Chapter One: Incident on Everson Beach

Sometimes the summer comes early.I was used to the high temperatures that can arrive like a shroudin late June and stay, like a relative who doesn't take a hint,until late September. When that happens, it isn't until Octoberfinally rolls around that you feel that it has departed, and Iusually find myself happy to see it go.But if there was one thing that made the summer heat bearable,that made the sticky clothes and hot summer traffic worthwhile,it was the beach.I had been told that when I moved out here, women would comequickly and easily. I think that that was part of the mythologycreated about the place, and in the few months I had spent heresince making my mid-winter move, I had found it to be just that. I spent the better part of the morning trying to convince myschoolteacher girlfriend to let her caution go to the wind, anddare to bare her winter flesh just a bit, even in a conservativeone-piece swimsuit. It would be a rare sight for me, too, as Ihad discovered early in my relationship with her that shepossessed all the natural exhibitionist tendencies of the Queenof England. I had given up, and when she reminded me that shehad to correct some papers, I decided to come alone.Even the newspapers were talking about how hot it was, and thepeople of the city responded to it, rustling up wives andkids and in-laws, and made a trek to the sea in mid-May.To put it another way, on this Sunday afternoon still in spring,the beach was crowded.I was standing at the soda machine trying to coax it to eitherreturn my fifty cents or send the nutrasweet down to my handgrown impatient as it waited...The machine was leaning up against the wall of the pavilion thatserved as a combination bathroom and changing room for the beachpatrons. I wasn't paying any particular attention to theconversation of the people that went by, but something in thevoices of the two women stepping out of the shade of thebuilding, having just slipped into their beach garb, caught myear."I swear Marlena, she was this big!", exclaimed a small, mousy-looking brunette in a high voice. She was dressed in a brightyellow sunsuit, the same style as the one her friend wore, andwas holding her hands high above her head."...Muscles everywhere, too...",the high little voice continued."Yucch", exclaimed her friend, a teased-hair peroxide job,shaking her head in disgust at the thought.Suddenly, the drink wasn't so important.I followed the two women. I wasn't interested in meeting eitherone of them, though. I was interested, however, in what theywere talking about. I heard a metallic thud come from behind me,and turned to see a child, gleefully waving a can of coke he hadgotten from the machine by simply hitting it with his hand. ButI was too busy for that..."She was practically naked, too, it was so gross", she said, asshe struggled with a beach bag almost as big as she was. The twowomen made their way along the boardwalk, walking slowly, Ithought, to display themselves in all their over-the-hill glory. They appeared to be the slightly overage bar girl type, who spendthe day dressing as though they were twenty-one while tryingdesperately to catch the eye of Mister Right, and then spent theevening in the smoke, noise and bluster of the local nightclubs,trying to do the same. The long hours had taken their toll.Their faces seemed drawn, and the loose flesh on their arms andjiggling thighs did not add anything redeeming to the picture."She went down that way," said the little one again, pointing toa stretch of dune near the eastern end of the beach, where thepublic section officially ends and the two-mile long stretch ofprivate beach began. Often, the private beaches were used atnight by teenagers in the off-season, for making out and drinkingunder cover of dark."I'd never want to look like that!", exclaimed the little oneagain, as the two anxious maidens peeked over their shoulders toperhaps get a glimpse of her, appropriately disgusted andrighteously outraged at the thought of a woman in far bettercondition than them, and no doubt, a good bit younger...They shook their heavily-teased, and, in at least one of theircases, very peroxided heads.Just then the large beach bag/pocketbook that the little womanwas carrying slipped out of her hand, and she let out a cry asthe sound of breaking glass was heard."Shoot", she cried, "This bag is just too heavy, Marlena. Ican't handle it", she whined.I was walking so close to the two women that their sudden stopcaused me to bump into the puff-hair blonde, my elbow sinkinginto the soft and flabby flesh of her upper arm. I excusedmyself as I walked by."Oh, that's quite alright!" she answered soothingly, pushing heroversized glasses up her head, her mating hormones switching onlike that!I could feel her eyes on me as I walked past them, leaving theladies to clean up the brown liquid that had began to seep out ofthe bag, iced tea that would go untasted.I went down to the beach feeling the excitement stirring withinme and beginning to sweat; the sand was hot beneath my feet,almost burning, as I scanned the beach for a few minutes,searching in vain for the object of the ancient maidens'derision.Suddenly a commotion arose from the beach crowd, a noise ofmurmuring that started out back nearer the boardwalk and seemedto spread, as its source, walking