A simple story
By Philogynia 
To all of those whose most ultimate longing is to please the woman they love.

Have you ever seen the Pacific Ocean? No, not the grey and cold body 
of aggressive water of northern California or Oregon, no, I am 
talking about the powerful and fascinating ocean of the Southern 
Hemisphere. The one licking the coasts of Tahiti, Hawaii and 
Australia. Only there will you find real beaches; where the sand is 
welcoming and where the air is rich with flagrances.
There I was, on the beach, my hand around the waist of my wife, both 
of us walking towards the waves. We both loved the ocean probably 
for different reasons. Jali, my wife, because she was a shameless 
exhibitionist and me because - in some sense - I am an incorrigible 
voyeur.
My point of view is that we all suffer from voyeurism at some level. 
I can only assume that for some people, shame is a more powerful 
feeling than the pleasure derived from visually caressing a 
beautiful woman (or man for that matter). When I say that I like to 
watch, I especially like to watch Jali; Jali in all her splendour. 
Jali whom I married 20 years ago and who has done more to keep me 
than I would have thought possible. When she makes love to me, there 
is nothing else that matters, there is no one else possible; when I 
press my lips at the appropriate distance under her bellybutton and 
that I probe her with my tongue, when I can feel the pleasure slowly 
infiltrating her, when her mouth cannot refrain from exhaling the 
overflow of my attention, only then do I feel alive and content.
Jali was by no mean an ordinary woman. She was muscular. She was as 
muscular as in your wildest dreams. She had arms like thighs and 
thighs like pillars. But firsts and foremost she was sexy, sexy, 
sexy. Take the skin away, she had perfect muscularity; remove the 
muscle she had exemplary skeleton. Her eyes were intense and clear, 
her mouth soft, her lips full, her teeth insultingly white, her hair 
legendary.
Was there anything wrong with Jali? Simply put: no.
You might say that her infidelities would stain the portrait I just 
sketched. This would be a mistake. Jali hunger for life was bigger 
than me, larger than life itself. How could her immense sexual 
appetite be seen as a flaw? Who I am to imagine that one port would 
be enough for Jali? She has sailed the world before me; no ocean has 
ever been frightening or deep enough to slow her down let alone 
stopping her. Jali has always been faithful: faithful to her nature. 
Faithful to the gigantic sexual appetite that she has been blessed 
with. Curiously, I have never seen Jali wanting sex. Sex has always 
been at her disposal as if partners had been grains of sand on the 
beach she was walking along.
Jali picked the spot and we unfolded the large beach towel on the 
burning sand. She was smiling and we both knew in a short while, we 
would be enjoying the pleasure of physical intimacy in this 
borderless setting. Jali left me and disappeared in the waves while 
I layed naked under the soft shadow of our umbrella. I keep looking 
at her swimming powerfully. I knew she was pushing herself to her 
utmost limit. Fighting every wave. She went far away from the beach 
were you and I would have had no chance of coming back alive. She 
was only a dot on the horizon and a long hour had gone past. I kept 
looking at the small black dot hoping every second now that she 
would turn around; that she would come back to me. When finally I 
convinced myself that, indeed, I could distinguish on this small 
black dot the features allowed by proximity, I felt the exquisite 
rush of anticipation. I got up on my knees and cast the shadow of my 
hand over my eyes.
Jali, Jali come to me. Let me benefit once more from your 
generosity. Let me again feel the exhaustion on your trembling 
muscles.
Like an exclamation mark on a virgin sheet I stood there punctuating 
the end of a story soon to be written. Jali reached the shore with 
one last effort and her whole body collapsed on the wet sand. She 
layed there, letting the pain in her muscle being carried away by 
the licking waves. I watched her like so often I did knowing that 
soon she was going to raise and appear to complete our ritual. Like 
a child who could not contain his excitement, my erect penis was 
throbbing. I caressed it slowly like a father caressing the head of 
his child; to let him know that he approved of his enthusiasm.
Jali slowly pushed herself off the ground and sat on her heels. She 
was smiling at me while she was trying to moderate her breathing and 
finally she got up on her feet.
	How can I describe Jali to you, impromptu reader? The words 
are barely adequate to tell you how I felt; how could they describe 
the source itself of the violent desire that was churning inside of 
me?
She walked up to me and stopped at arms length. She knew well the 
sacred steps of our rite. She peeled off her unnecessary bathing 
suit and offered her gigantic body for my avid contemplation. I 
closed my eyes for a moment as I felt my son on the verge of 
escaping my attention. My heart was pounding furiously.
Jali's body, darkened by the sun, licked by the waves was glistening 
in its entire splendour. Her frenetic swim had filled to the brim 
every muscle, every vein, artery, capillary of her oversize body. 
Everywhere I looked all I could see was space occupied by muscle 
built by a lifetime of dedication. A dedication that knew no bounds; 
a dedication fed by an irresistible sexual hunger and an insatiable 
desire to be irresistible to me, to you and to herself.
