Lisa, Part 3
Lisa and I made love several more times that night. We
played a game: the first one to come would make breakfast. At
first, she protested: "I told you what a lousy cook I am." Then
she agreed, and cheated. She held me down and proceeded to give
me incredible oral sex. I struggled to get out of her grip, but
to no avail. Eventually, I exploded and was on the hook for
breakfast. Oh, well.
We settled down to try to get some sleep before
morning. I put my arm around Lisa's waist and snuggled up
against her back. Her back was warm, but it felt like granite.
I kissed her back and hugged her tight. I traced the separations
in her abs with my finger. She put her hand over mine and moved
my hand up to her breast. I was thinking how lucky I was as I
drifted off to sleep. We slept fitfully, like you always do the
first time you sleep in the same bed with someone new.
I opened my eyes and looked at the clock. It was 7:43
a.m. My arm was still around Lisa and I could feel her
breathing. Her hair smelled of green apples and strawberries. I
lay there for awhile, appreciating the sensations. I didn't want
to wake her. Then I felt her shift slightly, and moan. "Are you
up?" she asked. "Yes," I replied. "But I'm enjoying just lying
here against you."
She shifted around to face me, and put her arms around
me. She kissed me, and we kissed some more for awhile. She
rolled me over onto my back and lay on top of me. I moved my
hands up under her arms, and felt her rock-hard lats. She put
her hands on my chest and leaned forward to kiss me. I stared
into her emerald eyes and got lost for a moment. I ran my hands
down her back. I hugged her as tight as I could. "Ohh," she
responded. "We should get up."
"I know," I said. "It's Saturday. I'm not doing anything, are
you?" I asked. "No," she said. Then she got a twinkle in her
eye. "But you're making me breakfast." I smiled. "A small
price to pay."
She got off the bed. "I'm going to take a shower."
"Can I join you?"
"You're an animal."
"Naaaw, just heavily in lust." I closed my mouth around her hip
and pretended to take a bite. Lisa smiled, put her hands under
my arms, picked me straight off the bed, and then threw me across
to the other side of the bed. "Stay, boy," she said playfully.
I whimpered in jest. She went into the bathroom, and I started
to stretch. I felt a sharp pain in my side, and looked down.
There was a bruise.
I took my shower and found Lisa in the living room, reading some
old magazines I had lying around. She had changed into some
denim cutoff shorts and a lime green spandex top, both of which
she had apparently had in her bag when she came over last night.
Sitting on the sofa, I saw for the first time in the light the
cuts in her quadriceps and her legs. I tried to mask my gasp and
quickly place my eyes back into my head before Lisa turned around
and noticed me. I gave her a hug and a peck on the cheek, and
she did the same. Suddenly, I had an idea. "You want to go down
to Venice Beach?" I asked. "That sounds like fun," she replied.
"Let's have breakfast there," I suggested.
"Uh, uh. a deal is a deal," she said.
"Okay, I'll make you breakfast tomorrow." I grinned sheepishly.
Venice Beach is crazy on the weekends. There are musicians,
comedians, jugglers, psychics, and heavy crowds all day. It was
a warm day, so the boardwalk was particularly crowded this
morning. We passed a guy in a tuxedo t-shirt and no pants on
roller skates, a woman with an 8-foot boa draped over her neck,
and a monster of a bodybuilder (probably 280 lbs at least) who
was strutting like a proud rooster in his pen.
"I can take him," Lisa said confidently.
"I know," I replied.
Harry Carey chased us down the boardwalk, singing, dressed (as
usual) in his turban and roller skates, sporting his electric
guitar and portable amplifier. I gave him some money and he went
away. Lisa and I made it to the Figtree Cafe, one of my favorite
breakfast spots. The coffee is great, the orange juice is fresh
squeezed, and the food is healthy or decadent, depending on your
mood. I had a carrot bran muffin and coffee, and Lisa demolished
a plate of multigrain pancakes with fresh fruit. We ate outside
on the patio, and watched the crazies walk along the boardwalk.
After breakfast, we browsed the shops and spent a long time in
the bookstore. As we walked past muscle beach, I tried to get
Lisa to participate, but she just smiled.
