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Ursula 5
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.
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© WIG, LTD 1993 All rights reserved
Ursula Parkheart, P.I.:
The Flexing Detective
in
The Adventure of the Amorous Amazon
by
Forrest Curran
Chapter Five: (Cont.'d)
She told me to clean up the table, and gave me permission to
scrounge a snack from the refrigerator while she went upstairs.
I was to join her there in ten minutes.
But I was too hungry to eat; hungry for a paradise long-
withheld from my life. There she was; ascending the stairs,
knowing what she had, and how desperate I was to know her touch.
She was getting ready for me...
And I was upstairs in five.
"In Here," the handwritten sign had said on the first door
at the top of the darkened stairs. I opened it slowly, listening
to the hinges creak like an old man's bones before I tentatively
leaned into a windowless room.
There were a couple of chairs lined side by side in the
center. In front of them, stationed in front of what looked to be
a closet door, was a small curtained platform. Track lighting
beamed down onto the stage, highlighting it. I sat down in the
shadows and coughed nervously.
Then I heard music begin to play.
The overhead glow faded, leaving just one arc of reddish-
hued color on the small stage. I heard the door open behind the
curtain.
There was a rustling; the music swelled, a prelude to a song
I could not recognize just yet, but as it got closer to the
melody, I thought...
Raye-Anne Hallison appeared, stepping out from behind the
curtain. Her hair was done in a pony-tail. At first, I thought
she had removed her make-up. But then I realized she hadn't...
She had made herself down, somehow; given the illusion,
through Max Factor skillfully applied, of being even younger than
the twenty-something woman she was. But the effect was shattered
once your eyes ventured below her face...
She was wearing a tiny, little-girl's pink party dress. It
had short puffed sleeves that made no attempt to cover her giant
arms; indeed, the effect of the dainty sleeves was to accentuate
the thick slabs of muscle that resided there. It hugged tightly
on her hourglass figure, and was deeply cinched on the tiny
waist. There was a high neck, and an even higher hemline---a
mockery of a skirt under the daintiest petticoats I had ever
seen. Miles of powerful predatory thigh were bared; so much so
that the slightest change in her posture revealed the white panty
encasing her loins.
She was wearing the high white heels in which she had
greeted me, but had added laced white-and-pink anklesocks and
matching gloves.
And she had a lollipop in her mouth.
She curtsied low, holding the hem of the pleated skirt out
in the old-world and out-of-date fashion seen in black-and-white
movies on the late show.
And as though this tableau was not bizarre enough, she now
began to sing in a thin but reasonably capable voice along with
the music, whose ancient nineteen-twenties melody now came
around:
"...I want to be loved by you..."
So odd was the sight that it took me several moments to
realize that she had changed the words, perverted them
delightfully as this musclegirl went through the tune...
She sang of blowjobs and fucking, flexing and licking,
stripping and strapping and shyly submitting; after all, she was
naughty, wasn't she?, she asked, her girlish microskirt
fluttering as she waved the lollipop about.
She did not call attention to the arms made strong and
oaken; she had taken on this kewpie-doll demeanor, cute and frail
despite the fact that her bare legs looked strong enough to kick
a hole in a granite wall. I leaned in my seat; I was just a
couple of feet from her, my eyes level with her knees. There
were worse sights; I had a clear view of her almost-bare behind
whenever she turned around and displayed the lacy nothings of her
underthings.
So she really was a softy underneath all her sturm un
drang...!
That was great; I'd get to call the shots with this tough
babe after all. This was gonna be easy. And fun, I nodded,
looking at the big bare thighs and arms uncovered by this little-
girl costume.
The song was over; I had missed the last lyrics--something
about what she wanted me to do with her in a warm jacuzzi...
She curtsied again, as dainty as a well-mannered schoolgirl.
The skirt flounced around her as she did a little skip-hop of
celebration.
"Wanna take care of me, my great big man?," she lilted in a
little-girl voice as she replaced the lollipop in her delicate
mouth and batted her eyelids, swiveling her hips from side to
side.
I nodded.
