Ursula Parkheart, P.I. : The Flexing Detective by Forrest Curran The Adventure of the Amorous Amazon FROM THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS 702-243-7723 (C) 1993 WIG, LTD Ursula Parkheart: The Flexing Detective The Adventure of the Amorous Amazon Chapter Five: Raye-Raye's Diagnosis: Mouth on Muscle The townhouse was the last one in a long plain row of identical homes. Identical except for the fact that one housed a pretty blonde with wholesome farmgirl looks and enough muscles to bring down a Roman temple, like a female Samson. The place was three stories tall but didn't seem very high; the ceilings had to be low inside. I pictured Raye-Anne crouching as she walked around in her own home; ducking as she passed the overhangs; an Amazon forced to live in a world of undersized dimension; hungry for the wealth that could let her build her own world, fit for the full-size hunk of woman that she was... I had the foresight to buy her flowers; and I brought along a bottle of moderately-priced domestic champagne. I rang the bell. It chimed in four notes; it was one of those bells that you buy in specialty stores as a novelty; it was playing a pop tune, but it wasn't until a month later on a sleepless night as I played the radio that I recognized it. It was Diana Ross' "I Want Muscle." The door opened as I had just finished ringing the bell again, and the tune issued forth once more, from somewhere inside, as she stepped into view and announced the appearance of the blonde lady bodybuilder like a scene from a movie. Raye-Anne Hallison stood over me looking hard and dominant; huge, tough and gorgeous. The muscle-packed arms rested on either side of the doorframe, filling up the space with her commanding size. There was no touch of the hospitable hostess welcoming a guest; she looked at me as though I were a traveling salesman interrupting a fancy state occasion. "Oh, you're here..." There was a note of exasperation in her voice; as though she hadn't really meant for me to show up; that I'd taken her invitation literally when she had really only been interested in getting rid of me earlier that afternoon; like someone who takes your "let's have lunch" salutation to heart and shows up on your doorstep the next day at noon sharp... She hadn't dressed fancy; a midrift-baring sweatshirt, sleeveless; and so baring the thick slabs of her chiseled-tough brown arms; and a faded pair of skintight jeans over white pumps; the old soft denim hugged her contours like a car winding on a mountain road; hanging on for dear life lest it fall... Which was just what I was doing as I looked at her. Falling big. Falling hard. And landing on a hard and unforgiving plain of female muscle called Raye-Raye Hallison. A laugh seemed to be welling up in her; she made a visible show of trying to restrain it; as though to accentuate her point, before breaking out in a low and lusty laugh. When it had wound down, she pointed at me as though I was something humorously memorable; a clown or a child that had done something pricelessly cute... "Flowers?!," the Amazon asked. I was still on the doorstep; anxious to get out of the line of vision of her neighbors, but she wasn't letting me in yet. She clasped both hands in front of her, folding them together as though in prayer. The astounding muscles of her arms came to life, huge and throbbing. "Aawww," she derided, "isn't he cute? Bringing some nice red roses to his big hot heartthrob." She grabbed them out of my hands, and as she lowered her head to sniff them, reached with her other hand and yanked me by the wrist over the threshold and into her home. My body jerked like a marionette whose strings had been yanked abruptly; and I landed with a thud at her feet, on a plush white carpet. I heard the door slam. She was looking down at me as I lay there. The bottle of champagne had escaped destruction during my fall; I held it securely in my hand, the bottle damp with condensation as I lay on the deep-pile rug in my swimsuit. "There's a picture for my calendar," she said in a friendly tone of voice. I looked up to her, and saw her head precipitously close to the low ceiling. She walked over to a vase that sat in the window; she dumped the flowers into it carelessly. "Funny story about giving a girl flowers," she said, walking back to me, so as to tower over me as I lay discombobulated on the rug. I started to get up; but the spike of her shoe went down on my hip; ordering me back down... "Two women are sitting together on a Friday night," she began, slowly circling me as she did. The spike-heels made little craters in the deep carpet. "The first one says 'Damn! My boyfriend brought me a dozen roses when he got home from work. Now I'll have to spent the whole weekend with my legs up in the air... The other woman thinks for a second and asks, 'Why? Don't you have a vase?" She found this hysterical and burst out laughing again; I was too nervous to see any humor in anything; not wishing to offend, I chuckled and smiled. It was cold in here, I noted with a shiver, as goosebumps raised on the skin bared by my trim trunks. If she noticed it, she chose to ignore it... "Pretty good, huh?," she asked, huge body still heaving with laughter. I was glad she had a sense of humor, at least... She was walking around me, checking me out as I lay sprawled. Suddenly a hand went to my head, and I felt myself being pulled up roughly, by the roots of my hair. She literally hauled me to my feet; my scalp stung, and the pain ran all the way down my spine. For just a second, my feet left the floor entirely--such was the power she could command. Before I could even find my balance, she put her arms around me, encircling me like thick and hungry hot pythons. "So you see," she said, as I was surrounded by the stunning Amazon's flesh, squeezing harder than she needed, "That's why I always keep a vase around. If I didn't, I'd have to drop my panties and let you shove those roses up my cunt," she said, almost spitting the word at me as she nearly crushed my body. The big breasts were thrust into my face. I could smell their perfume, and I half-recognized it, but I didn't know what it was... "That wouldn't be much fun, would it? Thorns and everything," she said, wrinkling her nose just before descending upon me with an open voracious mouth, tongue at the ready. I was stunned; but not too stunned to meet her mouth with my own eagerly; I wanted her. I stood on tiptoe to meet the sweet warm breath with my own, and her tongue went deep into my mouth; it seemed to be as powerful as it's owner; yet the pressure she exerted on my lips was soft; almost as though she were merely testing me now; gauging how much force she could exert on me and still find a willing and excited partner. Her skin smelled of the sun; it gave off the heat it had absorbed earlier that day in the harsh scouring light of midday, at a nearly-deserted poolside. As the kiss continued, I dared to raise my hand to her thick threatening bicep, and felt the proud hard boulder under her soft skin... I would've kept kissing her indefinitely; her lips were moist and soft and my other hand had just found it's way to the hard exposed abdomen, and was about to start venturing north under the grey sweattop; but after a another minute of this lingual wrestling match she had decided she'd had enough for now; and she released me just as abruptly as she had grabbed me. I stumbled as the soles of my feet landed on the floor. I was breathing hard; as though I really had been wrestling. But not a hair was out of place on Raye-Anne, as she stood over me, enjoying my dazed look of sexual frenzy she had put on my face. "Come on," she said, turning her broad back and leading me by the hand like a child down the narrow hallway into a comfortably- sized television room. There was a white leather sofa against the far wall; inside a black lacquered wall unit was a large-screen television. Raye- Anne plunked her bulk down on the sofa; she pointed at the place next to her with her head, the blonde mane coming to life with the casual movement, before grabbing the remote; it looked tiny in her thick limb. She flicked on the set; it was the only light in the room, as night gathered outside. We watched a strange and compelling exhibition. It was a video, independently made; it told the tale of a blonde muscle-hewn girl in a bikini who returns to wreak revenge on the fellow who had taunted her. She broke him like a pretzel over a mug of beer. I watched the woman in the video with fascination; she was big; but not as big as the astounding, if mean-tempered musclegirl I was seated next to. She took my hand, and without taking her eyes away from the screen, tucked it inside her huge bicep again. Without words, she explained with this motion just which of us was the dominant half of this couple, and who was expected to demurely follow orders... She folded her legs up on the sofa, and so did I. I was enjoying the feel of her skin, her muscle; feeling her pulse beating through the thick sinew. My hand grew warm and moist, locked in a safe little haven in Raye-Anne's beefy bicep. The little fellow on the screen had been vanquished; the bikini- clad blonde exalted herself in victory, and the poor fellow was humiliated. When last we see him, he is oiling her vast and pumped body as she stands, hard and cool and unsympathetic, flexing over him. The screen faded, blackened, then went static; bathing the room in the harsh white-silver light... "That's entertainment, huh?," she asked, her voice low and throaty in my ear. I looked at her. "You'd probably like to be treated like that, wouldn't you?," she asked. "Put in your place by some great big hunk of throbbing female muscle. Wouldn't you?" She was expecting an answer. I put my other hand on the bicep, too, and tried to buy some time... I swallowed hard as I looked longingly, tremblingly, at the thick muscle. "Uh-huh," I acknowledged. "With you, Raye-Anne, in a second..." She nodded as if I had confirmed a suspicion. "That's what I figured," she said, looking me up and down with contempt. "You think you can strut in here and bat your eyes and act all cute and get roughed up just a little bit, then get all worshipful and adoring and I'll let you off the hook, like that guy on the tape, huh?" she asked, pointing at the now-blank screen. I didn't know what to say. "Well, let me tell you something, my skinny little man, it don't work like that. You want a piece of Raye-Raye; you gotta earn it...," she stated firmly, making the bowling ball jump on the thick arm... The doorbell rang. "Now who the hell could that be?," she asked me, as if I should know. She got up and walked across the room, and then turned to me. "Stay there and don't move," she threatened, "or I'll come back here and spank your cute little behind black and blue. Get me?," she asked, pulling the sleeve high on the slab of an arm and bringing the meaty bicep to life again in a heart-stoppingly huge flex. I swallowed hard with awe and desire. "Uh-huh," I breathed. There was just the trace of a smile on her face as she turned and disappeared down the hall. Within seconds of hearing the door open on rusty hinges, Raye- Anne's voice was raised. "Encyclopedias, huh?..." The salesman raised his voice, too, just a bit, anxious to make a sale. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but they were the soothing strains of a salesman alright, trying to lure her in... "Here's what I think of your fuckin' encyclopedias!," she boomed. I knew I had been told to stay in my place, but I had to see... I got to the door of the den just in time to see Raye-Anne down the hall, standing in the front room over a smallish salesman. She had taken the heavy, foot-thick sample from the guy. I wondered how he carried something so heavy from door-to-door... "Watch this, pal," she said to him. She grunted, and opened the book until her hands each held an equal half of the heavy tome. And she began tearing it in half. The salesmen tried to stop her, but got a swift kick in the groin for his attempt, and he hit the floor in a heap, where he would watch the conclusion of this amazing muscle demonstration quietly, hoping he would escape with his life. The book began to tear; pages falling loose as the binder began to crumble and shatter, pulled apart with incremental little tugs at first, until it's back was broken, so to speak. I could see the veins in her tree-trunk-arms come to life in a frightening network, like raging rivers. As she would change her grip, I saw a new muscle group come into play, giving the arms a slightly different but equally huge look. Now the biceps were doing most of the work, then the triceps would shoot into life in vivid detail, the cut of her delts focusing now, showing their vast wicked thickness, until... RRRIIIPPP!!! She tore the ten-pound, leather-bound book in two, the spine giving way and making a cracking sound; it sounded like a human spine that was being broken, and the beautiful tome that might have graced someone's bookshelves for generations, taken down delicately to enrich young minds, was now junk in the hands of an angry heaving she-hulk. She breathed a bit heavily, for just a second, as she held the broken volume up. It was as though she was daring the conquered salesmen to object to her work. Then she dropped the two halves upon the figure as he lay doubled-up with pain, courtesy of Raye- Anne's swift kick. He hid his face from the falling wreckage. "That's what I think of your book, shrimp," she said, hands on her hips. She gave a little rim-shot with one, as though she had not made her point clearly enough... She picked him up in one hand, holding him suspended by his own belt, and opened the front door. She was about to throw out the garbage, or so it looked... Seconds later, he was deposited rather violently out her door, followed quickly by the destroyed literature he had tried to sell. I heard a painful grunt issue from him as the door closed. I hustled back to the sofa, where she returned to find me sitting, obediently, several moments later. As she stood in the doorway, filling up the entrance with untold raw muscle and hard-natured, womanly cruelty, I swallowed hard and knew I was lucky that she hadn't caught me snooping at her dominant demonstration. And I reminded myself not to ask her to buy any Girl Scout Cookies! Next thing I knew, I was cooking dinner. The small kitchen was well-furnished; lots of pots and pans and shining scoured steel; well-stocked cabinets full of dry goods and a refrigerator jammed to the top with, ironically enough, Sternwood Supplements. She told me to improvise; a test, she said, to see if I knew how to take care of a musclegirl's appetite. She had strutted upstairs to hit the iron awhile, she said. As I broiled the swordfish steaks I had found in the frig, I heard the clanking of the metal; her loud grunts, and the banging of the weights as she lowered them back into place after a heavy set. I steamed the vegetables and wondered what she looked like as she went through her paces in the upstairs gym. The baked potatoes were steaming; so was I, hopeful for a chance to see her in a full pump. Gee, she must look astonishing... I knew better than to add butter to them. The potatoes, I mean. I then launched into a smutty little daydream about applying the golden stuff to every inch of Raye-Anne's body; letting the stuff get soft and oozy in the heat before beginning; drawing little circles with the butterbar around her prominent abs, soaping her muscles with the stuff as they stood like proud and defiant mountains on the hard taut and cruel plain of her body; breasts made golden yellow, running with the stuff; then slowly, with hunger and reverence and a burn in my loins, licking and eating the cream til the flesh shone with my saliva. It was the first time in my life I had ever gotten an erection while looking