As I opened the old metal garden gate with green paint peeling back to reveal the old rust beneath and began to trod down the concrete path towards the familiar yellow front door, I pondered on my fate that had led me back here to the home of my youth. Let me introduce myself, my name is Samuel Charles although everyone calls me Sam, everyone except my mother that is. I am 35 years of age and of Caribbean descent although I was born in England and the youngest of 4 brothers with no sisters. I came to the door of the 1950’s style red-brick mid-terrace 3 bedroom house. Pausing to take a deep breath, I rang the door bell and waited.

Through the small frosted pane of glass in the door appeared a figure that I knew only too well. The door opened and there stood my mother, her wide-cheeked face breaking into a smile of joy. “Samuel, my Samuel, oh come in, come in. Oh it’s so good to have you back. Oh my darling boy” she flung her thick arms around me in a joyous hug and a welcoming motherly kiss. Caroline Charles, my mum stood 5 foot 8 inches against my 6 foot. Her hair was black with noticeably a touch more grey than I had last seen her and was styled behind her ears down to her shoulders with a sparse fringe at the top. Mum has a long slender face with broad high cheekbones, a narrow jaw and a large beakish nose. Her eyes are slender, outlined with black eyeliner and a hint of mascara with slim arched eyebrows and hard piercing brown eyes. A generous thick lipped mouth red with lipstick smiled clearly pleased to see me.

“Where’s your stuff?” she asked. “It’s in the car; I’ll bring it in, in a moment. I just wanted to check it was still okay with you. I don’t want to put you to any trouble” I said. “No trouble, my dear. This is as much your house as it is mine” she replied. You see, this wasn’t what I had wanted at all but I really had no choice. My marriage had failed for reasons that I don’t want to get into and, well, I had nowhere else to go but back to the family home. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother, I really do. It’s just that when I lived here before with her, I found her to be overbearing and over possessive. I couldn’t do jack shit without her looking over my shoulder and wanting to know my whereabouts and everything I did. That’s not what a young man needs from his mother, it felt so stifling. It wasn’t so bad when my 3 older brothers were at home but once they moved out, I found her attention more than a bit suffocating.

Dad passed away when we were young teenagers. It was a great shock to us all. He was really the master of the house and we all felt lost without him. If it wasn’t for the gospel church, I think Mum would have fallen apart but they helped her stay strong and hold the family together. The nurses that work under her as matron at the hospital also showed her support which helped. But there was one other reason why I was reluctant to move back in with her, a reason of such shame and embarrassment that I am reluctant to mention it. As she helped me unload my stuff from the car I glanced at her body. She had on a baggy white blouse and ankle length skirt which made her appear extremely overweight and bulky but I knew better.

First off, that blouse failed to conceal her massive breasts which bounced around inside in a very disturbing manner. A man doesn’t want reminding that his mother has a truly huge stack that once you begin to notice you can’t tear your eyes away from. If she is wearing something low cut that shows off that deep dark lengthy cleavage, well a red-blooded man wouldn’t stand a chance of not getting aroused, son or not. You think that sounds pervy getting turned on by your mother’s massive bust? Well when you get down to it, I’m just a man and as a man, I get attracted to a big pair of hooters just like anyone else.

Believe me I’ve had many an unhealthy dream as a growing teenager about mum’s huge bouncing rack. Little wonder that she was the first woman to awaken my sexual desires. Before you call me a sick pervert, let me tell you that any growing boy faced with a mother with a rack like that would latch onto her as their first object of carnal desire without truly understanding what was going on with their developing hormonal adolescent bodies. OK she was no Rachel Welch or Kitten Natividad, not slim with an eye-catching figure but very plump and to be frank, rather overweight. However many a time when I had friends around I would catch them gawping at my mum’s impressive chest with open longing that made me feel strangely jealous. As I matured through my teens, I eventually grew out of it and learnt to block them out of my mind and avert my eyes whenever she got a little too busty. But they weren’t the source of my current discomfort. Demurely clothed as she was now, this gave no hint of the real reason. It’s rather embarrassing actually but let me try to explain.

Imagine your mum was a bodybuilder and you had a thing for muscular women? How would that make you feel as a hormonally developing teenager? Come to that, how would that make you feel as a grown man?

