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.

--