Archive-name: Amazon/mlady1.txt

Archive-author: Forrest Curran

Archive-title: M'Lady Muscle





             Chapter One: Incident on Everson Beach



Sometimes the summer comes early.

I was used to the high temperatures that can arrive like a shroud

in late June and stay, like a relative who doesn't take a hint,

until late September.  When that happens, it isn't until October

finally rolls around that you feel that it has departed, and I

usually find myself happy to see it go.

But if there was one thing that made the summer heat bearable,

that made the sticky clothes and hot summer traffic worthwhile,

it was the beach.

I had been told that when I moved out here, women would come

quickly and easily.  I think that that was part of the mythology

created about the place, and in the few months I had spent here

since making my mid-winter move, I had found it to be just that. 

I spent the better part of the morning trying to convince my

schoolteacher girlfriend to let her caution go to the wind, and

dare to bare her winter flesh just a bit, even in a conservative

one-piece swimsuit.  It would be a rare sight for me, too, as I

had discovered early in my relationship with her that she

possessed all the natural exhibitionist tendencies of the Queen

of England.  I had given up, and when she reminded me that she

had to correct some papers,  I decided to come alone.

Even the newspapers were talking about how hot it was, and the

people of the city responded to it, rustling up wives and

kids and in-laws, and made a trek to the sea in mid-May.

To put it another way, on this Sunday afternoon still in spring,

the beach was crowded.

I was standing at the soda machine trying to coax it to either

return my fifty cents or send the nutrasweet down to my hand

grown impatient as it waited...

The machine was leaning up against the wall of the pavilion that

served as a combination bathroom and changing room for the beach

patrons.  I wasn't paying any particular attention to the

conversation of the people that went by, but something in the

voices of the two women stepping out of the shade of the

building, having just slipped into their beach garb, caught my

ear.

"I swear Marlena, she was this big!", exclaimed a small, mousy-

looking brunette in a high voice.  She was dressed in a bright

yellow sunsuit, the same style as the one her friend wore, and

was holding her hands high above her head.

"...Muscles everywhere, too...",the high little voice continued.

"Yucch", exclaimed her friend, a teased-hair peroxide job,

shaking her head in disgust at the thought.

Suddenly, the drink wasn't so important.

I followed the two women.  I wasn't interested in meeting either

one of them, though.  I was interested, however, in what they

were talking about.  I heard a metallic thud come from behind me,

and turned to see a child, gleefully waving a can of coke he had

gotten from the machine by simply hitting it with his hand.  But

I was too busy for that...

"She was practically naked, too, it was so gross", she said, as

she struggled with a beach bag almost as big as she was.  The two

women made their way along the boardwalk, walking slowly, I

thought, to display themselves in all their over-the-hill glory. 

They appeared to be the slightly overage bar girl type, who spend

the day dressing as though they were twenty-one while trying

desperately to catch the eye of Mister Right, and then spent the

evening in the smoke, noise and bluster of the local nightclubs,

trying to do the same.  The long hours had taken their toll.

Their faces seemed drawn, and the loose flesh on their arms and

jiggling thighs did not add anything redeeming to the picture.

"She went down that way," said the little one again, pointing to

a stretch of dune near the eastern end of the beach, where the

public section officially ends and the two-mile long stretch of

private beach began.  Often, the private beaches were used at

night by teenagers in the off-season, for making out and drinking

under cover of dark.

"I'd never want to look like that!", exclaimed the little one

again, as the two anxious maidens peeked over their shoulders to

perhaps get a glimpse of her, appropriately disgusted and

righteously outraged at the thought of a woman in far better

condition than them, and no doubt, a good bit younger...

They shook their heavily-teased, and, in at least one of their

cases, very peroxided heads.

Just then the large beach bag/pocketbook that the little woman

was carrying slipped out of her hand, and she let out a cry as

the sound of breaking glass was heard.

"Shoot", she cried, "This bag is just too heavy, Marlena.  I

can't handle it", she whined.

I was walking so close to the two women that their sudden stop

caused me to bump into the puff-hair blonde, my elbow sinking

into the soft and flabby flesh of her upper arm.  I excused

myself as I walked by.

"Oh, that's quite alright!" she answered soothingly, pushing her

oversized glasses up her head, her mating hormones switching on

like that!

I could feel her eyes on me as I walked past them, leaving the

ladies to clean up the brown liquid that had began to seep out of

the bag, iced tea that would go untasted.

I went down to the beach feeling the excitement stirring within

me and beginning to sweat; the sand was hot beneath my feet,

almost burning, as I scanned the beach for a few minutes,

searching in vain for the object of the ancient maidens'derision.

Suddenly a commotion arose from the beach crowd, a noise of

murmuring that started out back nearer the boardwalk and seemed

to spread, as its source, walking slowly with the confidence that

comes with pride, continued a trek to the surf. The course of

travel was not particularly swift, but it was sure, and the

object of the attention began to come into view.