slowly with the confidence thatcomes with pride, continued a trek to the surf. The course oftravel was not particularly swift, but it was sure, and theobject of the attention began to come into view.Heads shook. Some, as with the two beachflies on the boardwalkwith the broken glass in their bag, were negative--unappreciativeof the sights that they were seeing. Others were merelyinquisitive, staring and then turning to their companions for aresponse to what they were seeing.Still others were frankly in awe at what they saw and lookedblankly at the specter of early summer as it made it's way alongthe hot sand.But there must have been a few, though I could now know for sure,who beheld the sight with a strange lust they did not understand,who could not contain the feelings that were stirred by a sightsuch as this.I was one of them.For walking down the beach on a hot Sunday afternoon was a verysingular female vision in a tiny swimsuit. Her name, as I was tofind out, was Margo. And staring at Margo, I was to learn, hadit's own risks. And rewards.She was a revelation of muscle in a string bikini; tall andbroad, with a physique so thickly chiseled it seemed almostinconceivable. Her impossible physique was developed to a degreeI had never seen before; not even on the late-night bodybuildingshows on cable TV. Her swimsuit was almost illegal, and coveredonly what was required by law. That is, a tiny triangle ofspandex that was easy to mistake for that which nature had givenher. Her breasts, bold and big and mostly bare, adorned byonly the same equally small triangles, merely decorated by theskimpy cloth, not covered by it . The rest of the flesh of herawesome body was richly tan, a dark mahogany-brown; heavily,incredibly, muscled everywhere; wasp-waisted, and open for all tosee. It was as though some primeval wizard had tried to build awoman from stone or oak or some impenetrable hard wood; andunsure of her purpose in that harsh world had decided to make heradaptable to any purpose that may present itself; giving her theawe-inspiring frame and musculature of the most elemental AmazonHigh Priestess, as well as the huge perfect breasts and fullcurvaceous hips of a Siren; a Primitive Earth Goddess-Life Bearergoing for a stroll on the dunes, as she surveyed her domain.....Her full round buttocks swayed with every step, as darkly tan asthe rest of her. Cleavage protruded from her torso, bigintimidating breasts that seemed to threatened an imminentexplosion from that tiny top any second now...Margo lifted weights. And it showed. Boy, did it ever..... She carried a small athletic bag in one hand, and a pair of spikyhigh heels that looked, from where I stood at a distance, to betoo small for a woman her size.By now you can tell that I was secretly fascinated by women likethis. She wasn't limited by the small, dainty frames that somany women have, their was no hesitancy in her bearing, in herapproach. This would be a woman who would look you in the eyeand tell you what she wants; or perhaps, one who would just takeit outright... She was strong, and beautiful, and I could nothelp but wonder what it would be like to be with a woman likethat---a violation of the natural order, perhaps----after all,isn't it only natural that the woman be smaller, daintier,someone to watch over, as the song went? What about a woman likethis: What about a woman big and strong enough to do as shepleased? Would the natural order prevail just the same? Wouldn't she still have all the finer aspects of her sex? Orwould she be an Amazonian She-Devil, devouring smaller men thatcrossed her path? Demanding satisfaction from her franticlovers....I hoped that she was a little of both...She was big, alright. Unthinkably big. Preposterously tall. Hopelessly gorgeous. Incredibly stacked. A killer package of muscle, size, and sex. And by the confident,slow and slinky way she walked and moved, she knew what she had. Her shoulders dwarfed those of almost every man on the beach, andno doubt caused quite a bit of inadequacy in some of the men inthe crowd. Her arms were as large as the legs of the averagewoman on the beach, thick limbs wrapped in bicep, tricep, ......All in all, a woman of imposing physique.Margo was built.And I had to get to her, no matter what.The head was a mane of lustrous blonde hair, loosely worn, it'sfull body flowing down and down; past the wide shoulders soheavily chiseled with muscle. There was a serene confidence thatemanated strongly, an unstated yet apparent power that exhibited itself in the seemingly casual way she shook her headfreely, the tresses flying wildly. It seemed to say, for all whowere interested, "This is me. It's different. You can't stoplooking, can you? Love it or leave it!"Here and there she coolly waved to someone she knew, barelyshowing recognition on her face behind dark sunglasses as shewent, a small nod here, flick of a hand there, as they called outto her. She did not stop walking, or even slow down. She movedwith purpose, wherever she was going....The fact that she was a good head taller than most of the men onthe beach , towering at over six foot seven, was enough to stoptraffic. For a moment, it seemed, even the bounding surf seemedto pause, as though a natural phenomena had been detected thateven made nature pause.She stopped now, just for a moment, and set her