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Old 07-Jan-19, 20:16
lterp lterp is offline
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Default Ten Domestic Scenes

Ten Domestic Scenes

On this forum, I find I like the most realistic stories and true stories the most, so I wanted to share in case there are others like me. These are all true, even #10, which happened a few days ago.

Some background: My wife Jenny switched gyms last year, and started going to a pretty intense powerlifting gym that had classes that specialize in pregnant fitness. She started postpartum classes to rebuild her core once her doctor allowed it, then started lifting heavy again early in 2018, going four times per week there and working out once at home, and she’s significantly stronger than she was pre-pregnancy.

We have a bunch of Rogue equipment in our garage, and I workout there sometimes, but I’m unfocused and prefer running, tennis and bodyweight exercises. Also, for reference, she’s 5’6” and 145 pounds now, while I’m 5’11” and 175 pounds, having recently lost 30 pounds of mostly fat, but definitely a little muscle, too.

1. Jenny had just finished the lifting part of her garage workout, and she came into the kitchen for some water. “I’m going to get a kettlebell and do a ruck for my cooldown,” meaning she’d be out for 20 or 30 minutes. “I’ll clean up when I get back.” I wasn’t in the middle of anything and the kid was napping, so I went into the garage, where she had left her deadlift bar on the rack, loaded up with a lot of weight. I managed to pull it those couple inches up and set it on the ground to try it, and I couldn’t lift it back up. I looked at the white board and saw she had done 8 sets of 3 of progressive deadlifts, which means she had done reps with a weight I couldn’t lift. I pulled off a few plates, then put the weights back on so she wouldn’t know.

2. I had done a workout that included some squats. When I was on Instagram the next day, Jenny had posted a Story for everyone to see, showing my regular bar on the squat rack loaded with a total of 185 (a 45 and 25 on each side) with the words “Boy bar”, then her Bella bar on the squat rack with noticeably more plates– labeled “Girl bar”, then a laughing-till-crying emoji.

3. We had taken a day off to spend together while the baby was in daycare. She started the day off with a workout, and when I got back from my run, she was slamming the 16-pound medicine ball against the reinforced wall installed in the garage. She usually only ever did those when the baby was already awake and I was watching him. She asked if I wanted to play catch, and she just about knocked me over with the damn thing, while remaining stable when she caught my throws. She said, “I guess I’ll go back to the wall. I don’t want to hurt you.” She did a couple more slams, then I did a set, they were noticeably quieter than hers. “It’s so quiet. I bet you could do these without waking the baby.”

4. She was collecting old clothes to donate, including a pair of shorts that are now too tight around the thighs while bunching around the waist. She suggested I try them on, then marveled about how much looser they were around my thighs. She told me to wear them all afternoon while I did chores around the house and giggled at me every time she saw me.

5. We were out to dinner on a cold night, and after the check came and went, she put her elbow on the table. Right-handed, we were deadlocked for at least 30 seconds, and my hand started to shake a little when she suddenly got an advantage. We stopped because it was a small table. Still, I was shocked because I am very right-hand dominant – I play tennis righty with a one-handed backhand. Left handed, she immediately got the jump on me and would have won in like 5 seconds. At home, we did a rematch, and this time, she pinned me in about 40 seconds righty and crushed me lefty. We leg-wrestled, too, but she’s always been able to beat me there, due to her 30+ years riding horses. She commented that she didn’t think she’d be able to beat me yet, and that she’d surprised herself. What I keep thinking of is the little happy dance she did when walking back to the kitchen, wiggling her butt and laughing at me.

6. We were at a happy hour celebrating her gym’s new space, and she made a joke to one of the other girls about how emasculating it must be to be surrounded by so many women who are stronger than I am. Later that evening, we went out with friends, and she shared that she made that joke, then leaned in to tell her friend Kate (a fellow equestrian) that she beat me at arm-wrestling, and Kate high-fived her. This was the first time she ever told anyone about being stronger than me, and I was surprised at how much it turned me on, being humiliated in front of friends. (Someday I’ll need to write a story about Kate. She’s about 5’4”, 140 pounds of muscle, and her husband is 6’4” and crazy skinny – he may also be 140 pounds - and I’ve always wondered if she was into dominance.)

7. We were in her office, and she pointed out a stack of three rubber grip strengtheners she bought a few years ago. They were labeled Light, Medium and Heavy. “Remember, I used to use the Medium one and thought it was hard. Now look,” and she squished the “Heavy” one several times in a row, super-easily, like it was silly putty. “I guess that’s why I can beat you at arm-wrestling now. All the deadlifts and pull-ups are great for my forearms.” I was able to squish the heavy one, but it didn’t seem nearly as easy as it was for her. She flexed her forearm for me, and it is perhaps the firmest, tightest muscle on her body. Like, the hardest muscle I’ve ever felt.

8. Jenny’s not a fast long-distance runner, but she’s been going to a weekend class at her gym to focus on sprinting. Lots of sled pushes, sprinting while someone’s got a band attached to you, things like that. I’d watch her gym’s Instagram stories, and they did a lot of shoulder work to help them explode into the start. She came with me one Sunday when I went to the track to work on some tennis drills and run 400’s. After warming up, she wanted to race me on my first 400. I ran it in 1:15, my usual pace, and she lagged pretty far behind. But after we caught our breath, we did a 100 meter dash, and I barely beat her. In fact, I had to catch her from behind. So finally, we did a 40-yard dash, and she actually won that. After the 100-meter race, I kind of saw it coming, but I was still mortified. I’m the one who does more aerobic sports, yet she beat me in a sprint. “Hope you enjoyed the view,” she said.

9. I was scrubbing a La Creuset Dutch oven that was caked with grime. It had sat out overnight covered in baking soda paste. I had finished the inside of the pot, and was plugging away at the outside, making little progress. Jenny looked over my shoulder and asked, “Are you sweating?” She offered to take over. “I am stronger than you, after all.” She started scrubbing and the grime was coming off immediately. “You’ve just got to get your forearms into it.” She was making far faster work of it. “And I did an upper body workout today. You didn’t.” Then, “I guess I have to do everything around here.” She made quick work of it and noted it looked almost good as new. I can’t explain why, but for some reason, this was even more emasculating to me than losing at arm-wrestling.

10. On my birthday, she pinned my wrists to the bed and pushed herself onto me, riding me harder and faster. I was panting and loving every second and started to talk about how sexy she was, the way her traps and shoulders flexed hard with each pump and she suddenly barked, “No. You are not supposed to enjoy this. I am raping you.” I gasped at the intensity in her face. “You are small and weak, and I can do this whenever I want,” she said. I joined in and said, “No, Jenny. Please stop. Please, no, Jenny,” and I was surprised at how much it turned me on. “Shut up!” she shouted, banging my wrist against the headboard. Her panting increased, and I let out a quiet, “Please…” and she shouted, even louder, “SHUT UP, you pathetic, sad man.” Her panting increased, and she rode me hard, and it was clear she was about to climax, and she started to say, in rhythm, “I am raping you (breath) I am raping you (breath)” until she came. I immediately came as she slowed down, and as we finished, I realized I had been actually crying. She used the bathroom and we cleaned up in silence, then we flopped back into bed and I expressed gratitude, told her I was shocked at how much I loved it. “We can do that any time,” she said with a smile. “Oh my god, really?” “Let me finish. We can do that any time I want,” stressing I.
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