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The Adventure of the Amorous Amazon 2
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
© WIG, LTD 1993
Ursula Parkheart, P.I.
The Flexing Detective:
in
The Adventure of the Amorous Amazon
Chapter Two:
Awed by A Hardbody
I sat at my desk listening for the sound of a customer's
footsteps. It had been hard enough getting up from my desk, away
from the arms I had dreamed of; it had been harder still to dress
and clean up my office. And it had been impossible to get Ursula
Parkeart's gorgeous two hundred and thirty pound muscular frame
up from my desk. I feared the arrival of our client; I had asked
her to give us just a moment while we dealt with another
customer---a wholly imaginary one, of course.
I corrected and groomed my own appearance in the mirror, and I
was glad I kept that extra shirt in the drawer. I tried once
more time to rouse her from my desktop. She lay magnificently
muscular and naked, half asleep on the oaken surface, acres of
bare she-hunk flesh beckoning. I saw the breasts rise and fall
with her breath; I wanted to touch them, and more...
Instead, I grabbed a glass of water and threw it over her, the
icy fluid crashing softly on her face.
She shot up, spluttering, finally awake; her hair a mass of
slickened tangles.
"Darn it, Sally, there's a customer coming!", I urged her. "Go
inside and get yourself cleaned up!"
A dulled flash of recognition came across the sleepily erotic
face and she found her feet, balanced precariously on her thick
naked thighs, wobbling in spike-heeled shoes. I escorted her to
her office door, holding the powerful forearm, trying to turn my
eyes from her gorgeously naked body and succeeding only with
heart-wrenching effort. I gave her a small push across the
doorway, and only then did I allow myself to watch two perfect
round buttocks shimmy and shake out of sight as the door closed
behind her. I re-arranged my desk, establishing some kind of
order, and I heard with relief the sound of the shower being
turned on in the small bathroom off her office.
A knock came at the door not one second after picking up the last
dusty envelope from the floor.
A blonde moppet walked in, chewing gum impatiently and looking
like she couldn't wait to leave. She turned her nose up at the
plain surroundings of the office and looked annoyed that she had
to spend any time in here at all.
"Good afternoon", I said, trying my best to be friendly and
professional while I listened to the shower head silenced, the
leaking washer letting a small rain fade and echo for some
seconds after.
Hurry, Sally.
The girl-woman and I listened to the larger rain outside as it
slapped against the windows with small puddles.
"You work here?", the blonde asked after settling herself down in
the single chair used for the occasional backlog of waiting
clients. She wore a pair of red shorts, cut very high on her
thin tan thighs, and a pair of matching red mules, their heels
skyscraper-high. I wondered how she walked in them on such thin
legs. And how had she managed to stay dry?
She rubbed the cloth of her white t-shirt on a diamond ring,
perhaps to call my attention to it. It was impressive; almost as
big as the one Ursula had worn before her relationship had hit
the skids, and her life had derailed; the big diamond she had
been so proud to wear banished and vanished into a deep desk
drawer.
Other than that, this newest customer was forgettable looking;
bland oval face full of too much makeup and a look that told of
having seen too much and done too much that she couldn't talk
about, in cover of night. She was small-breasted and spoiled and
pampered and tapping her foot impatiently.
"Yes", I answered, "I do".
"So what are you?", she asked in a high nasal voice through her
bubble gum. "You a private eye?" She looked at me as if I were a
shop clerk who wouldn't take her credit card.
"Ah, no, actually, I'm not. I'm Ms. Parkheart's assistant."
She broke into a delighted smile. "Oh, you mean like, you're her
secretary? Cute.." she responded, finding the idea funny.
I was about to tell her that I was an operativge, that I had been
in a couple of potentially dangerous spots in service of
Parkheart Investigations. The words were forming in my mouth
when Sally's door opened, and she walked out.
She showed no signs of having been dead drunk less than ten
minutes ago, and near passing out. She wore a dark business
suit, cut tight to her zoftig frame. The only remarkable thing
in Ursula's appearance, besides the staggering size of the woman,
was that she wore no blouse underneath the low-cut jacket;
cleavage spillled out abundantly, pounds of big soft succulent
breast bared. That was nothing new; and neither was the altered
hemline of the otherwise conservative skirt; it was shortened to
mid-thigh and showed off her wonderfully developed legs, their
hard calves prominent. I tried to force my eyes away from the
sights my hands and mouth had feasted hungrily upon minutes ago.
"Hello," she said, after just a moment's pause in the doorway
before walking over to the superficial blonde, extending a hand.
"I'm Ursula Parkheart. How can I help you?"
The blonde did not react at first to the extended hand. She was
in shock. Her mouth hung open, revealing the pink wad of gum she
had been working as it lay upon her tongue.
"Jesus Christ, you really are big,", she finally said, bluntly;
awed; her cynicism shaken for just a moment. She gave the hand a
brief girlish shake. Ursula pretended not to hear the comment.
She sat back on my desk, and I saw that she had somehow done an
expert make-up job in minutes. Her hair was slicked back, wet
and in a bun. She smelled terrific and her chiseled features
were alert and ready for the job. She crossed her legs and
folded her arms and started asking questions.
"Coffee?", she asked, pointing at the ever-present pot in the
corner; it's aroma was still strong three hours after having been
brewed.
"Yeah, sure", she answered, and Ursula gave me a casual nod. The
blonde seemed to enjoy seeing her give me an order and smiled as
I poured the two women the strong black brew.
"Excuse me for not inviting you into my private office", Ursula
said as she sipped at the styrofoam cup's contents; "but it's a
bit of a mess right now. We were just seeing another client who
gave us some trouble..."
The blonde looked Ursual up and down. "That looks like a pretty
bad idea with somebody like you..."
Ursula smiled a million-dollar smile that displayed perfectly
dazzling teeth. "Let's start from the beginning; what is your
full name, miss?"
My pencil was at the ready.
Angela Sternwood told her tale.
"The problem?" she asked after the legal questions had been
covered. "The problem is my sister is a friggin' moron, that's
what the problem is...", she said, as she fidgeted in her cheap
vinyl seat. This was a girl used to leather under her behind and
she looked as though she was getting ready to make a complaint
about the seat cushions when Ursula, all business now, leaned
into her.
