By Jimp based on an idea by Stefano

“You don’t love me, Jimmy, You don’t pay me enough attention. We don’t have sex anymore. You’re impotent”. Not words that I wanted to hear. After so many years of marriage and two kids, now at Uni, some of what she said was sadly cuttingly true. It wasn’t that I didn’t love Suzanne anymore, it was just that, well, she no longer turned me on in the bedroom department. Then she started nagging about us needing to see a marriage guidance counsellor. At first I resisted but as usual she wore me down with her incessant nagging and bursting into tears saying that I didn’t love her anymore.

I guess we’ve both changed. She is certainly no longer the young woman I was first attracted to. Around 5 foot 6, to my 5-10, she wasn’t startlingly attractive but I was drawn to her happy smiling face and sense of humour. With a long slender face, a prominent Romanesque nose, green-blue eyes, a small mouth and chubby cheeks, she took me for who I was with a refreshing honesty. The fact that she had flowing shoulder-length sandy blonde hair was a bonus as I always liked blondes. Her body was quite sturdy, what she called big boned and what the scientists would call an endomorph. She was a fuller figured woman with a large natural bust which I loved to play with and great legs which she always showed to effect with skirts and dresses. Sturdy and shapely from years of hard labour on a farm they certainly appealed to me as a bit of a leg man. I enjoyed feeling her thick firm thighs and the strong bulge of her hamstrings. Her calves were thick with a hint of hard muscle when she wore high heels or climbed steps. All that physical hard labour meant that she could also flex a pretty mean biceps, a gentle mound on each upper arm that felt rock hard and got me pretty rock hard too. I had always had a secret thing for women with muscles, not whopping massive ones, but feminine strong and sexy muscles. I also fancied women who used martial arts to dominate men but by the time I had met Suzanne I had given up all hope of finding myself a woman like that to act out my fantasies. Unfortunately no matter how much I tried to encourage her to playfully wrestle or scissor me in bed, she just found it weird and wasn’t interested.

Carrying two kids and giving birth barely a couple of years apart, she gained a lot of weight that was difficult to shift. It took many long years but finally she is back down to her old weight and size. It was mainly through diet and us going rambling every Saturday and when on holiday. She does voluntary work which also gives her time to do some walking, cycling and go swimming once a week which has helped tone her up. Of course I was pleased with what she had achieved, even losing a few pounds myself and happy to buy her a new wardrobe full of outfits to flatter her slimmer although still sturdy self. However I guess the damage was done and we no longer had the physical relationship we once had. Not that she had ever been particularly keen on it in the first place.

So it was that one afternoon just after lunch and with great reluctance, I walked the half-mile or so down town with my wife. Suzanne wore a light floral print top and skirt with flat sandals. Beneath the skirt, her legs were bare which was normal for her. I was in no mood to dress up for anyone and wore pale cream coloured jeans and a black T-shirt that I picked up at some trade show together with some comfortable trainers. It was a nice bright day and I’d rather be working at home on the laptop over the VPN than waste it seeing some know-it-all dried-up old crone with a social-services degree sticking her nose into our relationship and sex life. That was the bit I wasn’t looking forward in particular. We had just turned onto the High Street of our small market town when Suzanne pointed to the large 18th century detached house of blocky construction made from oche coloured bricks and dark-grey slate roofing tiles and which was set back from the street by long gardens. This was the address we had been given, a place which used to be an old workhouse before they built a newer one further up London Road. It was a place that we must have passed a hundred times or more but barely registered, set back as it was. Upon reaching the front door and entering we came to a small reception area. Behind a desk sat a young girl with red hair, which I think was dyed, and large glasses. Whiplash thin with wide eyes and a near-permanent smile, she was kind of pretty although I suspected the lads her age probably failed to see that and it looked like she hadn’t long left school. She introduced herself as Sarah and told us to take a seat while she went to inform Mrs. Cooper of our arrival. The area was well lit and modernised with an uncomfortable looking sofa that curved around the corners of what once must have been the entrance hall. So we sat and waited nervously looking at the pile of ancient woman’s magazines piled on the coffee table in front of us and feeling increasingly nervous.

