougher than yours,” she responded – and she meant it! “Hit me again.”

I bunched my first for the last punch, and hit her in the left nipple again. She cried out with a high-pitched “Oooohh”, almost girlish, but straightened up with a tougher “Urr”, and then flexed her fist meaningfully. It was my turn now…

I never seriously thought I could lose a chest punching contest to a girl, but I came pretty close now. She hit me five times on my left side, and I felt like my heart was going to explode. The pain to my bruised chest was incredible, and my whole upper body ached by the end. But I took it because I had to. Partly it was because I couldn’t bear to lose, but partly because I wanted to hit her again. The problem was, I didn’t know how much more I could take…

Although she looked confident, I could see she was hurting too, and not keen to take much more punishment to her battered left tit. Despite this, she presented her chest for another beating. “How many punches do you want now?”

“Should only take one to finish you off,” I said, but in a joking voice.

She laughed too. “You think so? Come on then – you gonna hit my left tit again?” And she pushed it forward towards me. It looked different now, misshapen perhaps, and the nipple still visible but standing out less proudly than before. I hit her full force in the middle of her breast from the front. The tissue felt softer now and I felt it collapse before my fist as I rammed her left boob into her chest. Her pulverised breast must have been in unimaginable pain by now, and she collapsed again, with a scream followed by a feminine whimpering as she struggled to control herself. It took longer now, and I watched her shaking muscular back for a few seconds as she finally recovered and stood again, cradling her injured breast.

“You are like no woman in the whole world!” I said in awe – and again, it was the right thing to say. She seemed to be succumbing to the pain a bit, but the praise buoyed her and she overcame the agony in her chest.

Now she hit me, hard – and I went down too. When I got up I suggested we call it a draw, and she roared her approval as if it was a victory to her. Which it was really.

“You didn’t believe me did you?” she said triumphantly, taking another swig of vodka. “But you were wrong. I’m better than any man: I’m as strong as a man; where a man’s tough and a woman’s weak, I can match him; and where a man’s weak, I can destroy him!” And here she slapped her mighty groin and seemed to grow in stature as she looked triumphantly at me.

“I’m… you’re right,” I said at last, “How can I argue? You’re just unbelievable. No woman could ever take what you took to your chest. It just doesn’t seem possible.” I waited a moment. “You have to admit it hurts though, right?”

“I can take it,” she responded. And I realised – she just loved the challenge, loved showing off and proving herself – to herself and to others.

“But surely it’ll take you a few weeks to recover from that?” I pressed.

“How long will it take you,” she shot back. “Come round tomorrow evening and I’ll take you on again.”

I was certainly tempted to call her bluff on this. Surely I could destroy her bruised left tit in a couple of blows tomorrow? But then I remembered my own chest and wondered if it was worth it…

I joined her in a drink, and realised the evening was almost over – I didn’t want to outstay my welcome. But I was obsessed with her now, determined to see her beaten, to take her to her limit and see just how tough she really was.

“Thanks for letting me spend time with you tonight,” I said, rather deferentially. “I thought you were amazing when I saw you in the gym – but you’re way more amazing than I thought possible.” She just grinned back at me. “I’m going to find a woman who can challenge you,” I continued. She laughed.

“Good luck!”

“I’m going to do it!” I said playfully. “I’m gonna find a woman who can beat you in a pussy punching contest.”

She laughed again, and there was a bit of scorn in her voice now. “No woman can beat me there. My vagina’s as hard as a rock.” And she hit the mound between her legs with a solid blow to prove her point.

“I’m gonna find someone,” I said. And I meant it.