"Please be specific, miss", she said, firmly, a trace of
annoyance and, I thought, hangover, in her dusky voice. Angela
Sternwood got the message.
After a moment of silence, she began.
"My father is Hugh Sternwood, okay? You know, the health food
guy?"
Ursula nodded, the slightest trace of strain on her face.
Hangovers made it painful to move your head, didn't they?
"Sure. I use his supplements..."
"Yeah?", the blonde said, as though surprised to find someone who
actually used the stuff that had made her an heiress to a
fortune. She was, if her figure was any indication, of the
binge-and-purge school of nutrition; bone thin, but with a tiny
ring of flab around her midsection that her body refused to
surrender to that dietetic torture.
"Anyway, my mom's dead, and dad, well, he's not too sharp
anymore. He mighta sold the stuff but the only health food he
ever took was eighty proof..."
My eyes met Ursula's for just a second; they flashed with guilt.
"So there's nobody to run things, right?", the girl said, rather
than asked.
Ursuala interrupted her. "What about a conservator, a lawyer?"
Angela shook her head. "He don't believe in them. Hates
lawyers, says they run the government, like what's his name, Ross
Perot, right? He tried to get my friggin' sister to run things.
That's when he got into trouble, boy...See, my sister, she likes
money, but she don't know what the hell to do with it, you know,
manage it? I took some courses at the community college, but
hell, the older sister gets the job, and we're all he's got. So
he sends my sister out into the field, like he called it, which
meant she had to take some really shitty jobs in the outlet
stores, learning the business. She makes friends with this
woman, Raye-Anne is her name; she managed an outlet store in
Pennsylvania before she moved out here with my sister to make it
in show business..."
"Yeah, that's it, Raye-Anne Hallison. Boy, what a bitch...", she
said, handing the picture to Ursula, who studied it.
It was an 8X10 glossy; the sort that actors and actresses have
done all the time.
"How so?", Ursula asked, glancing at my speeding pencil, a blur
as I got everything on legal-sized paper.
"She took over the friggin' business is what. See, my sister
likes to party, y'know? So she has a little too much to drink one
night, and she loses control of the Beamer. She hits this old
lady. She's hurt pretty bad, but the old broad, she pulls out.
So Raye-Anne tells her that she can get wiped out, you know, in
the law suit. So she tells my idiot sister to write the business
over to her; give her everything. Well, jeez!", she exclaimed,
"even I know that's the oldest one in the book. But does my
moron sister? No. She signs the whole goddamn business over to
Raye-Anne!", she said, her hands slapping down on her thighs in
anger. "My sister goes on welfare and everything just to make it
look good; tells the cops she was disinherited. Dad goes along
with it; at this point he'll go along with almost anything you
tell him...", she said, unsentimental even at the thought of a
dad insensate.
"So", Ursula said, "when the suit was over, Raye-Anne didn't give
anything back, right?"
"Right", she said, in surprise, as though Ursula had figured out
a bit of quantum physics. "She told my sister to go fuck herself.
Says she has everything all nice and legal; notarized. Raye-Anne
had the brains to see a lawyer, at least..."
"Not much you can do about that, is there?", Ursula said.
Angela Sternwood was not hearing what she wanted to hear. "What
do you mean, not much I can do? That's why I came to see you."
She twirled a flat and lifeless strand of hair on her finger
nervously...
"I can't change the law, miss.."
"Who's askin' you to? I want you to get the contract back, is
all. It's not like it was done fairly or anything, right? And
my dad will pay plenty..."
My eyes went to Ursula, waiting for what she would say.
"Where is it?"
"In a safe. In her house. But only until Friday, that's when
her lawyer is coming for it. He's out of town for now, but on
Friday he'll be back, that's for sure. You have to get it by
then, 'cause after that everything's gonna be hers", she said, as
though all it entailed was visiting this Raye-Anne and telling
her to hand it over.
"You just have to.."
Ursula's well-manicured, long-fingernailed hand went to her chin.
She had grown her naiIs long to please her fiance; she ran one
of them across her high, chiseled cheekbone.
I knew that Ursula could crack any safe short of Fort Knox; I
didn't know where she had picked up the skill, but I had seen her
more than once approach a locked safe with nothing more than a
stethoscope and her steady nerves and fingers...
In light of her recent drinking, that already worried me...
"So what you need is a little skilled muscle, right?", Ursula
asked. "You need someone who can get in, open the safe and get
the papers and leave without being detected? And take care of
herself in case she can't get out...? Sort of a `two for the
price of one' deal, right?"
"Yeah, that too", the blonde said. "This Raye-Anne lives alone.
So it would be one-on-one if it came to that, I guess...Like you
said, muscle's what I need. Skilled, fast, muscle." She looked
my bosslady up and down.
Ursula stood and turned away from the blonde and slid off her
suit jacket, handing it to me to hold. She then turned around
again and presented a muscle-packed body to the blonde, with only
a small black bra holding in the huge breasts. They looked as
though they were ready to explode through the sheer undercloth,
as though they were angry at this imprisonment.
Ursula hit a stage pose, and I was doubly pleased at the sight.
Firstly, because any view of her flesh was hot-heaven for me; but
also because it was the first time she had intentionally
displayed any muscle since the break-up.
Booze or not, my bosslady could still flex 'em; she was ripped
and huge as the slabs of sinew re-appeared.
My gorgeous hearthrob rippled with massive muscle commanded to
life; I was proud to see her bring that force to bear again. I
looked at the heavily painted face of the blonde bimbo, and I was
secretly proud of the startling body my bosslady displayed;
thickly packed with muscle that made me delirious each time I saw
it...
"Holy shit", the blonde said. "You're built almost as big as
Raye-Anne..."
Almost?
"By the way", Ursula asked her, "how did you get my name?"
Angela shrugged. "I asked the cop across the street if she knew
any private eyes, and she said you were right up here. So, I
came..."
Maria. We owed her one.
"What we need", Ursula said, "is a diversion."
"What kind of diversion?", the blonde asked.