"What's the matter, are you a girly girl?" I asked, putting on my
best worst Austrian accent. As we turned the corner into the
alleyway between the brick walls of the gym and the tennis
courts, Lisa grabbed me by the shirt, held me against the wall
and lifted me off my feet. "I'll show you girly girl," she said,
smiling. "Don't make me get rough with you," I said
ridiculously, dangling against the wall. We both laughed.
We continued toward the beach, and walked along the beach wall
hand in hand, smelling the ocean and the fresh air, feeling the
warm sun on our faces. "Ohh, the sun feels good," Lisa said, as
she stretched her arms over her head. I could see her ribcage
through her spandex top. She noticed me staring, and wagged her
finger in mock disapproval. We stopped at the gymnastic
equipment, and watched as a man worked out on the rings,
suspended about 15 feet off the ground. He was very good, and
did dips, tumbles and release somersaults without fear of
falling. At one point, he somersaulted so high, he almost
cleared the top bar of the apparatus, nearly 30 feet in the air.
"He's very good," I remarked to Lisa. "He's okay," she said. I
looked at her, and she squeezed my hand slightly. Then he
climbed up the chains suspending the rings, and down the
apparatus. "Hey, Paul," Lisa called out to him. "Lisa!" he
shouted, enthusiastically. He ran over to us. She introduced
us, and we all talked for awhile.
Apparently, Lisa was a regular at the gymnastic equipment at the
beach. "You should see her, she's an animal on these things,"
Paul said. "I believe it," I responded, and rubbed her back
(mostly because I wanted to feel her back again). Together, Paul
and I goaded Lisa until she finally took off her sunglasses and
stood in line to use the rings. "Rings are a man's apparatus," I
remarked to Paul. "Not when Lisa's on them," he responded.
It was Lisa's turn to use the rings. She stood directly under
them, and jumped straight up. Fifteen feet into the air. She
caught the rings, and adjusted her grip slightly before
beginning. Even as far back as I was, I could see her deltoid
and latissimus muscles straining through her spandex top. She
lowered herself until her body formed a perfect "T", arms
straight out at her sides. She began moving her legs forward
while bringing the rings closer together, and she began to swing.
She was truly amazing. She swung completely around the overhead
bar, wrapping the chains around them once, and then swung
backwards the same way, unwrapping the chain. She did a triple
somersault over the bar and caught the rings again on her way
down. Then she grabbed one ring and did a handstand and vertical
pushups on that ring. She grabbed both rings again, and twirled
herself around until both chains were completely wrapped around
each other. Then she let them unwrap quickly as she held the
rings, spinning like the blades of a helicopter. Spinning
furiously, she let go of the rings and executed a triple
somersault in the air while still spinning horizontally. She
landed standing in the sand. When the sound of the blood pumping
left my ears, I heard everyone on the beach applauding and
cheering. "See? I told you she was something else!" Paul
shouted, breathlessly. Lisa took a quick bow, then blushed
slightly, and bounced over to us.
"You were incredible!" I said to her.
"Thanks," she said. "But what did you think of my routine on the
rings?" she smiled. I smiled and hugged her. I noticed that her
entire upper body was pumped, and it felt good. She hugged me
back, and held on for an extra moment. I stepped back and looked
at her. She was breathing heavily, and her muscles stood out
distinctly from beneath her spandex top. Her nipples were erect.
"Are you cold, or would you like to go somewhere?" I asked. She
grabbed my hand and squeezed. I lifted it to my mouth and kissed
her hand. Then I hugged her again.
"Bet you can't catch me!" she said, and ran through the sand. I
watched her running away, her calves peaking with each stride. I
followed, but quickly ran out of breath. Lisa turned around and
came up to me, where I was doubled over, trying to catch my
breath. "Come on! I'm just getting started!" she said,
playfully. I was too winded to respond.
"Okay," she said. "I guess I'll have to do the work from here."
She motioned for me to climb on her back, so I did, piggyback
style. She slipped her hands under my legs and I wrapped my arms
around her neck. She began to run in the sand, and I felt the
wind in my face. Pressed up against her back as I was, I could
feel her hip muscles flex with each stride. She held my legs
tight against her sides, and I could feel the hardness of her
oblique muscles against the inside of my thighs. Her biceps were
hard and round, pressed against the outside of my thighs. With
her back pressed against my front, I felt like I was hugging the
back of a Greek statue.