"Is that so"?, she inquired, her voice dropping an octave to
her normal speaking voice. "You think you're man enough?"
Oh-oh. The show was over. She threw the candy away now, and
with it, any trace of sweetness...
She pushed the tiny, puffy little sleeves up her arms; the
elastic was not made to fit around the delts of so huge a female,
and they snapped in little rubbery spasms...
"You think that a skinny runt like you is gonna make me jump
through a hoop and get all flustered when you get undressed? Get
real...," she sneered, all girlishness gone despite the little
outfit. She was like some strange and other-worldly creature--in
the dainty little dress she looked like a teenybopper pre-teen on
some bizarre super-steroid...
But she wasn't. She was all woman...
The music changed---in more ways than one.
I don't know much about heavy metal music. But as the
music, loud and crashing, roared over the ceiling-mounted
speakers, I saw Raye-Anne's hands go to the tiny little
partydress. The thin cloth gave way easily; and a large tear had
begun down it's front as the lights went out.
This huge lady had a penchant for tearing things, I noted.
When light returned, three seconds later, she was naked
again.
The dress lay in pathetic tatters at her feet, and she
kicked them off the stage, the dainty sheer cloth landing in my
lap. She was dressed only in the high heels, anklesocks and
gloves. And the mighty Amazon looked ready to eat me for dessert.
She struck a double biceps pose; quicksilver muscle answered
the call and throbbed to life under her flesh. The lights began
shifting and changing; red and yellow and orange, flashing like
the tawdry neon in a topless nightclub.
She could really pose; muscle floated and rippled and
thundered under her skin, seeming to crawl up one limb and down
the other as she flexed the angry, monumental ladyflesh. She
locked her hands behind her head and froze chiseled abs in place,
like a ladder that ran from breast to pube; a ladder whose rungs
I wanted to descend.
She turned and spread her legs wide, bending low and showing
her neatly-lipped vagina with the pride of a stripper. She
grabbed a chunk of buttock in each of her hands and spread them.
There were no mysteries withheld from me now...
Judging from the engorged appearance of her pink-red vagina,
she looked every bit as excited as me...
The puckered, plumped lips vanished from sight as she
squeezed her gluteals together, the curtain going down on the X-
Rated GirlMuscle Show...
But I knew one thing...
She wanted to go to bed---and be appeased by her lucky
partner for the night.
Me!
The music faded, and the pony-tailed blonde mountain of a
woman stood, her hands on her hips, accentuating that thick
marvelous body.
"Isn't this just the way it always is?," she asked,
derisively. "One day they're so little and cute and innocent, but
the next...," she shook her head, a world-weary little gesture.
"The next," she continued, flexing those bowling balls she
called biceps, "the next, they're all woman--big tits and hot ass
and hungry pussy, and---if they're real good girls and hit the
iron like Raye-Raye---big fuckin' muscles all over their frames!"
She showed me just what she meant, and displayed her body in
an X-rated physique show that was one part Vanessa Del Rio and
another part Cory Everson.
The difference was, of course, that Raye-Anne weighed
approximately twice what either woman weighted.
And that hungry weight was about to be turned on me.
She bent low, shook her ass, flexed the gluteals, made 'em
shake; she froze her breasts on her chest; vibrated the vast,
chilling muscularity and made it blur in front of my eyes. Her
abs seemed to have come alive, as though an electric current had
been run through them and brought them to life before my eyes.
Her musclebod beckoned, and I followed, on an instinct more
primitive and feverish than any I had ever known...
She advanced to the edge of the stage.
There was a hard look on that farmer's-daughter face. She
looked almost as though she was bored by this procedure, or that
I was not providing the excitement she craved, and her expression
showed it. Naked, huge, and very much in control; it somehow was
not enough for her...
I had the feeling, very suddenly, that she had done all of
this before...
She kicked her discarded white panties off the stage.
They landed on my face, and my hands felt the heat of her
body still on the cloth as I pulled it off. I whiffed the
powerful aphrodisiac of her juices, and felt a shock of electric
desire shoot up my spine.