I can remember how it all started. One day I went into the corner shop on the way home from school to buy some sweets. There on the shelves at eye-level was a bodybuilding magazine with a picture of Lenda Murray on the cover. She had just won Miss Olympia and was posing on the cover in a skimpy bikini spreading her lats and flexing her huge quads. I just gawped at that picture for I had never seen anything like it before. First off, I had never realised that women could be proper bodybuilders, I mean with big muscles and stuff. Yes, I had seen pictures of fitness women but they were little more than hot fit looking beauty contestants. To see such a beautiful black woman with a fit sexy sensational muscular body on the cover blew my mind. This was no fitness woman but a real female bodybuilder who didn’t look like a man in a bikini but a very beautiful woman with an incredibly sexy unquestionably female body. My dick stiffened uncontrollably as I took down the magazine with shaking hands. Holding it like the Holy Grail, I opened it and fanned through until I came to a report on the show. Here I ogled at more pictures of the stunning Lenda and other no less magnificent specimens of muscular womanhood in skimpy swimwear.

I was just standing there holding the magazine and gawping at it with a raging hard-on while the Indian shopkeeper kept giving me suspicious looks. “Not for browsing. You buy or go” he told me, embarrassing me in front of a shop full of kids. It was no use; I just had to buy it although my hands were shaking as I carried it to the counter trying to cover up the bulge in the front of my trousers. My face felt burning red as I passed it to Mister Patel who probably was wondering why a scrawny kid like me would buy a bodybuilding magazine. He probably thought that I was gay and got off looking at pictures of the massive he-men that were predominately featured inside. I doubt if he would have understood the attraction of a beautiful scantily clad woman flexing her massive developed muscular body.

With the magazine hidden under my jacket as if hiding porn, I hurried home and went straight to my room and found a hiding place for it where I hoped mum wouldn’t find it because she really would never understand. To her it would be as bad as porn. Believe me, from then on, my mother’s large breasts were the last thing on my mind. A new preoccupation filled my hormonal mind taking me to peaks of self-fulfilment the likes of which I had never experienced before. Lenda and women like her had opened my eyes to the sensual appeal of shapely attractive but unquestionably muscular women. These were no lightweights neither, yes I saw the appeal of the fitness women with their hot slim bodies and looks that could pass for catwalk models but for me it was the real heavyweights who got me really going. Especially the ones who balanced looking like a stunningly attractive woman with an eye-popping massive powerhouse of a body. Lenda had me hooked and hooked bad.

These impossibly sculpted Amazonian women were my new Goddesses and I dreamt of the chance to meet one and somehow find one as my girlfriend and true sole-mate. Except that they were mostly American and seemed so unobtainable. With a sinking feeling, I realised that I would never meet a woman like that. I thought wrong, I shall never forget the day when everything changed, not necessarily for the better. It was a Friday and they let us out from class early. As I entered the front door and into the hall, I could hear this loud metallic clanging noise coming from the back room. That was strange. I knew that my brothers wouldn’t be home from work yet, so curious and a bit afraid in case it was an intruder, I went to investigate. Opening the door quietly, I peeped through the crack near the door frame and what I saw was the last thing that I’d ever expected to see. To my great surprise I found my dear oversized mother lifting and curling some of my dad’s old weights. Dad used to be a professional boxing champion and used these to keep in shape.

At that moment, mother looked around and spotted the open door. “Who’se that there?” she demanded loudly. She has such a commanding authoritive voice that I found myself sheepishly stepping through the door. “It’s only me mummy. They let us out early” I told her. I didn’t know where to put my eyes. She wore an old grey T-shirt and a pair of white shorts. The sweat marks and her glistening perspiring body indicated that she’d been working out quite hard. “I thought I’d use some of your father’s old things to work off this unsightly fat, I’m far too overweight, I get out of breath just going up the stairs. It was true, mum was very big built and not in a good way. “Ole Jeremiah down the Gospel showed me some exercises. He used to spar with your father, you know” she told me. I told her that I thought it was a good idea. “Just let me have a shower and get changed and I’ll get you some tea” she said. “I’m proud of you, mum” I told her “those pounds will soon peel off” and I meant it too. I was really proud that she was going to do something positive to lose some weight.