She must have run for a mile and a half with me on her back, and
I suddenly noticed that the beach was desolate. "We're going to
have to do something soon, or you're going to poke a hole in my
back," she said. I noticed that her back was not the only thing
that was rock-hard. "No, I'm comfortable like this. I can stay
like this all day," I said. She let go and dropped me face up
onto the sand. Then she turned and fell, face down, on top of
me. "Well, I can't." She kissed me, hard. I put my hands
around her. I felt her muscles straining through the spandex. I
traced the separations in her lats with my fingers as we
continued to kiss. I could feel her chest and abdominal muscles,
pumped, against my torso. Her nipples were still erect. I
brought my hand between us at the waist, and moved it up along
her body until it rested on her breast. "Maybe I can do
something about this," I said, as I rubbed my finger gently on
her nipple, straining through the spandex. Lisa gasped slightly
and reached down to unbutton my pants. "Wait, not on the beach.
The sand . . . ." I said, as I reached down to pull her hand
away. I grabbed her wrist and tried to stop her, but she was
obviously resolute. I felt the sinews in her wrist moving, and I
couldn't budge her hand. She didn't skip a beat as she continued
to unbutton my jeans and slipped her hand inside my pants. "You
don't stand a chance," she smiled, as she pressed her right hand
gently against my crotch. I knew she was right. She pressed
again, and I moaned with pleasure. "You do the same." I
unbuttoned and unzipped her shorts, and slid my right hand
inside, pushing the spandex out of the way. She was wet. She
kissed me again, and pressed her hand against me. I pressed mine
against her, and pressed my left hand against her breast. She
wrapped her left arm tight around my back and began to kiss the
side of my face and my neck. My hands were trapped between our
two bodies. I began moving them erotically, and she began
pumping. An airplane took off over our heads, and I realized we
were at the beach near the airport. "Now I know where we are," I
said. "Shut up," she said, hugging me tighter against her and
pumping her hips frenetically. I cocked my head to the side, and
took her left earlobe into my mouth, as I continued to move my
hands. I felt her tense up slightly and she began pumping my
hand even faster. She began moving her right hand up and down,
and slipped it inside my underwear. "We're going to have to go
home after this," I said. "Shut the fuck up," she said, and
grabbed my penis tightly. I jumped slightly, and then I shut the
fuck up. She began running her hand along my penis and pumping,
as I continued to move my hands, kiss her neck, and suck on her
ears. I began to just feel her body pressed against mine, and
just to enjoy the feeling. I felt her left arm around me, and
could feel the separation between her bicep and tricep against my
shoulder. I pressed my right hand hard against her waist to see
if I could even slow her down. No way. She was panting, and
moaning slightly. I noticed that I was, too. I was going to
come like a volcano at any second, and there was no stopping it.
I managed to free my left hand and wrap it around her back. I
could feel her erect nipples, her soft breasts, and her hard
muscles pressed against my body. I moved my left hand slowly up
her back, making circles along her spine and enjoying the
sensation of her muscles, flexing and unflexing with each pump.
Another plane took off overhead, and I knew there was no holding
back. I began to pump, as well, and I moved my hand up and
rubbed the back of Lisa's neck lightly, at the same time,
pressing my right hand into her crotch and taking her left
earlobe into my mouth. She screamed, as I did, as every muscle
exploded out of her body and she pumped so hard and furiously
that I felt my waist make an indentation into the sand of the
beach. I came, hard. Lisa let up, and began kissing me up and
down my body, furiously. She wrapped both hands around me, then
ripped open my shirt and began kissing my chest and stomach. I
reached around to touch her hair with my hands, and she grabbed
both of my hands with hers, intertwined our fingers, and pressed
my hands back against the sand. This woman was out of control.
I opened my mouth to speak, and she immediately pressed her lips
against mine, and thrust her tongue deep into my mouth. "Don't
speak," she said. She moved her two hands together over my head,
her fingers intertwined with mine, and moved my left hand under
my right. Then she pressed both of my hands into the sand with
her left hand. Her legs were astride my waist. She moved her
right hand along my body while continuing to kiss my chest and
stomach. I tried to wriggle my hands free, and then my waist.
But it was as if I were trapped under a car. I just couldn't
budge. Not even an inch.
Her left forearm was pressed against my cheek as she held my
hands overhead in the sand with one arm. It was like warm steel.