Heads shook. Some, as with the two beachflies on the boardwalk

with the broken glass in their bag, were negative--unappreciative

of the sights that they were seeing. Others were merely

inquisitive, staring and then turning to their companions for a

response to what they were seeing.

Still others were frankly in awe at what they saw and looked

blankly at the specter of early summer as it made it's way along

the hot sand.

But there must have been a few, though I could now know for sure,

who beheld the sight with a strange lust they did not understand,

who could not contain the feelings that were stirred by a sight

such as this.

I was one of them.

For walking down the beach on a hot Sunday afternoon was a very

singular female vision in a tiny swimsuit. Her name, as I was to

find out, was Margo. And staring at Margo, I was to learn, had

it's own risks.  And rewards.

She was a revelation of muscle in a string bikini; tall and

broad, with a physique so thickly chiseled it seemed almost

inconceivable.  Her impossible physique was developed to a degree

I had never seen before; not even on the late-night bodybuilding

shows on cable TV.  Her swimsuit was almost illegal, and covered

only what was required by law. That is, a tiny triangle of

spandex that was easy to mistake for that which nature had given

her.  Her  breasts, bold and big and mostly bare, adorned by

only the same equally small triangles, merely decorated by the

skimpy cloth, not covered by it .  The rest of the flesh of her

awesome body was richly tan, a dark mahogany-brown; heavily,

incredibly, muscled everywhere; wasp-waisted, and open for all to

see. It was as though some primeval wizard had tried to build a

woman from stone or oak or some impenetrable hard wood; and

unsure of her purpose in that harsh world had decided to make her

adaptable to any purpose that may present itself; giving her the

awe-inspiring frame and musculature of the most elemental Amazon

High Priestess,  as well as the huge perfect breasts and full

curvaceous hips of a Siren; a Primitive Earth Goddess-Life Bearer

going for a stroll on the dunes, as she surveyed her domain.....

Her full round buttocks swayed with every step, as darkly tan as

the rest of her. Cleavage protruded from her torso, big

intimidating breasts that seemed to threatened an imminent

explosion from that tiny top any second now...

Margo lifted weights.  And it showed.  Boy, did it ever..... 

She carried a small athletic bag in one hand, and a pair of spiky

high heels that looked, from where I stood at a distance, to be

too small for a woman her size.

By now you can tell that I was secretly fascinated by women like

this.  She wasn't limited by the small, dainty frames that so

many women have, their was no hesitancy in her bearing, in her

approach.  This would be a woman who would look you in the eye

and tell you what she wants; or perhaps, one who would just take

it outright...  She was strong, and beautiful,  and I could not

help but wonder what it would be like to be with a woman like

that---a violation of the natural order, perhaps----after all,

isn't it only natural that the woman be smaller, daintier,

someone to watch over, as the song went?  What about a woman like

this:  What about a woman big and strong enough to do as she

pleased?  Would the natural order prevail just the same? 

Wouldn't she still have all the finer aspects of her sex?  Or

would she be an Amazonian She-Devil, devouring smaller men that

crossed her path?  Demanding satisfaction from her frantic

lovers....

I hoped that she was a little of both...

She was big, alright.  Unthinkably big.  Preposterously tall. 

Hopelessly gorgeous.  Incredibly stacked.  

A killer package of muscle, size, and sex.  And by the confident,

slow and slinky way she walked and moved, she knew what she had.  

    

Her shoulders dwarfed those of almost every man on the beach, and

no doubt caused quite a bit of inadequacy in some of the men in

the crowd. Her arms were as large as the legs of the average

woman on the beach, thick limbs wrapped in bicep, tricep, ......

All in all, a woman of imposing physique.

Margo was built.

And I had to get to her, no matter what.

The head was a mane of lustrous blonde hair, loosely worn, it's

full body flowing down and down; past the wide shoulders so

heavily chiseled with muscle. There was a  serene confidence that

emanated  strongly, an unstated yet apparent power that 

exhibited itself in the seemingly casual way she shook her head

freely, the tresses flying wildly.  It seemed to say, for all who

were interested, "This is me.  It's different.  You can't stop

looking, can you?  Love it or leave it!"

Here and there she coolly waved to someone she knew, barely

showing recognition on her face behind dark sunglasses as she

went, a small nod here, flick of a hand there, as they called out

to her.  She did not stop walking, or even slow down.  She moved

with purpose, wherever she was going....

The fact that she was a good head taller than most of the men on

the beach , towering at over six foot seven, was enough to stop

traffic.  For a moment, it seemed, even the bounding surf seemed

to pause, as though a natural phenomena had been detected that

even made nature pause.

She stopped now, just for a moment, and set her blanket down on

the sand, having moved diagonally across the beach to where the

crowd thins out decidedly, perhaps sparing her from excessive

stares...?

Like mine?.