Come to me Jali. I beg you. Come and prove to me once more that I 
can't resist you; that our carnal union will once more consume us.
Like that of a feline animal, Jali's body was at rest. I knew well 
the raging tempest she could create at the slightest movement. Like 
the lifelong sailor who anticipated to gauge himself against the 
ocean, I awaited for Jali's demonstration of power knowing well the 
hopelessness of my position.
Jali smiled at me. She knew the decision was mine; that my eyes 
would choose where to start. I was scanning the mountain of muscle 
standing in front of me and then locked onto these amazing arms 
hanging languidly on either side of her. They were pushed away by 
what I knew were devastatingly oversize lats. Her hands were twice 
the size of mine with long fingers with nails delicately polished 
and lacquered. Her fine wrists were the starting point of 
innumerable veins irradiating along her forearm and disappearing 
into the soft inner part of her elbow. Upward was a vision of pure 
feminine beauty. Biceps unknown to any man, in size, volume and 
details were exploding in silence. On her left biceps, a long and 
thick vein was winding up and down the surface of this mass attached 
to a shoulder that whose striations could not be counted and that 
kept on shifting as she was slowly moving her fingers.
Jali knew what I wanted. Jali upper body expanded under the deep 
breath she took and the double biceps pose that follows made me 
dizzy and envious. The envy of the poor man towards the rich woman. 
I got up on my feet and pressed my body against hers, my lips avidly 
searching for her mouth. We kissed for a long moment my hands on the 
two masses that dwarfed her head. I kissed her until I ran out of 
breath. Jali adroitly lowered an arm and expertly cupped my balls, 
my penis lying in her palm and along her forearm. An exquisite 
warmth filled my stomach and made my knee tremble. However large her 
biceps was, I knew that she hadn't started to flex and the next step 
of our ritual was now just starting. She raised her elbow higher, 
lying her hand on the top of her head and started to flex. Under the 
flow of blood pumped by her enormous heart, her arm went through a 
series of mutations that I had learned by wrote. I knew that its 
immense jagged peak would reach her mouth and that the coarse lace 
of veins would instil in me a boundless desire. 
Jali, Jali, why me? Can't you see that you made me depend on you 
like the shadow depends on the sun?
Jali knew that I could no resist her longer. Her fingers firmly 
around my manhood, she could feel it hardening to the point of no 
return and she had to let go. With one effortless but irresistible 
push, she threw me on the towel. I watched Jali thighs swell 
majestically as she walked around me. Facing the ocean, she planted 
both feet on either side of my shoulders and I extended my hands to 
caress her calves. She kneeled down putting both knees in the sand, 
her genitals inches away from my mount. She was completely shaven 
and her hunger was clearly visible. Her lips were full and her 
protruding clitoris was bigger than I had ever seen before. I ran my 
hands on her massive thighs to reach her lower back. Like a 
desperate rock climber, I hiked myself up a few inches and applied 
my avid mouth against her welcoming lips. Her juices flowed on my 
cheeks and tremors were violently shaking her body as my tongue 
probed her insides and tickled her clitoris. I foraged avidly in her 
soft lower belly while she convulsed uncontrollably both of us 
knowing full well that her first orgasm was now unavoidable.
God, how I love this woman! My mouth was awaiting the flow of her 
female release, my hands the wild contractions of her abs. What man 
could ask for more?
	My attack on Jali's sense was too powerful even for her. 
Desire had undermined her formidable strength and she tilted forward 
breaking her fall with her hands. She stood above me on all fours 
waiting for the final condensation of her lust. I never knew what 
she wanted to say as only small undecipherable high-pitch sounds 
were coming out of her mouth. 
Only during those too brief moment was Jali mine. All mine. For 
short-lived seconds, Jali needed me and I was her ruler, her master. 
I could feel on my throbbing penis the warmth of her irregular 
breath, the sharp teasingly painful bites of her teeth, the soothing 
licks of her generous tongue but - even more tormenting - I could 
imagine her gigantic body above mine, with her arched back, her 
wide-open legs, knees in the sand, and these overpowering hips 
straddling me, with the centre of her being ready to discharge and 
liberate the tension I had created.
Like a kind executioner overwhelmed by compassion, I pushed my mouth 
against her as hard as I could to put an end to this tormenting 
lingering. I knew Jali's torture was over when she abruptly sat on 
me as she lost control. 
Dear reader, how lucky is the man who can please such a woman? How 
profound is his contentment when he feels that he has created what 
others can only dream of? What God should he revere with infinite 
indebtedness for having giving him the chance to witness the 
physical exhaustion of a giantess? 
As she was offering me the warmth of her tender self, the flood of 
her hunger, the trembling of her desire; as she was grinding my head 
into the hot sand with her generous womanly hips; my hands filled to 
the brim with her muscle, my ears distended by the sounds of or 
orgasm, I was being loved.

Homme, toujours tu ch'riras la mer
Les fleurs du mal, Charles Baudelaire

Philogynia,
October 1998