The Iron Shop Ch. 03

After Mrs. Fabian left, I finished the floor by late afternoon and was starting to put sheet rock up as the sun dropped and dusk began. Covered in dust and dirt, my hands crusted with glue and sheet rock crumbs, I locked up and drove back to grandma's.

On the dining room table, I found a note: "Frank, I'll be back around seven. Big news! Love, G." I smiled and began pulling my clothes off on the way to the shower. The hot water felt great on my sore muscles, and I stood with my arms against the shower wall soaking in the spray. Changing into a pair of sweats and t-shirt, I was surprised by a light knock at the door.

"Oh Frankie," grandma said as she pushed the door open. "Are you decent?"

"Decent as I'll ever be," I answered, laughing.

Grandma entered the room with big smile.

"I've got steak for dinner. Fresh corn. Peaches."

I rubbed my stomach. "Perfect!"

I stood and grandma paused at the door. Her eyes twitched nervously over my shoulders and torso.

"I have some big news, too," she said with a shy smile, her green eyes shining.

"Fantastic. What's up?"

Grandma sighed. "Well, you know the Mrs. Atlas contest has a new division."

I tied the drawstring of my sweats.

"Fifty and over," grandma continued, putting her hands on her hips.

I looked at her and smiled.

"No way!"

She nodded enthusiastically.

I laughed.

"When do you start training?" I said with a grin.

Grandma clapped her hands together. "Tonight! . . . But, only if you agree to something."

I nodded.

"I need a trainer!" She looked at me with those sparkling green eyes and a big smile.

"Of course," I answered. "Absolutely! Fantastic! We'll have you walking away with that cup in no time!"

Grandma's smile brightened and she rushed over to me and wrapped her arms around my neck. I carefully put my hands on her hips. She pecked my cheek.

"Thank you so much, Frank," she gushed. "You make me so happy!"

I gave her a peck on the soft skin of her cheek.

"Let's go eat," I said, gently pushing her away from me. "Then, we'll train."

Grandma giggled and I followed her into the dining room.

If you want to get huge, achieve what bodybuilders call a state of "hypertrophy," you lift super heavy with very low repetitions. You find your maximum weight and you try to lift it three or four times. And, you only train a major body part - - chest, shoulders, legs - - once a week. But, if you want to get hard and defined without overly increasing muscle size, you've got to lift lower weights with more reps and train more frequently. Since I'd worked out the night before, this was my night off.

Gran on the other hand wanted to achieve that tight, dry look where muscles pop out of the skin. At that point in time, very few judges liked massively muscled women - - they preferred ladies with tight bodies. This meant that grandma would have to work out just about every night, emphasizing many repetitions of the same exercise. It also meant that we'd have to keep meticulous track of just how many reps and sets of each exercise she was doing. And we'd have to keep meticulous track of her progress - - weighing her, measuring muscle size, body fat, etc. She'd also have to do a lot of cardio, the kind of exercise like running or rowing or aerobics that burns lots of calories.

I explained all of this to grandma as we sat next to each other on the bench in the garage. She agreed. So, for about a half hour we planned out her schedule to the last rep and the last minute. She was excited like a schoolgirl at the thought of getting back into competition. And, although she was in excellent shape for a 57 year-old woman, we had some work to do.

Grandma was wearing a pair of track pants and a training top which kept her breasts tight against her body but bared her waist. I asked her to drop her pants so that we could measure her. Blushing, she pulled her pants down and stepped out of them.

She looked good standing there in her boy shorts and training top and athletic shoes. I pulled the tape out of my pocket and got down to business. I measured her calves, thighs, and ankles. As I did, I ran my hands over her smooth white skin, feeling the density and size of her muscles. Her thighs and calves were beautiful - - hard, lean muscle covered by a thin, barely detectable layer of subdermal fat.

I moved to her ass and hips. She still had a tiny waist and nicely flared hips. Delicately, I ran my hands over her taut nylon-covered ass. It was firm, but a little tender. I stood and saw grandma blushing.

"It's okay," I said, laughing. "I'm a pro at this . . and I'm just your trainer."

She giggled and raised her arms. I measured her chest and her upper torso and then pulled her arms down in front of her. Her shoulders were well-rounded with a definite muscle cap on top of each. Her triceps looked beautiful - - thick and firm and visible. We'd have to work on her biceps which were flat.

I entered all the numbers into the notebook with her training schedule.