Then she kept walking, down to the surf now, the waves meekly

washing up against her powerfully-muscled yet shapely legs as she

waded in shallow water.  For just a moment it seemed that she

would keep walking, down into the sea, to return to whatever

Asgaard had created her.  With feminine grace, she knelt in the

surf, and splashed herself with the ocean that was still full of

winter chill.  But she did not register any shiverings, as she

continued to scoop the frigid fluid onto her skin with a

strangely gentle, even girlish movement.  That was a remarkable

thing about her---despite her awesome muscularity, her every move

was at the same time reminiscent of the light touch of the All-

American Beauty Queen...A profound femininity had met ferocious

muscularity, and rather than one conquer the other, they had

conjoined to form a creature both quintessentially female and

incredibly powerful.  They made for a mesmerizingly attractive

package....She was like a futuristic momument of some kind,

brought back to the late-twentieth century somehow, as both a

warning of things to come for some, and a hope, for some others,

of what was to be...

She turned to the sands, walking slowly back to her blanket,

smiling a bit, and enjoying the commotion she knew her mere

presence was causing.

It was certainly causing a commotion with me.  All her hard tan

flesh was like a dangerous and heady potion for my eyes.

Everybody else's eyes were on her, too, it seemed...

A guy walked up to her as she walked, magnificent, dripping wet,

and she stopped, looking down at him with amusement.  He was

tryiing his best to impress her, but she would have none of it,

and he soon backed off, leaving her to her privacy, such as it

was. 

My pulse was pounding, and it felt as though there was a half-ton

weight on my chest, as I watched her cut a path across the sands,

leaving stunned and awed people in her wake.

Now and then someone would be looking in another direction as she

passed by; their heads would look up to see who or what was

throwing such an enormous shadow over their spot on the sands as

she passed; the look of shock on their faces was uniform.

She walked with long, undulating strides over to that quiet

corner of the otherwise busy beach, where she had sat down her

blanket, a startlingly beautiful natural phenomena in blonde

hair, muscle, and curves.

She ran her hands through her thick mane of hair now, her power

obvious in even this small and sensual act, and presently pulled

a rubber band from her bag, pulling the gorgeous hair into a neat

bun; the hard muscles of her abdomen flexed as she raised her

arms over her head. She lay down on the white blanket and spread

that massive, hardbody of female muscle on a blanket, offering

her frame to the sun, like a high priestess, her sinewy arms

spread out from her torso on the blanket. I was transfixed, and I

knew that I would have to spend the next hour trying to think of

a way to get near her. But what to say? The bold approach? Walk

right up to her? Not likely, especially when my lady-love-to-be

outweighed me by some one hundred and fifty pounds.  A rejection

here could not only be embarrassing, but dangerous for my health

as well!

Maybe I could catch her eye?  Not bloody likely, as they say in

England. I was fairly good-looking, sure, but not in a way that

would catch her eye, if you know what I mean....

She now began rubbing lotion all over the mountainous body, the

white lotion fading into mahogany skin and oaken muscle. My

excitement tripled as I watched the slow, firm circles she made

on her flesh, the sun-darkened skin absorbing the cocoa oils like

balm.

She took on a glow. A power that both promised and threatened

exuded from her every pore. Huge breasts, magnificent, perfect,

caught the sun, every contour of that amazing physique , both

from the assets of her sex and the sessions spent with hard

steel,  caught in the sun's rays, as though being showcased for

the stunned, worshipful eyes of whoever was lucky enough to be

there.

I watched for some time. Quietly, with as little fanfare as

possible, I took the few beach things I had with me, and moved

over to that same relatively empty section of the beach, but

close to where I could spy my mega-ladylove.  Presently, she

turned over, and the small g-string bikini bottom showed itself,

a small string disappearing between two perfect buttocks,

muscular, round and shining.  What would it be like to be with

her?

Would she be a kind creature of affection, or a woman imbued with

the harshness her strength implied?

Would there be the gentleness that comes with great strength, the

assuredness that her vast physique would imply by it's mere

presence, or would that elemental strength display itself

outwardly, without subtlety?

She would be dramatic--entering a darkened room; naked.  The

light from the hallway would silhouette her body, statuesque and

powerful, her features indistinguishable in the shadow, only her

huge and perfect shape apparent to me.  Filling the doorway, she

would stand there, unmoving, her size eclipsing most of the light

now, as she leaned both muscular arms against the doorframe. She

tosses the blonde mane now; casually, with a sensual grace as it

falls obediently behind her in a long, flowing wave of golden

hair, streaming...



I had to get cooled down. I reluctantly got up, and walked to the

surf that pounded on the shore, my head turned the whole time,

staring at this prophecy of power.

I found myself walk right into a beach bunny, a teenage girl in a

small blue swimsuit, proudly displaying her adolescent charms. 

She saw the state of  distraction I had been reduced to by the

accumulation of female muscle basking in ultraviolet.  " Hey,

Mister," she teased, "why don't you ask her out?"

And she jiggled down the beach, amused at her own wit.