Ursula paced the room, still clad above the waist in only the
tiny bra.
"What about a guy? She lives alone, you said. So she isn't
married?"
Angela's nose wrinkled. "Raye-Anne? No way. She goes through
men like kleenex. 'Specially guys like him", she said, jerking
her thumb at me as I sat at my desk; she did not even look at me.
"Really?", Ursula said, her gaze going to me as though the very
idea was strange. "You sure about this, Ms. Sternwood?"
Angela looked at me. "Hey, buddy, stand up." Ursula nodded to
me to obey.
She looked me up and down with a bored look. "Yeah, just like
him. She likes them much smaller than she is. And with no body
hair, too. None. Not even, you know, down there", she said,
giggling just a bit and raising an eyebrow. "Reason I know this
is 'cause she used to be friends with my sister, and she used to
tell her alot of sexual stuff. Every afternoon she's out by the
community pool picking out her next conquest. She likes guys in
skimpy little swimsuits; says she likes to see skin..."
I looked at Sally again; the words didn't ring a bell for her;
words she had drunkenly said to me less than an hour ago..
"Lemme tell ya, Raye-Anne's one tough babe..."
"Tough how?", Ursula asked.
"She a lot of woman, like I said, she's built like you, maybe
even taller", she said, trying to appraise her height by staring
at the crown of Ursula's raven-maned head. "She roughs guys up.
You know, rough sex, they call it? That's Raye-Anne's idea of a
good time. Guys walk away happy, though, from what I hear...
But the bottom line is, Ms. Parkheart, if you get the contract my
daddy will pay you one hundred and fifty thousand dollars..."
My eyes searched Ursula's stern composed features for some sign
of reaction. There was none; her eyes darted back and forth
across the room; her thoughts were elsewhere; elsewhere being a
place where she was surrounded by one hunded and fifty thousand
dollars.
"Uh, Sally?", I asked, trying to get her attention.
"Hhmm?", she said, shaking herself out of her daydream. "What is
it, JT?"
"My evenings are free all week..."
Ursula smiled knowingly at me. "That, JT, is just what I was
hoping you would say..."
"...and you get twenty-five per cent of the job, JT. But I can't
force you to do this. It could be dangerous.."
Angela had flitted out after leaving my boss a healthy retainer,
and we sat talking the case over; my big bosslady still wearing
only the bra to cover her big upper body. She often would
intentionally bounce ideas off me, (and sometimes,
unintentionally, her breasts), but this was different. She was
stretched out on my desk, in a position not dissimilar to the one
I had found her in before, as she drunkenly and langorously
prepared to fuck her assistant shitless.
She was oblivious to the wild stirring she was causing in me. I
wasn't sure if Ursula had any recollection of what had happened
on my desk an hour ago; I knew that I would never forget it;
heck, I was only hoping for an encore. But she was having
blackouts lately. She gave no sign that the interlude had ever
happened. My eyes roamed her vast physique as she talked;
reliving the moments I had spent in her arms; she saw my
wandering vision, and smiled. She cupped my chin in her
fingertips. I swallowed hard; but it wasn't over the danger. It
was for Ursula.
"Anything for you, Sally, you know that...", I said, my eyes
bright and shining with hope. She blew me a kiss and got up from
the desk. She wiggled her hips under her skintight skirt as she
disappeared for just a moment, into her office.
"I gotta go crash, JT. I feel like shit. Where have I been all
day?", she said, shaking her head after she had reappeared.
"Gotta give up the sauce...
Tomorrow is gonna be a busy day.", she cautioned as she slid the
jacket on her big broad shoulders. I was sorry to see them
disappear under the covering of the coat.
"Mind the office for me, angel. Close at four, okay?", she
ordered, as she locked the gun into the drawer in her desk and
pocketed the key.
"Yes, sure, Sally. Shall I forward your calls?"
She thought for a moment, biting her lip.
"Nah. Tell 'em I'll call them tomorrow sometime." She stood
transformed before me, the prospect of work and a hefty payday
changing her outlook. She was steeping jauntily out of the
office when she turned to me.
"Oh, listen, JT. Tomorrow we have to get you introduced to this
Raye-Anne. I'll pick you up the right swimsuit on the way home.
I have a feeling that this Raye-Anne and I share some of the same
tastes. But you better take care of all your body hair tonight.
Raye-Anne likes them hairless, remember, JT ?"
I nodded.
"Sure you can handle it yourself?"
An electric shock shot through me, fading as I saw her laugh.
"Relax, JT, that wasn't a propsition. It's just that I have the
number of a good electrolysis girl..", she kidded.
"..Oh, and JT? For goodness sakes, pick up your underwear from
the corner..Honestly; how did they get there? I thought we agreed
you would not bring your laundry to the office...."
The briefs, torn and tattered in a drunken moment by my bosslady,
lay in rags in the corner, wedged between the wall and the filing
cabinet. Ursula shook her head affectionately; unaware that she
was the perpetrator of their destruction, and that the briefs had
given their life for her drunken pleasure.
And my pin-striped boss, Ursula, in whose arms I had reveled,
whose depths I had ventured into with heaving chest and high
hopes, disappeared; powerful calves vanishing round the door,
power heels click-clacking into the distance of the hall.
I finally had a chance to see the picture of this mystery woman.
It was a head shot; she looked back at me from the glossy black-
and-white print with eyes that twinkled mischeviously; a pert
nose and even white teeth gave her a certain glamour, but she
still retained something of the high-school tomboy athlete in her
face; she was pretty, in a midwestern way, rather than exotic.
Just as attractive as Ursula, I had to admit; but different.
Sleep had been hard to come by that night. Not only because of
what had happened between Ursula and me, as we enjoyed a short
lunch of each other's bodies on the hard oak desk. Not only
because she didn't seem to have any recollection of the incident
ever happening. And not only because of the fact that I had had
to remove every bit of body hair earlier that night in the
shower; my slender body had a strangely neutral look to it now;
denuded of the body hair I had accepted as part of me for so
long. What was really bothering me was Sally's health. If she
was having blackouts and memory lapses, if she was that far into
the booze, could she be relied upon to do the job? What if she
hit the booze tonight? Failure on a case like this could get her
arrested; ruin her career. To say nothing of what might happen
to me; Raye-Anne sounded like a frightening woman despite her
all-american eight by ten. But something within me looked
forward to playing the operative, especially with someone as
dangerous as her. I had to admit, too, that I was looking
forward just a bit to the games of flirtation I would be playing
with the muscle-packed beauty...