What I didn’t expect were the dreams, wet dreams of my mother pumping iron building a strong powerful muscular body that returned night after night. I felt such a sick pervert cumming off over her each night and tried dreaming about real women bodybuilders, fortunately this worked and my unhealthy attraction for my mum disappeared. Mum was just an ordinary mother of West Indian origin and extremely large built trying to lose some weight whereas the women in my magazines such as Lenda were much younger, beautiful, slimmer and much more shapely in comparison, not to mention scantily clad. After a while I thought nothing more of my mum exercising to lose weight and things went back to normal, or so I thought.

Mum married Ole Jeremiah; he was a nice enough old white haired chap but he wasn’t my dad. With his encouragement she continued to work out in the back room with my dad’s old weights. Even though I only ever saw her in normal clothes, after a few months the results started to become noticeable. Her stomach no longer protruded and seemed a lot flatter which meant that she was excited about having to go out and buy new tops. Although she was still a very well built mature woman who would never be a size 10, it was apparent that her arms although still thick were much firmer and didn’t wobble around as were her legs which even had a bit of shape. Even her large bust looked a lot firmer and drew admiring glances from the men at church. I felt very proud of her and thought she looked good, but not in a pervy sense; at least not at first.

It was around the time when I began 6th form college. I returned home and I accidentally walked into the back room while mother was working out. Instead of demurely exercising with light dumbbells, to my surprise she was really giving it what for, furiously pumping away with big heavy weights. She had her back to me and all I could do was watch and stare at the transformed figure in front of me. That’s when I noticed how firm her sides now were forming a firm trunk that actually tapered from broad shoulders to her thick waist. There was definitely solid looking movement in her very thick firm arms where her triceps were and her forearms looked wide and very strong. As she curled the big heavy dumbbells, I could clearly make out a definite bulge and hardness to her biceps and triceps. Her large meaty calves were no longer big and soft but had big slabs of firm muscle with a distinct though undefined edge. Mothers have eyes in the back of their heads and she looked over her shoulder and caught me staring.

She turned to face me and with shock I saw just how big, strong and shapely her massive thighs were. There were also stringy light bicep veins running along her thick firm looking arms making them looked rugged and strong. No longer was my mother overweight and cuddly for she had developed a very thick firm hard looking body. Suddenly I felt an uncontrollable stiffening in my groin for although she was nothing like the women in my bodybuilding magazines, I actually felt intimidated by her thick firm body and her thick hard strong arms. She was like a muscle woman of my dreams come to life, except that it was my very own mother.

“Look, Samuel” mother said proudly then slowly bent her right arm at the elbow with the fist clenched. Her thick upper arm swelled upwards becoming a very large soft looking mass but as her fist approached the side of her arm it solidified into a large smooth sided mound. My God! My jaw nearly fell to the floor and my dick lurched in my pants. My mum has biceps and flipping huge ones too! “Not bad, eh Samuel?” she chuckled with glee as she relaxed and flexed it several times in a row as if I hadn’t noticed the first time. I was struck dumb and could only gawp as a massive mound of muscle soared from her thick arm time after time. “Wow!” I gasped; she seemed to like my response and smiled warmly with motherly affection. OK it wasn’t as defined and peaked like the women in my magazines but it was undeniably a bicep and really big, so big that it could give some of those bodybuilders pause for thought.

“I thought you were just losing weight” I gasped in amazement for I never expected her to turn all that mass into muscle. “Ole Jeremiah said it was better to firm it up instead of letting it all turn to loose wrinkly skin” she replied. My dick felt like it had become permanently stiff and would never go down. I had to get out there before she noticed and scolded me. “That’s amazing mum, it really is. I’m really proud of you” I told her then and began to turn to go. “Go on feel it, Samuel. Feel how firm your old mother is now instead of soft and flabby” She said. I turned back and was astonished to find that she had flexed both arms at the same time. With my secret thing for muscle women, I simply couldn’t pass up an opportunity like that even if it was my own mother.

I placed my hands upon her thick rounded biceps and found that they were as solid as they looked. “They’re so big mummy! So hard” I gasped in awe. They felt so good that I kept running my palms over the high rounded top and the dense sides. The underside of her arms also swelled with a thick curve where her triceps were. “You got that right son. All that horrible wobbly fat turned to nice firm skin and that’s how I like it” she told me as I kept feeling the massive rounded biceps unable to take my hands away stunned by how large and solid they were. “I’ve never felt so fit and strong before in my whole life” she told me proudly. My cock was so hard it was actually beating against the inside my pants. Mother lowered her arms and I reluctantly slid both hands down her right forearm staggered by how rugged and powerful it felt.