Rita 3

I came over one day and Jinni hadn’t gotten home yet. Rita opened the door, clad in her normal workout gear. It was amazing how much her muscles had grown. She had biceps now that must have been over 17”, and thighs as thick as any I’d ever seen. They were probably thicker than what her waist used to be. I say used to, because her bare midriff contained a set of the thickest, most defined abs I’d ever seen in my life. They must have added two or three inches to her waist line. Add in her thick, flaring lats, and muscular traps, and she had started to take on a blocky shape.

“Hey there, stud,” she said to me. “Jinni’s not home yet, but come on in and sit down.”

Rita ran up stairs where her bedroom and bathroom were. I heard her heavy steps creaking on the stairs and hallways, getting half-hard at imagining how much more she weighed now than when I first saw her.

After a few minutes, Rita called down, “Hey Kev, can you come up her for a minute? I need your help with something.”

I came up, not entirely sure what to expect, but hoping I could catch another glimpse of Rita in her tight-fitting workout clothes. When I got to the top of the stairs, Rita called, “in here.”

I followed the voice to her bedroom, where Rita was standing, her hair wet, clad in a thick, fuzzy bath robe.

“I want your opinion on something,” Rita said nonchalantly. “You’re a young stud, so your opinion counts for more than the old guy I used to date.”

“Used to?” I asked quizzically. I thought Rita had been seeing someone for some time now, and hadn’t heard that they’d broken up.

“Oh, Bob couldn’t handle it,” Rita said with a shrug.

“Handle what?” I said.

“Why, the new me, of course!” Rita said, slowly opening her robe. Underneath, she wore a thin string bikini posing suit, her top barely covering her nipples, and her bottom barely covering her crotch. From head to toe, she was covered in thick, sculpted muscle.

Letting the bath robe fall to the floor, she flexed her bicep, and an impressive, football-sized bulge popped out. As she held the flex, a  thin blue vein rose to the surface.

“All these muscles are just too much for some men,” Rita said wistfully. “Too bad for him. He didn’t appreciate it.”

She ran her other hand down her abs, all sex heads clearly defined with thick, packed muscle. Her obliques stuck out like thick, blocky love handles, only they were solid muscle. She even had two extra bulges, forming an eight back, partially covered by her bottoms.

“But you do seem to appreciate it,” she said seductively, looking down at my crotch. Quickly embarrassed, I realized I had a major hard on, and it was tening my shorts.

“Oh, it’s okay, stud,” Rita said as she flexed her striated pec muscles, which rippled. She flexed her left, then her right, each one bunching up into a mass of fibers and veins.

“Just look at these pecs!” she said with her hands on her hips. She flexed her pecs and watched them bunch up in unison, pushing her firm tits up. “They’re sooo strong!”

She bounced her pecs faster, causing her tits to bounce up and down in the tight confines of her posing top.

“I can bench press more than 275 lbs right now,” Rita said. “I know that’s more than what you weigh.”

Then she bent over slightly and did a most muscular pose, gritting as she looked behind me into a wall-hanging mirror and watched the muscles and veins pump up all over the reflection of her body.

“Not only that,” she said, releasing her flex. Then she put her hands on her hips and flared her lats. Her shoulders and lats expanded by inches as her traps climbed up her neck, her shoulders bunched up with striated muscle, and her lats flared like the meat-wings of a flying animal.

“I can do fifty chin ups,” she said through grit teeth. “Twenty with a 45lb weight slung between my legs.

I was absolutely breathless at this point, my hard on threatening to tear right through my pants. Rita released the flex and stalked forward, like a jungle cat.

“That looks painful,” she said, looking down at my crotch. “Maybe I can help.”