I walked absently along the surf and tried to get myself

composed, leaving the public beach behind me.  I began swimming

in the strong sea, waves crashing onto shore.  I found that my

pulse, though heightened by the exercise, return to a relatively

normal state in comparison to what I had been experiencing on the

sands.  I ducked beneath the waves and enjoyed the day, and I

even started ogling the beach girls who lay on the private

beaches of their daddies' stilt-supported homes, gorgeous places

built years ago on sand that had been, at the time, deeper and

thicker around the stanchions, the receding sand levels revealed 

in the fading rings on the wood, year after year after year,

dropping lower and lower as I kept walking along the beach.  I

wondered how long it would be until nature took the houses

altogether, revealing the arrogance of their construction against

the most unstoppable force in the world.  They would collapse one

day, in a storm, perhaps, under a gale of wind and a slam of

prehistoric ocean; or possibly they would die gradually, finally

giving way on the calmest of days, as daughters bared their rumps

to the summer sun just yards away, and giggled as they gossiped. 



But the defeat and humiliation of the lovely and expensive old

homes was coming, and anyone who looked closely could see it,

too...The luxury and splendor and architectural ingenuity would

be dashed to the ground for all world to see, an unstoppable and

inevitable force reclaiming the fickle sand that the whole

structure was based upon.  Brute force always won out, even when

it fought an architect's computer schematic that claimed the

battle would be different this time..... 

My thoughts returned to the more immediate matters at hand, and

as I walked closer to this next house, the last one for more than

a mile, I saw several women in the distance, laying in the sun. I

wasn't too lost in philosophical thought that I hadn't noticed

them!  I lost sight of them now as I continued to walk, the dunes

having been re-arranged by the high tide and high winds recently

receded.  A high wall of sand hugged the shoreline, and I climbed

it at it's lowest peak now, and tried to casually stroll by the

women for no reason other than voyeurism. There was a high growth

of sand grass, and I could hear their high-pitched talking, the

words as yet undistinguishable, but the sing-song tones a clear

sign that the girls were no more than teens, who no doubt were

talking of college boys with dreamy awe while they bobbed their

heads to the pop music that I could hear on the unseen music box.

I was looking just for the sake of it, enjoying the prospect of

viewing bikini-clad female bodies; and was aware that their

youthful ages made any contact unlawful, not to mention immoral.

There were limits, after all, even for a still-collegiate looking

guy in his early thirties....

Suddenly, the grass cleared, the sand hills flattened, and I was

mere feet from the three young girls....I would just walk by

slowly, nod maybe, and smile.  Maybe they'd think I was still a

bit "dreamy" myself, and I'd walk  along the beach a little more

pleased with myself than I was before.  Male ego, you know.

I was unprepared for the commotion I was about to cause...

There was no way I could have known what I was about to stumble

across.  I could not be expected to anticipate that the three

young girls I had seen in the distance, anxious to get a

jumpstart on their tans and their confidence boosted by numbers

and the privacy they thought was offered them from wandering

intruders, had removed their bikinis entirely, and lay in their

birthday suits in the early summer sun.  We all stood frozen for

just a moment, not comprehending the invasion I had just

perpetrated, however innocently (or semi-innocently) it had been

intended.



The three girls were well-developed. One was clearly in her last

years of her teens; her full breasts, nipples as yet unused for

their original purpose, standing erect on their breasts, which in

turn had the gravity-defying grace of untouched youth.  The only

hint of adult sophistication was the touch of make-up she wore,

and the elaborate twirl of her hair as it swooped above her head.

Perspiration glowed on her pale skin as she lay on her back, legs

crossed.

Her eyes, thankfully, were closed.

The second was a bit younger, and already quite tan, firm and

athletic. She had a beautiful figure, shapely with no visible

trace of bodyfat, just hard lean flesh.  She lay on her stomach,

buttocks sweat-soaked and dripping, hair loose down her back. 

Apparently, she was trying to tan and thus blend the small areas

of white flesh on her glutes that stood out from amongst the

darker skin.

Still another girl, about the same age as the second, was laying

on her back, knees up, legs slightly apart.  I got a brief but

shocking glance at her pink vagina, surrounded by a heavy growth

of localized hair; she had apparently trimmed the outlying

growths herself, amateurishly, to accommodate her now-removed

bikini bottom.  Her virginal lips were engorged and swollen under

the basking rays of the sun, and her big nipples were hard around

wide areolae.  She had a slightly heavy build, with big breasts

and a broad back, her waist still somewhat trim, but with large

thighs and buttocks that covered quite an expanse of the blanket

upon which the three girls lay.  Her body did not yet possess the

folds of loose flesh that would soon be hers, with the passage of

time and the pull of Newton's Law, and without dieting and

exercise.  But she looked to be a truly erotic sight, a young

girl sexually unaware, naked and giggling and content in the

privacy she now shared with her very best girlfriends...