at a bar of butter. But Raye-Anne had that sort of effect on a guy, I guess. I was shaken out of my reverie by the alarming smell of burning fish; I rushed to the broiler, where I was flamebroiling the two steaks. Pulling them out, I could see that I had caught them just in time; the steaks were lightly blackened in the style you find in the new cajun restaurants; I was an accidental chef! I carefully built two perfect plates of food; artfully placing the swordfish steaks, vegetables and potatoes on each of the two plates; I opened the still-cold champagne and poured it into two glasses. I put it all on silver serving tray and turned to bring it to the table. At just that moment, the lights went out. I occasionally had power outages in my building as well, and I was careful not to lose my grip on the dinnertray, loaded as it was with my handiwork, and the juice-of-the-grape I hoped would soften Raye-Anne's rough edges just a bit. In the darkness, I heard the tiny combustion of a match strike; and the room was cast in dim light, shadows dancing and shifting as the invisible currents of air blew the small flame about. I could not turn around to see what was happening; first I had to set down the tray on the sideboard again... Another light came to life; a second candle had been lit, and the room was starting to brighten as I turned, my hands free now, and saw a sight that remains burned, if you will, in my mind; and will for the rest of my life. There were plenty of sights I would see that night worthy of a diary entry; or a poet's pen; or an artist's easel; but this one moment illuminated my mind and my heart and my loins more than any I would see that night, or any other night... ...not even with Ursula. a drop of sweat was digging a salty shining channel across her abdomen, riding the swell of the ridged muscle like a boat on a raging sea; up and down it's contours until it disappeared into the trimly manicured pubic hair, whose light scent reached me even here. "You're in for one hell of a Friday night, boy," Raye-Anne said, quietly, as she flexed her tanned thundering flesh. She was naked save for a white g-string. She was pumped. And she was magnificent. The flickering candlelight had the effect of throwing shadows across her body, accentuating the rise and fall and hard carved relief of her body. The workout had had the effect of magnifying her muscles, sure; but also the bad mood she was in. It hadn't alleviated any of the tension that that sort of thing was supposed to do for you. Sally always hit the iron when she was cranky; that is, until recently. But the blonde woman who was now sitting on her kitchen table was scowling amidst her super-sized swollen muscle; she had smelled the burning fish. But for me, all thoughts of food were gone, replaced only by the sight of this astoundingly well-developed woman. Who, as I said, was all-but-naked. Pumped. And sweating; aglow; filling her immediate vicinity with the light odor of clean perspiration, just the slightest trace of scent, as though she had added something earthy and elemental to her perfume. The woman with the biggest build I had ever seen on a female was stretching, as though bored. Bored and naked. And hungry. "You gonna feed me, or what?," she asked as the candlelight danced in an sudden breeze, and her flexing muscles cast a super- sized shadow on the wall. I brought the two plates of food over to the table, reciting baseball stats in my mind to avoid another untimely erection. She was defiantly bare-skinned, still. She made no attempt to cover up, and I did not know if she was testing me; should I ignore her brutal bareness and serve the dinner, or should I hover and swoon at the sight of all that hugely developed femaleness as it sat aglow and sweating, angry muscle still swollen, as though it had lost it's temper at being forced to do the work to which she had subjected it in the gym. I kept my eyes down. If she was hungry, I would feed her first. She made no attempt to move; merely kept her large perfect behind affixed on the table while I worked around her, like some waitress trying to withstand an unwelcome glare and do the work that there was to do. Even so, I couldn't help but remark to myself how beautiful she looked in candlelight. It was as if she were some prehistoric naked cavewoman waiting for her man to prepare her meal by the light of the campfire, in their little cave... I placed the cutlery on the table. I had whipped up a sauce of lemon and butter and put it in front of her place. We were ready. "What do you think you're doing?," she asked, annoyed, as I got ready to take my seat. "You're not ready to eat," she said, pointing at the small pile of dishes I had used and left uncleaned in the sink. "Those have to be cleaned". I was going to say that if I waited to eat, the fish would be cold, and that the dishes and pots could wait. But somehow, I knew that would be, how would you say it? Muscularly Incorrect. I set about my task, aware out of the corner of my eyes that she was sliding around on the table now, taking the plate and placing it beside her as she ate naked atop the table. She stretched out, enjoying the meal as though she were on a picnic. Naked, wildly endowed with feminine curves and hard-won muscles, she enjoyed the meal. "Hey, this isn't bad...," she had stated, through a half-mouthful of food. "Sure smelled like you had fucked it up..." She must have enjoyed it, because when I had scoured the last pan, and put the last of the utensils away, I turned to find that both meals had been eaten. I did not let my hunger or my disappointment show. But she anticipated it nevertheless. "Sorry about that," she said, resting her head on her hand, mischief dancing in her eyes. "But I was hungry. It takes alot to keep a girl like me satisfied," she leered. "If you know what I mean...," she added with a wink and a playful tug on her breast. It shook only slightly. The empty rumbling of my stomach was replaced by the hungrier call of my loins. "Well," she sighed, shrugging massive shoulders. "Even if you flunk out in the sack, at least you can be my cook and head dishwasher." She took the bowl that had contained the butter-and-lemon sauce, and took the small whisk brush and dunked it deeply into the golden stuff. Letting the sauce drip carelessly on the table, she proceeded to apply the brush across her breasts, painting them in the way you see the body artists at the beach do; she dabbed her nipples gently, and presented her handiwork to me. It was as if she had read my mind, and intercepted my little erotic daydream and made it come true. Raye-Anne Hallison could make any guy's dream's a reality... When she was done, she held the breast to her mouth, and sucked off the savory gold sauce with long licks and quick flicks of her little pink tongue. "Later on, if you're good, I'll let you do that. Would you like that?," she asked, as if she were asking a child. A nod from the chef, the head waiter, and the dishwasher all at once. Nodding for three was hard on the neck... FROM THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS 702-243-7723 (C) WIG, LTD 1993 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 calvesl; 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... FROM THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS 702-243-7723 Ursula Parkheart, P.I.: The Flexing Detective in "The Adventure of the Amorous Amazon" by Forrest Curran Chapter Six: Sex-Slave Of A She-Hulk ! Raye-Anne, to put it in the sexual vernacular, was a rider. She didn't like the idea of being subordinate in anything while she was standing, and in recline, the same hard-and-fast disciplines applied... She rose and shoved me down into the depths of the springy bed; pressing just hard enough that I bounced again, like a child, on the oversized mattress. But Raye-Anne wasn't in the mood for amusement--not when her vagina had grown swollen and wet, the hard and aroused little clitoris peeking out from between the petals of her pinkness. Musky anticipation met my nostrils; signaling her readiness. There was a flush to her face, and her nipples were hard. No, this was no time for games. Raye-Anne Hallison was big and bad; buxom and built. And she wanted to get laid... Now. And me? I was about to be buried in an avalanche of hard female boulders as they crashed upon me, smothering all thought, all objection... She mounted me with smooth efficiency, a calm look of control that some might have mistaken for boredom on her beautiful country-girl face; but which I already had learned simply meant that she knew what she was doing, and what would happen when she did it. I caught a quick glimpse of her molten open sex as she swung her thick thigh over me, and my heart began pumping so hard and loudly in my ears that I thought my eyes would bulge. The spike-heeled mega-vixen had settled in, ready to take me for a ride through MuscleGirl Country... She reached over me--her plump warm breasts momentarily dragging over my face as she did; a sweet way to suffocate!--and pulled at the curtains that hung over her headboard. From out of the corner of my eye, I saw that a mirror was now revealed upon the wall, behind me. She sat up and turned a knob that was recessed within it, and the lights of the room faded to a muted, soft red; matching the stage-lighting of her recent performance down the hall... Her skin took on the color of the mood-lights, and I saw the fiery illuminance in her eyes; it turned the cool arctic of the blue orbs hot and evil; for just a moment, bathed in crimson flames, she looked very much like a devil. A muscle-packed succubus--beautiful and dangerous; intoxicating and deadly. But impossible to resist. Raye-Anne flexed her freshly-inflated physique for herself, bathed and made bewitching by the scarlet rays, and she leered at the overwhelming image it reflected back at her. The dark and densely-packed layers of thundering girlmuscle tightened into full and flagrant life, capped off by the big-nippled buxom delights that would shame a silicone showgirl. The sight overwhelmed me, and I gulped a small puddle of saliva that had collected in the back of my throat. It was a swallow of fear and desire, merging to form a pool of surrender in my stomach. But she was pleased at the picture she saw; beaming, quietly content amidst her sinews and her slave, as though her huge body hovering over a pliant and desperate-to-please man was a source of reliable reassurance for her, rather than anything dark or particularly passionate. The muscle bragged about it's size, lording itself over me as I lay below her. Presently, she looked down, where I lay naked beneath the Pumped-Up Princess who had stolen my mind as well as my body, and seemed to both know it and not care a damn about it... A bored smirk came upon her now, and the derision on her face only increased as she lowered her gaze to my loins, where my penis eagerly poked out and throbbed between her thighs as they straddled me. "Hhmmph," she grunted, staring at the erection I offered her, desperately, adoringly, while she rubbed her prominent nipple. "For somebody who walks around with a tent pole in his cute little briefs, you sure don't pack too much man-meat," she taunted in a low and throaty bedroom voice. She took my hard penis in her hand, and it nearly vanished in her grasp, overwhelmed by her flesh. "Geez, if I'd a known you were such a thimbledick, I would have sent you out to find me a real man," she said, running a thumb slowly across the dripping slit-of-a-mouth and looking right into my eyes; meaning for her words to strike me hard in the heart even as I shuddered with pleasure. "I could probably find me a boy scout with more cock than you're packing, Skinny Boy," she stated calmly, as though she were reporting the commonplace news of the day. But she was not finished with the verbal and spiritual humiliation that would come before it's physical counterpart... "In fact," she said, sliding her large but feminine hand along the shaft that fit so easily within her palm; and scratching it with neatly-manicured fingernails that brought a rumbling from my smooth-shaven scrotum... "Seeing you all hairless and skinny and under-hung makes me wonder about something," she announced. Scornful sarcasm dripped heavy in her mellow voice, and she shrugged a huge shoulder encased in daunting deltoid... "You see, my little loverboy, I don't know whether to fuck you or put you in a diaper and send you off to bed...," she pouted as she held the helmet of my manhood between two fingers and dangled it like a toy. My cheeks burned with the indignity of her words. But my penis continued it's pitiful plea, it's search for release at her powerful hand. She leaned down now, on all fours, until she hovered directly over my subdued body--face to face, chest to chest; her nipples grazing atop my own, like two sets of magnets finding their mutual polarity. She did not release my organ from her powerful hand; but tugged on it hard and long, as though sending me an implicit threat that such a dreaded emasculation was well within her power... Her eyes scanned my slender shoulders, and she shook her head at my underachieving physique; a body that she had conquered with a flex, a sneer, and a snap of her fingers... A shank of hair fell over her eyes, and as she stared at me through the shining golden fire of her tresses I felt her hot breath fall upon my awed countenance. I felt so small and powerless beneath her shapely ladybulk. Her shadow had fallen over me, eclipsing me from the crimson light. I remembered what I had always been told about eclipses: Never look directly up towards one... But I did for this one, and the hard beauty of my muscular lady-love met my eyes with a rapacious leer. "How about it, Bikini Boy? What should Big Aunt Raye-Raye do with her naughty little nephew? Should she put him in Pampers and give him some milk and cookies? Maybe tell him a little bed- time story about a big lady with giant muscles and a teensy- weensy bikini who steals away a little man by the swimming pool? After all, Aunt Raye-Raye has a date, and can't have you running all around the house with your bare little bottom showing, can she?," she taunted me, continuing her imaginary little bedroom- game scenario. "Gosh, Raye-Anne," I sighed, my chest both heaving with desire and trembling with trepidation at the same time, "I'm sorry if I disappoint you..." I put my hand on her upper arm, and played with the sculpted deltoid. In the red lighting, her downy-light blonde bodyhair was highlighted on her thick forearms; short slivering gold wisps that had been all-but-unseen made apparent now; but only for a moment--the slightest movement on her part would render them invisible again. My fingers ran along the deep groove where it met her triceps. It did the trick... She straightened up, her huge perfect bulk suspended over me. Swinging her head back, she quickly snapped the stray locks out of her eyes; she let my penis go at last, and the organ toppled and fell, like an actor with stage-fright who is confronted with too big a part to play, and loses his nerve at the last second. It lay palpitating upon my abdomen like a lonely heart, leaking my desire upon my bare white skin. "Okay, little man, get ready," she warned me, preparing for her attack. I prayed she would be merciful, yet withhold nothing of her power, her strength, her lush beauty, from me; I wanted the chaos, the harsh wonders of Raye Anne Hallison, to plummet and ransack me. Now... She stretched and yawned as if she were getting ready for eight hours of morpheus, rather than to ravage a willing slave... Her vast, incredibly-muscled body was articulated again, one more time. My hands fell upon the steely thighs, and squeezed the strength that manifested there. "Oh, Raye-Anne, yes," I whispered, wishing for the gift of her hardbody more fervently