* 40 years ago *

“Come on Jerry. You don’t want to be late for R.E.” Jim said as I lounged around in our tutor group room while he queued by my desk at the back of the room waiting to leave following afternoon registration. He was one of the first years in my tutor group and okay for a young-un. “Religious Education! What use is that to me in getting a job when I leave this dump next year?” I replied. I was 17 and looking forward to passing my exams and getting out of 6th form into the real world. He stopped and turned around to face me then stepped closer, leaning in to speak in a conspiratorial whisper. “You know old Woodhouse snuffed it last term?” I nodded. “They’ve replaced her with a new teacher, Mrs. Stone, and apparently she is very strict and not to be messed with” “I’m in 7b. We’ll soon break her in” I chuckled. The morons in our class always break the new teachers.

So I took my time and sauntered casually into the classroom like I usually did. Looking around at my classmates I wondered why they were sitting down and not making a commotion like they usually did. I wasn’t looking where I was going and was shocked to bump into something hard and unyielding. For a second I thought I had bumped into the wall until I realised that I was standing before a massively built woman. This woman wasn’t big because she was fat but seemed very sturdily built indeed. She placed her hands upon her hips and glared at me with an expression that could sour milk. The woman had a dark complexion as if someone who had lived in a sunny climate than Britain. I was level with her face and assumed she was the same height, 5 foot 8 although I was later to realise my mistake.

Her face was large, rounded with a square blockish jaw and dark smouldering eyes complemented by thick eyelashes. A thin nose partitioned the face with thick nostrils below which was a small straight mouth with luscious lips. This was framed by shoulder length black hair. Mrs. Stone, for it could be no-one else, had good complexion and I reckoned her to be in her late 20’s maybe even 30. She tried to look tough and intimidating which wasn’t difficult for she was built like a brick outhouse. “Name?” she barked as she blocked my way while her fierce gaze bore into my eyes with an intensity that could melt lead. She looked so tough and aggressive that I really felt nervous that she was going to beat me up in front of the strangely silent class. “J-Jerry” I automatically answered stumbling over my words with the nervousness I felt inside. Her thick bull neck pulsed with energy as she spoke. It was so thick and strong looking. I had never seen a neck as thick as that on a man let alone a woman. I was stunned and felt intimidated by it’s sheer presence.

“Well J-Jerry” she mocked. “What time does this class start?”. “1 o’clock” I mumbled. Unable to maintain eye contact with this fearfully confrontational woman, my eyes slipped from her face to the powerful tapering slopes running from the back of her neck down to her shoulder caps beneath the fabric of the white blouse she wore. I didn’t know these were called traps back then. “1 o’clock Maam!” She barked in my face making me flinch. “Or 13 hundred hours to be precise”. Out of the corner of my eye I saw some of my classmates nudge each other and smirk enjoying my discomfort at the grilling I was getting. “Say it boy!” she barked “1 o’clock, Maam” I replied noticing how wide and dense her shoulders were beneath the simple white blouse she wore. Even her shoulder caps seemed so big and rounded. “Louder. Stop mumbling!” “1 o’clock, Maam” I wished that this could end so I could go and hide red-faced at my desk near the back but she hadn’t finished humiliating me in front of the class yet. “Is your watch broken, boy?” she asked in a sarcastic tone. “N ... no, Maam” “So why are you 3 minutes late?” she snapped angrily.

That white blouse strained to contain a massive body of a shape that I had never seen on a woman before. She enjoyed making me squirm. “I ... I’m sorry Maam. It won’t happen again”. My eyes slipped lower as I hung my head in shame encountering a big barrel chest with a deep cleavage. It was wide and big yet seemed solid looking instead of the more bouncy buxomness that I was used to on a woman. It looked like she had a one foot table top in front of her and it looked very solid indeed. Her massive solid presence made me very nervous and I forced myself to look away from her chest. “For your sake, it better not” it sounded like a real threat. From her very wide bulky looking shoulders her body tapered very dramatically to quite a chunky waist. She seemed very solidly built. I had never seen a woman shaped like this for this was the late 1970’s in the days before the Internet or magazine publication of the wonders of women’s bodybuilding. “My class will start at 13 hundred hours precisely, on the dot. That’s 1 o’clock to you” she sneered so that all could hear. I could hear some sniggering at my continued embarrassment. “Anyone not present on time will spend detention with me and discover the true meaning of penance”. My head was hung with shame. That’s when I saw she wore a skirt that came down to her knees. Below this her legs were bare to her shoes. I was fascinated by the way her thick wide calves flared out at the back of her legs. She addressed me “as this is our first day together I will be lenient with you. Believe me when I tell you that you have got off lightly for that will never happen again. Now go to your seat before I change my mind” There was something so menacing about the way that she had said that, that I quickly walked to my desk at the back of the room with my face burning red and trying not to make eye-contact with anyone else.