It was a sight that would occur to me in the strange nights to ,

come; the three young beauties naked and giggling and content in

the early summer sun; life and romance awaiting them....

I would think of it late at night as I lay dazed and winded from

the spiraling changes in my life, changes as yet unknown to me;

that were rushing to meet me like a runaway train....

Presently, her hand went briefly to her privates, and it seemed

to me that she was brushing away a grain of sand, or some stray

beachfly that had become attracted to her already-womanly scent

grown musky in the heat.  I did not clearly hear what she was

saying at the time, but later, as I sat alone under circumstances

different yet somehow strangely similar to these, I would realize

what she said.  She was making a remark about how good the sun

felt on her pussy, and how horny it was making her, a remark made

with the lascivious wholesomeness of a young virgin with a crush.



One of the other girls, probably the one on her stomach, made a

remark that seemed to contain the name of a boy whose very

mention caused the chubby girl to blush with embarrassment, even

in the summer sun.

They all laughed, even the victim of the joke now, her big

breasts giggling as they hung on either side of her chest.



It was a strange thought I had as they first saw me and began

letting out the screeching and mortified sounds that only

teenaged girls know how to make. These were girls as yet unused

by life, pristine bodies untouched by life, and exposed to little

more than a backseat grope.  My mind flashed ahead into the

future that awaited all three of them, the pale brunette becoming

hard and spoiled, scornful of anything that smacked of middle

class;  the blonde a playgirl, a model perhaps, but a playgirl

all the same, cavorting with tennis pros and race car drivers;

there would be parties and engagements that ended mysteriously,

with scandalous whispers that echoed to the gossip columns.

The third girl would grow fat and end up in the nightclubs

perhaps; or if she were lucky, she might find a hard-working man

who cared for her.  Still, she would always tell her girlfriends

of the terrible day that she was spotted, naked and chubby,

rubbing her sun-swollen vagina, in full view of a strange man.

They continued to howl and screech,  and I half-jumped.   l

stammered an apology as the three neophyte nudists, their reverie

shattered, continued to pierce the still air with panicked

humiliation.  The blonde jumped up, defiantly naked, revealing

herself in all her bare-skinned glory, her athlete's pride in her

body overcoming any desire to run, or cover up; she was too angry

for that.  I noticed that her breasts, full and seemingly shaped

by the same athletic sculptor who gave her life, had the same

small triangles of white surrounding the nipples.  She threw a

small damp towel at me with a practiced grace, and made her aim

true, hitting me in the face at fifteen feet.  For whatever

reason, though, my gaze turned to the far girl, legs now snapping

shut, hands going to her groin.  The move was ineffective---her

knees were still high in the air, and her lips still slightly

visible through her thick pubic bush.  I lost my vision now as

the towel hit it's target, and I heard the pale girl curse me, as

I turned and ran through the high grass blindly, throwing the

towel to the ground as I ran. I heard one of the girls--my hunch

being the pale one again, both from her prior poses and the

manner and timbre of the call--scream for her father, and I

stumbled off balance, the high green grass scratching my legs as

I ran, until I fell to the sands below the ridge, landing on the

hard sand, damp from ocean spray.

I got up and I kept running in the same direction from which I

had come..

I had covered a good deal of ground in five minutes, and felt I

was safe from any summerhouse posses angered by my voyeurism.  It

was strange; the entire incident, from the moment of my discovery

of the three naked young ladies, to my fall to the caked sand

beneath the ridge, could not have take more than seven or eight

seconds, and yet as I replayed the whole thing in my mind, it

seemed longer somehow.  Maybe,I admitted to myself, I was just

savoring it.

I shook my head, amused at my own licentiousness, and decided to

swim my way back to the beach, and give my hormones and their

outward signs that resulted from them, a chance to cool off...



Still, all things being equal, I admitted to myself as I started

the long swim back in shallow water, that pretty as they were,

the teenaged beachgirls were trinkets of amusement; diversions

for a moment, nothing more....The stuff of teenage male dreams,

to be courted at drive-ins and shopping malls.  They weren't

women.  They didn't understand the adult world.  Or the needs of

an adult man.





The sea can be a tricky thing. One day it can be calm. Another

day it can be as fierce enough to bring a ship off it's glassy

surface and down into it's depths. In my determination to get

away from the big-muscled distraction, as well as the young

girls, both seemingly unattainable, I had decided to push through

the surf and demonstrate to myself that my Amazon Goddess wasn't

the only one who had strength.

But the surf had other ideas.

Slowly, I found myself swimming harder and harder and getting

nowhere. I almost welcomed the challenge at first, and swam hard

against the current. As my arms turned leaden with fatigue, I

turned and saw that the shore was disappearing, and I began to

fight the feeling that I was out of control.

I was in desperate straits. 