than the air I breathed. "Make love to me..." She smirked. "Quiet, mouse," she corrected, her gaze back to her own reflection in the mirror for just a moment, savoring her own glory before turning back to me. "Shut up and start moaning," she heralded, stretching her mammoth arms out wide like an Awesome Angel... She reached down for my erection again, offering her all it could and hoping it would somehow please this elementally huge woman... It's mouth was glistening with pre-ejaculate that ran down the side of the pinkish-red head like saliva from the mouth of a starving man just before a sumptuous meal. But I felt like I was offering her a cocktail frank when she was looking for knockwurst! In her grasp my manhood seemed to wither in comparison to the madly rippling lady bodybuilder hovering above it, like a spindly lighthouse facing the onslaught of a killer tsunami. She held it straight up, pointed due north towards her musky wet pussy whose lips almost seemed to smack at the hors d'oeuvre it was being offered. It was the only site of softness on her rock-hard, huge body; the delicate buds of her sex opened and made ready for interface with me. I was about to be taken, most roughly, I knew, by an Amazonian Goddess. And I felt fear rise in my stomach for just a moment, a fear that matched the desire that set my lip to tremble, and my hands to shake... And it began... With a casual jiggle of her wide hips she nestled over my penis, and promptly sat down upon it. I had expected to see and feel the head slowly disappear within her confines, followed by inch after inch of the fleshy offering I was making; but instead I was immediately engulfed, swallowed whole by the powerful wet walls of the musclewoman's vagina. And she showed no signs of feeling a thing! Her body took on my penis like a shark engulfs a minnow, as an almost-incidental thing; and it had vanished to the root. For a moment, I even believed I saw her sigh, as though she had found a comfortable seat on the subway. But nothing more... Still--wasn't there a gleam in her eye? Her high heels dug into the thick silken bedcovers as she squatted over me. The sharp heels began to tear the cloth; but she did not seem to care... After that first initial thrust, I understood why her mattress was so loosely-sprung. Raye-Anne pushed down hard with her bottom as she knelt over me; her fists dug deep holes in the mattress, on either side of my rib-cage... Instinctively, my hands went from her thighs to her thick forearms and held there, as though to anchor myself to something fixed and solid in the winds of the Blonde Tornado as it turned it's full force upon me. I felt a long rope of vascularity under my fingers, her heartbeat slow and steady within... I began bouncing with her thrusts; she would push me down deeply into the mattress's depths, only to have me shoot back up, half a second later, like a cork in rough seas, or a clown upon a trampoline; my penis would slam back up into her waiting vagina, flesh cracking and slapping against flesh; gulped whole and made insignificant. A hard thrust by that hot-muscled vixen, and down I would go again, my body obeying her rough, push-and-shove tempo; ricocheting up and down, and in and out of the molten pathway of her pussy as it slurped hungrily and voraciously at the meager feast it had been offered. The fiery walls were wet and snug around my penis; and yet, they had within them something stern and unforgiving as well, as though it was just another muscle she had taught herself to tame and control as completely as she had her biceps. There was, I thought somehow, little it could do that she did not wish it to do; no surprises issued forth to thrill or excite her. She would orgasm, perhaps; but only when she felt like it... And I? I was like a puppet whose strings were being twisted by an angry puppeteer; the force that she exerted downwards returned me with an equal force back into her body, with a power stronger than anything that I could ever muster. For a moment, I fantasized that the incredibly-built woman over me was a marauding lady-pirate, just ashore; who had burst into the home of a humble and unsuspecting villager to quickly ravage him, merely for sport and pleasure, before moving on... I looked up now and saw another example of action creating an equal force... Raye-Anne would now begin flexing prodigiously; muscles resurrecting to hot pulsating life. She had shaken my grasp off, and raised her arms up; veined muscle rippled, almost as though the blood vessels represented little tears in the fabric of her flesh, so that now, after years of training, they would refuse their subordinate subcutaneous place and demand recognition as her essence; more than big- nippled breasts or hungry wet vagina, what had made her a force of nature that attracted me to her magnetically, hypnotically. I would have done almost anything she could demand of me now... Anything... "Look at it, boy. All this hard muscle. And look at you. So small and weak underneath me," she taunted haughtily, stroking the thick and sharply-sculpted terrain of her torso; running a hand over her own broadly-stacked shoulders lasciviously; as though to tease, even as my erection was roughly caressed by the powerful and demanding privates of the blonde-haired she-hulk. And I did look, too; my eyes willing slaves under her carved bulk. Her hands followed the cuts in them, deep chiseled relief made of rocksolid ladymuscle. I wanted it... Under her lacy canopy, in her room full of girlish frill and upon a soft-soft mattress, the muscle-woman established her authority over her small lover; her wide back a manifestation of her might, her slabs-of-arms proof of her dominion, her breasts, such blatant emblems of her carnal company... I wished that she would lower her hot painted mouth down to mine, and scour me with her tongue; sucking on my soul just for the taste of it. But she was not interested in that... Oh, no... With every massive, vein-rippling flex, with every hungry, hateful thrust down upon me, she made her meaning all too clear: This was no act of love! This vagina that was pounding down upon me with a force that would, I thought, surely leave me bruised and battered, was not the tender portal of procreation that most women consider their delicate sex to be. Instead, this was an instrument of pleasure; a hedonistic device re-designed to her own specifications, for providing amusement with some, gratification with others, and, if her chosen partner tried very hard and was equipped generously enough, perhaps even bliss. And so she was commanding me, riding me, treating me as though I were nothing more than one hundred and forty pounds of beef she had purchased and brought home to play with... An image flashed in my mind of a drowning man struggling to reach the surface of the water, seeking air; but a powerful force, in the form of Raye-Raye's arm, corded and wrapped in muscle, grabbed his ankle and pulled him back to her, like some submerged sexual monster hungry for her prey... How I lusted for her! For this was a woman amongst a world of little girls! She was larger than life and loved it, thoroughly enjoying the rippling sensuality of her mountainous physique, and daring others to find fault. She was not the type to cover up who and what she was; and so deny the magic of her muscular monument. No, no... When shopping, she would wear what pleased her; frankly and starkly indifferent to the startled stares; she dressed in tiny black t-backed tank tops that bared bold biceps and made the little ladies mutter, and mothers to cover their young son's eyes... "Come away, Junior," mother would warn, afraid that if he strayed too close to the Blonde Amazon--whose build was far bigger than her husband's own and so a threat to civilization as she knew it--that he might be stepped upon by her as she strutted down the neatly-shelved corridor. She was stopping traffic as she went her broad-shouldered way, and causing heads to snap and loins to spring to life; her hips swinging in spiked heels beneath skin-tight jeans... And the mother would tell all the girls at the coffee-klatch what she had seen and they would all 'tsk-tsk' while cramming down another crueller and complaining about their pot-bellies... But even as mom compared prices and fussed over the cost of milk, Junior had ventured forth in the market, and searched down the many aisles until he found her, again. She was leaning down into the freezer case to choose her evening's meal, and he felt his heart thump in his chest as she bent low; the muscles in her broad 'V' of a back, dark and daunting, going to work as she now straightened up. And turned. She was standing directly in front of him, nearly toe-to- toe. He looked up to see her serenely beautiful face as it rested on her powerful neck; half-obscured by the big bursting breasts hovering far above him. Her black eyes arrested him. She did not acknowledge the young boy in short pants, who stood staring upwards at her, with his mouth hanging wide-open in un-self-conscious awe. Instead, she just flexed an exposed limb; brought a pounding bicep to furious life as the rumbling earth pushes up and creates a mountain... He felt a tumultuous stirring; the first one he had ever known. The muscle contracted to a hard dense peak above him. And she blew him a kiss and walked away, her singular virtues ajiggling.... He would get punished for wandering away from the cart. But so what? He spent the afternoon in a fog, unable to forget that extraordinary woman who had made a muscle for him. Becky, the older girl next door who had a fervent crush on him, suddenly seemed small and silly... That night, under the covers, he found his first relief as visions of the sinewy lady danced in his bedazzled head. I knew all this to be true. Because I was Junior... My hands went to Raye-Anne's tiny waist, the iron link that joined the heartless hemispheres of her millenial body; but they could not hold on... She continued to thrust without missing a beat, and I watched those firm breasts jiggle with her movements, her body falling faster than they could keep up with. They would slap her hard abdomen before bouncing back up, high on her chest. It was as though she was riding a mechanical bucking-bronco of her own invention, powered by her own forceful proddin' and pokin'; a ride she had created from her own whim and fancy, and one where the rider would always emerge victorious... But it was I who had to hold on, and I couldn't... My hands slipped off the twenty-seven-inch bridge and grabbed at air... And she picked up the tempo. Muscle Mistress leaned over deeply again, and whispered in my ear, just a bit breathless from her exertions... "You made yourself all hairless and pretty for big Raye- Raye, didn't you? Word must've gotten around that I like my little sextoys clean-shaven, huh?," she invited, her words punctuated and caught short, mid-thrust, by small grunting breaths of exertion. "Good little nephew likes gettin' the shit fucked out of him, doesn't he?," she charged. "Uh-huh," I hissed, nodding my head fervently. "Tell me about it," she directed, prodding me for worship... "Tell the musclegirl how much you love gettin' FUCKED!.." But I could not find words to follow those; it was as if a part of me, long confined, had been finally freed, and would not stop to talk, busy as it was, sensually exploring it's freedom... "Oh, Raye-Anne," I beseeched her. "Hhmmmm?," she lilted. "What is it, Tiny?," she inquired gently, never missing a hip-lunge, her thrusts like little smart- bombs that knew just where to land. I tried for poetry, but my mind's access to eloquence had been shunted by her mighty, rippling beauty. My throat was burning, feverish and dry; the meek words were almost inaudible. "Y-you're so big and hot...," I whispered in reverence, as though it was a secret that nobody else knew... "Yeah," she acknowledged, "I sure am, little boyfriend..." She watched the expression on my face melt and mutate as she changed her rythmic bombardment, making me run the gamut from fear to joy to frenzied pleadings like a frantic and under-fed Pagliacci. Until she had had enough, and had something to tell me. "It's time, baby," she informed me at last, when tears had begun to well up in my eyes from the sheer sexual pandemonium she had instilled within me. "I've had enough finger-fuckin'! Now I'm gonna make you cum like the little wimp you are. It's gonna happen when I decide, 'cause that's the way things are gonna be for now on; you're gonna cum every time I tell you to, right on the spot.." I felt the sculpted muscle inflate and tense until it was so taut it seemed ready to burst from within her, and come after me! "Like now," she announced, straightening up and shouting amidst a wild spray of blonde hair flying about her... "Grab a hold of these hot hunkin' arms, and offer it up to your goddess, Bikini Boy!... 'Surrender to the muscle!..." And I did. Her hips pumped like pistons, in a blur of she-muscled frenzy, filling the air with the continued sounds of wet slapping flesh. As an oil derrick pulls oozing crude from the depths of the earth, so did the astounding force of nature that was her body begin it's call upon my privates; as though creating a vacuum that would command my penis to spurt with pleasure. My hands strained to fit around her huge limbs, but the biceps were just too big for my grasp; I hung on all the same, small white supplication seeking reassurance on the brown girl- mountains as her blond mane billowed about her. I did not want it to end yet; but she did. And in this bed, Raye-Anne Hallison made the rules, and had the thick muscle to enforce them. I felt the eruption build. I thought I would burst into flame, so strong was the intense release that was approaching... A rocket rumbled and ignited and was let loose from deep within me, ignited by her relentless thrusts, and launched by the rolling waves of hot stern flesh that had mastered my heart and domesticated my loins as she continued to slam down upon me, making my breath catch with each impact. Years ago I had had my first orgasm, self-inflicted under a warm winter blanket as I dreamt of a tall package of iron-hewn woman in a tank top, making a big bicep dance for my pubescent eyes; and now, for the first time, I felt that same feeling return, it's intensity surpassing that faded black-and-white memory by a light year and a half. I had been with girls before, to be sure. Slim-boned, small-breasted churchmice-ladies who blushed freely; who never cursed, or let their skirts rise above their modest knees... But never a woman; at least, not one like this...! And so I climaxed, beneath the gigantic female bodybuilder, surrendering to her superiority like a helpless slave. So profound was the passion, so ardent the release, that my semen actually felt hot-as-lava as it shot through the tubes and ducts of my frantic penis, and into the stern and demanding sanctuary of her muscle-cunt. Her hips sucked the semen as quickly as I ejaculated it, and my body obeyed the command of this most-muscular woman as she rode me as though on a saddle. My overmatched loins gushed and gushed into her ravenous vagina, which filled the air with wet slurping sounds that spoke of the culmination of pool-side crushes in the hot sunshine. It was nearly a minute before she relented her hip- thrusting, bed-busting lunges down upon me; and I bounced like an inflatable toy; the sex puppet of a she-hulk! There was a commotion in my soul, as memories and loves gone by were wiped clear in the chaos she had created in her bed; amongst the satin sheets, and upon the diminutive lover she had taken. In moments, I found myself offering worship with a suckle on inviting plump nipples, as though I was trying to procure milk from her breasts even as she was snatching it from my testicles. It was a most bizarre attempt at