I could see a vein running along her unflexed left bicep, and her
deltoid was popping out of her left arm like a baseball balanced
on the top of her shoulder. I turned my head to the side and
began to kiss and lick her forearm. Lisa looked up in surprise
and looked into my eyes. I saw pure, unadulterated lust in her
eyes. At that point, I knew that I was just along for the ride.
She brought her right hand back up, over my head, and took my
left hand in her right and my right hand in her left. She
brought both of my hands forward and took my two pointer fingers
into her mouth. She began to lick them and suck on them. She
moved her hands to my wrists and held them tight. Then she
tilted her chin back and moved my two hands down, along her chin
and down her neck. She brought them down the center of her
chest. "Struggle," she said. I didn't really want to -- I was
enjoying this. But I knew that she wanted me to. So I began to
try to wriggle my hands free, and I felt her hands tighten around
my wrists like two vices. I felt her breathing change again, as
I tried twisting my torso and struggled with all of my might to
break free of her hold. She moved my right hand along her right
breast and across to her arm, as I wriggled and writhed, with no
success. She brought my right hand down her right arm, placing
it on her bicep. I continued my struggle, but didn't even have
an effect on her movements. "Keep it up," she said, as she
turned her right arm to the side and ran my left hand down her
abdominals and along her inner thigh. She had moved my right
hand to the outside of her bicep, where I could feel the
separations between her deltoid, bicep and tricep as her right
arm moved. I struggled with both hands and my entire body, but
my struggles didn't even phase her. She placed the fingers of my
left hand behind her knee as she continued to straddle me, and
then she flexed her hamstrings. They felt like steel cables
around my fingers. "Come on, try harder." I tried to free the
fingers of my left hand, but they might as well have been trapped
under a building. I struggled to free my right hand from her
grip, but that struggle, too, was futile. Lisa was in total
control, and we both knew it. We were both enjoying this, and we
both knew that, too. She smiled and moved my right hand back
around to her right bicep. I squeezed it, hard, hoping that my
grip might force her to ease hers. She smiled and began to flex
her right arm slightly. Her bicep, which was long and hard,
began to grow. I could see that she was quite turned on by my
inability to break free, and I wriggled my body with all of my
strength, trying to get loose. She began to move her hips back
and forth across mine, and the fingers of my left hand could feel
her hamstrings tightening and loosening. I was straining against
my underwear, and she was pressing her crotch tightly against
mine as she was rocking back and forth. Lisa relaxed her right
arm and moved my right hand up her arm, across her shoulders, up
her chin, and back into her mouth. She began to suck on my
fingers as she continued to rock on top of me. I continued in my
vain struggles, and I could see that she was enjoying the sense
of power. She moved my hand down the center of her breasts
again, and then moved it over her left breast. Her nipple was
fully erect. "You know what to do," she said. I took her nipple
between my thumb and forefinger and squeezed slightly. Lisa
moaned, and her grip on my right hand loosened slightly. I
immediately tried to pull free, and succeeded in moving my hand
about a quarter inch. I felt her grip tighten again. "No, no,"
she said, smiling, and pressed her crotch hard against mine. She
then reached her right hand down and squeezed my nipple, hard. I
shuddered for an instant, feeling the pain go all the way down my
body, and then she let up.
She continued to rock, as she moved my right hand onto the back
of hers, and closed it into a fist. I felt the sinews of her
fingers tighten and pop out from under her skin. As Lisa
continued to rock, I noticed that every one of her abdominal
muscles, as well as her lats and shoulders, was fully pumped.
Her ribcage was practically exploding from under the spandex each
time she rocked forward. Her breasts were standing straight out,
and her nipples were fully erect. "Squeeze hard and struggle,"
Lisa commanded as she moved my right hand slowly up the back of
her right forearm. I could feel the muscles of her forearm
standing out like steel cables as I squeezed as hard as I could.
Lisa began to rock harder. I tried to free my right wrist from
the iron grip of her left hand, but it merely seemed as if my
right arm were flailing about, uselessly. She leaned forward and
kissed me very hard, sticking her tongue into my mouth and
wrapping it around mine. I felt the muscles of her right forearm
grow bigger as her wrist flexed against the ground. I moved my
tongue in and out of hers, as she began to rock even harder. I
felt her hamstrings loosen against my left hand, and I broke it
free and began to run it along her stomach and breasts. She
immediately grabbed my wrist again with her right hand and held
it. "You can't move," she said, and placed my hand, against all
of my struggling, behind her knee again. She was rocking hard.