Exhaustion soon began to pull me underwater. My lungs started to

take in water, gulped as I furiously fought for breath. And

through it all, the current continued to pull me further and

further away from the safety of the shore. I looked to land,

hoping that somebody saw my desperate position. But I was still

far off to the side of the beach , out of view and jurisdiction

of the lifeguards, who were no doubt busy attending to the

various sunscreen needs of the female classmates of the young

ladies I had just fled.

I got more and more frantic in my attempts to keep composed.

Conversely, I began spending more and more time underwater, and

less time on the surface.  The taste of saltwater filled my

mouth, and increasingly, my stomach. I now felt the undertow pull

my trunks from my body.  But still I kept fighting the pull...

But inevitably I knew I would lose, and felt myself sliding under

the fierce undertow of ocean and current.  My mind locked onto

the fact that I was being punished for my transgressions on the

dignity of the young girls, and I began coughing as more and more

saltwater crept into my lungs.  I felt that first surrender take

over, that first refusal of the body to the survival instincts of

the mind.

An old saying goes that when something like this happens, you see

your life flash in front of your eyes.  I did, and man, was it

dull...Why had I moved to this part of the country where I didn't

know a soul?

My one attempt at contact was one-sided, and going nowhere, I

knew.  I was reduced to wandering around beaches by myself,

ogling athletic she-gods and naked virgins.  None of whom I would

ever have.....

Suddenly, from under me, came a surging force.  I didn't know

what it was at first, whether I had been taken to the nether-

world, to be tortured for my hedonism, or if my bad luck had been

compounded by falling into the hands of some sea creature who

would leave my half-chewed remains on the shoreline tomorrow

morning, to be discovered by lovers strolling at sunrise.

But now I was being lifted up out of the water.  Coughing and

spluttering, I could not tell what had gotten hold of me.  All I

knew was that I was safe, and headed for shore under someone

else's power.  My eyes cleared of salt water, my lungs quieting,

slowing down in their involuntary heaving of swallowed sea.

I found myself deposited down onto the sand, and looked up into

the midday sun at my savior, backlit in glare.

"You should be more careful", came a female voice, sultry and

steady.

I peered up to see my Amazon, dripping with oceanspray, hovering

over me.  "These are yours", she said, producing my swimsuit.  In

my bedraggled state, I had failed to notice my unclothed state; I

was suddenly especially grateful that I was some distance from

the nearest beachgoer.

I thanked her in a weak voice, coughing up more spray and strug-

gling into my wet suit.  She stood there for a long moment, not

trying to conceal the fact that she was looking frankly at my

bared nether-regions.  Consciously flexing her the vast muscula-

ture of her upper body, I saw the huge breasts dance in their

tiny halter; she now raised her line of sight, to look right at

me.  "Well, if you're so grateful, why don't you show it?  You

can come over and join me when you recover.  I need someone to

put sunscreen on my back", she offered, pointing towards her

blanket, smiling with amusement at the spluttering and hacking

guy at her feet who was approximately half her size.  "Somehow I

think you know where I am".  I nodded, abashed and I watched her

walk away,  the strength in her legs making themselves apparent

with each long step, prominent hips swaying. 



Given the right motivation, you can recover from just about

anything.  So it was with me.  Minutes later, gathering my

courage as well as my belongings, I walked slowly over to the

musclegoddess, who lay brown, big and unmoving under the early

summer sun.

I must have stood there for two minutes, trying to think of some

way to get her attention, while wildly drinking in the close-up

first-hand view I was getting of her incredibly voluptuous

architecture, dark buttocks moist with perspiration, roasting

under the sun, seeming, in their repose, to be gathering strength

from the sun itself.

She lay there on her stomach, head resting on the arm grown huge

from training.  I saw a huge vein that wrapped around the thick

limb, running down the arm like a raging river with it's 

tributaries, thinning out as it reached her forearm...

She finally saw me.

"Oh", she said, her eyes still hidden from me by the sunglasses

she wore, "it's you", as though my appearance was a

disappointment to her, that her invitation had been just a casual

formality not meant to be taken seriously.

"Well, make yourself useful.  My legs need some lotion", she

said, pointing a long, white fingernail at the sunscreen on the

blanket at her feet.

I began applying the lotion to her wonderfully muscular calves,

the muscle hard even now, as she lay relaxed under the

ultraviolet.  The excitement of the moment began to get to me, I

suppose, because presently, my hands started to shake.

"Oh, god, " she uttered with disdain, noticing my apparent

nervousness, "another guy falling in love with big Margo...'Dear

Mom:  I met Ms. Right today on the beach.  She's a big hot

bodybuilder, and I'm in love!'", she said, sarcastically.

She put her head back down on her arm, and seemed to go to sleep.

I could not tell for sure, as the sunglasses denied me any

glimpse of her eyes.

Again, I waited for her to say something.  Picking up women,

truth be told, is a skill that I have mastered only as well as I

danced or played the piano; that is, I have driven dance teachers

to encourage my interest in a musical instrument, and music

teachers to encourage the beauty of the dance. 