re-cycling our respective fluids, yet it seemed as true to nature as an infant's birth... FROM THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS 702-243-7723 (C) WIG, LTD 1993 Ursula Parkheart, P.I.: The Flexing Detective "The Adventure of the Amorous Amazon" by Forrest Curran Chapter Six: (Cont.'d) Soon, my suckling homage turned to words; dark whispering words of adulation that I now issued, under my breath to her as I buried my face in the valley of her bounteous breasts; the sort of far-away pledges that you do not hear yourself saying, as she takes all you are and yawns in your face because it wasn't enough... But words that you can't take back, and they make her nod approvingly, encouraging your servility, sneering all the while. I felt strangely vulnerable to her now, in the scarlet-hued afterglow of our lop-sided encounter, and suddenly I was acutely self-conscious of my own thin arms and un-prepossessing physique as I lay below the vast frontier of her heaping twin endownments- ---the centerfold-girl curves and swerves blessed by Mother Nature; and the steel-and-oak legacy of sweaty sacrifice to Madame Iron! With just a sly and knowing look from her, she saw right through me, as though she could read my mind... "Don't worry, Short-Pale-'n-Scrawny," she assured me with a cool and casual flex of abounding sinews. "Big Raye-Raye wears the muscle in this bed, doesn't she?" Presently, she smiles, and white pearls flash and nearly blind. But she smiles not at you; even as her gaze devours you, head to genitals, as you lay beneath her; but at her job of domination, so well done--I had been overwhelmed by a totally superior specimen. And I was in love with her... And all the while, she kept squeezing my organ with taut tensings of her pubic muscles until I was more-than-dry, and my testicles could offer her nothing more, and begged for mercy. "This is all I can give you, Ma'am," they wanted to say, "please take no more." But she tightened and released, tightened and released, in warm wet deathgrips, as though pulverizing my rapidly-deflating penis would make the entire encounter that much more pleasant for her. My gaze went alternately from the proud demeanor of her half-lidded face to the vaginal power-display below, and she arched an eyebrow as though daring me to find fault with this erotic bit of musclegirl tough-love. Perhaps it was punishment for failing to please? She saw the look of panic and pain on my face and suppressed a grin of pure amusement, and I understood... She simply could not resist making a final point, even now-- Whatever Raye-Raye wants to do, she does. She had taken this most intimate and personal experience, and turned it into just another workout for her extraordinary body. I wondered if an exercise like this could be marketed and sold, and what it would be called... Dr. Raye-Raye's Pussy-Master? Once again, I tried to fit my hands around those redwood biceps, as I tried to seek post-coital comfort in her strength; they failed again; but felt the reassuring dominant strength surge through the lush ladymuscle as I looked up to her, docilely... She stared back at me without smiling, mentally measuring her newest conquest, grading me perhaps? Had I done well? Had I pleased her, after all, somehow? I felt very much her slave... At long last, she released my aching penis from it's captivity within the stern walls of her gender; it slid out limply and went to sleep on my dampened abdomen, twitching; chaffed and exhausted from being forced beyond it's abilities to perform. She had--quite literally--chewed me up and spit me out... What man could stand up to her power, her strength? But I knew that I had felt a release more powerful, and a peace, however shaken and conditional, that was more profound than any I had ever known. I had offered myself willingly, hopefully, to this huge and awesomely-built woman, desperate to please and perhaps placate her. I had forgotten almost entirely that I was here on a deceitful mission; that my equally-built MuscleBossLady was no doubt lurking below the very windows of this room. But I did not think of that, or see it in my mind's eye. All I could see was Raye-Raye Hallison as she sat over me, and my hands orbited around her like small moons encircling some immense planet. A heavy sheen of perspiration had broken out on her torso. I immediately started to lick the larger beads as they ran down their course, to the shapely hips; she had moved up along the bed, to hover them in my face; a blatant Request from Her Most- Muscular-Majesty, and her willing subject obeyed... I grazed and sucked and tasted sweat, and doggedly followed the southward trails to the neat little musky-scented patch of matted pubic... I looked up to her for approval even as I tasted my own ejaculate; I dared not protest! I now began rubbing my tongue on the dripping orifice as she ruthlessly ground her hips down at me, not caring a damn if I drowned in the sexual excretions that covered my face and filled my throat. She let me do that for some time, as the fluid by-product of our encounter, my semen and her vaginal fluid, ran out of her taut pussy, down my face and onto my stomach. It flowed down in small streams across my loins, the warmth of her body having heated it to a balm. I would have noticed it, but at that moment she offered me a big breast, and I again gobbled the large nipple into my mouth and sucked upon it even as the sticky fluid continued to flow in white globs and viscous little strings... Finally, she pushed me aside and took her place on the mattress, amongst the soft silk of her bed, where we lay at rest. The sheets were a tattered jangle around our feet; and so we lay there, unconcerned at the clutter our rough-house coupling had created. My hands were permitted to roam her muscular majority, and now and then she would stroke my pale flesh with a long, slow touch, as though to reassure herself of that which she owned... "See, little man? Let that be a lesson to you," she said, putting a powerful arm around me and pulling me close. "The bigger they come, the bigger you cum," she said, kissing my forehead. "Yes, ma'am," I responded, in choking adoration reserved for the sweet deliverer from my singular virginity. I napped briefly, with my head on her shoulder. "Nothing to be ashamed of, bikini boy," she said, as six- and-a-half-feet of Amazon led her groggy lover by the hand, like a small child to the bathroom. My legs were as wobbly as a newlywed bride, exhausted with the quenching of a long-time lust... "As natural a thing as cummin' in a musclebabe's cunt, like you just did. You weren't embarrassed to do that, were you?", she encouraged, in a tone she might use on a kindergartner. But this was different! At least to me it was; not to her. And she was the one making the decisions here... Gently (and it was the first time tonight she had been gentle about anything) she turned me around over the porcelain. She reached down from behind me and appropriated my penis with one hand, while cupping and tickling my hairless testicles with the other. I felt her thick and wide body press behind mine... "Raye-Raye's in charge of everything you do, little nephew," she told me, with an air of unquestioned authority. "Next time you ask my permission first," she admonished me. "Now you do what she wants you to, right now..." And I did, while she held and looked on, aglee; her muscles rippling. The heavy, big-nippled bare breasts rested upon my shoulders as certain proof of her dominance. But by then, I was too lost in her beauty and her power to be embarrassed. Finally, she turned me around... We stood naked together, and she awed me with a flex of her superhuman female form... The muscle came to life as if it had been beckoned; it rose and declared itself to be hard and harsh and huge on her body. It did not want questions, and would permit no argument. "My, but you were so good," she complimented me, breaking out in mock-applause. I smiled proudly until I realized she was not talking about our love-making, but upon my performance over the porcelain, and I remembered I had just done something with assistance that I had been doing alone since I was three. I looked up to her broad hardness towering over me and making me seem, by comparison, not much different from a toddler standing beneath an adult; and so she had treated me as such! "Take a shower and go downstairs," she commanded after she had turned on a spike heel, at the door. Turning over her barn- door of a shoulder, she added, "And get that bottle of champagne. I'm thirsty." And the door closed behind her. Alone at last, my brain had a chance to clear... I hadn't forgotten about Ursula. I just wasn't sure if I ever wanted to leave this place...! No sooner had I gotten toweled off, than I hustled downstairs; but not before Raye-Anne, leaning into the hall and watching my every move like a sultry sentinel, ordered me to leave my shower-towel behind... "...I want your little butt bare in my house, boy," she commanded matter-of-factly, as she stood, still thunderously naked, in her doorway. "You never know when I might want to rape your little bod, y'know...," she laughed. She turned back into the red-lit room, and strutted back to bed, to find solace amidst the silk. "Yes, Raye-Anne," I offered, watching her disappear from view before descending down the darkened stairs. Naked, and with no chance at covering myself, I walked through the first floor and went to the door, creeping in and out of the meager stray shafts of light that flowed through the windows. I opened the door silently, just a crack. Ursula was waiting in the scant moonlight, and stole up the steps like a ninja. She stepped into the front room, her awesome body sealed and covered in twenty years of muscle and skintight spandex; all in black from head to toe. Over this, she wore a long black leather raincoat... Her eyes immediately lit up when she saw me greet her at the door in the altogether. She seemed strange to me; my eyes still full of Raye-Raye. "Well," she whispered almost inaudibly as she inspected my penis as it hung, gently palpitating in the low light that streamed into the front room from the outside streetlights. "What have we here?" She was rummaging the pockets of her trenchcoat all the while, preparing to go to work. Obviously, the idea of her assistant sleeping with another woman was merely incidental to her night's work! "I'll turn this carving when I'm done," she whispered, pointing at a small wooden hippo on the coffee table. "When I'm leaving, I'll turn it around, okay?" I nodded, unable to cover my excitement below-decks. I smiled bashfully. "Now I see what I've been missing, JT," Ursula breathed as a tease as she looked down and leered at my erection again. I was going to whisper that another demonstration could be arranged, when she deflated my male pride with a tart word and a withering glance of disapproval... "Not much at all," she sighed, shrugging and shaking her head as she removed her coat and placed it over a chair. She shooed me off to the kitchen before I could say a word, patting me on the rear as I turned to fetch the champagne. And I hustled right back up to where my muscular mistress was waiting, in her silken bed. As I turned to go up the stairs, I saw My Bosslady removing her gloves. I hoped that she might turn up to watch my bared rear end ascend the staircase, and maybe, just maybe, get jealous. But she only nodded at me, and turned back to her challenge. She flexed, cracked her knuckles, and approached the safe. Oh well, I shrugged, as I heard soft music waft from the ruby-red bedroom... Ursula could take care of things down here, couldn't she? Raye-Anne lay in the bed. She had gone under the covers now, to lay amidst the matching silk. She had showered privately, and I felt a bit of disappointment that I had not been able to hop into the roiling steamy downpour with her... The covers were pulled up, chest-high; outlining the lush rolling hills and jagged cliffs beneath; one knee raised high above them, like a proud mountain. Her breasts had been washed of my saliva and kisses; they taunted me as they hid from my eyes on her sculpted chest. Her hair was still damp, and she ran her hands wildly through it now, in an attempt to get it dry... "Welcome back," came a greeting full of consent at the sight I presented, of acquiescent nudity and sparkling wine. "Open that bottle and pour me a glass..." The bubbly had been shaken earlier that evening, when she had pulled me over her threshold; and it released it's stored energy as soon as I pulled the cork. Half the oversized bottle of domestic bubbly had shot into the air, and much of it had landed on her chest. It did not go to waste. She bade me to kneel at the side of her bed, and I removed the wine with my tongue. "That's it," she mocked me. "That's what a man has a tongue for, you know," she asserted, as my mouth ran along her hard ravishing contours. "Not for talking. For licking his lady's big hot body..." I was too aroused to hear her voice as anything more than a faint resonant echo; I licked the underside of her breast clean and dry. I loved how she tasted... Ladymuscle Dessert! I felt half-drunk. My head was spinning. I wanted to take her. Or, I hastened to remind myself, be taken by her, yet again. With Raye-Anne, that is how it would always be, wouldn't it? I lay at her side, still catching the last stray streams that flowed off her sculpted wonders, and tasting hard muscle on soft curves... The flexing wondergirl reached for a small lidded tray on the bedstand next to her... She brought it to her, placing it on her stomach, and a washboard of chiseled abdominal flexed as she sat halfway-up in bed. I did not yet wonder why her knee was still high in the air, forming a tall tent pole under the silken sheets... She removed the lid; and a semi-solid bar of yellow butter was revealed. She quickly pulled her hair into a hasty ponytail again, and she dug three fingers into the creamy stuff and began rubbing it into her flesh. She let the covers recede; down below her hips now, so as to let her rub the sweet butterfat into the hard brown flesh; it coated the rocky, curved contours of her form, hugging the etchings of muscle and showgirl swerve of her hips; the deep vertical muscle-cuts filled, painted with the dairy. She looked up at me as she buttered her breasts, filling the areolae with golden butterfat. "Remember this, mousie?" she asked. "Looks good enough to eat, huh, Bikini-Boy? Be good and maybe I'll letcha..." When she had bathed her torso, muscles gleaming gold in the soft light, she pulled me in with a finger and a small wry smile. I beheld the painted sight; a Mona Lisa of Muscle... As I approached, she reached under me, and wiped her slippery hands thoroughly clean on my nether regions with two long swipes. I didn't know it at the time, but it would come in handy... "Don't get any butter on my bed, Skinny Boy," she hastened to admonish me. She snapped her slickened fingers. A drop of the cream flew onto my face. "Now start licking...," she ordered. And she held up a small mirror in front of her to inspect her beauty... God, she tasted great... Buttered girl, thick and sweet, fed my hungry mouth. I savored the musclegirl's body, a delightful dairy of daunting deltoid and luscious latissimus; the thick cream covered my face, my chest; I felt the stuff as it dripped from my loins, but paid it little heed now. I only wanted more, and I devoured the hard, chiseled buttermeal that this overwhelming goddess had put before me even as she feigned disinterest, and ran a brush through her perfect mane. There was a sharp valley created by the sculpted pectoral; it was full of yellow butterfat---the only lard on this lean rock of womanhood. I ate it, as though anxious to see once again the hard brown flesh beneath it. Her nipples poked up from