"Okay," I said. "Pants back up. We're going to start with some cardio."

Grandma pulled her track pants back up and I handed her a jump rope.

"Fifteen minutes, rest three minutes, fifteen more."

Grandma nodded and began skipping rope. I noted her good form and penned some details into the notebook.

It was the end of June in Southern California. And, it was hot and dry. I'd made sure to bring a gallon jug of water into the garage. But without a lot of windows, and even with the door open, it was warm inside. Sweat began pouring off of grandma's forehead, back, and shoulders. When she paused to rest in between her sets, I passed her the jug and she gulped down some water.

"You okay?" I asked.

She nodded and picked the rope back up. I looked at my watch and told her to start.

By the time grandma was halfway through her routine, I could see that she was overheating, despite all the water she was drinking. After three sets of tricep extensions, she sat up on the bench, took a slug of water, and wiped herself down.

"It's too hot in here, honey," she said to me.

"I know."

"I'm going to have to take these pants off," she replied with a shrug.

I nodded as grandma stood and peeled the pants down off her legs. She stood there in her boy shorts, shoes, and training top.

"Ready?" I asked.

She nodded, and we moved on to her lower body workout - - squats, extensions, calf raises. Watching the sweat run off her in rivers, I started heating up. I could taste my salty sweat as it ran down from my forehead and dripped off my nose.

Grand finished up her extensions and looked at me. She was breathing hard and covered in a sheen of sweat.

"Baby," she huffed. "Look at you. You're dripping wet."

I nodded and she gestured toward my sweatpants.

What the hell, I thought and I pushed them down over my legs and stepped out of them. In my tight trunks and black training shoes, I felt like some kind of old-time boxer. With a shrug, I pulled my t-shirt over my head and threw it into the corner. Grandma smiled.

"You know," she said. "Your gramps and I used to work out like this on hot summer nights."

I smiled.

"I bet you two did some working out in here."

Grandma blushed and looked down.

"Okay . . back to work!" I said jokingly.

I stuck a few weight plates under the front of grandma's shoes and she started her calf raises. Watching her muscles flex beneath her skin, I was fascinated. Her calves were perfect - - well-defined, strong, firm - - and perfectly contrasted by her delicate ankles. I felt my upper chest start to tingle.

Yeah, I said to myself, this is freaky. Getting turned on by your grandmother's calves. But, I reminded myself: I'm just helping her train. And, she's my grandmother.

My eyes traveled up her legs to beautifully rounded thighs, her quadriceps bulging in front - - balanced and symmetrical. Her flesh was covered in an iridescent shine of sweat. Her legs working up and down. Her panting deepened as she increased her reps.

Very freaky, I thought, as I felt my cock stirring in my boxers. Too freaky.

"Okay," I said. "One more set. I'll go get some clean towels."

Grandma grunted yes and I returned to the house to grab some towels from the bathroom. Though I wasn't fully erect, my cock had already started to crawl down the side of my boxers, which were drenched in sweat. In the bathroom, I gazed down at my dick and flashed back onto grandma's beautiful, shapely legs. My cock hardened. I reached down to pat it. I closed my eyes, reliving that view of her calves flexing and her thighs moving. My hand involuntarily stroked my dick through my boxers. As my cock grew harder, I stroked faster, imagining now the touch and taste of her sweaty, smoth skin. Just as I imagined running my tongue up grandma's firm, inner thigh, my cock exploded.

"Oh, shit," I blurted out loud, as my dick jerked back and forth and waves of pleasure radiated from my crotch into my torso. "It's just the fucking testosterone. Coulda been any woman's legs."

Embarrassed, I pulled my shorts down, threw them in the hamper, toweled the cum off my crotch and thigh, and grabbed a fresh towel from the rack. I made my way to bedroom with my big cock, still swollen, swinging back and forth between my legs. I dug up a pair of gym shorts and walked back to the garage.

Grandma had finished the workout, but remained in her panties. She sat on the bench, her skin glowing from the exercise and her muscles full and rippling. I passed her the towel.

"Good workout," I said, avoiding her eyes. "Shower up and I'll take care of the garage."

Grandma stood and stretched her arms over her head, raising her breasts upward.

"I feel fantastic, Frank," she purred. "Thanks so much!"

She pecked me on the cheek.

I smiled back. "Go on, get outa here before I make you do another 20 reps!"

Grandma giggled and left.