I sat down on the blanket I spread next to hers, a small portable

stand between us.

"Go get me a coke", came her voice, from deep under her arm.



I was back with two cokes in minutes, the machine working this

time, as if it knew that the person who ordered them would not

take any nonsense such as it had given to me....

She must have heard me coming, because no sooner had I approached

the blanket than she shot up, taking the first coke, and downing

it quickly, in one long swallow.  She put the cup on the small

stand, and looked up at me with surprise.

"Give me this", she said, reaching for my coke.

She opened the plastic lid, and poured it out on the sand.  She

then handed the empty cup back to me.

"When I say get a coke, get A Coke.  One, not two, understand?"

She lay down on her back, and went back to sleep.



It must have been an hour later, when she finally took off the

sunglasses, and looked at me.  I had been spending the whole time

trying to steal glances at her, not sure if she was watching me

all the while behind her Ray-Bans.  So I had been discreet, but

not so discreet that my mind had not taken over in wild

fantasies, as I watched the vast superstructure of her body

writhe slowly in the sun.  The powerful muscles contracted and

flexed with every movement.  Boy, was I hooked....

"We're leaving", she announced, removing the sunglasses now, and

looking right at me with hard eyes, light blue and cold as

icebergs. "Pack everything up", she ordered, still unmoving on

the blanket.

I leapt to this call to duty, and in so doing made my first

mistake.  I knocked over the small stand, sending the coke

container full of half-melted icewater flying, and it arced

through the air, falling towards her as she lay on the blanket.

It landed on her midsection, and it seemed to me at the time that

it took a long time for it all to fall.  Accidents can be like

that, I suppose, a kind of slow-motion taking over, the second

time today that I had noticed the phenomenon, but I was to find

out later that no accident goes unpunished with this woman.. 

She did not yell as the frigid water hit her abdomen, the skin

contracting tightly around her muscular midsection, the already

chiseled flesh turned all the harder, as the pores of the skin

closed involuntarily.

"Idiot", she said, looking over at me, not moving for a moment,

just staring hard with contempt at me, before toweling it off.

Then, she stood.

Even though we were a little distance from the nearest

sunbathers, there was a pause on those sands, a wave of murmur as

she stood up, magnificently self-assured, and stretched.  I

watched with my mouth wide open with awe...

"Hey", she called down to me, "get a move on".

She grabbed a pair of spike-heeled backless shoes, and began to

walk towards the boardwalk.  I watched those two perfect

buttocks, bare and brown and perfect round, as she walked with a

cool, panther-like grace, muscular legs slowly propelling their

owner up to her destination, the hips rolling sensuously.

I gathered our belongings quickly, a bit frantic that this

astounding woman might not wait for me if I dawdled to long, and

soon I was chasing after that glorious woman.

As I made my way, I could already see that she had stopped,

standing on the top step of the stairway that led to the wooden

boardwalk.  She leaned against the handrail with one hand, and

even from a distance, I saw the powerful arm flex it's muscles

slightly, it's feline power a treat to behold, her mere presence,

as she stood there, causing people to drop an ice cream cone, or

to trip as I had done before.  I smiled as I observed a bicycler,

dumbstruck by this testimony to female perfection as she stood,

like a visitor from Olympus, surveying the sands; distracted, he

now crashed at slow speed into the low benches that dotted the

boardwalk, and he fought for balance for a moment, before

tumbling down in an awkward slipslide, both pride and body

slightly the worse for wear, as Margo chuckled at his plight.





She slipped the shoes onto feet that were surprisingly small for

a woman so huge, almost dainty, and stood there, her hands on her

hips, scanning the sands for her beachboy, who was running now,

arms full of bags and blankets, to her side.

I stood on the steps, chest heaving.  She seemed annoyed that I

would approach her in so disheveled a state, a look of contempt

on her face again, as though my disorderly arrival somehow

detracted from the scene that she wished to present to her

public.

She took down the long, thick blonde hair now, and stuck out her

hand to me.

"Brush", she ordered, like a surgeon awaiting an instrument.  I

stood dumbstruck for just a second, until I realized that the

brush had to be in her bag.  I rummaged anxiously for it, finally

finding it wedged into its cavernous interior.  When I hopped up

the step to proudly hand it to her, she seemed vaguely disgusted

with the whole idea....

She brushed the long, waist-length blonde hair, stroke after long

and steady stroke.  She pushed the brush down the entire length

of the hair, so as to remove any clumps or knots that might have

gathered.  A couple passed by, a small older woman and her

husband, bespectacled and equally slight.  He was transfixed by

this nearly naked, monumental woman, who ignored him and

everybody else, despite her bare skin, in order to attend to her

own needs.  His neck craned as they continued to walk, past her

now, and along the walk.

"Hmmph, they get more and more brazen", I heard the woman say

under her breath in a stage-whisper.  But the husband kept

looking, and it was only when they had almost disappeared down

the path that he turned back to face his wife..and, I knew,

trouble....