Hours passed as I tossed and turned, the sheets beneath me had a
strange feel; smooth and silken. Until I realized that that
wasn't the sheets; that was me.
In my dreams that night I finished my interlude with Ursula,
grinding and giving and moaning; my hands like small birds taken
in hers; ardent worshipful hands that ran over the relief of her
sculpted body; whispering devotion; exploding into her powerful
body with frantic urges and wishes to please; as she climaxed,
she took me over completely, our thoughts intermingled, our souls
one.
Ursula stood before me bathed in the morning sunlight that
spilled into the office. Her eyes were clear, her face alert and
cool and lovely. Her hair was long and loose and perfectly done;
there was no alcoholic trembling in her massive limbs. She wore a
backless tank top that made me catch my breath as she walked in
that morning; it was white and sheer and the broad muscles of her
back waved at me as she had strutted into her office, after
taking the cup of coffee I had ready for her the moment she
walked in. Her shoulder blades had driven me made as they pumped
under that hard-packed flesh.
Her eyes ran up and down my body, as mine did hers. She had her
hands on her hips, the thick slabs of deltoid standing out on her
torso. Perfectly manicured long red fingernails absently
scratched her arm; I wanted to do it for her. Her legs were
bared; small black velvet shorts cut high on her thigh showed the
sculpted legs to full advantage; sheer black hose gave them an
aura of mystery.
"Hey, JT, you look adorable", Ursula said.
She had deposited a package on my desk five minutes ago, and told
me to go inside the bathroom and open it and try it on.
The green trunks were brief, alright; even briefer than most of
my underwear; I couldn't possibly wear this in public! The tiny
trunks barely had...
....a back, does it?", Ursula said as she walked around me,
surveying her assistant in the trunks she had bought for me
yesterday, as she had promised. Her hand ran lightly and briefly
on my nearly-bare buttocks, scratching them lightly with her
manicured fingernails; I shivered with pleasure...
"I think old Raye-Anne is on to something, JT. The clean-shaven
look really does something for me...", she said, as she now ran a
hand across my bare chest. Her muscles rippled as she moved her
arm.
"Really, Sally?", I asked, my hand going tentatively to her
braceleted wrist. I wanted to run my hand up that thickly muscled
arm, feel the biceps, kiss them, be hers. "Do you mean it?"
Hope springs eternal...
"Yeah", she said, a touch wistful. "Steve kept his chest shaven",
Ursula said, as though conjuring a painful memory. Her focus
seemed to leave her.
Him again.
"Your ex-fiance", I said, not needing to ask.
"Sometimes he let me do it for him", she added wistully, staring
at my thin hairless chest.
A nasal voice shot through the glass partition.
"Hey", it whined, "do I have to stay out here all morning?"
We drove out of town, taking Ursula's business car; a rather
nondescript two-door white Buick. It didn't compare to Sally's
other car; a candy-apple red Corvette; but ostentatiousness in a
car was a problem in this business, and so we had poured
ourselves into the battered old tank. Angela had wanted us to
take her car; a black Supra shining in the morning sun. She
didn't understand why bringing a car that Raye-Anne could easily
recognize was not a good idea. Sally shook her head and whispered
to me, "Coulda been a brain surgeon, huh?" Her sweet breath
tickled my ear.
Sally had told me to sit in back; Angela had wolf-whistled with
glossy pink lips as I bent low to squeeze into the rear seat as I
had gotten in. The terrycloth jacket gave my mostly-bared rear
little protection from her prying eyes. For just a moment, I
knew how well-developed women must feel at the beach.
In the rear-view mirror I saw Ursula's eyes peering at me as I
sat alone in the back seat amidst out-of-date newspapers and
miscellany; boy, her big wide shoulders looked great in that
sleeveless white blouse cut high; baring a good deal of her
deliciously steep trapezius...
Angela went into a non-stop monologue of idiotic prattle that
only served to set my nerves on edge; I was already nervous, and
as I returned Sally's glances, I saw that she was too.
Her hands seemed to shake ever so slightly on the wheel.
Forget him, I thought, trying to send the thought to my
MuscleBossLady. I felt a long drop of nervous sweat run down from
my armpit.
Chapter Three:
A Hurricane Named Raye-Raye
The housing development wasn't very fancy; rows of attached
townhouses one after the other. The few trees were small; as
though kept in their shrunken state by a too-harsh sun. It was
evidence that the whole thing had been no more than a drawing on
some architext's blueprint less than five years ago. It looked
older. Ultraviolet beat down relentlessly as noon approached; I
wasn't sure if it was the heat of the coming midday hour that was
making me sweat, or nervousness...
Angela lowered the binoculars from her eyes, still squinting into
the distance. She turned to Ursula, who was sitting next to her
and reaching for them herself...
"It's her alright."
Ursula studied the image the glasses were presenting her; for
just a second I felt as though I was on safari. The difference,
I realized, was that I was the goat that was being tied to the
tree.
"We better not get any closer", Ursula said, turning to appraise
me. She didn't know it, but I was doing the same thing to her.
I wasn't sure what had made me volunteer for this job. The
better part of me wanted to help my hot hunk of a LadyBoss. She
needed the work, she needed the money; hell, so did I...
Another part of me, a part that I would never admit to her,
wanted to meet a woman like Raye-Anne; if she's all Angela said
she was, maybe my boss will get jealous...
I got out of the car and stood by the driver's door, as the
ladies gave me a last-second inspection.
Ursula slid on a pair of sleek dark sunglasses and regarded me
from over their rim.
"Well, JT, this is it. Be available and be friendly. And get
yourself a date...", she encouraged, winking. She couldn't
possibly have any idea how hot she looked. I felt an erection
begin to grow in the tight confines of the brief outfit.