under a cholesterol paint job, revealed again to me as the sheen of sweet gold came off easily in my mouth. I swallowed and wanted more. Please, Big Raye-Raye, may I have more? I went on licking the remains; there was still so much to taste! Her body was like a slippery mountain range that dared a man to try to climb it; knowing full well that falling was all a part of the mistress's plan; falling not to the ground, but to the hard and rocky plain of her body, where fate was her whim of the moment... And my mouth and tongue continued to explore the crevices and peaks of her body-so-muscular... She still bore the scent of the afternoon's indulgence by the pool; twin golds of sun and butter merging on her solid flesh to form something too good to do anything but surrender to, and beg for more. I did not know that she had kicked off the blanket from her body. She had a surprise; a stern, humiliating surprise that would exact payment for the feast she had given me... She poured herself a glass of champagne and began sipping it. I looked up from my butterfeast of ladymuscle, my face dripping with the creamy delights of her feast-of-a-physique... "So," she inquired between sips, "you like a lady's flesh when it's well-buttered, huh? Stuff's fattening, you know, Slim. Can't have you getting chubby on me, now. You're gonna have to work all that cholesterol and saturated fat off your little bod for me..." I smiled mischeviously, anticipating another slavish capitulation beneath the Baronness of Bicep! "Got another treat for you," she announced, sighing. One huge arm went behind her head, languorously. "Look down..." The blanket lay in a crumbled heap at her feet. She was naked; and in my lust the first sight my eyes ran to was her neatly-trimmed vagina. But that was not the 'treat' she had in mind... Across her lower thigh, just above her kneecap, were two leather straps holding a slender upright object securely in place. "Surprise, surprise," Raye-Anne cooed in a sexy sing-song voice. My breath caught in my throat as though it had been flash-frozen. I knew now that Raye-Anne Hallison really meant it when she declared that there was a price to pay for the thrill of her body. I was about to become her entertainment for the evening, whether I liked it or not... In the dangerous game of cat-and-mouse that had been set for Raye-Anne Hallison, I was the "mouse"; the bait. Ursula was downstairs, trying to grab the "cheese." And the towering blonde whose thick architectural wonders lay naked upon the bed? She was the "cat." And I was to learn that when the cat is a hungry lioness, you play whatever she wants to play. Or else. I was perched over the object; I had been given no choice, no alternative. It wasn't like I hadn't tried, either... "...Gosh, Raye-Raye," I had soothed, "wouldn't you rather I lick your sweet pussy some more? Maybe you could butter that, too, and..." "No, I would not," she pronounced with cold-edged finality. "I've had enough of your tongue to last for a while. Now I wanna watch you lose it, Skinny Boy. I want to watch you fuck yourself stupid on my knee. That's why I broke out the butter in the first place, you know," she purred, gently running her fingertips on a nipple, in play. "Lubrication can make it rather enjoyable, you know..." I obeyed--what choice did I have? Ursula was still downstairs. Oh, god! I hope she didn't hear this; the door was ajar...! I scraped the butterfat from her body, as she had commanded; collecting it in my hand. I scooped it and administered it thickly to the object on her knee. It matched her own skin color, strangely looking as though she had grown a strange protrudance there, rather than having strapped it on while I had fetched the bubbly... "C-could I have a glass of champagne first, please, Raye-Raye?," I asked. I hoped I could, at least, numb my senses to the humiliation that was coming for me at her knee... She laughed, abs flexing their steep contours with each deep chuckle. She was all pink tongue, even white teeth, and mean disposition... "No, you can't, wimp. You're not gonna get off the hook. You want to be able to tell yourself that you were drunk when you fucked yourself on the great big lady bodybuilder's knee, right? Uh-uh. You want to play with the big girls, baby, you gotta be willin' to pay the price when the bill comes around. And baby," she declared, as she pointed at her knee, "there it is!... "I coulda strapped it on my hips and fucked you. But then you woulda gone home and wrote in your dreamy little diary that some big mean she-hunk picked you up and raped you, wouldn't you? WOULDN'T YOU?," she raged, her eyes afire, as though all her strength had focused into the angry stare. "Y-yes, I mean, no, no, Raye-Raye..." I was locked in a no-win scenario. I couldn't run; Ursula was still downstairs, and her career, and maybe her life, was in my butter-slickened hands. I could see, in my mind, the memory returning to her fingers as she worked the dials; I knew that, as the safe began to open, her self-esteem would come roaring back to her. It was what she needed so badly, wasn't it? "Better make that thing disappear, skinny, or I'm gonna get mad real soon," Lady Lick-A-Muscle threatened quietly between sips on the glass. I had done all I could. I sighed and tried to calm my nerves. "Awww," she smiled as I hovered and hesitated over it, swallowing tears and fears... "Jes' like a li'l ol' hen," she sneered. The sheer sadism of her intentions, and the red tint of the overhead lights convinced me now... She really was a devil... And I had fallen very quickly from heaven to hell... FROM THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS 702-243-7723 (C) WIG, LTD 1993 Ursula Parkheart, P.I.: The Flexing Detective "The Adventure of the Amorous Amazon" by Forrest Curran Chapter Six: (Cont.'d) Night had fallen, I noticed as I looked out through a crack in the shuttered-and-closed blinds. I wished I could be out in it, and so escape this impending disgrace; even if it meant deserting the bed of this gloriously-built amazon... "Attaboy, skinny, fuck yourself good...," she encouraged me, as she poured herself another glass. This position was new to me; even bizarre. The butter had eased most of the pain of the intrusion. I felt a strange clenching that I did not understand. Was my body attempting to repel this intruder to it's bowels, or embrace it? I did not want to know... I moved up and down, my breath coming hard, in spasms. My face, no, my whole body burned with humiliation as I bounced on her knee; my genitals struck the hard thigh of this MuscleWoman Supreme and found her quad a hard and stern slab, offering no welcome... A chorus of her stuffed animals--pink tigers and white puppies and baby-blue pussycats--looked on in wide-eyed, mute amusement as their mistress took her sport. I closed my eyes, so as not to be forced to view my own degradation in the mirror... "Faster, pussycat, faster," she urged me on, like a mean-spirited cheerleader who had stolen the steroids; she now watched and enjoyed a bizarre athletic display that was taking place, by her decree, just above her knee. There was brutal mockery in her voice as I heard her go on, through ears that buzzed with a hum of fevered despair... "Raye-Raye wants to see you sweat---Fuck yourself good on Raye-Raye's knee, you little bikini-boy slut!," she taunted me. She flexed an arm. It responded angrily, a complicated coconut-bicep springing to life, veins crackling; as though displeased at being disturbed from it's rest. Huge... "Like my big muscles, huh? Yeah, that's right, wimp, look at it,"she teased, as she took another sip and held the hard flex. "Didn't think you'd have to entertain me, did ya? Thought you could get slapped around and make bouncy-bouncy with a musclegirland get all dewy-eyed and go home, huh? Well, I got news for you, skinny. Your ass is mine, and I like what I'm seeing..." "Do it, little man," she sneered, contempt coming into her voice. Groans of strain and disgrace escaped me, try as I might to stifle them in my gorge. I felt powerless and servile, jerking about for her amusement. Again... Throughout, she sipped the flute of champagne and regarded me with sparkling blue eyes that danced with pleasure as her thin bedmate obeyed her muscle-bound whim... She let me bounce like a drunken marionette for some time. Finally, tired of the show, she put down the glass and reached up for me. She seemed to suppress a snicker of happy anticipation as she placed powerful hands on each buttock, and took over. Her rhythm was harsh and fast and unforgiving, turning my bottom to little more than a churn for her enjoyment. Breath escaped me; my head hammered; and her stomach muscles flexed their contempt for me, hard and uncaring under my numbed hands. She was chuckling all the while; a high, angelic little laugh, her bold breasts jiggling. Emotion spilled from my guts. My mouth trembled, my eyes leaked moisture at their corners. I was drowning in shame, removing myself from this reality, all the while uttering words I did not understand; words of stark adulation for this powerful woman mixing with pleas of mercy for her willing bed-slave. "Wanna be with me, pay the price, boy," she mocked, denying me any respite. "You're a little stupid piece of boymeat, and you're mine for now on, understand?" I remember one word I spoke at that moment. "Yes," I spluttered in lament, like a punished sinner doing penance for his transgressions. At last the release overtook me as she pumped my penis with one hand while continuing her harsh cadence with the other, all the same. There was a dam within me, put there by her muscular whim and dominant delight, that intensified my orgasm, draining my will, my strength, and momentarily, my consciousness... My spasms climbed to an apex quickly and plummeted just as fast, and I collapsed, shaking and damp, in a pool of buttercream and semen on her tough stomach. And I passed out in that puddle of my own creation... When I awoke, I was downstairs. Naked. I shook my head, trying to remove the cobwebs of defeat, dishonor, and exhaustion that had overtaken me. Where was I? My painful rear end reminded me... I did not know how long I had been unconscious; but I could see through the glass doors that the blackness of night was beginning to lift, and a shy grey dawn was quietly creeping into place. My tiny swimsuit lay in a lifeless shapeless heap on the sofa. And Raye-Anne stood over me. She had donned a pair of fishnet stockings, and the black mesh was stretched to bursting by the larger-than-life size of her calves and quads. She had donned a pair of backless, high-high black spikes that shone in the fireplace light. And she held the rest of the bottle of champagne. "Good," she declared, "you're awake. Back to work, slave," she ordered... She wore a look of satisfied appeasement; I must have pleased her somehow... Maybe the simple act of humiliating me upon her knee had made it all worthwhile for her. The look upon my face, and the tears I had shed, had made her smile, and find the pleasure that my penetration had not been able to give her. For the next half-hour, still groggy, I again drank the sweet wine as she stood and poured it over her sun-kissed tan body, like a man dying of thirst who finds a waterfall in the wilderness. The last of the butter melted from her sculptured form under the alcoholic waterfall... There was little on her body that my tongue had not already met, but I was thrilled once again; sluttishly drawn to her. Was I ashamed? Maybe. But I was too enticed by her oaken sensuality to heed my own reproach. Raye-Anne leered and smiled as the pink fluid dripped off her and onto my head as I knelt at her spike-heeled feet. I felt her powerful thigh against me as I voyaged 'round my mistress; the quad spoke it's disdain for me, like cruel steel. We did not speak, even as she turned and separated her perfect buttocks, bending low; the better to let me taste the last of my bubbly breakfast. She emptied the dregs of the bottle, finally, as she lay on the floor on her side. She poured it into an armpit made deep as she flexed her lat; I lapped it out, like a dog with his bowl, wanting only to please... "So," she said quietly into my ear, when it was over, "wanna be my little boyfriend?" I was laying in her arms, surrounded and nearly engulfed by her muscular magnitude on the thick carpet. Her back was supported by the black leather sofa she leaned against, and I nestled against her shoulder, and sucked lightly on the nipples of her soccer-ball breasts. She had lit a fire in the small fireplace; the air-conditioning was still on high and, combined with the heat of the flames, the atmosphere was perfect for laying nude with a giant musclegirl on a thick white carpet... I turned to her. In the light of early morning that beamed into the room through the sliding-glass rear doors, her face had that innocent farmgirl look again, as though this woman could not possibly be the angry demonic musclegoddess who had ravaged me to the point of fainting. But as I looked down, and saw the astonishing force of nature that was her body, and drooled at the spike-heeled, fishnet-stockinged adornments, the illusion of softness was gone as quickly as I had envisioned it. She was waiting for an answer; as though she had to ask. Did I want to be hers...? I nodded quickly, and she chuckled with amusement at my apparent enthusiasm. "There's a lot on this body you still haven't seen. Or worshipped," she warned, before finally lowering her mouth onto my own. She had not kissed me--even once--while we made love upstairs, but now she did; hard and enduring, overpowering me easily with her ardent tongue-scouring. I yielded and enjoyed it, letting each of my hands roam and rub first the steep trapezius, riding it's decline, to her wide, thick deltoids; then down the thick slabs of female musclemeat, where they had been packed on, lean and deep and warm, fed by blood and determination; my hands enjoyed the ride. Her mouth never left mine. She seemed to be vacuuming my soul into her; ingesting my essence as I offered it in adoration to my superior; to this woman who had claimed me with casual cool and hard hot muscle-flexing. Now and then, she would look at me with affection before swatting me hard on the rear; and she'd love changing my heaving-hearted gaze to a shocked pout as I tried to recover from the pain... ...and kept right on kissing her. And moments later, while I ran a hand across her chest, or kissed the crest of a lady-delt, she'd do it again; and laugh as the sound of flesh cracking hard against flesh pervaded the room... The burning sting it gave me just made me want her all the more... "Picture what it would be like," she mused, play-acting a dreamy little frame of mind. "We could get married..." I rose up to look at her. "Gettin' your hopes up, huh? Well, Raye-Raye's got a few very special ground rules, little man..." "Like what, Raye-Raye?," I asked, kissing her flexed trapezius, taking another ride down the steep decline with my mouth and tongue. I had already forgiven her the heartless trial to which I had been subjected upon her knee; after all, I must have been found innocent; or passed whatever test she had considered it to be... "When we're in public, I want all the world to know that you worship me. I want your little mouth suckin' any part of my body I tell you to, no matter who's watching. You'll look up to me, all short and skinny, with your mouth hangin' open; and you'll feel like squealin' like a teenaged girl when I take off my jacket and flex in broad daylight." She was probably right... "Maybe I'll slip into my hottest little short-shorts and take you down to the mall and make sure all the mall-girls see you glue your mouth to my biceps whenever I snap my fingers; like the horny little muscleslut-boy that you are. And you know what else? You