blanket down onthe sand, having moved diagonally across the beach to where thecrowd thins out decidedly, perhaps sparing her from excessivestares...?Like mine?.Then she kept walking, down to the surf now, the waves meeklywashing up against her powerfully-muscled yet shapely legs as shewaded in shallow water. For just a moment it seemed that shewould keep walking, down into the sea, to return to whateverAsgaard had created her. With feminine grace, she knelt in thesurf, and splashed herself with the ocean that was still full ofwinter chill. But she did not register any shiverings, as shecontinued to scoop the frigid fluid onto her skin with astrangely gentle, even girlish movement. That was a remarkablething about her---despite her awesome muscularity, her every movewas at the same time reminiscent of the light touch of the All-American Beauty Queen...A profound femininity had met ferociousmuscularity, and rather than one conquer the other, they hadconjoined to form a creature both quintessentially female andincredibly powerful. They made for a mesmerizingly attractivepackage....She was like a futuristic momument of some kind,brought back to the late-twentieth century somehow, as both awarning of things to come for some, and a hope, for some others,of what was to be...She turned to the sands, walking slowly back to her blanket,smiling a bit, and enjoying the commotion she knew her merepresence was causing.It was certainly causing a commotion with me. All her hard tanflesh was like a dangerous and heady potion for my eyes.Everybody else's eyes were on her, too, it seemed...A guy walked up to her as she walked, magnificent, dripping wet,and she stopped, looking down at him with amusement. He wastryiing his best to impress her, but she would have none of it,and he soon backed off, leaving her to her privacy, such as itwas. My pulse was pounding, and it felt as though there was a half-tonweight on my chest, as I watched her cut a path across the sands,leaving stunned and awed people in her wake.Now and then someone would be looking in another direction as shepassed by; their heads would look up to see who or what wasthrowing such an enormous shadow over their spot on the sands asshe passed; the look of shock on their faces was uniform.She walked with long, undulating strides over to that quietcorner of the otherwise busy beach, where she had sat down herblanket, a startlingly beautiful natural phenomena in blondehair, muscle, and curves.She ran her hands through her thick mane of hair now, her powerobvious in even this small and sensual act, and presently pulleda rubber band from her bag, pulling the gorgeous hair into a neatbun; the hard muscles of her abdomen flexed as she raised herarms over her head. She lay down on the white blanket and spreadthat massive, hardbody of female muscle on a blanket, offeringher frame to the sun, like a high priestess, her sinewy armsspread out from her torso on the blanket. I was transfixed, and Iknew that I would have to spend the next hour trying to think ofa way to get near her. But what to say? The bold approach? Walkright up to her? Not likely, especially when my lady-love-to-beoutweighed me by some one hundred and fifty pounds. A rejectionhere could not only be embarrassing, but dangerous for my healthas well!Maybe I could catch her eye? Not bloody likely, as they say inEngland. I was fairly good-looking, sure, but not in a way thatwould catch her eye, if you know what I mean....She now began rubbing lotion all over the mountainous body, thewhite lotion fading into mahogany skin and oaken muscle. Myexcitement tripled as I watched the slow, firm circles she madeon her flesh, the sun-darkened skin absorbing the cocoa oils likebalm.She took on a glow. A power that both promised and threatenedexuded from her every pore. Huge breasts, magnificent, perfect,caught the sun, every contour of that amazing physique , bothfrom the assets of her sex and the sessions spent with hardsteel, caught in the sun's rays, as though being showcased forthe stunned, worshipful eyes of whoever was lucky enough to bethere.I watched for some time. Quietly, with as little fanfare aspossible, I took the few beach things I had with me, and movedover to that same relatively empty section of the beach, butclose to where I could spy my mega-ladylove. Presently, sheturned over, and the small g-string bikini bottom showed itself,a small string disappearing between two perfect buttocks,muscular, round and shining. What would it be like to be withher?Would she be a kind creature of affection, or a woman imbued withthe harshness her strength implied?Would there be the gentleness that comes with great strength, theassuredness that her vast physique would imply by it's merepresence, or would that elemental strength display itselfoutwardly, without subtlety?She would be dramatic--entering a darkened room; naked. Thelight from the hallway would silhouette her body, statuesque andpowerful, her features indistinguishable in the shadow, only herhuge and perfect shape apparent to me. Filling the doorway, shewould stand there, unmoving, her size eclipsing most of the lightnow, as she leaned both muscular arms against the doorframe. Shetosses the blonde mane now; casually, with a sensual grace as itfalls obediently behind her in a long, flowing wave of goldenhair, streaming...