Just as I started to fidget, an office door opened to reveal a smartly dressed mature woman who invited us in. “Jayne, Jayne Cooper. Pleased to meet you, please come inside and take a seat. A cup of coffee or tea?” Mrs. Cooper stuck out a slender hand which gave a surprisingly firm handshake. Standing around 5 foot 4 with a slender figure, the most immediate thing that struck me was her face. I estimated she was at least 50 but at first glance seemed much older. It was at first sight a craggy-looking grumpy stern face surrounded by straight blonde hair bordering upon white, swept back from a parting on one side and pinned behind her ears where it fell to her shoulders. Small but long in shape, her face is dominated by a thick black-rimmed pair of spectacles. Small bright grey eyes peered out in welcome along with a smile upon a thin-lipped mouth of medium size. Between these was a long nose. Bags under the eyes and a slight jowly look to her cheeks added to that craggy appearance.

A smart grey business jacket covered her upper body, indicating a nice slim figure with wide shoulders, a slim waist and nice hips. The jacket had big black buttons at the front, all of which were done up apart from the top. This exposed the tops of a nice full sized pair of breasts thrusting the top part of the jacket forwards in a plunging neckline. I try not to stare at the tightly supported cupped breasts and cleavage knowing my wife is standing right next to me. She seems to have an inbuilt sense for that sort of thing. Below the waist hangs a black business skirt that comes down to her knees below which sheer black nylons covered her shins. On her feet are chunky black shoes with a low heel, but even so I can tell at a glance that her calves are brawny and big. They are so slim around her ankles but then curve out in long wide curves almost like sleek aerodynamic wings behind her shin. They are like exaggerated inverted bowling pins noticeably wide around the upper part of her calves before curving in towards her knee. All this was very obvious just by looking from the front. That meant my eyes were glued to her legs as she turned around and made her way over to the other side of her desk. These were old mature calves, very slim at the ankles then quickly flaring out into thick wide slabs occupying most of her lower legs. I’m not an expert on muscles but they looked very toned and the larger of the calve muscles had like a sort of long indentation or cut. Not only were they long and wide and very hard looking they were outlined by beautiful sweeping curves both along the outside edge and the inside, especially where they curved around the top of the dense muscle heads to swoop in towards the back of her knees. Although nowhere as defined or as bulky as a female bodybuilder they were nonetheless beautiful to look at and made me wonder how such a strait-laced looking mature woman developed such amazing calves. As she walked powerful looking hard slabs of strength slid just beneath the surface of her skin. This was with low heels. As she walked I wondered what she would look like in high-heels, I bet those calves would be real cock-hardeners. My attention to another woman’s legs got me a hard elbow in the ribs from the missus.

Being an old building, the office was very spacious. Wide tall windows let in a lot of natural light. The room was fitted out with antique wooden furniture and a thick carpet lay upon the floor. At one end of the office is a large antique looking desk behind which but positioned just to the side so that there was no barrier between this and two comfortable armchairs in front was a tall leather upholstered swivel chair. It was upon this that Mrs. Cooper sat down. As she did so her skirt slid back to reveal long slim thighs and the hint of a dark band of stocking tops. She then crossed her legs in the appealing way that some women can. I tried not to gawp at the thick slab of hardness flaring out from behind each calve as she used an intercom to order Sarah to get us two coffees and a green tea for my wife. Mrs. Cooper, “Please call me Jayne” she insisted in quite a pleasant soft aged tone, explained how she was a counselling psychologist who worked with marriage partners to understand the deep seated emotion issues behind their apparent emotional disconnection. Blah blah blah psycho-babble I just tuned out and watched the big mass of calve meat flare out upon either side of her left shin as it rested on top of her right knee. It wasn’t as though the rest of her legs were thick by contrast they were slim almost scrawny as she wrapped them up one on top the other. Clad with the sheen of sheer black nylons, I just couldn’t keep my eyes off those big wide toned calves. Jayne’s eyes flickered towards me several times, peering at me through those glasses and with an unreadable expression on her mature plain face but if she caught me staring at her amazing flaring calves she didn’t say anything.

Of course she soon got around to the embarrassing stuff with my wife doing most of the talking and accusing me of being impotent. I was seriously considering get out of the chair and walking out when Mrs. Cooper announced that it was usual at this point for her to speak with the husband separately. Before I knew it, Jayne had got up out of her chair, with the skirt sliding back down covering her long slim nylon-sheathed thighs. Escorting Suzanne to the door, my wife was then whisked away by Sarah to get another cup of tea or something. As she closed the door I was left alone with the mature plain-looking blonde psychologist. “I find men talk more freely when their wives are not around” she told me.