"Stand up, small fry..."
I already was standing; she towered over me, and she looked
down at my feet as though to make sure they were on the floor.
She bent down for me, and a powerful arm grabbed one of my
own. And I rode the Raye-Raye Elevator, upwards, upwards...
I found myself hoisted into the air, thrown over her
shoulders.
And, now, carried away by a woman whose arms were as thick
as my thighs. I couldn't wait to get to her bed, one way or the
other...
But she had another destination in mind first.
She was naked except for the high heels and their frilly
socks. As she stood over the barbell she had thrown me the
delicate lace gloves to hold. I caught them, as she went about
adding several plates to the heavy weight.
"...Just want you to know what you're gettin' into, like I
said, baby," Raye-Anne declared as she proceeded to knock out
countless reps with a shining silver barbell, her big bulging
arms swelling to the challenge...
Hard rock was blaring again, from still another set of
speakers, highlighting her actions as though it were a musical
score designed just for this moment, when she stood pumping
shining iron.
The cold metal she was curling so easily matched my
bodyweight now; perhaps she knew it, too, and was making a point
even as she treated my eyes to this musclegirl feast.
I watched a muscle pump larger and larger, angrier with each rep
it's muscular mistress forced it to pound out; angry veins
swelled in response as they rushed hot blood to the straining
tissue.
But through it all, Raye-Anne Hallison exhibited no strain
on her pretty face.
Her cheeks were full of theatrical rouge, applied to give
her the appearance of a young teenybopper's shy blush; it added a
surrealistic flavor to the moment. But there was nothing shy
about Raye-Anne Hallison.
Nothing...
Hard abdominal ridges stood out prominently on her stomach,
stone-edged with effort as the reps accumulated. I couldn't help
but to approach, to enjoy the naked girl-woman twice my size as
she kept growing, and growing...
I knew it was impossible, but she almost seemed to be
growing in height as well...
"Look good to you, Bikini-Boy?," she invited, her voice
tight with effort; her face only now showing tension as she shook
the pony-tail back sharply...
The reps continued to grow, as though her mighty oaken arms were
obeying a command even she could not disobey; as though they were
under orders from some unseen authority to continue; grunts began
to emanate from her; her face contorted now.
But it did not match the contortion of her body; my god, she
was gigantic now, in full, ultra-sized pump...
There are those who would call it gross; the way the thick
deltoids had kept growing and expanding as though they were a
pair of twin dirigibles inflated by a strange goddess who wished
only for this woman to grow bigger and bigger, harder and harder.
So, too, would the appearance of her prominent vascularity,
raging on her soft brown skin, make some people--who did not
comprehend the primal beauty of it all--turn away.
Some might not understand how perfect she looked to me at
that moment, a woman in her power, in her youth; who had mastered
her world.
And me.
Finally now, she hurled the metal onto a padded floor.
I felt every bit the subservient fan, overwhelmed by this crush
but spurred on by passion, and a dream to be with her...
I felt as though she would bury me in an avalanche of her thick,
pumped-up muscle, suffocate me with rumbling breasts, and drown
me with her hot moist mouth as I stood there, in nothing more
than the trim briefs she had ordered me to sport for her
amusement.
She shook her head at my lip-trembling, awed demeanor.
She motioned for her gloves; I returned them to her and she
put them on with two quick pulls. She stood before me, too
perfect, too big, for me to describe now. Instead, I simply
obeyed a stern order that came with heavy, heaving breath from
the biggest woman I had ever seen in my life...
"Get on your knees, wimp. Worship Raye-Raye like a
slave...!"
And I did.
I kissed her high-heeled feet as she spoke, tasting leather
and listening for orders; all the while dreaming breathlessly of
what was to come.
"Very good. Big Raye-Raye's gonna take you to bed with her,
skinny boy. She's gonna make you tell her all your dark and dirty
little dreams while she puts you in your place in her bed..."
I nearly orgasmed right there, as I kissed the huge ten-
carat-diamonds that were her calves; tasting the unforgiving
stones of intolerance.