I just couldn’t stop staring at Mrs. Stone as she gave the lesson. Walking back and forth across the front of the room with confidence, her voice was strident and strong in a tone that would not tolerate interruption as a few of my more disruptive classmates soon discovered. This woman talked as tough as she looked, and wouldn’t take crap from anyone. She would quickly cut them down to size with scathing words backed by her hulking physical presence which she used to quieten any dissent. She was a massive threatening force of nature that none of us had ever thought to experience. Everyone of us in that room was too afraid of her, to ask any questions.

I sat at my desk in awe at the outlandish body-shape which went against all accepted norms of 1970’s Britain about women’s bodies. It stretched that white blouse to the extreme. It was the most outlandish female figure that I’d ever seen. It was so thick, bulky and top-heavy, she somehow called to mind that she was solidly built like a tank. I wasn’t into biology and couldn’t name muscle groups in the human body but those big thick slopes on either side of her bullishly thick neck down to her very broad shoulders reminded me of pictures I’d seen of male bodybuilders. Now that I had made that association in my mind, I just couldn’t stop myself staring at her body and trying to visualise what it looked like beneath those clothes. The very idea was shocking, against all social norms yet strangely erotic. This was the late-70’s when women with big muscles was generally unheard of. I wasn’t stupid, I knew that women could have muscles. I’d seen Caroline flex a solid looking biceps to her sporty friends in the common room. There were also quite a few girls at school who had muscled calves especially the athletic ones. I found them so beautiful and incredibly sexy that I would find myself following a hot-legged girl around entranced by how her calves would flex and wane as she walked before finding myself in a part of the sprawling school complex a long way from where I needed to be. They were fit girls with a little muscle that I found very sexy but Mrs. Stone was in a totally different league by several orders of magnitude.

She was absolutely huge and solid. Rather than looking like a man that thrusting firm bust and the steep angled slopes at the edges of her back that gave the illusion of an hour-glass figure shouted to my loins that she was all-woman. Mrs. Stone tended to gesticulate with her hands as she explained her opinions on a subject that I found as dull as dishwater. As she did so I noticed how, beneath the sleeves, her forearms were really wide and flat on the inside almost elongated triangles pointing down towards her wrist. They sort of reminded me of a less extreme version of Popeye. They looked formidable and powerful that I imagined trying to arm-wrestle with her. KERSLAM! With forearms like those she could slam the back of my hand very forcible and fast into the table while laughing at my puniness. BERDOING! My dick stiffened rapidly at the thought. I looked out of the window to try to think about something else, anything else. BAM! A blackboard eraser hit me square on the side of my head. “Ouch!” “Pay attention, boy!” she said in a loud strident voice “or perhaps you would like to come to the front of the class and explain the commonalities of Judaism and Islam?”

She continued lecturing us and I had no choice but to watch her because her beady eyes kept glancing my way hoping to catch me out. My tardy arrival in class had no doubt marked me out in her mind as the lead troublemaker which simply wasn’t true. Those big solid looking upper arms filled her sleeves to bursting point. When her arm was by her side, a large mass was visible at the back of her upper arm just below her shoulder caps which would swell up into a sort of horseshoe shape with two downward pointing pincers. They would bulge up then sink back down in a mesmerising dance as she moved her arms expressively. Triceps, I would later learn they were called. When she bent her arm in order to raise her hands in front her, a very thick hard swell would bulge in the front of her upper arm. Those were unmistakably biceps! I knew that much. This woman had muscles, seriously big muscles. The revelation overwhelmed me. I felt strange realising that women could have bigger muscles than me which intimidated me and made me somehow feel less of a worthy man. At the same time the sheer power barely concealed beneath her white blouse was somehow blatantly feminine and more erotic than anything I had ever seen before in my life. BERDOING! My dick was so hard it felt like it was frozen stiff and would never go down.