There was a sound along the boardwalk now, raises voices, and

even Margo dropped her cool, inward aloofness to turn and see

what the commotion was all about.

A couple, walking along in the midday sun, were arguing as they

went, his tone was harsh, hers pleading.  The woman began to cry,

emotion overcoming her, tears now running down her face.  Her

male companion was looking at her disgustedly, as he walked next

to her.

"I'll do whatever the hell I want to, you little bitch", he said

to her, his voice audible and harsh, his beer belly shaking as he

emphasized his words with outhrusted arms, raging at her.

She only continued to cry, bemoaning her fate, frightened and

helpless under whatever dictum he had deigned as law.  She was

small, her bikini fitting her loosely, like a little girl who had

borrowed her big sister's swimsuit.  Her slim shoulders shook,

and I noticed that she was carrying most of the beach gear,

despite the face that her companion was a good bit bigger than

she was....

Now he raised a hand, like a pitcher preparing to throw his

fastball, and slapped her hard against her face.  The force of

the blow was strong enough to propel her backwards several feet,

the slap audible for yards around them.

The small woman became hysterical.

The big woman became enraged.

Margo ran over to them, the man's face registering satisfaction

at his disciplinary action for only a moment.

Until he saw Margo.

She was mere feet away from him by then, and she was still

coming, her vast size and bulk racing with the speed and animal

grace of an angry lioness as she vaulted upon some prey, some

violator, who had threatened the safety of her cub.  

She grabbed him by the wide collar of the beach shirt he wore,

and lifted him off his feet with ease, holding him high, shaking

him, the buttons of the shirt straining, the shirttail falling

out of the shorts, exposing his expanded paunch, as it hung over

his pants.

"Listen, Mister", Margo said, as still another group of strollers

began to take notice of her powerful display, "if you

ever..EVER... raise your hand to her again, I'm personally gonna

hunt you down and break your neck, do you understand me!"  Her

voice shook with a deep-seated rage, her cool gone now, replaced

by a hot fire that seemed contained only by a considerable force

of will on her part.

He didn't answer, only emitting small choking sounds as her

suspended by her powerful arms, high over the ground.

Finally, he nodded with a desperation that suggested he was doing

so only out of a reluctance to choke to death.....

Margo let him go, and he fell at her feet, crumpled and defeated. 

His wife, her face swelling from the force of the blow, ran to

his side, offering tender words of comfort to the man who had

just come very close to knocking her unconscious.

Margo stood over them, the man averting his eyes from her.  The

woman ignored her, too, but once, just once, I caught her looking

at Margo.....

The powerful female had turned and walked back towards where I

was standing, where I had been watching the whole remarkable

display.  Margo's back was to the woman, but I saw the small

tear-stained woman look up and down at Margo now, as she walked

away, grateful to the woman who had stood up for her. For just a

moment, a gleam of that admiration came in her eyes, a look of

thanks for her salvation.  Perhaps now, she must have thought,

after he had been brought into line---and by a woman, no less,

however large---perhaps now things would be different.

Somehow, Margo sensed the eyes on her back, and turned to look

over her shoulder.

The two women smiled at one another; not real smiles; they didn't

move a single muscle of their faces.  I was sure of that; I

watched them both closely all the while.  Still, there was a look

that flashed in both pairs of eyes, for just a second...

It was clear that an unspoken sisterhood had made itself heard,

and seen, in subtle female shorthand, in that one powerful moment

on a boardwalk at Everson Beach.

The couple stood.  They began to walk back to the pavillion, to

attend to their various injuries and, perhaps, come to an

understanding....

He picked up the heavy bag and carried it.  Margo nodded

approvingly, a small grin coming now, that vanished as she turned

to me...

The small crowd of gawkers dispersed in various directions,

impressed with the giant woman and her heroic display.

A group of slimly-built young girls in their early 20's passed us

now, on the way for some late-afternoon sunshine.  They talked

amongst themselves, and had no doubt witnessed Margo's rescue of

the underbuilt and overwhelmed woman, and the talking stopped as

they passed us.  One of them, a small redhead in an emerald green

bikini, turned as she walked down the steps, and offered a thumbs

up to the muscular blonde goddess. Margo nodded back, with a

slight smile, with the cool assurance of a woman used to alot of

attention.  She was all cool attitude, hot muscle, hotter curves,

and astonishing breasts, and had just issued a warning to bullies

who would pick on weak little women.

"Come on, pal", she said finally, when her hair was combed out

and retied into a ponytail that met with her satisfaction, 

"We're going home now..."

And she flexed a huge bicep, the sun-browned skin straining to

contain the bulging muscle of her arm as it popped to a head. 

I didn't know which to ogle, her powerful arm displaying it's

delightful wares, or all the vast cleavage that abounded from the

torso around the tiny bikini top....

She smiled, and blew me a kiss....

The first of many that were to come, I hoped.



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