By the time we were in the surprisingly girlish bedroom of
this gigantic woman, my trunks had been removed; she had yanked
them off me as she carried me, and had let them fall behind us in
the narrow hallway. I saw them laying marooned and forgotten in
our wake. The tiny trunks had been my ticket in the door in the
first place, and had caught the eye of this hot passionate she-
hunk, but were now to be excluded from the proceedings.
I hadn't expected a pink bedroom so full of lace frills;
curtains and bedspread were both that softly feminine color, and
the canopied bed was full of floating white lace overhead. I saw
several stuffed animals on the bureau by the far wall; I wondered
how many encounters they had witnessed just like this one...
She threw me onto the bed, and I bounced on the soft
mattress.
My bosslady, Ursula, had told me how she herself had always
insisted on a rock-hard mattress; one that could support her back
and let her rest. Also, I had thought to myself, one that was
strong enough to support the weight of her bawdy lover; the two
of them could probably wreck a softly-sprung mattress in one
lust-soaked weekend...
But this one was soft and springy...
I must have catapulted up and down three or four times on
the red silk bedspread, and Raye-Anne flashed that farm-girl
smile of amusement as I bounced; finally coming to rest upon the
bed, ready for her diagnosis, and I hoped, a prescription of
hard-muscled, womanly delights...
She stepped back a foot or two.
She pulled off the lacy gloves again and looked my hairless,
shaven body up and down, damp as it was with her sweat; as though
she were deciding where to start first...
I was fully erect, and, I hoped, fully up to her powerful
expectations...
"So what do you think, Small Pale and Skinny? Think Raye-
Raye's too much hot woman for you?," she asked languorously, as
she locked those killer guns behind her head and made the muscle
overtake her frame, threatening to burst angrily through her skin
any second; swollen, volatile, needing a reverent touch of awed
hands...
She loosened her blond mane from the pony-tail, and let it
crash on the wide boulders of her shoulders.
She was a primal and perfect--a beautiful behemoth of
ladymuscle.
"Let's get something straight, Hairless," she announced,
looking right at me as she removed the stage-make-up with a quick
swipe of a cloth, "You're here to please me. You wanted to catch
my eye, and I let you catch it. Now you're gonna have to dance
to big Raye-Raye's tune, and the music's gonna run you ragged.
It's all-girl, all-muscle music, and you're just gonna be a dick
with flesh and bones attached; I don't want to hear any fucking
wimp complaints from you, get me?," she demanded, with burning
eyes, her hands on her hips in authoratative splendor.
"No, Raye-Raye, I promise...," I said, trembling as I sat
upon her bed. I was watching a huge fleshy flex she made as
though to reinforce a point. Without the artifice of the blush,
her face looked hard and severe despite her country-girl
countenance; cheekbones now slightly-prominent under her skin.
Remember Ursula, I reminded myself. I knew she was
outside...
Raye-Anne Hallison, six foot six inches of wide-bodied,
uncompromising muscularity somehow engineered onto the body of a
Penthouse Pet, came over to the side of her bed and lay beside
me, and joined me in sins that were yet to be; not yet committed,
but rushing to meet our fates like trains steaming through the
night air to arrive at their stations...
The vast architectural wonder of her hard huge body was now
within my reach; the sharp contours and unforgiving terrain
arresting my eyes...
My throat was locked, tight and hot with feverish need. I
thought I could hear the blood rushing through my head in the
form of a dull roar in my ears...
How I wanted to dive into that lush and thick muscular body,
naked and hard and ready for anything any man might try to offer;
the big breasts were beckoning, nipples erect; I wanted to suckle
them, be overwhelmed by them; by her...
I wanted to do all this, but something told me to hold off,
to wait for her permission. She lay on her side, her head
resting in her hand, as though studying me.
The silk was cool beneath our bodies; but my mind and my
soul were burning...
"You really have a thing for me, don't you, my little man?,"
she asked, defiantly; elementally naked and proud of the effect
her impossibly-big-muscled lady-bod had upon me.