"Don't worry", Angela said as she leered at the small swimsuit
and cracked her gum.
"He's just what Raye-Anne loves..."
Ursula let her thick arm hang over the side of the door. She
seemed to be repressing a grin. In the distance, I could hear the
splash of a body hitting the water, seeking relief from the heat;
Laughter followed, faint and high. My chest was pounding with
fear and anticipation.
She jerked a thumb in the direction of the pool. As she did,
that big bad baseball of a bicep flexed to life, daring the
triceps to meet the challenge. It did; and I watched with
dinner-plate eyes...
I was still watching it as she said, "Get going, JT. Time to earn
some big-time dough..."
There weren't many people at the pool. After all, it was a
weekday afternoon, and even in the oppressive heat of the day,
most people had other things to do. Like stay indoors where it's
safe and comfort-cooled, I thought as I walked along the path
that led to the pool. Even here the place has a slightly run-down
look, despite the fact that it was only recently built. Designed
to be obsolete, I thought to myself, shaking my head...
As I approached the gate, I saw a mother run after a toddler, who
was preparing to dive in to the inviting blue mirror of water;
she caught him just in time as he had taken the first step out
from the ledge, where he would have fallen two fathoms to the
bottom. She had the look a mother often has, as she hustled him
back to their seats, when she pulls a child from danger; she
didn't know whether to smack him or kiss him, and wore a smile
that reflected those conflicting emotions. She wore a rather
conservative bikini; but her figure was still sharp for a mom,
with a nice pair of breasts and hips. She looked up to me as she
stood bent over the babe; we exchanged polite grins. I couldn't
help but feel her eyes on me as I walked past her; the sun was
shining on a portion of my anatomy that it seldom had before,
except for the time Ursula had sent me undercover to the nudist
colony; and that was a story for another time...
I looked over my shoulder, back at her. She was still
smiling...I nearly gave a little Elvis-like gyration with my hips
to make her day; but I decided I had better save it up for...
Raye-Anne.
She was stretched out on a lounge at the far end of the pool;
secluded; even from here I could she that she was a big woman. I
felt my breath come short and fast in my chest; my blood flowed
through my ears, giving everything a tinny sound as I walked
towards her. Her awesome size set off an internal alarm in my
head; danger was near. A strong hot sun beat down, and the beach
bag I held in my hands seemed suddenly heavy. My hands were
damp; the plastic seemed to be trying to slip from my grasp. I
got closer to the far end of the pool and for some strange reason
I remembered at that moment that I'd forgotten to bring any
sunscreen. Sweat ran down from my armpits; anti-perspirant
failing.
My god, she was huge...
I almost stopped dead in my tracks, but my training as an
operative kept me moving even when my mind had halted. I passed
her by and chose a chaise lounge right next to hers.
And feasted my eyes on the most gorgeous, muscle-packed, stuttin'
and flexin' hardbody in a string bikini that I had ever seen. My
chest heaved as I tried not to stare; I laid out my blanket on
the vinyl mattress that smelled of mildew and stale sunlotion,
and took off the terrycloth robe that my Bosslady had bought me
yesterday. I felt her eyes go to my pale white flesh as it now
laid bare save for the tiny speedo; flesh that I was usually so
careful to shield from the sun; and I got a chill up my spine
even in the ninety-three degree heat...
I remembered when all hurricanes used to be named after women;
that had been changed to reflect the more enlightened times; but
the woman whose eyes bored down upon me was like a powerful
hurricane that had caught me in it's almighty winds...
"Catch her eye", Sally had told me. I swallowed hard and looked
over my shoulder.
Raye-Anne was staring right at me. She was enormous; thick arms
and barn-door shoulders, and big breasts and legs carved from oak
the epitome of a steaming hot lady bodybuilder. Her thick-as-my-
thigh arms were behind her head in casual repose, hands cupping
her head of straight and shining blonde hair; the pose
accentuated the wide perfect lats, and my hands trembled. Her
body mocked the tiny dental floss white bikini; it was a tiny
designer thing with lots of buckles and straps and very little
cloth; her big breasts were covered only barely; luscious
cleavage spilled out before my eyes. This was a woman who didn't
dress in a lot of clothes, and why should she? Muscle was all the
covering she needed. Naked and gorgous in the hot sun, sweat
dripping...That's how she should be...
Her stomach was chiseled and rock-hard; tough and flat and
unforgiving enough to crack open a coconut. I wanted to do just
that, and eat the sweetmeat off those abs with just my tongue;
and after, lick the sticky juice from the flesh as it...
My back straightened visibly as my mind cleared and I reminded
myself that I was on a job. I wasn't here to daydream or develop
a musclecrush on a stacked and steaming hunk of female; I was
there to work.
But she wasn't.
"Hi, there", she said, in a voice that was surprisingly light and
feminine for a woman so huge; not the booming bass I would have
expected. She spoke without moving an inch of that incredible
body.
I cleared my throat twice before I could talk.
"Hi", I said, half-choking, before turning away, blushing
mightily. Another erection began to sprout; in this ridiculous
outfit it showed quickly. I walked over the edge of the pool and
dove in, seeking a quick remedy to the uh, growing problem...
When your system gets a shock, sometimes it takes a few seconds
for it to register. Like now. I had tried to make my most
graceful and athletic dive; a feeble attempt at best for me. I
then thought I could impress her with how long I could swim
underwater, the way a teenage boy might do.
Suddenly, my head was pounding, my skin was screaming, my arms
began to refuse to take orders; I had dived into a pool of
icewater and was submerged in it's domain. I turned back and
scrambled to the edge, my brain disoriented, confused, on
instinct alone, bloodless arms struggling to find the edge; and I
tried to crawl out, dripping, glad for once that the day was so
hot as the sun hit my skin; I lay shivering on the concrete,
feeling as though my internal organs had been perma-frosted...
"They just filled the pool up again fresh this morning," came the
muscial voice from the pumped body, hard and gleaming in the sun,
as it soaked up it's solar power. "I coulda told you that the
water was too cold."
I looked up to her. "W..why d-didn't you tell me?", I asked,
teeth chattering.