I had to get cooled down. I reluctantly got up, and walked to thesurf that pounded on the shore, my head turned the whole time,staring at this prophecy of power.I found myself walk right into a beach bunny, a teenage girl in asmall blue swimsuit, proudly displaying her adolescent charms. She saw the state of distraction I had been reduced to by theaccumulation of female muscle basking in ultraviolet. " Hey,Mister," she teased, "why don't you ask her out?"And she jiggled down the beach, amused at her own wit.I walked absently along the surf and tried to get myselfcomposed, leaving the public beach behind me. I began swimmingin the strong sea, waves crashing onto shore. I found that mypulse, though heightened by the exercise, return to a relativelynormal state in comparison to what I had been experiencing on thesands. I ducked beneath the waves and enjoyed the day, and Ieven started ogling the beach girls who lay on the privatebeaches of their daddies' stilt-supported homes, gorgeous placesbuilt years ago on sand that had been, at the time, deeper andthicker around the stanchions, the receding sand levels revealed in the fading rings on the wood, year after year after year,dropping lower and lower as I kept walking along the beach. Iwondered how long it would be until nature took the housesaltogether, revealing the arrogance of their construction againstthe most unstoppable force in the world. They would collapse oneday, in a storm, perhaps, under a gale of wind and a slam ofprehistoric ocean; or possibly they would die gradually, finallygiving way on the calmest of days, as daughters bared their rumpsto the summer sun just yards away, and giggled as they gossiped.

But the defeat and humiliation of the lovely and expensive oldhomes was coming, and anyone who looked closely could see it,too...The luxury and splendor and architectural ingenuity wouldbe dashed to the ground for all world to see, an unstoppable andinevitable force reclaiming the fickle sand that the wholestructure was based upon. Brute force always won out, even whenit fought an architect's computer schematic that claimed thebattle would be different this time..... My thoughts returned to the more immediate matters at hand, andas I walked closer to this next house, the last one for more thana mile, I saw several women in the distance, laying in the sun. Iwasn't too lost in philosophical thought that I hadn't noticedthem! I lost sight of them now as I continued to walk, the duneshaving been re-arranged by the high tide and high winds recentlyreceded. A high wall of sand hugged the shoreline, and I climbedit at it's lowest peak now, and tried to casually stroll by thewomen for no reason other than voyeurism. There was a high growthof sand grass, and I could hear their high-pitched talking, thewords as yet undistinguishable, but the sing-song tones a clearsign that the girls were no more than teens, who no doubt weretalking of college boys with dreamy awe while they bobbed theirheads to the pop music that I could hear on the unseen music box.I was looking just for the sake of it, enjoying the prospect ofviewing bikini-clad female bodies; and was aware that theiryouthful ages made any contact unlawful, not to mention immoral.There were limits, after all, even for a still-collegiate lookingguy in his early thirties....Suddenly, the grass cleared, the sand hills flattened, and I wasmere feet from the three young girls....I would just walk byslowly, nod maybe, and smile. Maybe they'd think I was still abit "dreamy" myself, and I'd walk along the beach a little morepleased with myself than I was before. Male ego, you know.I was unprepared for the commotion I was about to cause...There was no way I could have known what I was about to stumbleacross. I could not be expected to anticipate that the threeyoung girls I had seen in the distance, anxious to get ajumpstart on their tans and their confidence boosted by numbersand the privacy they thought was offered them from wanderingintruders, had removed their bikinis entirely, and lay in theirbirthday suits in the early summer sun. We all stood frozen forjust a moment, not comprehending the invasion I had justperpetrated, however innocently (or semi-innocently) it had beenintended.

The three girls were well-developed. One was clearly in her lastyears of her teens; her full breasts, nipples as yet unused fortheir original purpose, standing erect on their breasts, which inturn had the gravity-defying grace of untouched youth. The onlyhint of adult sophistication was the touch of make-up she wore,and the elaborate twirl of her hair as it swooped above her head.Perspiration glowed on her pale skin as she lay on her back, legscrossed.Her eyes, thankfully, were closed.The second was a bit younger, and already quite tan, firm andathletic. She had a beautiful figure, shapely with no visibletrace of bodyfat, just hard lean flesh. She lay on her stomach,buttocks sweat-soaked and dripping, hair loose down her back. Apparently, she was trying to tan and thus blend the small areasof white flesh on her glutes that stood out from amongst thedarker skin.Still another girl, about the same age as the second, was layingon her back, knees up, legs slightly apart. I got a brief butshocking glance at her pink vagina, surrounded by a heavy growthof localized hair; she had apparently trimmed the outlyinggrowths herself, amateurishly, to accommodate her now-removedbikini bottom. Her virginal lips were engorged and swollen underthe basking rays of the sun, and her big nipples were hard aroundwide areolae. She had a slightly heavy build, with big breastsand a broad back, her waist still somewhat trim, but with largethighs and buttocks that covered quite an expanse of the blanketupon which the three girls lay. Her body did not yet possess thefolds of loose flesh that would soon be hers, with the passage oftime and the pull of Newton's Law, and without dieting andexercise. But she looked to be a truly erotic sight, a younggirl sexually unaware, naked and giggling and content in theprivacy she now shared with her very best girlfriends...It was a sight that would occur to me in the strange nights to ,come; the three young beauties naked and giggling and content inthe early summer sun; life and romance awaiting them....I would think of it late at night as I lay dazed and winded fromthe spiraling changes in my life, changes as yet unknown to me;that were rushing to meet me like a runaway train....Presently, her hand went briefly to her privates, and it seemedto me that she was brushing away a grain of sand, or some straybeachfly that had become attracted to her already-womanly scentgrown musky in the heat. I did not clearly hear what she wassaying at the time, but later, as I sat alone under circumstancesdifferent yet somehow strangely similar to these, I would realizewhat she said. She was making a remark about how good the sunfelt on her pussy, and how horny it was making her, a remark madewith the lascivious wholesomeness of a young virgin with a crush.