"Yes, Raye-Raye," I gasped, speaking but not really hearing
myself. "I saw you at the pool and I just had to meet you. It's
just that you're so...so big and all. And so beautiful. I was
so nervous....," I confessed, smiling.
"Yeah, you were right to be," she stated. "I'm a helluva
lot of woman for a little guy like you," she confirmed, absently
flexing. "You know, if I'd wanted to, I could've raped the shit
out of you right then and there. I could have had my fun, and
when I was done making you moan and cum, I could have picked you
up by the balls and thrown you in the pool and walked away, you
know. I could have...," she pronounced, in a bored voice.
"Yes, I know...," I offered, rubbing the obscenely huge
bicep. It was hot with her exertions, and I could feel the pulse
of her heart under my fingers as it raged through the veins that
fed the big girlmuscle.
"If it would have pleased you, Raye-Raye, you could
have...."
I had pressed the right button; acquiesced to her
completely, and let her know that she was not just the seducer,
but an unquestioned dominating authority in my eyes.
Worship would be coming, she knew...
She wasn't making a move yet, just stretched out on her
side, big breasts rising and falling with each breath. She let a
hand reach absently down that chiseled, stone-cold-big body to
her groin, where she scratched her neatly-trimmed pubic patch. I
watched each movement of the fingers as though trying to memorize
them as she manipulated her genitals lightly, spreading her legs
to make access all the easier.
"So," she asked, "you wanna fuck this great big muscle-girl,
or what...?," she inquire, rubbing the peeking and pink clitoris.
She responded to my eager nod with an amused smile.
"Okay, my little lamb. But we're gonna have to get a few
things straight..."
"Like what, Raye-Raye?," I asked, feeling overwhelmed in
size by this gorgeous, stacked she-hulk; her beauty and
muscularity flowed like a tidal wave over me, stealing my mind,
my heart, and my loins, drowning me with her hot stacked
architecture. Her mean "take-it-or-leave-it" attitude made me
want her all the more.
I snuggled close to the huge, wide-bodied woman.
It was academic; anything she wanted...
"You tell me," she said. "Tell me how you bad you want
me...," she purred, flexing her molten-muscled arm above her...
"Very much, Raye-Raye. Very very much," I said, putting a
hand, tentatively, on her midsection. It offered no comfort
beneath; it was hard as stone, and carved as though it had been
set upon by a sculptor. Her eyes matched it as they bore down
upon me.
"I like a man who knows how to gush a little when his head
gets turned by a hot slab of musclegirl. How about it? Wanna
make Raye-Raye happy? You can talk with your hands, too, if you
want.."
Lord, she was magnificent. The combination of her dark tan
and her nordic features gave her a lush, exotic aspect; sort of a
northern version of Ursula. And just as big.
Everywhere.
My hands went to that body eagerly, almost leaping across
the mattress to her...
"Oh, Raye-Raye," I began; but it was all I said at first,
busy as my mouth was with tasting those big breasts, licking her
wide lats as she lay back, hands folded behind her head as she
sat back against the headboard and smiling complacently as I
worshipped her. I could taste salt on my tongue; she hadn't
showered after either of her workouts, but just before them; and
was full of a strangely intoxicating scent that tantalized my
mouth; it was all the dinner this slave-by-choice would get that
night. I had forgone Raye-Anne's permission to rummage her
fridge, anxious as I had been to get to her; to rummage the body
of this goddess instead.
"You're so big, Raye-Raye," I said, as the vast muscularity
of this incredibly-built blonde made me dwindle in comparison,
and I could feel my penis leak a drop of pre-ejaculate even as I
ran my shaking fingers up and down the battle-hard rungs of
abdominal, sculpted and cruel.
She smiled at the compliment; a lady bodybuilder's
equivalent to being told she was thin!
She wriggled her torso, and the hard abdominals shook and
vibrated; running like waves crashing on a beach.
I was awash in them, so to speak; I wanted to be overwhelmed
by her. Every moment of frustration I had known with Ursula
coming back to me now...
"Take me, Raye-Raye," I thought...