won't be permitted to take your eyes off me. Not that you would want to," she added. "Lotsa guys might sneer and have something to say, but deep down that won't matter; cause they're jealous, right? But there's more..." I rubbed her body, my hands assuring her every wish; they would be law... "Like kids. You'll have to take care of 'em, y'know. I'm gonna be too busy competing all over the country. And you know what else? I'm gonna have a guy in every town..." I looked up to her, not quite sure... "You heard me," she said, running a hand across my hairless naked loins. She took my half-erect exhausted penis in her hand and I leaned in close to her, wanting to be swallowed up by her self-assured size. "You, of course, will be wildly faithful to me," she said, running a slow hand through her hair as she made her pronouncement like a Queen's Royal Decree. "But not me; not with a cock like that one," she smirked as she looked down and gave it a jangle. My hand went to cover my shortcomings; she reached and pulled it away... "I'm gonna have a great time with a lot of guys. If I find one I like, I'll let him knock me up, too. I'll make sure all of our kids are the result of some other guy shooting a hot cumload in your big wife's cunt. You won't mind that, will you?," she asked, as she stroked my numbed penis up and down slowly. She continued her scenario... "Taking care of another man's kids? Little living testimony to my hot nights spent away from her little man, pumpin' her pussy for some stud while you're fussin' with diapers and formula?" Now wait a second...!! "Just think, she said, running a hand through her hair again, slowly and luxuriously, "while you're losing sleep with a two o'clock feeding, I'll be getting a feeding, too, my Littlecock. Some big stud pounding a thick solid cock-ram into my li'l ol' pussy. In and out and in and out...," she said, enjoying the torture her words were inflicting upon me, sneering into my face even as she imitated the action with her hand as she held my penis... "Maybe I'll even ask him to shoot a load of sweet cum into my mouth, just so I can get some milk of my own. But," she added, nuzzling my neck, "don't worry, little husband. After I finish with him, why, I'll pull on my micro-mini, slip on my spiked heels, and I'll wobble on home on my sore thighs, straight to you. I'll be bringing this big hot bod home, so that you can take care of it--shaving my legs, trimming my pussyhair, keeping my little silk undies clean." She took my hand and placed it between her breasts, as though she wanted me to feel the beat of her heart... "You can give me a hot bath, and a naked steamy massage while I tell you how many times I came in my lover's bed the night before. Maybe I'll even bring him over one night, so you'll be able to see how well he satisfies me. Maybe you can be the condom-boy..." She was kidding, I thought, teasing... "Our kids will all be girls. And with those genes, they'll all be big and tall and muscular. Soon enough, you'll be taking orders from them, won't you? You'll end up a little muscleslave to a whole bunch of huge and mean bodybuilding ladies, won't you?" I shrugged and grinned, embarrassed. "That's how it'll be one day, you know. Lotsa hunkin' hot babes keepin' their little men in line with their big bad biceps. And I don't know about you, mouse, but I think it's gonna be terrific..." My erection was fully alive, and near bursting; it wanted more than life itself to slide deeply into the tight fleshy folds that resided in the small pubic bush... Her other hand went to it as well now, and held it... "Horny little boy, ain't cha? Well, listen here, littledick. You got a sample last night of what I can do to you. But if you want more, you gotta give something up to big ol' Raye-Raye..." "Anything, my big Raye-Raye, anything...," I gushed as I licked the hard vertical depression sculpted between the hemispheres of her chest, before turning my attention to her breasts... "Anything? Good," she announced, as she let go of my cock and slid her huge body out from under me. Her nipple fell out of my mouth, and I fell lightly against the sofa; turning just in time to see her walk her sexy little walk; like jell-o on springs, hips swiveling and strutting, as she disappeared down the hall. It was only then that I even thought to look; the wooden figurine of the hippo was facing the other way. Ursula had been successful. I did love my bosslady, didn't I? Then why was I yielding so easily to this equally-large woman...? Raye-Anne returned with a long metal rod. She stopped in the middle of the room and held it right in front of her. She looked at me with a stern and serious expression. The muscular giantess wore fishnets and spikes, and looked like a pumped-up hooker on steroids. She held a branding iron in her powerful hand... And she was proceeding to the fireplace, to heat it in the roaring flames! As the metal rod began to glow, she turned over her thick shoulder. "You said 'anything'," she reminded me. I saw the reddened metal take on an angry brightness that spelled her initials, "R.A.H." "Don't get scared, Bikini-Boy," she said over her shoulder. The shadow of the red flames danced on her thick flesh, and for a moment it seemed as though I had been transported from the heaven of her body to a very special hell, where a blonde demon was preparing my initiation to the ranks of the damned... "Big Raye-Raye just wants to make sure that another big musclegirl doesn't steal you away from her when she's busy training, or away at a contest. Every female bodybuilder knows what little trampy sluts you muscleboys can be. Some other hunk of woman flexes a little when we're not around, and off you go, right? Ready to coo and sigh for some other babe's big hard bod..." My throat locked for a moment, choking my attempt to respond... "No, no, Raye-Raye, you don't have to do that, really," I urged. "I'll be very faithful to you, I promise," I offered, swallowing hard as I found my feet. I tasted bile in the back of my thoat. I was already lying, I knew. My heart raced in my thin chest. Ursula, save me...! The iron was fully heated; Raye-Anne swung it out of the fireplace-turned-kiln. And she wasn't buying what I was trying to sell... "You need this if you're gonna be mine, boy," she asserted, nodding down to the searing iron as though it was nothing more than a name-tag, or an ID card. "I want this hot brand on your white little behind. I want everybody to see it and know it's there, and I want you to know it's there. You're my property for now on, and you're gonna tell the world every time you flash a little cheek at the beach in your little swimsuit. 'Course, everybody will see you're with me, hanging all over me and this perfect bod o'mine," she sighed. "And if I happen to be with someone else, why, they'll see you waiting back on our towel, sighing after me, faithfully guarding my high heels. But you will be wearing this!" She nodded again at the metal as it glowed a horrifying bright red. I stood up and began stepping backward; but, awash with fear, I forgot about the sofa right behind me, and I fell down to the leather, bounced, and hit the carpeted floor... Six-feet-six-inches of massively-muscled Amazonian Domination stood waiting to administer the red-hot treatment she held in her indecently-large limb; the final mark of her authority, the imprint of her permanent jurisdiction ready to sear and scar itself onto my bottom... I had been ridden, bronco-style. But that had not been enough. The final treatment was waiting for me, now, at the hands of this big Cowgirl... "Turn around on all fours. Now. Offer your little butt to Raye-Raye..." I hesitated. "It'll only hurt for a few minutes," she lied. "Do it or you're gone..." I rose to all fours. I was undecided... Should I spring up and run, making a dash for the glass sliding doors; or submit and enjoy a carnival of female power, with me as the resident clown; buried slavishly, surrendered to her huge, steaming body and big-breasted, muscle-flexing whim...? I could smell the hot metal, acrid and high and unpleasant... I was still undecided moments later; still unmoving as the brand of the musclegirl's initials neared my bare behind. Would I allow this permanent scar to be burned into my flesh in the name of pleasing this throbbingly, pumpingly, audaciously gorgeous hunk of muscle-gal...? I will never know, for at that moment, there was the sound of the glass door sliding open. Officer Maria dell'Avita stepped into the room. She had a gun. Raye-Anne showed no embarrassment at being caught nude in fishnets and spikes, preparing to brand her newest conquest. Reality suddenly came crashing in upon me; what had I gotten myself into? "Was there something?," Raye-Anne said, quietly, not moving. Maria glowered. She was dressed in a heavy black leather jacket and stretch pants. She was off-duty, but held her badge for the huge blonde woman to see. "He's here by his own consent, officer," Raye-Anne snarled, "so why don't you just go hand out a parking ticket, huh? Besides, you're in my house, I can have you..." "Get away from my husband," Maria growled through clenched teeth. Raye-Anne looked startled for just a second, the only time she ever lost her composure during that long wild night. I leapt to my feet, grateful for the lie; and I grabbed for my trunks and slid them on. Maria glanced over to sneak a peek at my bare behind as I did. "Listen," Raye-Anne said, all cool domination once again. "I didn't know he was fucking married. He came on to me at the pool, so I figured he was free." "Did you ask him?," Maria snapped. The she-hulk shrugged, and held the iron over her shoulder like a baseball bat. "I guess he just forgot all about you when he got a load of me, lady. It's not my fault if his big ambition in life is to be a sexwimp for a big 'n strong lady like me, is it? Maybe you should learn to keep him at home, officer. Put on a little of what I got, and he'll stay in your bed..." She threw the evil rod into the fire, and flexed the overwhelming biceps in a double pose. My mouth fell open once again... Maria extended her hand to me, and I walked to her and took it; but I never once took my eyes off Raye-Anne, who saw my ardent, yearning stare. "Stay away from my husband," Maria ordered again, through clenched teeth. "Sure," Raye-Anne said, defiantly huge and naked; stepping close with a sexy churn of her hips, to stand and tower and glower over Maria. But my blonde rescuer did not flinch or back down one inch. "Looks like we have the same tastes in men, at least," Raye-Anne said, shrugging her mighty shoulders and pointing at me... "I like 'em small and awestruck, too," she said, noting my adoring glance at Officer Maria, six feet of heaven-sent ladycop who had just saved my rear end--literally... "Sure, lady," Maria said, taking my hand in hers, "but this one happens to belong to me." Raye-Anne shook her head. "No problem. I was gonna dump his little ass right after I was through with him, anyway," Raye-Anne cackled. As we walked through the open sliding door and into the coming day, she called out to me... "Hey, wimp, last look at a goddess..." I turned and saw her flash white teeth and brilliant eyes, as the spike-heeled body of the blonde-haired Creature of Hardbodied Delight give me a parting flex.... Her big breasts danced and pulsed on her chest as though they were on a puppeteer's string; commanded by layers of thick subcutaneous muscle. The flesh rose and fell like an angry, crashing wave. And she blew me a kiss and waved goodbye. I heard her laughing like a pumped-up angel as we walked to the car, and it was only Maria's strong grip upon me that kept me from loitering to watch the rest of Raye-Anne's Muscle Show. FROM THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS 702-243-7723 (c) WIG, LTD 1993 all rights reserved Ursula Parkheart, P.I.: The Flexing Detective "The Adventure of the Amorous Amazon" by Forrest Curran Chapter Seven: Making Time With Maria's Muscles Maria could drive. I don't mean she had passed a driver's test and had been issued a license. I mean she could drive---she took a professional pleasure in shifting the gears of Ursula's Corvette, and the engine purred under her capable hand as we sped through the early morning roads. I was shaking with nervous relief; shell-shocked. Raye-Anne, who had removed any barricades to my heart and soul with her tough-minded, big-bodied country-girl treatment, had really meant business after all! I shuddered at what had been about to occur, and I looked over at Maria, grateful for her vigilance and courage... She really was quite a lovely woman, wasn't she? For just a second, I wondered what she looked like naked. Had my body recovered from the ordeal of spending the night with the giant blonde dominatrix so quickly? Was I ready for new enticement?! But I could smell telltale reminders of Ursula throughout the interior, and it sent my spinning head to ruminate, and my mind to climb the harsh cliffs of Mount Ursula once again. I laughed to myself. Mount Ursula... It was just what I wanted to do, wasn't it? Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but I was going to find out very soon... As I pulled on my pair of battered white-leather high-tops, Maria reached for the phone. She punched in a number and waited. After just a moment... "Got him, Ms. Parkheart," she stated proudly. "Yeah, he's okay, just a little shaken up....Will do...Thanks, I'm sure gonna give it a try." There was a quick sideways glance of topaz eyes. "Gosh, Maria, thanks," was all I could offer to her in the way of gratitude as she replaced the phone in it's holder under the dash. She peered at me out of the corner of her powder-blues, never allowing her attention to waver from the road as she did. She stepped on the accelerator with a black high-heeled ankle boot. The car sped up. "No charge, JT," she said. Then finally, after what a clock would have said was a minute but what felt like hours, she spoke. "I like your outfit." I thanked her; but, I added, it would certainly be good to go back to wearing long pants... "Aw," she teased, "you're gonna cover up those cute legs? What a shame! On behalf of every woman in town, JT, let me be the first to say 'Boo!' to that idea...," she giggled, eyes dancing with mischief as they grazed along my bare thighs, shaven on order of my Bosslady, the better to please the tastes of Lady Bodybuilders everywhere... She now got serious, the friendly face tightening. "She was a rough customer, huh?," she asked, sympathetically. I nodded. She was silent again, as though replaying in her mind the tableau she had seen from the window. I didn't know how much she had seen or how long she had been there; but I did know she had seen enough to make me more than a little uncomfortable. "Ursula got the papers," she offered, almost as an after- thought, keeping her eyes on the road. She had something on her mind... What could I say? How could I respond? "I'm glad," was all I could manage, shutting out the mental image in my mind of the near-branding that had just occurred. We were halfway home before an evil thought occurred to me---that maybe it would have been more fun not to be rescued... We had stopped at a red light on a deserted section of highway. I knew that as a policewoman she could have run it, but she didn't. Instead, she took her hands off the wheel and pulled the black leather jacket from her broad-shouldered, large-boned frame. The early sun angled it's way into the compartment; Maria looked younger, somehow, in the early light of day, the natural lighting suited her, as it lightly touched her white flawless skin... Funny, I remarked to myself, most women looked older in those conditions, especially after staying up all night waiting to rescue their friends from Amazon Frankensteins. My heart warmed to the earthy blonde woman who drove