One of the other girls, probably the one on her stomach, made aremark that seemed to contain the name of a boy whose verymention caused the chubby girl to blush with embarrassment, evenin the summer sun.They all laughed, even the victim of the joke now, her bigbreasts giggling as they hung on either side of her chest.

It was a strange thought I had as they first saw me and beganletting out the screeching and mortified sounds that onlyteenaged girls know how to make. These were girls as yet unusedby life, pristine bodies untouched by life, and exposed to littlemore than a backseat grope. My mind flashed ahead into thefuture that awaited all three of them, the pale brunette becominghard and spoiled, scornful of anything that smacked of middleclass; the blonde a playgirl, a model perhaps, but a playgirlall the same, cavorting with tennis pros and race car drivers;there would be parties and engagements that ended mysteriously,with scandalous whispers that echoed to the gossip columns.The third girl would grow fat and end up in the nightclubsperhaps; or if she were lucky, she might find a hard-working manwho cared for her. Still, she would always tell her girlfriendsof the terrible day that she was spotted, naked and chubby,rubbing her sun-swollen vagina, in full view of a strange man.They continued to howl and screech, and I half-jumped. lstammered an apology as the three neophyte nudists, their reverieshattered, continued to pierce the still air with panickedhumiliation. The blonde jumped up, defiantly naked, revealingherself in all her bare-skinned glory, her athlete's pride in herbody overcoming any desire to run, or cover up; she was too angryfor that. I noticed that her breasts, full and seemingly shapedby the same athletic sculptor who gave her life, had the samesmall triangles of white surrounding the nipples. She threw asmall damp towel at me with a practiced grace, and made her aimtrue, hitting me in the face at fifteen feet. For whateverreason, though, my gaze turned to the far girl, legs now snappingshut, hands going to her groin. The move was ineffective---herknees were still high in the air, and her lips still slightlyvisible through her thick pubic bush. I lost my vision now asthe towel hit it's target, and I heard the pale girl curse me, asI turned and ran through the high grass blindly, throwing thetowel to the ground as I ran. I heard one of the girls--my hunchbeing the pale one again, both from her prior poses and themanner and timbre of the call--scream for her father, and Istumbled off balance, the high green grass scratching my legs asI ran, until I fell to the sands below the ridge, landing on thehard sand, damp from ocean spray.I got up and I kept running in the same direction from which Ihad come..I had covered a good deal of ground in five minutes, and felt Iwas safe from any summerhouse posses angered by my voyeurism. Itwas strange; the entire incident, from the moment of my discoveryof the three naked young ladies, to my fall to the caked sandbeneath the ridge, could not have take more than seven or eightseconds, and yet as I replayed the whole thing in my mind, itseemed longer somehow. Maybe,I admitted to myself, I was justsavoring it.I shook my head, amused at my own licentiousness, and decided toswim my way back to the beach, and give my hormones and theiroutward signs that resulted from them, a chance to cool off...

Still, all things being equal, I admitted to myself as I startedthe long swim back in shallow water, that pretty as they were,the teenaged beachgirls were trinkets of amusement; diversionsfor a moment, nothing more....The stuff of teenage male dreams,to be courted at drive-ins and shopping malls. They weren'twomen. They didn't understand the adult world. Or the needs ofan adult man.