"Yeah," she oozed, sliding down to lay back, her hands still
folded casually behind her head. "Raye-Raye knows how big she
is. But tell her more. Do you want to `make the fuck' with
her?..," she asked, eyes twinkling with amusement.
"Oh, yes, please, Raye-Raye. I want to do just what you
say, and be yours," I gushed. "You're so huge," I said, kissing
her granite ball of bicep.
"You're so gorgeous," I said, staring lovingly into her eyes
and kissing the other one; sweet unforgiving flesh on my
trembling lips.
Her flesh, for all the hard muscle that adorned her
astounding body, was soft and warm and womanly, and made me want
her all the more...
The head of my penis dragged across her belly, leaving a
drop of my clear wet excitement on the hard brown flesh.
She pointed at it, a look of vague disgust crossing her
face. She clasped the back of my neck in her hand and pushed my
mouth down upon it despite the fact that there was a box of
Kleenex on the nightstand.
She preferred to make me the janitor of my own sexual
delights...
"That's better," she said, when she had decided I was done.
"Oh, Raye-Raye," I breathed, too excited to be ashamed at my
willing captivity, my utter domination at the hands of this
genetic experiment made flesh and flood and breast and muscle;
and I sighed, looking again into those blue-blue eyes; twin
abyss's of languorous deep water.
"You can do whatever you want with me. Anything. Just 'cause
you want to; it'll be okay," I offered, before burying my face in
her sex and tasting the musky plump-lipped pussy of this Lady
Hardbody-Heartthrob.
"Of course it will, you idiot," she said, running her
fingers through my hair as though amused at my subservience.
"I own you, and I'll do whatever the fuck I want with you. Still,
that was just what I wanted to hear, Small Stuff. Means you
understand the score between us. But just remember, you said
it..."
I didn't respond; I was too busy running my tongue on the
firm, pink clitoris, prominently poking out amongst the softness.
But before long I was venturing inside her vagina to lick
whatever sweet slick secretions she offered my willing, waiting
mouth.
My hands lingered on the powerful thighs as they rested,
spread wide and open and raised off the bed. I sucked at her wet
pussy, whose lips opened fully now, like a flower in bloom,
revealing the sweet buds beneath.
And there I would stay until my tongue had gone numb, my
head at her groin, the huge thighs raised and open, the better to
be serviced. Her vagina was like a small furnace that radiated a
palpable heat.
I couldn't get enough of her; especially when I had looked
up to see her close her eyes, as she allowed herself to enjoy
what I was offering in near-frantic desire to please Her Most
Muscular Highness.
And her saliva-slickened pink vagina was now gushing those
sweet secretions that signaled her intent; I lapped them up
eagerly as she emitted them, before they reached the bed beneath
her; my tongue rushing to catch the streams as they dripped down
across the musclegirl's puckered anus and across the spread
buttocks; eager to taste, lick and swallow the unnamed mixture of
sweat, saliva and musken pussyooze of Raye-Anne Hallison.
Her legs were parted wide, without shame or self-
consciousness; indeed, there was a hint of disdain in the rough
rubbings and mutterings that came from her as she writhed her
powerful hips in my face; as though I was just another in a long
line of servants she had hand-picked to do her bidding; she could
take them or leave them, and I was no different...
But I was determined to service the hot musky orifice, and
lap the sweet ooze of a muscular goddess, and inhale deeply the
thick sensual musk that spoke of servile sin and sweet dark
urgent need...
Her hips wriggled; orgasm neared.
She locked her oak-tree thighs around my head as the climax
built. For a moment, I thought she would go on squeezing, until
my head burst like a watermelon under the pressure; I felt a
terrific fireworks display shooting skyward behind my eyes; full
of exploding stars and grey fog.
I was grateful when she at last relented, and let my brain
de-compress!
She issued a loud low moan, and I felt the vibrations of her
climax as though it was an earthquake...
I leaked more pre-cum, in fervent captivity and fevered
determination to please a force of female nature made flesh and
blood.
Hurricane Raye-Raye had swept me into it's swirling winds,
and I was happy to go...
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