M’Lady Muscle · Part 2 (2/2)
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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.
M’Lady Muscle · Part 2 (2/2)
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