The sea can be a tricky thing. One day it can be calm. Anotherday it can be as fierce enough to bring a ship off it's glassysurface and down into it's depths. In my determination to getaway from the big-muscled distraction, as well as the younggirls, both seemingly unattainable, I had decided to push throughthe surf and demonstrate to myself that my Amazon Goddess wasn'tthe only one who had strength.But the surf had other ideas.Slowly, I found myself swimming harder and harder and gettingnowhere. I almost welcomed the challenge at first, and swam hardagainst the current. As my arms turned leaden with fatigue, Iturned and saw that the shore was disappearing, and I began tofight the feeling that I was out of control.I was in desperate straits. Exhaustion soon began to pull me underwater. My lungs started totake in water, gulped as I furiously fought for breath. Andthrough it all, the current continued to pull me further andfurther away from the safety of the shore. I looked to land,hoping that somebody saw my desperate position. But I was stillfar off to the side of the beach , out of view and jurisdictionof the lifeguards, who were no doubt busy attending to thevarious sunscreen needs of the female classmates of the youngladies I had just fled.I got more and more frantic in my attempts to keep composed.Conversely, I began spending more and more time underwater, andless time on the surface. The taste of saltwater filled mymouth, and increasingly, my stomach. I now felt the undertow pullmy trunks from my body. But still I kept fighting the pull...But inevitably I knew I would lose, and felt myself sliding underthe fierce undertow of ocean and current. My mind locked ontothe fact that I was being punished for my transgressions on thedignity of the young girls, and I began coughing as more and moresaltwater crept into my lungs. I felt that first surrender takeover, that first refusal of the body to the survival instincts ofthe mind.An old saying goes that when something like this happens, you seeyour life flash in front of your eyes. I did, and man, was itdull...Why had I moved to this part of the country where I didn'tknow a soul?My one attempt at contact was one-sided, and going nowhere, Iknew. I was reduced to wandering around beaches by myself,ogling athletic she-gods and naked virgins. None of whom I wouldever have.....Suddenly, from under me, came a surging force. I didn't knowwhat it was at first, whether I had been taken to the nether-world, to be tortured for my hedonism, or if my bad luck had beencompounded by falling into the hands of some sea creature whowould leave my half-chewed remains on the shoreline tomorrowmorning, to be discovered by lovers strolling at sunrise.But now I was being lifted up out of the water. Coughing andspluttering, I could not tell what had gotten hold of me. All Iknew was that I was safe, and headed for shore under someoneelse's power. My eyes cleared of salt water, my lungs quieting,slowing down in their involuntary heaving of swallowed sea.I found myself deposited down onto the sand, and looked up intothe midday sun at my savior, backlit in glare."You should be more careful", came a female voice, sultry andsteady.I peered up to see my Amazon, dripping with oceanspray, hoveringover me. "These are yours", she said, producing my swimsuit. Inmy bedraggled state, I had failed to notice my unclothed state; Iwas suddenly especially grateful that I was some distance fromthe nearest beachgoer.I thanked her in a weak voice, coughing up more spray and strug-gling into my wet suit. She stood there for a long moment, nottrying to conceal the fact that she was looking frankly at mybared nether-regions. Consciously flexing her the vast muscula-ture of her upper body, I saw the huge breasts dance in theirtiny halter; she now raised her line of sight, to look right atme. "Well, if you're so grateful, why don't you show it? Youcan come over and join me when you recover. I need someone toput sunscreen on my back", she offered, pointing towards herblanket, smiling with amusement at the spluttering and hackingguy at her feet who was approximately half her size. "Somehow Ithink you know where I am". I nodded, abashed and I watched herwalk away, the strength in her legs making themselves apparentwith each long step, prominent hips swaying.

Given the right motivation, you can recover from just aboutanything. So it was with me. Minutes later, gathering mycourage as well as my belongings, I walked slowly over to themusclegoddess, who lay brown, big and unmoving under the earlysummer sun.I must have stood there for two minutes, trying to think of someway to get her attention, while wildly drinking in the close-upfirst-hand view I was getting of her incredibly voluptuousarchitecture, dark buttocks moist with perspiration, roastingunder the sun, seeming, in their repose, to be gathering strengthfrom the sun itself.She lay there on her stomach, head resting on the arm grown hugefrom training. I saw a huge vein that wrapped around the thicklimb, running down the arm like a raging river with it's tributaries, thinning out as it reached her forearm...She finally saw me."Oh", she said, her eyes still hidden from me by the sunglassesshe wore, "it's you", as though my appearance was adisappointment to her, that her invitation had been just a casualformality not meant to be taken seriously."Well, make yourself useful. My legs need some lotion", shesaid, pointing a long, white fingernail at the sunscreen on theblanket at her feet.I began applying the lotion to her wonderfully muscular calves,the muscle hard even now, as she lay relaxed under theultraviolet. The excitement of the moment began to get to me, Isuppose, because presently, my hands started to shake."Oh, god, " she uttered with disdain, noticing my apparentnervousness, "another guy falling in love with big Margo...'DearMom: I met Ms. Right today on the beach. She's a big hotbodybuilder, and I'm in love!'", she said, sarcastically.She put her head back down on her arm, and seemed to go to sleep.I could not tell for sure, as the sunglasses denied me anyglimpse of her eyes.Again, I waited for her to say something. Picking up women,truth be told, is a skill that I have mastered only as well as Idanced or played the piano; that is, I have driven dance teachersto encourage my interest in a musical instrument, and musicteachers to encourage the beauty of the dance. I sat down on the blanket I spread next to hers, a small portablestand between us."Go get me a coke", came her voice, from deep under her arm.