She turned her back to the class to write something up on the blackboard and my mouth nearly dropped to the desk. The view of her back really emphasised that exaggeration of a classic female hour-glass figure. With unobstructed view of the back of her blouse I gaped in disbelief at how those thick sloping slabs at the back of her neck flowed down into her insanely wide shoulders then tapered sharply from that broad base to her chunky waist. Massive slabs of hardness moved under that blouse as she wrote, there was now no doubt in my mind that her back was covered with thick dense muscle which rippled with every move she made. She was a muscle-woman, a real-life muscle woman with muscles as big as male body-builder! I never realised that such a thing was physically possible.

As she turned back to face the class to lecture us on another boring point on theology I saw the depth of her skirt covering her upper thighs from the front to the back and realised that they were equally massive as her upper body. From the way that skirt was bulging out it was clear that there was plenty of muscle underneath. I needed to see more however. From where I sat at the back, the heads of the other kids were in the way. As stealthily as I could, I moved to the edge of the desk so I could look right down the middle between the desks in front to get a better look. The first thing I noticed was that she wore 6” stiletto heels and without them she would only be about 5’2. As she turned towards the board once more, my eyes went wide and my dick soared with unbelievable stiffness so that the front of my trousers resembled a small tent. I’ve already told you that I found girls with muscled calves sexy, well those on Mrs. Stone made those look positively skinny and weak. Raised upon her high-heels, her thick calves bulged massively looking steel-hard. They were huge slabs of muscle that were extremely prominent on the back of her lower legs. Each was huge and highly toned resembling a wide spade with a deep diamond shaped cleft in the middle of the deep lower edge with very deep diamond shaped muscle that looked incredibly powerful and so unbelievably sexy that my trouser tent began to twitch uncontrollably. I had no doubt that if her thighs were anything like her amazing calves, then they were very thick with very hard powerful muscle. I realised that this woman was covered from neck to foot in sheer massive muscle. Not only did I, as a young man, find it extremely intimidating after having been taught that men were the stronger sex but it also turned me on more than anything I had ever encountered before in my life.

Our classroom had one of those contraptions with two large blackboards positioned one above the other on some of cantilevered pulley system that enabled them to be swapped over. Mrs. Stone had filled up the lower board. Don’t ask me with what because I too rapt watching her wide downwards pointing triangular back and large sexy calves to listen. She reached up to pull down the upper board, as she did she went onto her toes. Those wide muscular calves exploded into massively bulging prominent sharply-cut swelling power for a brief moment with thick tendons swelling around the calves and below. I exploded a massive wad of cum into my pants with such force that I grunted aloud “Nnnngh!”. Mrs. Stone spun around, her steely eyes fixing upon me. “Did you have something to say, Jerry?” she asked in a firm tone that suggested that questions or comments were not welcome. I felt my face flush as all eyes were upon me. “Urr No Maam. Sorry Maam just clearing my throat”. I was too afraid to ask to go to the bathroom that I had to sit there for the rest of the lesson hoping that the mess would dry itself up so no-one noticed when it was time to get up at the end of the lesson.

Needless to say, I looked forward to R.E. and made sure that I got there well before time. I still found the subject boring but Mrs. Stone had opened my mind to the wonders of muscular women setting me on a lifelong fascination that I have to this day. One of the other kids had overheard one of the other teachers call her Ester and that she had come over from Israel with her husband who was also a teacher at the school. In fact it was rumoured that she was at one time an Israeli gunnery sergeant, which I could well believe. Mr. Stone was in fact a Physical Education teacher who the girls fancied and a pretty big guy in his own right. In my opinion he always seemed to be henpecked, looking down submissively when she spoke to him.

Each lesson was the same. Ester, although no-one dared call her that to her face, lectured us on a subject which none of us found interesting. Pacing at the front of the class with a tough expression that dared us to make a noise or not pay rapt attention almost every move she made caused all of her massive wall of muscle bulge and flex. She had absolutely had no patience with us and would sometimes sit on her desk facing us with her mighty legs crossed. She would point the toes of her foot of the leg on top of the other giving the big calves dangling behind her shin a most sensual shape like a large semi-teardrop. At the same time she flexed the mighty calves of the leg beneath making them bulge like steel-hardened rocks. All the while she would glare at the class with that tough smile on her face daring anyone to interrupt the delivery of her lesson. I had the feeling that she definitely knew the effect that it had on most of the class. I just knew that she could easily kill a man with any part of her body, and look sexy as hell doing it. Of course the effect upon me was inevitable and I never left her class without coming in my pants.