hot sports cars as though to the manor born. She had been great back there. Every bit the adventuress; just like Ursula. Selfishly, I wondered if she would have fought over me... "My sister Darla's with a private highway division. Sort of like a motorcycle club for, ah, big women. She lent me her jacket. I figured it would look ominous. Whaddaya think, JT?" I wasn't looking at the coat, as it hung over the back of her seat. But I gave her a vague affirmative answer as I watched the huge over-bulging cleavage exposed by Maria's short-sleeved and very low-cut t-shirt. Her breasts were white and creamy and seemed big enough to take up half the interior of the compact car. It looked as though they didn't see the sun too often; or hang half-exposed from their mistress' chest, either. I had been right about the bicep, too. I had seen the beginnings of a substantial bulge on her arm when we met in the alley, just yesterday. And as she held her arm bent, holding the wheel, the hard cap of sinew was accentuated. I noticed, too, that Maria wasn't carrying that extra weight any more; it had been hard to tell, the other day, concealed as she was in her raincoat. Her belly was as flat as a board, the waistline tight and tiny and neat... She hit the accelerator again, and I was thrown back into the deep leather seat. I should have been tired; but suddenly I realized that I wasn't; and my hands had stopped shaking. I felt safe in the protective custody of this strapping LadyCop, and my ardor--for things female and, ah, well-developed--was back... Besides, a rush of sexually-derived adrenaline and a short nap with Raye-Anne Hallison had made me feel alert and brand-new. And Maria seemed to be sending a not-so-subtle message to me. The tight stretch pants showed everything she had south of the waist; it was firm and lushly-rounded, and hugged the slit of her womanhood, revealing it's geography in full detail.. She had gotten herself into really good condition lately. I remembered seeing the beginning of the now-hard little washboard on her stomach when she flashed me just a day ago, too; and hadn't I heard that she had forgone the donut shop on thirteenth street? When she first had burst into Raye-Anne's living room I had almost thought for a second that it was my hardbodied bosslady come to rescue her assistant, to be honest. But Sally had told me that Maria would be there, right? I shook my head again, to rid it of the cloudy cobwebs that any thought of Ursula could create in my mind... I realized that I had a small hangover as well; drinking champagne from the flesh of a skyscraper of a Flexing Female Bodybuilder could do that... It was not until later that I would find that Maria had volunteered for this job; her cop's credentials made it that much easier, she had told Ursula, and my hot-bodied bosslady had reluctantly agreed. For a second, I imagined a showdown between Raye-Anne and Ursula, fighting for possession of the naked guy at their feet. Muscle against muscle. And may the biggest girl win! I could see the powerful calves come to life, accentuated by the sharp, spiked heels that both women liked to wear, as they locked arm in arm, pushing at each other. Their shoulders would swell, hair flying around them; powerful punches delivered in response to bruising blows. All for the right of ownership of a one hundred and forty pound guy who was crazy about both of them. I couldn't lose, could I? That's what I thought... "Ahem," Maria said, pretending to clear her throat as she eyed my crotch. "Is that a gun in your bikini briefs or are you just happy to be alone with your ladycop?," she asked. Another erection! Small, form-fitting speedos were not designed for dirty daydreams... Even I was surprised... "Put the coat on," she suggested, although it was much more a command. I complied, and angled my way into the cavernous cowhide covering, feeling swallowed by it's sheer bulk and girth. She pulled in front of the battered office building that housed "Parkheart Investigations" after a few more minutes of quiet and efficient driving, suppressing a smile as she surveyed the sight of a small man in a very large coat... She flipped a stray blonde tress out of her eyes, turned to me and spoke... "You really know how to 'put it on the line' for your job, JT," she said, referring to the soundless tableau she had witnessed through the glass doors... "I admire that." I blushed and shrugged. The ladycop continued. "I don't rightly know if I'll be able to sleep tonight, after seeing the sights I just saw. A girl has needs, JT, after all. You really have quite a cute little butt. And that throbbin' little lump between your legs looks positively delish," she winked lasciviously, nodding southward on my torso. "Maybe you could arrange another showing for me some time, huh?," she asked coyly, batting her eyes theatrically for effect. Maria, after all this time, had taken matters into her own hands. In more ways than one, as I was about to find out... "Uh-huh," I stammered, "that is, ah, maybe, Maria." She smiled... "I'd offer to drive you home and let you get cleaned up and change, and maybe buy you a little breakfast, but your boss wants your cute little rump in her office ASAP. She's quite a lucky woman, havin' you around all day," she said, puckering her lips and blowing my a soft fluttering kiss full of mischief. We sat looking at each other for a long moment. "Can I give you the coat back later?," I asked. Her pale blue eyes danced with enjoyment. "You don't want any more horny lady cops following you down alleyways, do you? Sure, I'll come by for it later. Thought I'd head over to the gym after I get a bite..." There it was. "Oh," I said, "you joined Amazonia's?," I asked, my gaze going to her sizeable arms, newly-alive with smaller but proud replicas of my bosslady's own bulging 'n bursting biceps. "Uh-huh. Oh," she said, as though suddenly remembering something, "I forgot to tell you, JT. My old man and I are Splitsville. As of last night. I told him I wanted my walking papers..." I offered condolences--she waved them off. "Hell, I'm glad to be rid of the fat slob. Pain in the ass," she declared, stretching her arms overhead. "He didn't want me getting involved in this. Just think, JT. If it were up to him, you'd be getting your tight little behind branded by that she-hulk right about now..." I told her I was glad she had differed with him, and thanked her again. Her face, hardened and thinned somewhat by her fitness regimen, took on a sly little grin. "You're really looking good, Maria," I offered, my insatiable appetite for flexing females creeping in... "Thanks. I have your boss to thank, you know. Me and Don double-dated with her and Steve a couple of times, you know. By the way---They're a cute couple. Don't you think so?" She knew I had a crush on my boss. I shrugged. She still didn't know... "Anyhow, she got me working out over across the street. I really needed it. My sister works out. Man, she's in some shape. Don't you think I really needed it?," she asked coyly, flexing her bicep. It really was a good size; she had the broad mesomorphic build that builds muscle fast. I reached for it, and patted the sinew with a friendly and light touch. I swallowed hard nevertheless. She looked good, alright. Contest-ready, hard; and full of female hormones ready to burst through her skin-tight top... "Actually, JT, I have a bit of a confession to make..." I was playing with the zipper of the heavy black leather coat and looking down, a bit uneasy... But I was listening very carefully. "A few months ago I asked your bosslady how a smitten woman could go about getting the attention of a certain very cute male secretary. And she told me." "JT, do we get along good together, or what?," she asked, exasperated; as though trying to solve a very old but very simple mystery whose answer had never been spoken aloud. "Sure we do, Maria, " I said, looking up to her from the silver zipper. "I like you very much..." She smiled as though she heard something she had been waiting to hear for along time.. "I like you, too, JT. Very much," she confessed, smiling a relieved smile and leaning into me. "So much so, in fact, that when I asked that staggeringly muscular private detective what was the best way to make an inroad into the heart of her sexy little assistant, she told me; and offered to help get me on the way. That's why I'm starting to show." She laughed as she produced the new end-result of her time in the gym--a seventeen-inch arm... "Used to be that expression only counted if a gal was pregnant. Now it's for describing her progress with packing muscle on her frame; iron-pumping..." "Life in the nineties," I said, a bit uncomfortable but enjoying the sight; as attractive as she was, I had to see Ursula and get to the bottom of what took place between us yesterday...! Maria was grinning as though she had a secret about me. "You're a muscle-boy, huh? You dig those female bodybuilders I see on cable, right? That's what she told me..." Okay, so she was right. But what she should have said, I thought, was that I dug Ursula Parkheart, the Flexing Detective. She moved her eyes very slowly to her shoulder; she rolled the sleeve up; revealing the deltoid just coming into shape now, beneath her pale white flesh; it had a nice cap of muscle, and was defined; even a bit of vascularity was starting to show through her skin. "Whaddaya think, JT? That Raye-Anne's a smart woman in her own way. I can't compete with her--not yet anyway--but her advice was worthwhile," she nodded, sure of herself. "Wasn't it?," she asked, showing her muscles and looking coy; knowing it was sauce for this particular goose. "Uh-huh," I breathed, my mind gone skiing on her mountainous new developments... "I've been liftin' for a while," she admitted, proudly nodding at her now-thick arm. "Pretty good, huh? Course," she said slowly, as she slid over to me, "I'm no threat to that huge slab of woman you work for, either. But she's taken and I'm available. Go ahead and feel it, JT." I ran a hand across the warm hard flesh and swallowed hard. "So what do you say, Small, Shy 'N Sexy?," she asked with a seductive yet soft smile. "Oh, don't you know?," I interrupted her train of thought if not her speech as I sat swallowed up in the huge coat; Darla had to be one big woman, by the way... "Ursula's engagement is off...," I said, proudly. A little hopefulness must have crept into my voice; because the news had the opposite effect on Maria. "That so?," she asked, a bit crestfallen, biting down on her lip. "Really? Ursula didn't say anything about it," she said, disappointed. "How about that?," she shrugged, her ploy to capture me away from Ursula failing; as she looked away to mask her upsetment. She almost looked as if she was about to cry. I must admit that I took a guilty pride in that. Up until two days ago women pretended I didn't even exist, for the most part. Certainly this particular breed---statuesque, buffed-up and buxom---usually wouldn't even talk to me; they would just look down at me as though I was some kind of annoying gnat as they would strut past me in long sexy strides, to carry on with their lives full of wild sex and all-night parties... "She kept a secret real well," Maria said at last, turning to face me. "I thought she was hitting the sauce 'cause business was slow..." She nodded her head for just a moment, lost in thought as the disappointment settled in. And I was getting anxious to head back to my MuscleBossLady. We had things to discuss... And she had reason to be grateful to her worshipful and faithful assistant, didn't she? My hand went to the car-door latch. Maria looked straight ahead at the early morning sun as though working up the courage to make a confession. "You know what I want in life, JT?," she asked, swallowing noticeably and staring straight ahead through the windshield. She paused for a moment to watch a bird fly through the early-morning sky; it landed on the sidewalk and pecked at some morsel of food in the crack between the concrete. She swallowed hard again before saying it, the huge mammaries moving just a bit, with the concentrated effort; but she said it nevertheless... "I wanna get big." What? Suddenly, Ursula could wait just a minute or so, couldn't she? "H-huh?," I stammered, suddenly unsure of my hearing. She noticed the enthusiasm creeping into my voice, and she turned to me, pleased and excited that she had struck gold... "You heard me, Speedo-Boy. I'm getting into female bodybuilding--big time!," she exclaimed with the excited fervor of the true zealot. "I'm gonna hit Amazonia's every day. I wanna get big! I'm gonna get so fuckin' pumped 'n huge, you're gonna pop your penisload every time I walk by. How about that?" She flexed the bicep again, now; it grew, the muscle was hardening and peaking and perfumed and she made it dance just for me. I sniffed at the slab of flesh and smiled. I knew "Opium" when I smelled it. Next to Ursula, it was my favorite scent. "I'm gonna do whatever I have to do to get big, too. I want to pack on enough muscle on my big-girl frame to strike fear in the hearts of the scum out on the street, and who knows, maybe strike a little lust in the hearts of a few guys?," she purred hopefully, as she pulled back one half of the leather coat she had loaned me to wear... She looked me up and down for a moment, before reaching a hand inside. Her hand felt warm and good on my bare skin. "I don't know, what do you think, JT?," she asked, nodding down to the still-flexed arm as her fingernails went to work, gently teasing my stomach with lightly-drawn circles. "Think this arm would look prettier with some really big muscle decorating it? And maybe with the mouth of a hungry guy attached to it?," she added, boldly sure of herself now... I gulped. Her arm was already far larger than mine; and would, by year's end, be nearly twice it's size. Not that mine were very large; okay, they were a little scrawny, to be completely honest... "And these shoulders? How would they look if I hang big hot slabs of carved-up deltoid on 'em? Pretty hot, huh?," she pouted. A police car screamed down the early-morning street, it's siren wailing and disturbing the slumber of the still-sleeping populace. Neither one of us turned to look at it. We had our an emergency of our own, taking place in our briefs... "I think I'll look really hot when I'm all built up like your boss, JT. I'll strut around on my days off in tiny little off-the-shoulder mini-dresses and high, high, spiked heels. I'll go to the beach and get a rich deep tan, and work out at the oceanside gym where fellas can gawk at how big and hard I am, and dream of touching these big bad breasts I've been keeping under wraps for too long. I'm gonna put on twenty or thirty pounds worth of hot muscle, JT. I'm gonna be a full-blown lady bodybuilder; every square inch of this body's gonna be throbbing with it. It'll be a shame if I'm all by myself after all that hard work, huh?," she breathed, leaning into me. We kissed, just lightly; Maria pulled back as though she had rehearsed this whole exchange. "I'm gonna get huge," she bragged in a low and seductive voice, "huge and hot and hard. I'm gonna wear tiny little bikinis with just little itty bitty string running up my butt cheeks. Picture that, JT. These big tits will be the piece de resistance. Everybody's gonna want a piece of Maria then. I can guarantee that. I'll have muscle enough for two...," she suggested, fluttering her eyelashes at me once again, filling her glowing eyes with x-rated promises of wild, wanton nights. I hoped that she didn't own a fire-place... "Maybe I wouldn't be able to keep you happy," I offered. "I'm pretty slim, you know," I said, glancing down at my own unprepossessing physique, covered again by the spacious coat. "Don't you worry," she assured me, undeterred. "I'll be big enough for us