As I tidied up the garage, I thought about what had happened in the bathroom. Definitely the testosterone. When you're shooting that much test, you're always horny. Had nothing to do with grandma. Coulda been a freaking cow and I woulda horned up with a boner. I laughed to myself.

But, so it went for the next several nights. Grandma stripped down to her panties - - never anything sexy and usually boy shorts - - and me opting to wear skintight lycra shorts. I resisted staring at her. And, I resisted jerking off. Neither one was easy.

Don't let anyone tell you that vanity isn't part of the bodybuilding culture. We lift and get big because we enjoy it. But, we lift and get big because it makes us look better and we like to look at ourselves. A couple of days later, after working on the Iron Shop, I grabbed one of the old floor mirrors out of the dumpster and trucked it back home. Results are a great motivator, and I positioned the mirror against the wall in the garage to inspire grandma.

That was her "off" night, giving her body time to rest and recuperate. But it was one of my "on" nights. And, again, it was hot and dry. After dinner, I pulled on my shorts and went to the garage to workout. It was a good, hard workout. And an hour later, tired, sweaty, but pumped up, I mopped myself with a towel. My eyes caught my reflection in the mirror and I started posing. Arms raised, my huge biceps flaring above my arms like small mountains, my shoulder muscles compressed into a ball. Veins popping out across my biceps. Then, turning sideways and flexing my thighs.

I wanted to get the full view. So, with a glance over at the garage door, I pulled my shorts down. I stood nude in front of the mirror, relaxed. I raised my arms and flexed. Lowered my arms and humped my shoulders together. My hands on my hips, flexing my upper body and pushing one big, meaty thigh forward. Fantastic, I thought to myself as I admired my nude body in the mirror.

I recalled those pervs at the gyms in L.A. who offered to pay me, and my buddies, good money to pose for them. Laughing, I imagined what kind of pose they might like. I grabbed my cock in one hand and leaned backward, pushing my hips forward. Then, still joking around, I stroked my dick until it was hard and stood facing the mirror with my hands laced behind my head, wagging my dick back and forth.

That's when I noticed something odd in the mirror. The garage door was open about six inches. But, I had made sure to close it. I leaned forward and grabbed my towel. Wrapping it around my waist, I turned to the door and opened it. Nobody there. But, glancing to the house, I saw that the screen door to the kitchen was still quivering, as if someone had just closed it.

Strange, I thought to myself. I pulled my shorts on and headed into the house. All was quiet and dark. Grandma's door was closed. I shrugged, got a shower, and jumped into bed.

The next day, grandma stopped by the Iron Shop to check on the progress.

"Wow," she said with a smile as she entered. "This place looks different!"

I gestured toward the interior. "Come on in. Check it out."

Grandma walked by me in her sundress and flats. I caught a whiff of perfume.

I showed her the new machine room, still waiting for machines. The weight room, already full of benches and weightstacks and lined with mirrors. I flicked the new recessed lighting on and off. And, finally, I led her to the small shower room in back. I had replaced the old lockers with new cubbies and put in three new shower installations.

Grandma clapped her hands and leaned up on her toes to kiss me on the cheek. Her tiny hands pressed on either side of my face.

"Oh, Frank," she beamed. "This is just incredible. It's beautiful. Just like your plans, only better!"

I laughed.

"Only one more big project. I've got to take out those old windows in front and put in something new."

She nodded.

"When will we open?"

"I thought we'd open this weekend. But the machines are still on their way. I need to put in a new reception desk. And I've got to go pick up the new front windows."

As I spoke, grandma wandered around the front room, twirling happily.

"Are you ready for lunch?" she asked.

I nodded. "If you're paying, I'm ready!"

She clapped her hands together again. "Let's go!"

I pulled off my overalls and grabbed my clean t-shirt off the floor.

"Where to?"

"Hmmmmm . . . " grandma said playfully, her eyes sparkling. "I know a great little place over in Carson."

We jumped into grandma's old Taurus and peeled out of town. Not much later, we were sitting in the outdoor patio of a little cafe. The waitress, a high school girl, came over and took our order. Grandma grabbed my hand and gushed about all the work I'd done and how happy grandpa would be and how happy she was. I'd never seen her smile so brightly. And sitting there with my big paw in her two little hands and staring into her green eyes, I thought for a minute that we might be dating. It felt so intimate and equal. Like I was part of a couple.