I was back with two cokes in minutes, the machine working thistime, as if it knew that the person who ordered them would nottake any nonsense such as it had given to me....She must have heard me coming, because no sooner had I approachedthe blanket than she shot up, taking the first coke, and downingit quickly, in one long swallow. She put the cup on the smallstand, and looked up at me with surprise."Give me this", she said, reaching for my coke.She opened the plastic lid, and poured it out on the sand. Shethen handed the empty cup back to me."When I say get a coke, get A Coke. One, not two, understand?"She lay down on her back, and went back to sleep.

It must have been an hour later, when she finally took off thesunglasses, and looked at me. I had been spending the whole timetrying to steal glances at her, not sure if she was watching meall the while behind her Ray-Bans. So I had been discreet, butnot so discreet that my mind had not taken over in wildfantasies, as I watched the vast superstructure of her bodywrithe slowly in the sun. The powerful muscles contracted andflexed with every movement. Boy, was I hooked...."We're leaving", she announced, removing the sunglasses now, andlooking right at me with hard eyes, light blue and cold asicebergs. "Pack everything up", she ordered, still unmoving onthe blanket.I leapt to this call to duty, and in so doing made my firstmistake. I knocked over the small stand, sending the cokecontainer full of half-melted icewater flying, and it arcedthrough the air, falling towards her as she lay on the blanket.It landed on her midsection, and it seemed to me at the time thatit took a long time for it all to fall. Accidents can be likethat, I suppose, a kind of slow-motion taking over, the secondtime today that I had noticed the phenomenon, but I was to findout later that no accident goes unpunished with this woman.. She did not yell as the frigid water hit her abdomen, the skincontracting tightly around her muscular midsection, the alreadychiseled flesh turned all the harder, as the pores of the skinclosed involuntarily."Idiot", she said, looking over at me, not moving for a moment,just staring hard with contempt at me, before toweling it off.Then, she stood.Even though we were a little distance from the nearestsunbathers, there was a pause on those sands, a wave of murmur asshe stood up, magnificently self-assured, and stretched. Iwatched with my mouth wide open with awe..."Hey", she called down to me, "get a move on".She grabbed a pair of spike-heeled backless shoes, and began towalk towards the boardwalk. I watched those two perfectbuttocks, bare and brown and perfect round, as she walked with acool, panther-like grace, muscular legs slowly propelling theirowner up to her destination, the hips rolling sensuously.I gathered our belongings quickly, a bit frantic that thisastounding woman might not wait for me if I dawdled to long, andsoon I was chasing after that glorious woman.As I made my way, I could already see that she had stopped,standing on the top step of the stairway that led to the woodenboardwalk. She leaned against the handrail with one hand, andeven from a distance, I saw the powerful arm flex it's musclesslightly, it's feline power a treat to behold, her mere presence,as she stood there, causing people to drop an ice cream cone, orto trip as I had done before. I smiled as I observed a bicycler,dumbstruck by this testimony to female perfection as she stood,like a visitor from Olympus, surveying the sands; distracted, henow crashed at slow speed into the low benches that dotted theboardwalk, and he fought for balance for a moment, beforetumbling down in an awkward slipslide, both pride and bodyslightly the worse for wear, as Margo chuckled at his plight.

She slipped the shoes onto feet that were surprisingly small fora woman so huge, almost dainty, and stood there, her hands on herhips, scanning the sands for her beachboy, who was running now,arms full of bags and blankets, to her side.I stood on the steps, chest heaving. She seemed annoyed that Iwould approach her in so disheveled a state, a look of contempton her face again, as though my disorderly arrival somehowdetracted from the scene that she wished to present to herpublic.She took down the long, thick blonde hair now, and stuck out herhand to me."Brush", she ordered, like a surgeon awaiting an instrument. Istood dumbstruck for just a second, until I realized that thebrush had to be in her bag. I rummaged anxiously for it, finallyfinding it wedged into its cavernous interior. When I hopped upthe step to proudly hand it to her, she seemed vaguely disgustedwith the whole idea....She brushed the long, waist-length blonde hair, stroke after longand steady stroke. She pushed the brush down the entire lengthof the hair, so as to remove any clumps or knots that might havegathered. A couple passed by, a small older woman and herhusband, bespectacled and equally slight. He was transfixed bythis nearly naked, monumental woman, who ignored him andeverybody else, despite her bare skin, in order to attend to herown needs. His neck craned as they continued to walk, past hernow, and along the walk."Hmmph, they get more and more brazen", I heard the woman sayunder her breath in a stage-whisper. But the husband keptlooking, and it was only when they had almost disappeared downthe path that he turned back to face his wife..and, I knew,trouble....