She looked at me as though I was from Mars.
"You didn't ask, that's why", she answered, sighing and
repositioning herself of the lounge. She shook her head as
though to say, "Deliver me from the questions of skinny blue-
lipped morons..."
I staggered on bloodless legs to the chaise lounge. For just a
moment, all my attention left the supersized Goddess next to me;
all I wanted to do was get dry and get warm. I stood with a
towel in my hands, still dripping, drying my hair. My skin was
beginning to warm, the feeling returning as the blood that had
raced to protect my internal organs from the glacial spring
passing itself off as a pool now returned to feed the flesh; my
own natural pale skin tone was returning. A residual shiver
issued up from me and I began to feel the sun's restorative
powers go to work; chasing away the shivers.
"Awwww", came her voice full of disappointment from five feet
away. I had been standing in profile to her, and as I glanced
over, I saw her gaze on my crotch.
"The icebath made your hot little hard-on go away", she said with
a pout that was strangely incongruent for such a primal, muscle-
packed woman.
I stuttered an apology; but I didn't get far...
"Don't apologize", she said, sitting up. "A cute little guy
wiggles by in a tiny little speedo with his butt cheeks all pink
and pretty and bare for me to see; what more do I need?", she
asked in a soothing, sensual tone.
I shrugged, embarassed. I was holding the towel in front of my
crotch.
"Then he gets so excited being around a big, pulsin' slab of
gorgeous muscle girl like me that his cock starts saluting.
That's really quite a nice compliment..."
She was talkiing as though I had just sent her flowers and candy
instead of dreaming of doing things with her that made a lifetime
of memory and you only repented on a deathbed...
"It's too bad", she said, as she slowly moved up on the lounge
and sat over it's edge. The thick muscles of her arms went to
work, pulsing and throbbing as she put her hands on either side
of her and pushed down; the effect was to make the subcutaneous
sinews ripple. I watched them exhibit their strength, moving and
flexing as though they were living entities she kept packaged
underneath her darkly tan skin, waiting for a chance to go to
work for their mistress. I thought that it would take both my
hands, together, to encircle one of her massive upper arms. An
angry muscle stared me down.
I sat on my own lounge, facing her, our knees touching. It was
the first contact my flesh would have with her...My legs, long an
object of compliments from the ladies I had dated, looked frail
and spindly next to her dark and powerful thighs.
"Yeah", she said, nodding as she leaned into me, the big breasts
straining the skanty top, the scent of cocoa butter reaching me.
Her hair tumbled over her shoulders and spilled across the chest.
I noticed the deep vertical muscular crevice running down her
chest, dividing that big hot torso into two equally hard and
gorgeous hemispheres. "It's really too bad."
She saw the questioning look on my face. What was too bad?
"Cause seein' that cute little package sproutin' in your little
bikini briefs made me want to do something very bad...", she said
with a playful leer; I was watching her stomach muscles pulse as
she talked. My pulse raced and my chest heaved; my heart was
doing a marathon in a sprint.
"What was that?", I asked, lowering my voice conspiratorally,
expecting a flirtatious give-and-take session that danced lightly
on the topic and retreated nimbly when the heat went too high.
She laughed. "`What was that'"?, she repeated my words, mimicing
the coy tone in my voice. She tossed back her hair with a casual
sweep of a hand, and brought her face to within inches of mine,
smiling with small and even white teeth. Careful to lean into me
just right, so as to cause every muscle to lock in a heaving
flex, she spoke in a voice that was matter-of-fact and hard and
bereft of the girlish tones she had used up to now.
"I wanted to take you home and fuck the shit out of you, that's
what..."
In the movies, when the wolf insults the object of the pursuit
with a raffish comment, the wolf would get slapped and watch
chagrined as the object huffed and hustled away; the wolf would
raise a hand to the handmarks rapidly reddening and smile and
enjoy the sight of the wiggling behind as it disappeared around
the corner; knowing victory would come all the same.
That being the case, why move at all? Being a guy, too, my basic
reaction was different. The line she had hit me with, no; slain
me with just now; looking hard into my soul as she bit off the
words with a deliberate take-it-or-leave-it tone had struck a
buried primal cord within me. My heart was now thumping loudly in
my head, and I thought I could taste blood in my mouth. I could;
I had bitten my tongue in the electric shock of desire that the
words and the sights of this Amazon She-Devil had given me.
She didn't move a muscle, literally. She was motionless, so
close that her breath wafted down upon me; it was sweet and
smelled of vanilla. She was waiting for some reaction.
My guard went down; knocked down by this slab of female in a
bikini made of nothing more than tiny straps and shiny buckles.
I tried to be nonchalant; hold on to some degree of manly cool,
even if this woman was twice my size; but there was just no way I
could...Not as my eyes and my soul ate up the hard mountainous
terrain of her body...
"Ohhhh", I said as the breath rushed out of my lungs. I guess
what I was doing was swooning; for I lost my balance and almost
teetered over into her arms. I wish I had...
"See what happens when you dive into water that's too cold?", she
said soothingly as she leaned back on the lounge, chiseled abs
flexing. "You look faint. I hope it's nothing I've said", she
said, innocently, her blue-blue eyes dancing mischeviously,
sparkling; the sweet girlish lady-like tone suddenly returning
now. The only parts of our bodies that had touched, even now,
were our knees. For a second, my mind flashed irrationally on
the villanous creature in one of the Star Trek movies; they had
their sexual organs right on their kneecaps and I realized that
if we were from Alpha Centauri VI I might be having an orgasm
right now...
All things being equal, I almost was. My erection had sprung
back into life; warm blood refilling the cold tissues of my
loins. Her eyes went right to it, licking her lips.
"Now that's what I like to see", she said encouragingly. "A nice
hard little cock that knows what it likes..." She flexed the
huge slab of muscle that was her arm; a bowling ball came to life
under the tan female flesh; veins just beneath the skin pumped
blood to feed it and give it life. I wanted to touch it.
God, her waist was tiny! I thought I could almost fit my hands
around it, if she invited me to try. The tiny strip of her
bikini bottoms barely covered her genitals; she must have had a
session with a razor last night, too. I wish I had been there.