both. And I don't want you covering that delicious little body of yours with anything--but me," she said, playfully threatening me by grabbing the wide collar of the leather coat... "Just keep that cute little pair of buns where I can see 'em, and I'll be a happy and satisfied Amazon MuscleLady. And when somebody satisfies me and gives me what I want, I can show them how grateful I am, JT...," she whispered seductively, closing in for the kill... I don't know how long the kiss lasted. But I was almost sure that when our mouths finally left each other, the angle of the sun had changed. The windows, if it had been winter and they had been closed, would have long since fogged. I was glad there weren't any pedestrians out yet. Just one lone jogger peered into the Corvette as Maria and I engaged in our fevered embrace; she was small and thin and wore a grimace of strain as she ran. As she continued past us, she kept looking back over her slim shoulder, watching the two tentative lovers communicate. When she got to the corner, she jogged right into a car double-parked overnight, and her little frame spilled and sprawled over the trunk of the Chevy. I didn't look long enough to find out if she was hurt badly, but she was gone when I looked back a minute later. As for me, my hands were busy exploring Maria-ville, cupping the Ultra-Vixen breasts, squeezing them lightly, delighting in the comfortable, lush body of Ladycop Maria. She wanted to show me something now, and she did. After all, she had taken command of this unexpected interlude already, right? Besides, she had just saved my epidermis, and quite possibly more than that--so watching was the least I could do... Boldly, not caring a damn who saw her, she crossed her forearms in her lap, and with a quick and confident tug, pulled the so-tight little black top up her body and over her head. The perfect fleshy globes spilled out, and bounced once or twice on her chest, before returning to their place, in perfection, upon her pectorals. Wow! Maria was topless and tensing her pectorals; the luscious candy-store delights--huge glands that would give a siloconed stripper an inferiority complex--rose and fall alternately, in an invitingly lewd come-on of dancing breastmeat. Long ripe nipples stood at attention, pointed and ready to tickle my tongue... There was no sign that the skin of this luscious lady-flesh had ever seen the sun; she was milky-white as an English maiden, despite her Mediterranean background. There was no tan-line at all, no trace of her ever having spent an afternoon at the seaside. Perhaps that was why, despite her late-thirty-ish age, there was not a wrinkle to be seen on her almost-poreless face... Upon the bright upholstery of the car, her ice-queen coloring stood out all the more. With her blond hair, she looked every bit the Nordic Valkyrie, right down to the beautifully- sculpted physique... She leaned over to me, pinning me down on the seat with as little effort as it might take to knock over a flower. I was wrapped in the grip of this neophyte Amazon Bodybuilder, and she pressed down upon me again as we lay stretched out in the narrow front seat. Her hair fell forwards over her face, but the crystal blue orbs shown through. In the soft light, I could see small violet flecks in them... "What do you think of this, JT?," she challenged, proud of her power. "You're mine now, and you can't get up unless I decide to let you get up. You're MY little slave now. I could arrest you, and take you back to my place..." "That isn't what a policewoman is supposed to do, is it?," I asked, coyly. "Couldn't you get into trouble taking the law into your own hands?" "S'matter, JT, you never heard of a house arrest?," she asked, the promise of potent sexuality in her soft voice. Her hands roamed my body freely, as though she owned it; exploring where she would, reaching inside the coat to pinch a nipple, or under it, to kiss a navel, and make herself comfortable with my body, and the use thereof... Finally, she removed my sneakers with two quick pulls. "I like my lovers barefoot and pregnant," she teased, tossing the footwear to the floor of the car... Her big bare buxxies fell about either side of my face. I found a warm inviting nipple; fully erect it was as big as my pinky, and I tasted and suckled, even as my tireless hands felt the new-found muscles in her arms. "Huh," she suggested, her hand digging under the waistband of the briefs, "this feels nice," she asserted, squeezing my penis and claiming it, too, as hers'; like a toy she'd won in a raffle. "I kinda have to be honest with you, JT. When I saw you all butt-naked with that big woman back there, I really liked what I was seeing," she intoned, musically. "I'd like to run a little rough-shod over you, too, just like that big lady-lifter back there..."" she suggested, pulling my penis to freedom from under the confines of the swimsuit even as I kept contendedly sucking at her breast like a hungry new-born. She looked down to my erection in mock-surprise, as if she didn't know what would emerge when she pulled it from the sweaty interior beneath the bikini-briefs. It pulsed in her hand like a tamed pet, ready to be taken for a walk; and drooled lightly at the prospect... As she hovered over me on all fours, she yanked the trunks back, down my hips, as though she was peeling a banana; never bothering to ask permission. Why should she? Just like Raye- Anne before her, Maria wore the muscle in this car. If she wanted me naked, so I would be---all I wore was the big leather jacket, so large for me that I fairly floated inside it. She unzipped it all the way, and ran her hands across my exposed and slender chest, getting ready to ravage me in the cramped compartment of the little deuce coupe... All the while, she kept my face smothered in many pounds of creamy lady-pillow breasts that smelled of sweet exotic perfume; the scent filled the car's small interior, and added to the atmosphere of naughty sex, hanging in the air, and about to happen... The delectable sacks of breastmeat all but blocked my vision--a lovely short-term blindness that filled my nostrils with her aprhodisia. "Gee, JT, " I heard her say, as I felt her manicured-hand pass over my clean-shaven genitals, "haven't you sprouted pubes yet? There isn't a whisp of hair on your balls!," she teased, delighted at the razored sight I produced for her twinkling eyes. I didn't know if she was just being coy; but my bosslady had probably told her what I had been forced to do, for the sake of the case. And I knew that they had probably laughed about it, too, as pumped-up women of the world would. The thought of a man nervously shaving his lower-hemisphere to catch the attention of a hugely-flexing female as she lay poolside would be the stuff of coffee-klatch conferences for years, as they sat with the other girls after they had finished their workouts for the day, and shared the gossip of their large and lust-ridden lives. My exposed scrotum roiled and tightened as her fingernails touched it lightly, playfully. She pulled her breast from my mouth now, and lowered her face down onto mine as she began tugging with smooth, long pulls of her hand on my dripping penis-shaft, brought back to life with aplomb by big boobs and hot ladymuscle. And her mouth went down hard upon me in another long and lingering kiss. Her tongue was a fine replacement for the huge nipple I had so enjoyed suckling upon, and I wrapped my arms around the broad back of the gloriously half-naked Lady With A Badge, and succumbed to her power... "C'mon, JT," the Pumped-Up Public Protector urged me minutes later, her muscles long-since in charge and churning as she worked on me, all the while kneeling on the narrow seat, perched right between my trembling knees. "Show Big Maria your cum, my little loverboy...", the broad-shouldered hussy encouraged, tossing back her short blonde hair with a snap of her strong neck; the muscles in her athletically-large arms coming into play as they went about their dominant business. I secretly feared that the rough-and-ready demands of my other blonde behemoth had drained me of any real ability to respond, and that I would disappoint this sweet-natured, iron- pumping Dame Errant who had rescued me from the hands of a branding-iron wielding succubus. Would I fall limp now, despite her impressive displays of bold body and piston-bearing hand? The seats were pushed back as far as they would go; but we still were forced to make the most of the limited confines of the car-seat. But what the heck?---it suited us just fine; most of the available air-space of the compact car was taken up by Officer Maria's big bod; muscles and mammaries needed lots of breathing room! I would gladly take whatever little room was left, and consider myself lucky to be here! She continued to slide her spit-filled hand up and down my engorged shaft, heating it with the blurring, fast-paced friction of her determined hand... Sure, it was worn down from Ms. Hallison's Cowgirl Round-Up, but was nevertheless desperate to please this bold-mannered Breck Girl as she pumped my pecker with an expert hand. My testicles continued to be teased by the long fingernails of her free hand; tickles and soft pinches speed-loading my retros, readying the white launching that she had called for, and wanted to see, as flashes of submissive pleasure shot through my body, preparing to surrender and sign-off.. I was starting to get used to this bold, strip-'em-and-fuck- 'em attitude on the part of these flexing females. There was nothing ambivalent or vague about their dealings with men. They were bold and up-front all the way, and dared you to step out of line! And if you did, there was a stern lesson to be administered, as iron-trained ladybiceps took their toll upon you; and after, a pair of high-heeled spikes that needed your tending, while she went out and found someone who knew their rightful place! That, quite simply, was the way it was; they were pumped and proprietary, and took things into their own hands... Literally! Her big milky jugs shook with their mistress' effort to relieve the small dazed guy beneath her of his semen-satchel; the fleshy church-bell breasts rang out with little slaps as they rocked against her chest; flip-flopping in time to the unconscious back-and-forth movements she made as she knelt above me. The sun crept out from behind a building in the distance; it sent a fresh shaft of light into the driver's compartment, bathing us in the early morning fuzziness of it's warmth. I felt it soothe my scrotum, even as her fingers tentatively explored my still-tender, still-buttered orifice, exposed by my splayed-wide legs. I was glad that she made no mention of the tell-tale remnants of the Blue-Bonnet Spread that no doubt remained there, even now; in quiet testimony to my dancing-puppet tortures upon the knee-cap of a cruel but irresistibly beautiful woman who went by the name of Raye-Raye Hallison. For just a moment, I wondered if that Baroness of Biceps had noticed anything missing from her home as yet. It was a good guess... "Make my big ladymuscles happy, JT," Maria soothed, twitching a big bicep that obediently throbbed to life, as though it had somehow been hooked up to her heartbeat. She began lowering herself down so that her mouth was just inches from my erection; never missing a slippery up-and-down piston-stroke all the while. A rumbling began... "Make these big tits happy," she nodded to the vibrating pale-white mammaries as they shook with her back-and-forth efforts. An explosion was imminent... "Make me happy," she encouraged, speaking right at the tightly-contracted testes; the words hinting ever-so-slightly that it was something more than merely an invitation; it was really a command made by a firm voice and a steadily-pumping hand, up and down movements matching the rhythm of her swaying breasts... An orgasm was hovering, just on the brink; made-to-order by the naughty-minded blonde who was demanding I show it to her, hand it over, surrender it all to her, just because, on a musclewoman's whim, she thought it might be fun to make me shoot cum all over the car-seat... And I obeyed, right on schedule. The semen boiled in my balls, and shot up from my privates with surprising force, and, I almost thought, a hiss of kettled- steam; the coiled inner muscle was lax and loose as it was bathed in the warm rays and the passionate attention, and answered the blonde's order with such voracity and enthusiasm that it seemed as though she was communicating directly with it, and had bypassed it's owner altogether. My body twitched and spasmed, involuntarily; limps without coherence, and I was lost in a frenzy of sexual release that ran over me like warm waves. What must have been half-a-pint of hot ejaculate began to shoot up into the air, but very little of it ever came down... With the speed of a mongoose, the thirsty ladycop swooped her large and suddenly wide-open mouth down to it's vicinity, and caught the first pearly glob in mid-air. She tasted it for just a second--like a cum-loving connisseur trying to guess what I had for dinner, just by it's flavor--before giving it a passing grade, swallowing it whole and sending it down to her waiting stomach, smiling with wicked womanly satisfaction as she dove down for yet another taste. With each subsequent emission of my privates, that delightfully-dirty mouth was at the ready, bee-stung lips parted wide, her Patriot Missile of a tongue intercepting the white scud-shots as they flew; slurping and licking and catching the opaque little streams that ebbed and dripped from the cyclopic eye. They ran down the length of the veined shaft, as it lay, exhausted now, and shining-wet, in her hand. She held it casually, like an old and friendly and unremarkable possession that she had made perform to her satisfaction. Presently, my pearly emissions painted her face with a small goatee that dripped and ran down her chin; it made her look like a clean-cut porn queen fresh from shooting. A sizable drop hung suspended there; her long and agile pink tongue caught most of it, clearing a horizontal path on her fair skin. And she smiled, proud to be wearing my semen on her face, and licking it like so much ice cream... She sat over me, in triumph, smiling amidst her fresh-grown, glorious sinew that played in her arms and shoulders, with each x-rated little movement. There was, too, a tiny pool of my liquid pleasure beginning to run down her mammoth breasts; my salty salute to Bodybuilding LadyCops everywhere. Having escaped her attention--and the cat-like tongue-bath she had administered upon her face--it collected around a nipple, and fell downwards, like a lonely tear. She caught it in her palm, raised it to her mouth, and made it disappear. "Thanks," she said, joking, as she wiped the last remnants off her face with a tissue. "I been up all night and I was positively famished. And besides," she added, "I need all the protein I can get nowadays. Maybe we can make this a regular thing after I work out," she leered, flexing the marvelous little mountain on her arm, and running her tongue on her salt-stained lips before heading back down to tend the leaking rod. "A mouthful of your sweet cum will help my muscles grow bigger and harder for you, my little Semen-Shooter," she remarked, speaking directly into my penis-head as though it was a microphone, her warm breath soothing it's rubbed-rawness as it pulsed like a wounded heart in her hand. Her mouth was amazingly, almost obscenely large when she opened it wide; and her eyes rolled up in her head like a predatory shark as it engulfed the frightened flesh-minnow. She then inhaled it into the back of her wet and hungry mouth, jamming it deeply down her skilled throat. I wondered where she'd learned such things...! FROM THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS 702-243-7723