There was a sound along the boardwalk now, raises voices, andeven Margo dropped her cool, inward aloofness to turn and seewhat the commotion was all about.A couple, walking along in the midday sun, were arguing as theywent, his tone was harsh, hers pleading. The woman began to cry,emotion overcoming her, tears now running down her face. Hermale companion was looking at her disgustedly, as he walked nextto her."I'll do whatever the hell I want to, you little bitch", he saidto her, his voice audible and harsh, his beer belly shaking as heemphasized his words with outhrusted arms, raging at her.She only continued to cry, bemoaning her fate, frightened andhelpless under whatever dictum he had deigned as law. She wassmall, her bikini fitting her loosely, like a little girl who hadborrowed her big sister's swimsuit. Her slim shoulders shook,and I noticed that she was carrying most of the beach gear,despite the face that her companion was a good bit bigger thanshe was....Now he raised a hand, like a pitcher preparing to throw hisfastball, and slapped her hard against her face. The force ofthe blow was strong enough to propel her backwards several feet,the slap audible for yards around them.The small woman became hysterical.The big woman became enraged.Margo ran over to them, the man's face registering satisfactionat his disciplinary action for only a moment.Until he saw Margo.She was mere feet away from him by then, and she was stillcoming, her vast size and bulk racing with the speed and animalgrace of an angry lioness as she vaulted upon some prey, someviolator, who had threatened the safety of her cub. She grabbed him by the wide collar of the beach shirt he wore,and lifted him off his feet with ease, holding him high, shakinghim, the buttons of the shirt straining, the shirttail fallingout of the shorts, exposing his expanded paunch, as it hung overhis pants."Listen, Mister", Margo said, as still another group of strollersbegan to take notice of her powerful display, "if youever..EVER... raise your hand to her again, I'm personally gonnahunt you down and break your neck, do you understand me!" Hervoice shook with a deep-seated rage, her cool gone now, replacedby a hot fire that seemed contained only by a considerable forceof will on her part.He didn't answer, only emitting small choking sounds as hersuspended by her powerful arms, high over the ground.Finally, he nodded with a desperation that suggested he was doingso only out of a reluctance to choke to death.....Margo let him go, and he fell at her feet, crumpled and defeated. His wife, her face swelling from the force of the blow, ran tohis side, offering tender words of comfort to the man who hadjust come very close to knocking her unconscious.Margo stood over them, the man averting his eyes from her. Thewoman ignored her, too, but once, just once, I caught her lookingat Margo.....The powerful female had turned and walked back towards where Iwas standing, where I had been watching the whole remarkabledisplay. Margo's back was to the woman, but I saw the smalltear-stained woman look up and down at Margo now, as she walkedaway, grateful to the woman who had stood up for her. For just amoment, a gleam of that admiration came in her eyes, a look ofthanks for her salvation. Perhaps now, she must have thought,after he had been brought into line---and by a woman, no less,however large---perhaps now things would be different.Somehow, Margo sensed the eyes on her back, and turned to lookover her shoulder.The two women smiled at one another; not real smiles; they didn'tmove a single muscle of their faces. I was sure of that; Iwatched them both closely all the while. Still, there was a lookthat flashed in both pairs of eyes, for just a second...It was clear that an unspoken sisterhood had made itself heard,and seen, in subtle female shorthand, in that one powerful momenton a boardwalk at Everson Beach.The couple stood. They began to walk back to the pavillion, toattend to their various injuries and, perhaps, come to anunderstanding....He picked up the heavy bag and carried it. Margo noddedapprovingly, a small grin coming now, that vanished as she turnedto me...The small crowd of gawkers dispersed in various directions,impressed with the giant woman and her heroic display.A group of slimly-built young girls in their early 20's passed usnow, on the way for some late-afternoon sunshine. They talkedamongst themselves, and had no doubt witnessed Margo's rescue ofthe underbuilt and overwhelmed woman, and the talking stopped asthey passed us. One of them, a small redhead in an emerald greenbikini, turned as she walked down the steps, and offered a thumbsup to the muscular blonde goddess. Margo nodded back, with aslight smile, with the cool assurance of a woman used to alot ofattention. She was all cool attitude, hot muscle, hotter curves,and astonishing breasts, and had just issued a warning to bullieswho would pick on weak little women."Come on, pal", she said finally, when her hair was combed outand retied into a ponytail that met with her satisfaction, "We're going home now..."And she flexed a huge bicep, the sun-browned skin straining tocontain the bulging muscle of her arm as it popped to a head. I didn't know which to ogle, her powerful arm displaying it'sdelightful wares, or all the vast cleavage that abounded from thetorso around the tiny bikini top....She smiled, and blew me a kiss....The first of many that were to come, I hoped.

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