Even without those wonderful muscles that years of hard
irontraining had added to her body, she would have been perfect.
She was proportioned in the absolutely classic lines of
mythological heroines...
My erection raged. I instinctively covered it; not so much out of
embarassment as a subconcious desire to protect it in the company
of this sexual steamroller. I held the towel in front of me.
Her brow knit; she frowned.
"Hey! What the fuck do you think you're doin', bikini boy? Move
that damn thing away...", she said in a voice mixed with anger
and disappointment. And a lot of muscle. I did.
"Good. I like to keep my eyes on the, uh, developments, y'know?
Keep it where I can see it, okay?" Even through the tight
constraints of the briefs, my penis pulsed in time with my rapid
heartbeat, as though a second heart was beating, throbbing in my
loins. For her, it was...
Her eyes scoured me like laser beams once again. She got up.
"One thing's for sure, you're no beach boy, are you? You're
gettin' red as a beet..."
I looked down. She was right; my pale flesh was burning quickly
in the powerful sunlight...
But as I looked up... Geez.
She was six-six if she was a foot; a mountain of a woman full of
dangerous curves and muscle that looked ready to bury an
unsuspecting climber in an avalanche. Angela didn't say anything
about that; up to now I thought my Bosslady was the biggest woman
I would ever know. But even her amazing body took a second place
to this gladiatrix. I tried not to swoon again as her long
shadow fell over me.
She instructed me to lay down on the lounge on my back, and she
began applying the thick white sunblock with the rough
familiarity of a drunken, lusty bride. She didn't speak as she
did, rough female hands taking rude advantages; and she seemed to
be mentally measuring my body as she went about the task;
surveying my own rather diminutive form that I tried to keep firm
in the little spare time Ursula gave me...
She had covered my body thoroughly, running hands over my slender
arms as though she was handling a child. She had coated me with
the protectant now, except for my lower abdomen---the area of
flesh that was seeing sun for the first time.
She had saved that for last.
There was nothing shy about this woman; that much was obvious to
even the most obtuse reader by now. By I didn't expect what she
did now...
She sat down on the lounge, lowering herself onto my lower
thighs, and reached down to the waistband of the small trunks,
what there was of it. She pulled it back several inches from my
skin, and with the other hand, whose palm was full of a small
hill of the thick cream, ventured under the suit, down much
further than she needed to go, boldly exploring my genitals.
Genitals that by now, were straining; the penis was throbbing,
testicles tight against the body in expectation of eruption. Her
self-assured gesture revealed my not-so-subtle secret; one meant
for her to discover. As her hand took note of the bare clean-
shaven skin of my groin, a smile lit up; a strange smile, half-
lascivious, half-delighted; as though she had just been
complimented on her body, or been done a favor she hadn't
expected. She didn't hurry as her hands explored either; her
fingers played with my testicles while she looked me hard in the
eye. The hand made a moving lump in the swimsuit as it migrated
it's way along my privates. She ran three fingers along the
shaft of my penis; let her long nails lightly scratch the pulsing
flesh. I remembered to look around, and saw that only the mother
and the toddler were at the pool now, far away at the other end.
I had forgotten by now that I was working at all...
She knew when to ease off; I was near explosion and almost wanted
the musclegirl to take me, use me and humiliate me under all her
dominant powerful bulk she wore so coolly, to finish me off right
then and there; but that wasn't in her plans.
I looked up to her, awaiting orders. I would have done anything
to...
She got up. "Okay, turn over..."
With my erection raging, that was difficult! But I obeyed her, of
course...
She ran her lotioned hands quickly over my body. She paid
special attention to the buttocks that were mostly bared by the
scanty back of the green speedo, and spent much more time on them
than she needed as she slathered them thickly white with
suncream. She finally acknowledged this.
"Hey, man, I'm an ass girl--what can I say?", she asked, as she
cupped them in her slippery hands, playing with the flesh. She
seemed to have stopped, and I was about to turn over, when a
shock went through the two basted buttocks, down the legs, out
through the feet...
She had smacked my left cheek with considerable force, the sound
of flesh cracking against flesh filling the air. My hand went to
the injured area at once; her hand had left a perfect impression
on the white-painted buttock. I shot her a glance, trying to
keep the anger out of my expression. I had no wish to tangle
with her, and I couldn't afford to make her mad. I remembered
that I still had to get a date tonight...
"No offense, bikini boy", she said after she had nonchalantly
sauntered over to her loungs and folded that great and vast body
back down in repose. The sight of her own rear, bared by her
insignificant swimsuit, caused air to rush out of my lungs again.
Her rear was comprised of two perfect, iron-trained buttocks that
jiggled not at all...
She adjusted the handrests so that the back of the lounge raised
up; she was sitting comfortably, shifting that massive body so
that she'd be just right...
"I just like smackin' a cute little ass now and then...Makes me
feel good..."
She ignored me for a while now, slipping on a pair of dark
sungalasses and offering her face to the sun. So what if my
erection raged so badly I was nearly doubled over in pain? She
had had her fun. That was all she cared about. And that was
okay with me.
I don't think I took my eyes off that heaving flesh once.
Thick and deep and chiseled muscle was at rest on the amazing
frame of this beautiful woman. I watched her breath rise and
fall. I felt used. I felt cheap. But I loved it.
I didn't hear her get up. My eyes were closed, trying to think
up some way of getting a date with this cool and vast sexual
predator of a woman while pretending to be sunbathing. Suddenly
a splash sounded over the water, and I looked up.
Her lounge was empty. Oh, God, had I fallen asleep? Ursula
would be so disappointed....
I got up and visually searched the grounds; only the mom and her
kid were present, as before, far away down the olympic-sized
pool. I thought I was alone until I heard water moving in the
pool, and small even splashes.
Raye-Anne had dived into the arctic water and was swimming the
length of the pool with the practiced ease and speed of an
Olympic champion. Her wet hair was plastered flat to her head,
and thick muscular arms acted as propellant for the hard perfect
body; she stroked an expert freestyle stroke faster than I could
walk. The bare flesh of her ass reflected the sun, covered as it
was in a watery film. I thought the seat of my trunks was brief;
if it was, her's was nonexistent; just a string between the round
muscle-trained buttocks.