Instead of returning to her chair she walked away from me to a bookcase on the other side. Of course I couldn’t but help look at her calves, once again stunned by the dramatic difference between her slim ankles and wide toned calves. This was wearing flat heels. I bet her calves would be sensational if she wore high heels. Standing by the bookcase with her back to me, she suddenly asked out of the blue “so you are impotent. How does that make you feel?”. “God no!” I blurted out in outrage. She turned around to face me, her glasses giving her an almost school-ma’am appearance. “How do you know? According to your wife you are incapable of having sex with her. Are you having an affair?” “No!” I protested. “Jimmy, I am only here to help you. You must be frank and open with me. Anything that you tell me will be in the strictest confidence between you and me. Your wife will never know unless you tell her” I still wasn’t comfortable about talking about stuff like this with a complete stranger. “So tell me how you know that you are not impotent? You look at porno websites?” “Er, sort of” I admitted with embarrassment. She turned back to the bookcase and seemed to be looking for something. “I want to show you something” she told me then went onto her toes as she tried to look at the books upon the top shelf which was much higher than she was. My God! Large muscles slid beneath the skin heading towards the upper part of her wide calves as she elevated herself upon her toes. The muscle heads popped into existence, big wide slabs shaped like spear-heads pointed down the inside half of each calf, each sharply-defined. Next to each was a smaller slab positioned slightly higher but just as prominent. Again the difference between these wide rocky muscular slabs and her slim ankles was breathtaking. I must have sat like an idiot with my eyes wide, my mouth open and a bulge stiffening in the front of my trousers. Of course when she lowered herself to the flats of her feet and turned around, she caught me staring fair and square.

There was a smile upon her face satisfied that she had caught me “You like my calves don’t you? You’ve been looking at them all afternoon” “Er, yes. They are beautifully, er, muscled”. She slowly walked back to her chair, no book in hand. So that had just been a ruse. “Don’t be embarrassed It’s only natural for a man to be turned on by a fit healthy woman. Most men like shapely legs on a woman and it is muscle that make them so. Tell me all about it”. So I did, telling her about the sites that I visited of ordinary women and girls who could flex good sized muscle and dominated men physically and with unarmed combat. I admitted that it was a fetish that I had ever since I was young and something that I never grew out of. “Why should you? It’s only natural. It’s nothing to be ashamed of”. I found myself warming to the plain-faced woman with the specs and began telling her all sorts of stuff that I wouldn’t never admit to my wife. I told her how I was attracted to Suzanne’s strong arms and legs, and my attempts to get her to scissor me during our love making. Except that she never seemed to do it right or thought it was normal.

Somehow we got onto the subject of literature and I admitted that Jim Priest was one of my favourite authors in the genre. I never expected Jayne to have heard of him and so was surprised by the change in her expression. “You’ve heard of him?” I asked she nodded “I do a lot of background research for my job”. A frown appeared on her face “I understood that Mister Priest had disappeared, kidnapped by persons unknown” “Oh he’s in Guantanamo bay, held by the Americans under orders of the Family of the 13, they’re the top of the Global Elite you know, descended from the original priests that served the human Queen until the demon-king enslaved her” I stopped then apologised. “I’m sorry, I’m sounding like a geek” “No, no, please go on. I’m interested. Why would they do such a thing?” “They want the fossilised gentiles of Mahishasura” Again her eyes widened as if she knew the name “Yes I know it all sounds a bit crazy but the super-rich believe it is a powerful biological weapon that they can use to kill off the useless people and infect unquestioning subservience into the DNA of the rest of us” “And how is it that you know all this?” she asked genuinely sounding interested. “He used one of their laptops to post a story to the Internet and tagged that bit onto the end” “Oh right” she scoffed “So instead of notifying the British Embassy, he posts a story. Hardly the actions of a desperate man” “Everyone knows the NSA monitor all web traffic. They would have blocked it immediately. Besides the 13 control most of the world’s Governments. The Embassy would just tell the Americans and he’d be in a lot more trouble. Anyway it’s just a story”.