Ch. 10: Preview #3

Theo’s daughter became a terror that day.  Behind her energetic, purposeful gait he sensed a new edge to her, a danger.  She was a predator on the prowl, eyeing him, assessing him, watching his every move, waiting for even the slightest slip-up and then she’d pounce.

She was clearly wholly oblivious to how hard he’d worked yesterday!  But somehow he did, eking out even more tireless productivity under the ever-present threat of surveillance.

And all while his libido raged and swelled in her presence.  It was truly problematic now, putting him at ever greater risk of slowdown and distraction.  And never more than in the late afternoon when she called him down to their team workout wearing an outfit still tighter and clingier than the last.

This was not good.

“Push it, Mouse!” Jen bellowed at him, in the midst of set one.  “Hey: look at me!  Fucking PUSHHH!!!”

His meager muscles quivered to lift the little barbells as far as he could.  But that wasn’t why he whimpered.

“I said TWO MORE!” belted the Mighty, plunging deep into another squat, his eyes glued helplessly to her unbelievable, glistening magnificence.  That was why.

She finished her set, dropping her weights to the floor with a BAM.  And then her torso truly did fill his vision as she leaned over his seat.

“Stomach in,” she commanded, her hand driving into his upper abdomen and making it impossible to disobey.  “Spine flat against the backrest.  Shoulders down.”  Her free hand forced his left shoulder down like an anvil.  “You’re hunching them too far.  You gotta get to ten, but you gotta do them right.”

He was whimpering freely now as Jen’s sopping wet tits beckoned to his eyes, her workout-bra-enhanced cleavage fucking wildly with his fatigue-addled mind.

“I-I can’t,” he groaned, quite accurately, as his arms were searingly tapped-out.

Her response was immediate and ferocious.  “Horseshit.  I said you can, so you will.”

He gasped, finding her more Lola-esque right now than ever before.  Which was a good thing.  No, a terrifying thing.  No, a—

“Lift!”

She made him stronger by sheer force of her conviction; allowed him to draw his own modest sip from her seemingly endless well of determination and resolve.  Another rep should have been impossible, much less two – but she made the impossible possible.

“Atta-boy!” she barked in triumph, plucking the six-pound weights from his hands, pushing off him gently, and rising in one smooth motion.  His eyes were granted another mind-melting display of juicy tit-flesh as her chest momentarily, unintentionally swooped toward him on her way up.  The weights he had struggled to lift, looked light as chopsticks as she flipped them showily in the air, sauntering across the room in arrestingly feline fashion.  She deposited the weights on the rack and returned to him with a jump rope.

His worn-down body sagged, his voice whining before he could stop it: “I’m too tiiiir—”

“Not on my watch, you’re not!”  She glided as lightly as a ballerina … but with such power.  “After impressing me this much, you wouldn’t wanna let me down, now, would you?”

Impressed?  By him?  Her compliment confused and conflicted him as much as Lola’s ever had.  He ought to resent her praise; and yet …

“I … need … a-a break!” he pleaded anyway, weakly.

“I wanna see sixty jumpropes in half a minute,” belted Jen, as if he hadn’t spoken, “or I’m gonna have to find a way to reaallly light a fire under your ass.”

As if she hadn’t already!

“One.”

Jesus!

“Two.”

Somehow, someway, he shook off enough of his fatigue to leap up, grab the rope, and get his ass moving.