"Oh, God, Lisa, this is exquisitely frustrating," I said.
"Is it?" she asked. She ran my right hand along her stomach and
over to her right side. She ran it slowly up her right side as
she flexed her lats and I tried to break my hand free. She held
her right arm straight out at a 45-degree angle and moved my
right hand up, over the deltoid. It was round and hard and I
could feel the striations beneath the spandex and skin. She ran
my hand down, over her tricep, which stood out from her arm like
most men's biceps. I struggled, and she rocked her hips. Then
she moved my hand around to her bicep. "I'm coming," she said.
"Struggle like you've never struggled before." I did. She
slowly flexed her bicep, as I wrapped my fingers around it and
squeezed. At the same time, I tried to pull my hand away, and I
felt her grip tighten. She was rocking frantically now, and
moaning. Her bicep began to grow from under her skin, and I saw
it bulging through the spandex. It grew to the size of a plum,
then a peach, then an apple. Soon she was fully flexed and her
bicep was the size of a softball. She trapped my right hand,
wrapped around her right bicep, in the crook of her elbow. Then
she let go with her left hand and took my left hand by the wrist.
She moved it up between her legs and began moving it back and
forth as she pumped furiously. I began to move my fingers to
stimulate her through her shorts. "No," she panted. "Struggle."
I began trying futilely to pull my hand away from her. She came.
I came. Who owed breakfast to whom this time? Who cared!
"You're welcome," she said.
"So are you. Anytime." I smiled.
There was a public restroom just about a quarter mile down the
beach, so we stood up, put our arms around each other, and walked
toward the restroom to clean up slightly. As I got up, I noticed
an exact imprint of my body in the sand, about three-quarters of
a foot deep. I smiled and looked at Lisa. "You animal," I said.
"Grrr," she responded, playfully. I noticed a little pain as I
walked, but nothing a day's rest couldn't cure.
We washed up at the restrooms. The men's room was disgusting and
dirty, but at least there was running water. Most of the buttons
were gone from my shirt, but I buttoned the remaining two, so
that it partially covered me. As I stepped out of the men's
room, I noticed a menacing figure standing under a palm tree.
Lisa came out of the ladies' room. "That place is *gross*," she
said. I agreed, and we began to make back toward Venice Beach as
the man stepped out from under the tree to block our path. He
must have been at least 6 feet and 200 pounds. He was obviously
He pulled a knife, which he held in his right hand. "Give me
your wallet and purse," he said to us. "Okay," I said, and
reached into my pocket slowly to remove my wallet. "Fuck him,"
Lisa said. "It's not worth it, it's only money," I said as I
pulled out my wallet. "Fuck you, and your bitch," he said as he
lunged at me with the knife. I managed to sidestep him and
deflect the knife to the side. He stumbled, and then Lisa
grabbed his wrist with her right hand. Then she transferred his
hand to her left hand, and stood facing him squarely. "Never
call me a bitch," she said. I saw him try to jerk his hand free,
and his eyes went wide when he realized he couldn't. With his
left fist, the man took a swing at her head. She put up her
right arm and nimbly grabbed his left wrist with her right hand.
I was standing by, fascinated at the picture of this 6-foot man,
immobilized by this girl who was easily a foot shorter and 100
pounds lighter than him. Lisa squeezed her left hand, and I
could have sworn I heard the bones in his right wrist snap. He
looked down at his wrist in surprise. Then she brought her left
knee up between his legs, hard, and I heard a puff of air escape
from him. I saw his body go weak. She grabbed him by his belt
and by the front of his shirt, picked him up sideways, and threw
him, approximately 7 feet, against the brick wall of the public
restroom. He fell to the ground and lay there, immobile. "Maybe
he'll think twice about his profession now," she said.
"You dispatched him rather easily," I said.
"He'll live," she answered. Then she looked me straight in the
eyes. "Never call me a bitch," she said.
"God no," I said, feigning fear. The man moaned. I put my arm
around Lisa's shoulder, and we walked toward Venice Beach. She
put her arm around my waist, lifted me into the air for a second,
and we continued walking.