The waitress returned with our drinks.

"Would your date like some lemon in her iced tea?" The waitress asked with a smirk.

I looked at grandma, whose face broke out into a wide grin. I grinned back.

"I think my date would," I answered. "She's a very demanding lady."

Grandma giggled and the waitress guffawed.

"I would be too," the waitress said, with a big smile. "If I had a guy like you."

I laughed and blushed.

"Oh, honey," grandma said to the waitress. "If you had a guy like him with you . . .you wouldn't need to be here. He's a worker!"

The waitress smiled and returned to the kitchen. Grandma and I laughed together.

With a peck on my cheek, grandma dropped me off at the Iron Shop.

"See you for dinner," she said as she put the car in gear. "And, don't forget, workout tonight!"

I waved to her as she drove off.

I spent the few remaining hours removing the two old front windows of the gym. If anything, it was the hottest day so far in the summer, and the sweat poured off me. Once I'd yanked the old frames out, I nailed plywood over the openings. The guy at the supply store had told me the new windows would arrive tomorrow. I wanted to be ready.

At home, grandma and I ate a quick dinner of salmon and brown rice. We changed into our workout gear and met in the garage. Grandma plugged in a fan she'd brought from the house. We checked out her progress log, made some adjustments, and she started jumping rope. I watched casually and started working out the timing of her schedule. With eight weeks before the Mrs. Atlas preliminary, we had to make sure she was in peak shape at just the right time.

Suddenly, I heard grandma swear. She'd stopped jumping rope.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Oh Frank, I'm just too damned hot."

"Tell me about it," I said. "It's almost too hot to workout."

She paused and tilted her head in thought.

"You know," she said, glancing up at me shyly. "When it was this hot, grandpa and I would do a little something else too cool down."

I shrugged.

"But," she continued. "If it grosses you out. We can just keep going until I explode in heat stroke."

I laughed. "Go on."

Grandma took a deep breath and looked down at the floor before raising her eyes to me.

"We'd work out in the nude."

I froze. Right after my jaw dropped.

"In the nude," I repeated dumbly.

Grandma nodded yes.

Stammering, I said, "I d-d-don't knnnnn . . . "

Grandma fluttered her hand. up and down.

"It's okay, Frank," she said in a bolder, more assertive voice. "You don't have to. But if I'm going to keep on training tonight, I have to do something."

I just stared at her. I was her trainer. And, I was her grandson. In the back of my mind, I remembered my hard cock in my hand as I jerked myself off in the bathroom the week before.

Slowly, I began nodding yes. "Okay, I said. Yeah. No problem."

Grandma smiled.

"After all, although you're a future Mrs. Atlas. I am a professional trainer." I laughed weakly.

Grandma giggled and began tugging her training top over her head. Her two perfect breasts popped free. I licked my lips. The were the size of peaches - - riding proud and perky on her chest and topped by beautiful rosy nipples. They bounced down to rest on her chest as she pulled her shirt up over her short silver hair.

"Mmmmmm," she said, smiling shyly. "That's better."

Then, she leaned down and pushed her boy shorts slowly down over her hips. I think I stopped breathing. Her waist tucked in gently from her torso and then flared out at her hips in a perfect imitation of violin's curves. I could see her thin, delicate pussy lips peeking out below her neat, trimmed short silvery bush. She wasn't a tall woman and her legs were short but compact and powerfully muscled. She kept her white athletic shoes on.

She stood up and put her hands on her hips. She smiled at me, and tilted her right hip up gently.

"Never seen a grown woman nude?" She teased me.

I swallowed, my eyes still glued to her trim, curvy body. I could feel my loins starting to tingle.

A weak smile crawled over my face.

"Of course . . . Of course," I mumbled.

She laughed.

"Let's get going," she said as she reached for the jump rope.

I sat back on an old desk and grabbed her workout notebook to cover my crotch. Grandma began skipping rope, her breasts bouncing gently up and down. Her eyes met mine and she smiled.

"If I'm embarrassing you," she huffed. "I can turn around."

I said nothing. She slowly turned as she jumped rope until I faced her backside. My eyes widened. Her ass was perfect - - two tight moons that sloped like cute hillocks flanging out from her waist. I gulped. This was going to be tougher than I thought.

Grandma finished jumping rope and toweled her self off, taking a little extra time to run her towel between her breasts. I hopped up and prepared the weights for her first set of squats.