Monday, 25 May 2015

Her Back: A Fantasy

Slowly but surely you've made your back into a thing of beauty. Once it was like all the others. One-dimensional, flat, featureless. Now there are curves, there is shape, there is detail. There is MUSCLE. It seems that every week there is a new feature for me to explore. Flex it for me. Make a muscle and bring your back to life.

Years ago, back when I was first enthralled by female bodybuilders, I used to stare for hours at the WPW "back page". Zuzanna, Denise, Lesa, Paula... I'd stare and trace the curves and lines of their intoxicating backs with my fingers, trying to imagine how the muscle would really feel. Now, as you sleep, it is your back and your muscle I lie awake and stare at. I gently trace the curves and lines of your beautiful muscles across and down and up your back. I don't have to imagine anymore, and the funny thing is it feels even better than I ever thought it would.

I've given some half-arsed back rubs in my time. I'd have barely started and I'd already be thinking how long I'd have to go before I could finish. With you, with your back, I can't wait to start, and I never want it to end. Those other backs I rubbed were all the same - soft, featureless. Yours has shape. Yours has definition and detail, mounts of muscle and valleys between. I want to explore it all. I get deep into every fibre of every one of your hard muscles. Time stops. I could do this forever.

I learn the names of every muscle. Trapezius, rhomboids, etc. I whisper sweet nothings like "I love your teres major" and "Your spinal erectors make me hard" whenever and wherever. At first it just made you giggle, but now you proudly flex whatever muscle I've mentioned, or, when you are covered up in public, you whisper back that you are, and tell me how good, how sexy it feels to do so.

You're getting so damn wide at the top you've had to throw out half your wardrobe, and at this rate the other half will be getting replaced before long as well. Sometimes I walk behind you just to admire your shape. You taper so beautifully, the width at the top making your waist look tiny in comparison. At the gym I can't wait to get you home and run my hands down your sides as you flare your lats.

You're standing in front of the mirror. "Squeeze them," you say as you spread your beautiful wings. "Squeeze them hard." I obey, and the size and the power of the muscles make me giddy. You moan as I tighten my fingers around them. I feel you flex again, resisting my grip, inviting me to press ever harder against the muscle.

And you keep on growing. And the bigger you get, the vainer you get and you spend more and more time in front of the mirror, more and more time admiring yourself. But it's not easy to see your own back, is it? You've got quite proficient at the over the shoulder selfie, but you're frustrated you can never see your back fully flexed. I'm only too happy to help. It's important to have a regular back check, and it's important to check that back in lots of different poses and from lots of different angles.

Your top was so tight in the gym today I thought - I wished - your back was going to explode right through it. My alpha female, my muscle goddess, your power was visible to all and didn't you know it, strutting around like the Queen you are. Let them stare in shock and awe. Let them see the power of your rippling muscles beneath the straining fabric of your top. Let them feel the power of your presence.

The only dresses you'll wear now are backless, and when we're out I watch other women watching you. They watch you in admiration, they watch you in envy, and they watch their own men as their own men watch you. On our winter break you stood in your bikini and flexed by the pool on the first day and no one else in the hotel looked at you again for the whole two weeks without gasping a little. I sat behind you in the canoe and you turned around and smiled at me and then peeled off your top and suddenly I was living a fantasy I never even knew I had.

You're so confident now, so comfortable in your body, so big and powerful. They want you to compete and you think you feel like you're ready. I dream all day of what it's going to feel like to be in the audience and see you up there. You dream all day of what it's going to feel like up there, the rush you'll get from being in such peak condition, all eyes upon you even as you turn away from the audience, flex with all the power you have and let them see that beautiful back of yours in all its glory.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, it's time to push your body to its limit. You tell me what I've dreamed of hearing for so so long. "Better strap yourself in," you tell me as your contest prep begins. "By all accounts this is going to be a wild, wild ride."

It's a ride I never want to get off.


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