She touched the far wall and vanished under the water. I didn't
see her for nearly half a minute, before she re-emerged mere feet
from the edge where I had wandered as I watched her perform.
When I was a kid, I was struck by the image of a creature rising
out of the depths, unexpectedly; like a creature in a Japanese
movie coming to wreak havoc on land-dwellers...But the beautiful
woman who climbed out of the blue water erased the thought as
soom as it had formed.
The swim had forced the blood to her limbs, and as it rushed to
her muscles, running water cascading back down to the blue mirror
benath. The exercise had given the effect of inflating her
sinewy architecture even more; she seemed to have been carved
from oak with chisel and hammer, such was the definition of the
Amazon Goddess. She seemed to breathe only slightly, as though
the exercise was something that did not offer any real challenge
to her cardiovascular system.
She had climnbed out and stood dripping wet, sweeping the
gorgeous mane of hair behind her, squeezing the excess water from
it with a familiar ease.
I had anticipated her desires just a split-second earlier and
intercepted her in her path, and reached the plush thick
terrycloth towel first. I turned and felt the cold water
dripping off her body onto mine. I offered her the towel, but she
made her wishes clear without a word; just a look; like some sort
of mental shorthand that we had established.
I toweled off the brawny woman with ardor, letting the thirsty
cloth drink the dampness from this creature who had maddened me
with desire. Stay in control, I urged myself, for Ursula.
I had another pounding erection.
And I noticed only then how strange it was---that water was so
cold it was almost an iceberg; barely liquid. But her flesh was
warm; I noticed it in the brief moment or two that my skin might
touch hers as I toweled her down.
That icy-cold didn't seem to have any effect on her.
I was still patting the hard flesh down, gulping hard as I did,
when she walked away, leaving me patting at the air. She
strutted over to the lounge and began picking up her white
cushion cover. She threw it into a straw-weave bag and as she
did, she pulled out that pair of dark sunglasses and a Raider
Baseball Cap; the black of the cap set off the almost-white
blonde of her hair. She reached under the lounge and pulled out
a pair of gold high-heeled Greek sandals, with long strings
attached to either side of each one. She tossed them to me,
where I made a fumbling attempt to catch them. After retreiving
them from the ground, she pulled me to her with the flick of an
index finger.
"Put those on me, and tie them nice 'n high", was all she said.
I slipped the exotic footwear onto her small feet, and made sure
that the strings wrapped around her lower legs evenly, and stared
at her bulging calves. I tied small knots in the thin leather
just below her knees.
I looked up to her as I crouched at her high-heeled feet. I felt
small and ashamed as I looked up at her vast molten muscularity
towered over me; nearly-naked and raw, womanly and unforgiving,
ready to take whatever caught her eye, with no apologies as she
took her pleasure or her fun. And those breasts; bursting,
straining the tiny top that would lose their struggle and moment
now...
The shoes gave her an elevator effect, as if she needed it. She
was seven feet of hot womanly muscularity as she picked up the
bag and turned, to begin walking away.
I watched the heart-stopping bare behind undulate rhythmically
beneath that glorious sinewy back; and it was so perfect I almost
let it disappear without speaking, not wanting to disturb the
perfect and elemental natural beauty she presented.
I had to clear my throat three times before calling out.
"Excuse me", I called to her.
She was a good thirty feet away by then, and putting more and
more distance between us every second. For a second I imagined
what she looked like naked; it was easy, as only two small
strings of cloth, one on each hemisphere of her gorgeous body,
made any pretense at covering her. When she heard me, she
turned, languidly, almost as though she expected things to happen
just this way. She put a hand on her hip impatiently; tapping
her high-heeled encased foot. She wasn't going to come to me...
Those breasts were like beacons in a foggy night; twin
lighthouses calling me in to shore; to safety...or danger?
"I didn't get your name", I lied when I had caught up with her,
still staring at the bountiful bosom that poured out around the
edges of the frail bikini top.
"That's 'cause I didn't tell you my name", she said plainly and
matter-of-factly. There was an awkward moment. I pretended to
be shy and breathless; I didn't have to fake it much, if at all.
Even behind the sunglasses I could feel her laser eyes. I looked
around, my head down, smiling uncomfortably; finally letting my
eyes rest somewhere just above the ground.
"Why?", she asked. "Is it important for you to know my name?"
I shrugged and mumbled, "I'd just like to know, that's all...."
"Raye-Anne. Raye-Anne Hallison. But my friends call me Raye-
Raye..."
She turned, her hard face disappearing behind a thick slab of
deltoid; and started leaving again; walking briskly now, buttocks
churning, as though turning over and over...
She was gonna make me earn this one...
Last chance...
"C-can I call you Raye-Raye?", I called out to her now, hoping
that the hot hunk of blonde woman would respond; would give me
some daylight now, a little leeway; a little mercy...
Now she did come to me. She stood very still at first, adjusting
the strap of the weaved bag on her shoulder, as though debating
it. Then she started walking slowly, very slowly, over to me,
the hips swinging wildly, sensuously; the movement of a giant
Playboy Bunny made no less feminine by the many dozens of pounds
of thick muscle she had added to her body. She sauntered over to
me in long strides, the bare powerful thighs working, and showing
it as the quads churned and pulsed; she knew how to walk the
walk, and she smiled the smile of a woman who knew she was in
charge. Her breasts swung in heart-stopping rhythm from side to
side, and gave one last sway even after she had stopped her sexy
stride.
I stood looking up to her. I felt the coolness of her shadow as
it fell over me, shielding me momentarily from the merciless sun.
God, she was a titanically tall woman. I felt absolutely dwarfed,
by both her magnificent physique and her skyscraping height. Her
chiseled bulk hovered above me.
"Let me see if I understand you", she said academically as she
removed her sunglasses and twirled them round and round.
Her eyes twinkled with mischief and satisfaction; all along,
she'd known...
I traced the veins in her arm with my eyes and watched them
disappear under the bulge of a gigantic bicep.
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